Police Your Planet

  Chapter XIV

  FULL CIRCLE

  Hendrix had been wounded lightly, and was out when Gordon and Izzyreported. But the next day, they were switched to a new beat wheretrouble had been thickest and given twelve-hour duty--without specialovertime.

  Izzy considered it slowly and shook his head. "That does it, gov'nor. Itain't honest, treating us this way. If the crackle comes from thepeople, and these gees give everybody a skull cracking, then they'recrooks. It ain't honest, and I'm too sick to work. And if that bloodydoctor won't agree..."

  He turned toward the dispensary. Gordon hesitated, and then swung offwoodenly to take up his new beat. Apparently, his reputation had goneahead of him, since most of the hoodlums had decided pickings would beeasier on some beat where the cops had their own secret rackets toattend to, instead of head busting. But once they learned he wasalone...

  But the second day, two of the citizens fell into step behind him almostat once, armed with heavy clubs. Periodically during the shift,replacements took their place, making sure that he was never by himself.It surprised him even more when he saw that a couple of the men had comeover from his old beat. Something began to burn inside him, but he heldhimself in, confining his talk to vague comments on the rumors goingaround.

  There were enough of them, mostly based on truth. Part of Jurgens' oldcrowd had broken away from him and established a corner on most of thedrugs available; they had secretly traded a supply to Wayne, who hadbecome an addict, for a stock of weapons.

  Gordon remembered the contraband shipment of guns, and compared it tothe increase he'd noticed in weapons, and to the impossible prices thepushers were demanding. It made sense.

  All kinds of supplies were low, and the outlands beyond Marsport had cutoff all shipments. Scrip was useless to them, and the Legals wereraiding all cargoes destined for Wayne's section. And the Municipals hadimposed new taxes again.

  He came back from what should have been his day off to find Izzy inuniform, waiting grimly. Behind the screen, there was a rustling ofclothes, and a dress came sailing from behind it. While he stared,Sheila came out, finishing the zipping of her airsuit. She moved to asmall bag and began drawing out the gun she had used and a knife. Hecaught her shoulders and shoved her back, pulling the weapons from her.

  "Get out of my way, you damned Legal machine!" she spat.

  "Easy, princess," Izzy said. "He hasn't seen it yet, I guess. Here,gov'nor!"

  He picked up a copy of Randolph's new little _Truth_ and pointed to theheadline: SECURITY DENOUNCES RAPE OF MARSPORT!

  The story was somewhat cooler than that, but not much. Randolph simplyquoted what was supposed to be an official cable from Security on Earth,denouncing both governments and demanding that both immediatelysurrender. It listed the crimes of Wayne, then tore into the Legals as abunch of dupes, sent by North America to foment trouble while theylooted the city, and to give the Earth government an excuse for seizingmilitary control of Marsport officially. Citizens were instructed not toco-operate; all members of either government were indicted for hightreason to Security!

  He crushed the paper slowly, tearing it to bits with his clenched hands;he'd swallowed the implication that the Legals _were_ Security...

  Then it hit him slowly, and he looked up. "Where's Randolph?"

  "At his plant. At least he left for it, according to Sheila."

  Gordon picked up Sheila's gun and buckled it on beside his own. Shegrabbed at it, but he shoved her back again. "You're staying here,Cuddles. You're supposed to be a woman now, remember!"

  She was swearing hotly as they left, but made no attempt to follow.Gordon broke into a slow trot behind Izzy, until they could spot one ofthe few remaining cabs. He stopped it with his whistle, and dumped thepassenger out unceremoniously, while Izzy gave the address.

  "The damned fool opened up on the border--figured he'd circulate to bothsections," Izzy said. "We'd better get out a block up and walk. And Ihope we ain't _too_ bloody late!"

  The building was a wreck, outside; inside it was worse. Men in theMunicipal uniform were working over the small job press and dumping thehand-set type from the boxes. On the floor, a single Legal cop lay underthe wreckage, apparently having gotten there first and been taken careof by the later Municipals. Randolph had been sitting in a chair betweentwo of the cops, but now he leaped up and tried to flee through the backdoor.

  Izzy started forward, but Gordon pulled him back, as the cops reachedfor their weapons. The gun in his hand picked them out at quarters tooclose for a miss, starting with the cop who had jumped to catchRandolph. Izzy had ducked around the side, and now came back, leadingthe little man.

  Randolph paid no attention to the dead men, nor to the bruises on hisown body. He moved forward to the press, staring at it, and there weretears in his eyes as he ran his hands over the broken metal. Then helooked up at them. "Arrest or rescue?" he asked.

  "Arrest!" a voice from the door said harshly, and Bruce Gordon swung tosee six Legals filing in, headed by Hendrix himself. The captain noddedat Gordon. "Good work, Sergeant. By jinx, when I heard the Municipalswere coming, I was scared they'd get him for sure. Crane wants to watchthis guy shot in person!"

  He grabbed Randolph by the arm.

  "You're overlooking something, Hendrix," Gordon cut in. He had movedback toward the wall, to face the group. "If you ever look at my record,you'll find I'm an ex-newspaperman myself. This is a rescue. Tie themup, Izzy."

  Hendrix was faster than Gordon had thought. He had his gun almost upbefore Gordon could fire. A bluish hole appeared on the man's forehead;he dropped slowly. The others made no trouble as Izzy bound them withbaling wire.

  "And I hope nobody finds them," he commented. "All right, Randy, I guesswe're a bunch of refugees heading for the outside, and bloody lucky atthat. Proves a man shouldn't have friends."

  Randolph's face was still greenish-white, but he straightened andmanaged a feeble smile. "Not to me, Izzy. Right now I can appreciatefriends. But you two better get going. I've got some unfinished businessto tend to." He moved to one corner and began dragging out an olddouble-cylinder mimeograph. "Either of you know where I can buy stencilsand ink and find some kind of a truck to haul this paper along?"

  Izzy stopped and stared at the rabbity, pale little man. Then he let outa sudden yelp of laughter. "Okay, Randy, we'll find them. Gov'nor, you'dbetter tell my mother I'll be using the old sheets. Go on. You've gotthe princess to worry about. We'll be along later."

  He grabbed Randolph's hand and ducked out the back before Gordon couldprotest.

  Izzy could only have meant that they were going to hole up in MotherCorey's old Chicken Coop. Bruce Gordon had now managed to make a fullcircle, back to his beginnings on Mars. He'd started at the Coop with adeck of cards; now he was returning with a club.

  He had counted on at least some regret from Mother Corey, however. Butthe old man only nodded after hearing that Randolph was safe. "Fanatics,crusaders and damned fools!" he said. He shook his head sadly and wentshuffling back to his room, where two of his part-time henchmen weresitting.

  Sheila had been sitting on the bunk, still in her airsuit. Now shejerked upright, then sank back with a slow flush. Her hands weretrembling as she reached for a cup of coffee and handed it to him,listening to his quick report of Randolph's safety and the fact that hewas going back outside the dome.

  "I'm all packed," she said. "And I packed your things, too."

  He shot his eyes around the room, realizing that it was practicallybare, except for a few of her dresses. She followed his gaze, and shookher head. "I won't need them out there," she said. Her voice caught onthat. "They'll be safe here."

  "So will you, now that you've made up with the Mother," he told her."Your meal ticket's ruined, Cuddles, and you made it clear a littlewhile ago just where you stand. Remind me to tell you sometime how muchfun it's been."

  "Your mother was good with a soldering iron, wasn't she? You even lookhuman." She bent to pick up a shoulder pack and a bag,
and her face wasnormal when she stood up again. "You might guess that the cops would behappy to get hold of your wife now, though. Come on, it's a long walk."

  He left the car beyond the gate, and they pushed through the locker roomtoward the smaller exit, stopping to fasten down their helmets. Theguard halted them, but without any suspicion.

  "Going hunting for those damned kids, eh?" he said. He stared at Sheila."Lucky devil! All I got for a guide was an old bum. Okay, luck,Sergeant!"

  It made no sense to Gordon, but he wasn't going to argue. They wentthrough and out into the waste and slums beyond the domes, heading outuntil there were only the few phosphor bulbs to guide their way.

  Gordon was moving cautiously, using his helmet light only occasionally,gun ready in his hand. But it was Sheila who caught the faint sound. Heheard her cry out, and turned to see her crash into the stomach of a manwith a half-raised stick. He went down with almost no resistance. Sheilashot the beam of her light on the thin, drawn face. "Rusty!"

  "Hi, princess." He got up slowly, trying to grin. "Didn't know who itwas. Sorry. Ever get that louse you were out for?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, I got him. That's him--my husband! What's wrong withyou, Rusty? You've lost fifty pounds, and--"

  "Things are a mite tough out here, princess. No deliveries. Closed mybar, been living sort of hand to mouth, but not much mouth." His eyesbulged greedily as she dug into a bag and began to drag out thesandwiches she must have packed for the trip. But he shook his head. "Iain't so bad off. I ate something yesterday. But if you can sparesomething for the Kid--Hey, Kid!"

  A thin boy of about sixteen crept out from behind some rubble, staringuncertainly. Then, at the sight of the food, he made a lunge, grabbedit, and hardly waited to get it through the slits of his suit beforegulping it down. Rusty sat down, his lined old face breaking into afaint grin. He hesitated, but finally took some of the food.

  "Shouldn't oughta. You'll need it. Umm." He swallowed slowly, as iftasting the food all the way down. "Kid can't talk. Cop caught himpeddling one of Randolph's pamphlets, cut out part of his tongue. Buthe's all right now. Come on, Kid, hurry it up. We gotta convoy thesepeople."

  They were following a kind of road when headlights bore down on them.Gordon's hand was on his gun as they leaped for shelter, but there wasno hostile move from the big truck. He studied it, trying to decide whata truck would be doing here. Then a Marspeaker-amplified voice shoutedfrom it. "Any muckrakers there?"

  "One," Gordon shouted back, and ran toward it, motioning the others tofollow. He'd always objected to the nickname, but it made a good code.Randolph's frail hand came down to help them up, but a bigger paw didthe actual lifting.

  "Why didn't you two wait?" Mother Corey asked, his voice booming out ofhis Marspeaker. "I figured Izzy'd stop by first. Here, sit over there.Not much room, with my stuff and Randolph's, but it beats walking."

  "What in hell brings you back?" Gordon asked.

  The huge man shrugged ponderously. "A man gets tired of beingrespectable, cobber. And I'm getting old and sentimental about theChicken Coop." He chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "But not so oldthat I can't handle a couple of guards that are stubborn about trucks,eh, Izzy?"

  "Messy, but nice," Izzy agreed from the pile above them. "Tell thosetrained apes of yours to cut the lights, will you, Mother? Somebody mustbe using the Coop."

  They stopped the truck before reaching the old wreck. In the few dimlights, the old building still gave off an air of mold and decay. Gordonshuddered faintly, then followed Izzy and the Mother into thesemi-secret entrance.

  Izzy went ahead, almost silent, with a thin strand of wire between hishands, his elbows weaving back and forth slowly to guide him. He wasapparently as familiar with the garrote as the knife. But they found noguard. Izzy pressed the seal release and slid in cautiously, while theothers followed.

  In the beam of Gordon's torch, a single figure lay sprawled out on thefloor halfway to the rickety stairs to the main house. Mother Coreygrunted, and moved quickly to the coughing, battered old air machine.His fingers closed a valve equipped with a combination lock.

  "They're all dead, cobbers," he wheezed. "Dead because a crook had totry his hand on a lock. Years ago, I had a flask of poison gas attached,in case a gang should ever squeeze me out."

  In the filthy rooms above, Gordon found the corpses--about fifteen ofthem, and some former members of the Jurgens organization. He found theapelike bodyguard stretched out on a bunk, a vacant smile on his face.

  A yell from the basement called him back down to where Izzy was busilygoing through piles of crates and boxes stacked along one wall. He waspointing to a lead-foil-covered box. "Dope! And all that other stuff'sammunition!"

  He shivered, staring at the fortune in his hands. Then he grimaced andshoved the open can back in its case. He threw it back and beganstacking ammunition cases in front of the dope. Gordon went out to getthe others and start moving in the supplies and transferring the corpsesto the truck for disposal. Randolph scurried off to start setting up hismakeshift plant in the basement.

  Mother Corey was staring about when they returned. "Filthy," he wailed."A pigpen. They've ruined the Coop, cobber. Smell that air--even _I_ cansmell it!" He sniffed dolefully.

  Mother Corey sighed again. "Well, it'll give the boys something to do,"he decided. "When a man gets old, he likes a little comfort, cobber.Nice things around him..."

  Gordon found what had been his old room and dumped his few things intoit. Sheila watched him uncertainly, and then took possession of the nextroom. She came back a few minutes later, staring at the ages-old filth."I'll be cleaning for a week," she said. "What are you going to do now,Bruce?"

  He shook his head, and started back down the stairs. He hurried downinto the basement where Randolph was arranging his mimeograph.

  The printer listened only to the first sentence, and shook his headimpatiently. "I was afraid you'd think of that, Gordon. Look, you neverwere a reporter--you ran a column. I've read the stuff you wrote. Youkilled and maimed with words. But you never dug up news that would helppeople, or tell them what they didn't suspect all along. And that's whatI've got to have."

  "Thanks!" Gordon said curtly. "Too bad Security didn't think I was aslousy a reporter as you do!"

  "Okay. I'll give you a job, for one week. See what outer Marsport islike. Find what can be done, if anything, and do it if you can. Thencome back and give me six columns on it. I'll pay Mother Corey for yourfood--and for your wife's--and if I can find one column's worth of newsin it, maybe I'll give you a second week. I can't see a man's wifestarve because he doesn't know how to make an honest living!"

  * * * * *

  Rusty and one of Mother Corey's men were on guard, and the others hadturned in. Gordon went up the stairs and threw himself onto the bed indisgust.

  "Bruce!" Sheila stood outlined in the doorway against the dim glow of aphosphor bulb. Her robe was partly open, and hunger burned in him; then,before he could lift himself, she bent over and began unfastening hisboots. "You all right, Bruce? I heard you tossing around."

  "I'm fine," he told her mechanically. "Just making plans for tomorrow."

  He watched her turn back slowly, then lay quietly, trying not to disturbher again. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he'd find some kind of ananswer; and it wouldn't be Randolph's charity.