CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lors left the wardroom and walked along the hollow, brightly lightedcorridors toward the hospital where Detective Nolan Brice was being kepta prisoner. He would be the tough one of the two, because his mentalroots were still very close to the witchcraft believing parents who hadgiven him birth.
Brice was a Pennsylvanian; he was fairly intelligent, but like allPennsylvanians he had an unconscious closeness with tradition. He was ofthe type who would stoutly deny he was superstitious, yet would refuseto walk under a ladder. How would he react to Lors' proposal? Would he,with typical Dutch stubbornness, tell him to go to hell, or would heco-operate? It was a difficult thing to predict.
Lors shoved the door to the hospital open and grinned at the spacerbehind the desk. "You've a Terran here?" He asked.
The spacer nodded and laid down the sheets of paper he had been rufflingas Lors came in. "Yes sir, we have one. He's in the care of DoctorZuloe."
"What are they doing to him?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I understand he was in a great state of shock whenhe arrived. I would imagine they're giving him rehabilitativetreatment."
Lors grinned again. Apparently the method by which they had snatched thedetective had completely unnerved him. "I'd like to see him," he toldthe spacer. "Where can I find Doctor Zuloe?"
"I'm sorry, sir. Only authorized personnel will be allowed tointerrogate him."
"I'm authorized, I believe. I captured him. I'm Lors."
The young spacer flushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know who you were."He pointed to the door behind him. "You may go through there. Straightdown the corridor until you reach the fourth ward."
"Doctor Zuloe will be there?"
"I think so."
"Thank you."
Lors shoved the door open and walked down the long hall toward thefourth ward, not quite sure in his mind how he could spring the Terranfrom the hospital and get him down to where the scout ships werehangared. But it had to be done. If he failed, and they all ended updead, or thrown into the penal colonies on Thista, the trade programwith Terra would be set back at least fifty years. All the ground theyhad gained, all the knowledge and plans they had formulated, would beuseless. They would have to start from scratch.
The wrecked scout ship could be covered up, but the loss of DetectiveLieutenant Brice and Nicholas Danson would not go unnoticed, especiallywhen Beth Danson spilled her story about the strange events that hadgone on at the cabin. Of course, Terra would never be able tocorroborate what she had experienced - yet they were on the verge ofspace travel, and they were a war-like race. They could cause all sortsof unnecessary trouble in space.
It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even ifit meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it.
He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for DoctorZuloe. The man wasn't hard to find; he was the only person in the smallanteroom.
"What can I do for you, Firstspacer?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Zuloe."
"I'm Lors."
For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-agedman with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set offeatures. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study ofLors' face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair.
"Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?"
"I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I'm to blame for havingbrought Brice up here."
"You know him?" Doctor Zuloe's eyes narrowed visibly.
"Yes. At least, I think I know him better than you people do."
"Then perhaps you can help us with him. When he arrived here, he was ina state of acute shock in which he was almost violent. He kept screamingabout witchcraft and all sorts of Terran nonsense. We gave him as muchtreatment as we could, under the circumstances, and he stopped actinglike a wildman."
"How is he now?"
"Numb. He's sitting on his bed, in a special room, and staring at thewall."
"He isn't out of his mind, is he?"
"I don't think so, but he has had a tremendous strain and shock. It'lltake awhile. He isn't of the same structure as the other one."
Lors sighed wearily. "I'll see what I can do with him. Commander Zarkhas plans for him."
"Another switch?" The doctor made no attempt to cover his disgust overthe idea.
"An accident, I believe."
"From bad to worse, huh?"
Lors didn't answer him. He merely made a motion with his hand for thedoctor to show him where the Terran was being kept. Doctor Zuloe noddedand pointed toward a door at the far end of the ward. A blue uniformedspacer stood guard before the door. He clicked his heels as Lorsapproached.
"I want to see the Terran, spacer," Lors said briskly.
The spacer nodded and opened the door. Lors stepped inside and listenedto the lock click into place behind him.
Nolan Brice was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the wall, butLors did not believe that he was in a state of shock. He had the knottedjaws of a man who is firmly determined to betray nothing to his captors.He sat there with his fingers laced together, hanging between his knees,his clothing rumpled and hanging loose from his broad frame.
"Nolan?"
Brice swung his eyes to the Firstspacer, the muscles of his jawsworking. "I'll kill you," he said, with a horrible softness in hisvoice.
"Nolan. Listen, I'm here to help you."
"You've done a lot of helping, spaceman. I know what you want. Earth."
"Don't be silly. I want to help you and Danson to get back home..."
"I don't need you!"
"Shut up and listen. I'm risking my neck coming in here to help you, soyou damned well better follow orders. In a minute I'm going to call thatguard in here, and we're going to borrow his uniform. Then we'll headfor a scout ship and get you to hell back to Terra. Will that suityou?"
"This is some kind of trick..."
"Do you want to go, or stay here," Lors demanded coldly. "I don't havetime to lecture you. I'll leave that up to your friend, Danson."
"Play it your way, spaceman," Brice said tightly.
"Okay." Lors stood up and spoke through the door to the guard, pullinghis auto-pistol from the holster. "Come in here, spacer!"
The guard shoved the door open and came in. "What is it, Firstspacer?"
"Him."
The guard swung to look at Brice and, as his head turned, Lors broughtthe butt of the pistol down hard. The guard grunted and dropped heavilyto the floor, his auto-rifle falling with a loud thud. By now, ifeverything was working out right, Danson should be on his way to thescout ship hangar. Lors looked at Brice.
"Come on, Nolan. Get into these clothes!"
Between the two of them, the stripping of the guard was fast. In a fewminutes, Brice was wearing the spacer's blue uniform and was bucklingthe black cartridge belt about his waist. He gripped the auto-rifle inhis hands eagerly and looked at Lors.
"Hand me his helmet," he said.
Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors sawthe punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in hisdefense. Nolan Brice's fist smashed into the side of his face withstunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed.
"Thanks," he heard Brice snarl.
Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the force of the punchmaking his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the soundof Brice's running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damnedfool, he thought. You can't get off this ship alone!
He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran...