CHAPTER III
_Death Rides the Star Devil_
Usually, when pursuing an enemy, Hawk Carse was impassive and grim,apparently emotionless, icy. But now he seemed somehow disturbed.
He fidgeted around, glancing occasionally at the visi-screen to makesure his quarry was not changing course, now watching Friday jugglethrough the skin of atmosphere into outer space, and now standingapart, silent and solitary, brooding.
There was something about the affair he didn't like. Something thatwas deeply hidden, that could not be grasped clearly; that might, onthe other hand, be pure imagination. And yet, why--
Why, for instance, had the brigands taken to their heels with just thebarest semblance of fight? Why, with their defensive ray-web proof forsome time at least against his offensive rays, had they left withoutmore of a struggle for the horn? Why were they so willing to flee,knowing as they must that he, the Hawk, would follow? Did they notknow he had--thanks to Master Scientist Eliot Leithgow--the fastestship in space, and would inevitably overtake them?
Were they Ku Sui's men? It seemed so, certainly, from the greatstrength of their defensive ray-web. No other ships that he knew of inspace save Ku Sui's possessed such power. But--it wasn't the brilliantEurasian's customary style. It was too simple for him.
Carse stroked his bangs. The factors were all mixed up. He didn't likeit.
Iapetus' atmosphere was left behind; in minutes the light blue wash ofher sky changed to the hard, frigid blackness of lifeless space. The_Star Devil's_ lighting tubes glowed softly, though Saturn's rays,coming through the wide bow windows, still lit every object in thecontrol cabin with hard and dazzling brilliancy. Inside, light andcolor, life and action; outside, the eternal, sable void, sprinkledwith its millions of sparkling motes of worlds. And ahead--shown nowon the visa-screen only by the light dots of its ports--was thebrigand craft.
The _Star Devil_ was smoothly building up the speed that wouldeventually bring her up to the craft of the enemy. Carse's Earth-watchtold him that an hour and a half had passed. A vague anxiety oppressedhim, but he shook it off with the thought that soon the time foraccounting would arrive. Only forty minutes more; probably less. Hisfears--foolish. He was getting too suspicious....
* * * * *
Then came the voice.
It pierced through the control cabin from the loudspeaker cone abovethe radio switchboard. It was rough and mocking. It said:
"Hawk Carse? Hawk Carse? You hear me?" Many times it repeated this."Yes? You hear me, Hawk Carse? I've a joke I want you to hear--a veryfunny joke. You'll enjoy it!" There interrupted the staccato sounds ofan irrepressible amusement.
Carse froze. His fingers by habit fluttered over his ray-gun butt ashe wheeled and looked into the loudspeaker. Friday, at thespace-stick, stared at him; Harkness's face was puzzled as he peeredat the loudspeaker and then turned and gazed at his captain.
"But where," he asked, "--where does the voice come from? Who is it?"
As if thinking aloud, Carse whispered:
"From that ship ahead. I half expected ... I know it well, that voice.Very well. It's the voice of ... of ... I can't quite place it.... Ina minute.... The voice of--"
The chuckling ceased, and again the voice spoke.
"Yes--a very funny joke! I can't share it all with you, Carse, becauseyou'd spoil it. But do you remember, some years ago, five men--andanother who lay before them? Do you remember how this last man said:'Each one of you will die for what you've done to me?' That man didn'twear bangs over his forehead then. Remember? Well, I'm one of the fivethe mighty Hawk Carse swore he would kill!"
Again the voice broke into a chuckle.
But it ended suddenly. The tone it changed into was entirelydifferent, was cruel with a taunting sneer.
"Bah! The avenging Hawk! The mighty Hawk! Well, in minutes, you'll bedead. You'll be dead! The mighty Sparrow Carse will be dead!"
A brief eternity went by. Carse remembered, and the glint in his grayeyes grew colder.
"Judd the Kite," he whispered.
Friday's lips formed the words.
And even Harkness, new to the frontiers of space, knew the name andechoed it haltingly.
"Judd the Kite...."
* * * * *
Of all the henchmen Dr. Ku Sui had gathered about him and bandedagainst Earth, and against Carse, and against all peaceful traders andmerchant-ships, Judd was perhaps the most cruel and relentless.
The Kite he was called--though only behind his back--yet it mightbetter have been Vulture. Big and gross, with thick unstable lips andstubby, hairy fingers, more than once he and his motley gang ofhi-jackers had painted a crimson splash across the far corners of thefrontiers, and daubed it to the tortured groans of the crews of honesttrading ships. Often they had plunged on isolated trading posts andleft their factors wallowing in their life blood. And more....
There are things that cannot be set down in print, that the carefullyedited history books only hint at, and into this class fell many ofthe Kite's deeds. He was a master of the Venusian tortures. He and hisband during the unspeakable debauches which always followed asuccessful raid would amuse themselves by practising certain of thesetortures on the day's captives; and his victims, both men and women,would see and feel indescribable things, and Death would be kept mostcarefully away until the last ounce of life and pain had been squeezedquite dry.
"Judd the Kite," Carse repeated in a hardly audible whisper. "Judd theKite ... one of the five...." Slowly his left hand rose and smoothedhis long bangs of flaxen hair. "I have been looking for him."
"Will you reply to him, sir?" asked Harkness.
"What use? His trap--Ku Sui's trap, of course--has already been set."His brain raced. "What could it be?" he whispered slowly.
* * * * *
Friday was scratching his woolly hair, his smooth face puzzled, whenCarse, with the crisp decisiveness that always came to him when inaction, looked up at the visi-screen. The brigand was still clingingto a straight course, and being overhauled rapidly. Another thirtyminutes and they would be within striking distance. He said tersely:
"Set up the defensive web. Spiral and zig-zag the ship all you dare,altering the period of the swing each time. Harkness, you and I aregoing to make an inspection tour. General alarm if Judd's coursechanges, Friday."
"Yes, suh." The negro, frowning, gave his undivided attention to hisinstruments as the Hawk and Harkness went aft into the nextcompartment, the engine room.
It looked quite normal. The great dynamos were humming smoothly; theair-renewing machine was functioning steadily; the gauge hands allslept or quivered in their usual places. Nothing uneven in the slightvibration of the ship; nothing that might possibly forbode trouble. Upon his perch, the engineer peered down curiously and asked:
"Anything wrong, sir?"
"Not yet," Carse answered shortly. "You're sure everything is regularhere?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. But check every vital spot at once--and quickly. Then keepalert."
They passed on into the following compartment, the mess-room andsleeping quarters for the crew. Solid, rhythmical snores were issuingfrom the cook's open mouth as he lay sprawled out on his bunk; thesmell of coffee hovered in the air; the cabin was quiet andcomfortable with an atmosphere of sleep and rest. The radio-man,reading in his bunk, looked over and, seeing it was Carse, sat up.
"Notice anything wrong?" he was asked.
"Wrong? What--Why, no, sir. You want me for duty?"
"Yes. Stay here and keep your eyes open for signs of trouble. I'mexpecting some. General alarm if the slightest thing happens." AndCarse went noiselessly into the last division of the ship.
This was the cargo hold. The boxes of phanti horns were neatly stackedin precise rows; the dim tube burning overhead showed nothing thatgave the smallest cause for alarm. The Hawk's narrowed eyes sweptwalls, deck and ceiling in a search for signs of stra
in or buckling,but found none.
* * * * *
Then he let himself down into the ship's belly, in the three-foot-highspace between the deck and the bottom outer hull. He found the threerows of delicately adjusted gravity plates in good order. Harknessjoined him.
Their hand-flashes scanned every inch of the narrow compartment asthey made the under-deck passage from stem to bow and up through theforward trap-door into the control cabin. They found nothing abnormal.The water and fuel tanks, built in the space between the inner andouter shells above the living quarters, also yielded nothing; likewisethe storeroom.
Nothing. Nothing at all. The whole ship was in excellent condition.Everything was working as it should. Carse went forward again withHarness; turned and faced him with puzzled eyes.
"I can't understand it," he said. "Why that threat, when everythingseems all right? How can Judd reach me to kill me? And in minutes?"
The navigator shook his head. "It's beyond me, sir."
The Hawk shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we'll see. It might besomething altogether new. You report to the engine-room and keep onwatch there. Any sound or sign, give the general alarm."
"Yes, sir," he said, and left.
"He talkin' foolish, that Judd," grumbled Friday, seeing that thesearch had been fruitless. "He think maybe he can bust through ourray-web? Hmff!"
His master said nothing. He was standing motionless in the center ofthe cabin, waiting--waiting for he knew not what.
Then it came.
A preparatory sputter from the loudspeaker that spun Friday around.Hawk looked up, tensed. Again sounded the hard, sneering voice of Juddthe Kite.
"We're ready now, Carse: there was a little delay. I'll give you, say,five seconds. Yes--one for each of the five men you did _not_ kill.Shall I count them off? All right. You have till the fifth.
"One."
Friday's big eyes rolled nervously; he wiped a drop of sweat from hisbrow and cursed.
"Two."
* * * * *
He glanced at the Hawk, and tried himself to assume the unshakablesteely calm of the great adventurer. But his fists would clench andunclench as he stared up at the visi-screen. No change! The brigandwas running straight ahead as ever, apparently fleeing.
"Three."
The negro's breath came more quickly; the tendons of his neck stoodsharply out, and his powerful arms twitched nervously. "What's hegoin' to do, suh? What's he goin' to do?" he asked hoarsely. "What'she goin' to do?"
"Four."
"Change course--a-starboard!" Carse rapped. The space-stick moved alittle, all Friday dared, at their speed; the position dials swung;the dot of a fixed star that had been visible a moment before throughthe bow windows was now gone. Till the fifth, Judd had said.
"Five!"
The two men in the control cabin of the _Star Devil_ peered at eachother. One of them licked his lips and wiped the sweat from his brow.But there was nothing. No sound, no change. No general alarm bell. Nooffensive ray spearing across the reaches of space; no slightestchange in the brigand's course. He who had mopped the sweat awaylaughed loud and long in overwhelming relief.
"All foolishment!" he gurgled. "That Judd, he crazy. Try to scare us,I guess--huh! Try to--"
"_What's that?_" whispered Hawk Carse.
A sudden faint rustle of noise, of movement, had breathed through theship.
At first it was hardly discernible; but it grew. It grew withparalyzing rapidity into a low but steady murmur, blended soon withvoices raised in quick cries. There was one piercing, ragged shriek,and all the time an undertone of the indefinite, peculiar sound ofsomething rustling, creeping, growing.
* * * * *
Then came the harsh jangle of the general alarm bell.
"Space-suits!" Carse snapped. The alarm was the signal to put them on;it was a safeguard from a possible breach in the ship's walls. Againstsuch an emergency they had drilled often, and all over the ship thecrew would be springing rapidly into space-suits hanging ready.
The space-stick automatically locked as Friday, eyes rolling, leapedwith his master to the nearby locker. The shriek from aft had quicklydied, the alarm bell had snapped off; but now there came a franticrush of feet, and a man tumbled through into the control cabin, hisface white, his eyes stark with horror, his breath coming in gasps andthe sweat of fear on his brow.
It was Harkness.
He slammed the door tight shut behind him and stumbled to the suitlocker; and as his fingers fumbled at his suit with the clumsiness ofpanic, he stammered:
"The cargo--the boxes of horn--it came from aft! Fungus! Planted inthe horn! It's filling the ship! Got all the others and grew--_grew_on them! Dead already. There--look, look!"
Carse and Friday, grotesque giants in the bulky sheathings of stiff,many-plied fabric, turned as one and peered through their quartziteface shields to where the navigator's bulging eyes directed them.
It was the door between control cabin and engine room--the door he hadjust slammed shut. At first nothing was visible; then they saw the vanof the enemy that had swarmed through the ship.
A thin line of bright yellow color had appeared along the under crackof the door. A second later the door was rimmed on all sides with it.It grew; reached out. Energy flowed through it: fingers of dustyyellow pronged out from the cracks where the door fitted, hungwavering for a moment, melted together, then slumped to the floor tomore quickly continue the advance. It increased marvelously, in minorjerks of speed. It was delicate in texture, mold-like. The more therebecame, the faster it grew: in seconds shreds of it had darted outfrom the main mass and affixed themselves to the walls and ceiling ofthe cabin, there to accelerate the horrible filling process.
* * * * *
All this happened more quickly than it can be related. Within tenseconds most of the cabin was coated by the yellow stuff; grotesquelyformed clumps and feathers hung from the ceiling; fern-like fingerskept spurting everywhere. Friday stepped back, before the advance, butnot the Hawk. Useless to try and evade the stuff, he knew, and he wasfairly positive that there was no immediate danger: the tough fabricof the suits should resist it. A pseudopod-like surge flicked to hisleg; crept up; cloaked the suit in patches of yellow; thickened andenveloped him. But it could not pierce through.
"Cap'n Carse! Look heah!"
He turned to the alarmed voice, brushing light, feathery particles ofyellow from his face shield, and found the bulky giant that was Fridaya few steps behind him, and pointing mutely at Harkness.
The young officer was slumped limply down against a wall, his legssprawled and body twisted unnaturally. His suit was covered with theyellow, and he had fallen, silently, while they were watching theadvance of the fungus and checking the fastenings of their suits.
Carse reached him in three steps, stooped, brushed the fungus off theface-shield and peered through. Friday looked over his shoulder. Theyellow enemy had laid its deadly fingers on Harkness's fine pale face.Sprouts of yellow trailed from the nostrils; the mouth was a clump ofit; tendrils of spongy substance had climbed out the ears and werestill threading rapidly over the head, even as the Hawk and Fridaywatched.
"That's how the others died," the adventurer said slowly. "Harknessmust have carried a bit of the stuff from aft. It was on him when heput on his suit. At least I hope so. If it can get into thesesuits...." He left the thought unfinished.
"You mean, suh," asked Friday haltingly, "you mean that maybe--maybeit'll get in our suits too?"
"Maybe," said Carse without emotion.
They waited.