rapier-tube up, but hisarms were numbed and weary, a red mist swam before his eyes. Apowerful blow sent the weapon hurtling away, then the Jovian was uponhim; huge arms closed about him. It was useless to struggle. Lathamcould see the man's lips writhing back in a soundless rage.
Latham brought a knee up in a purely desperate move. Kraaz grunted,stumbled and fell, but he didn't let go. They were rolling togetherdown the slope. The Jovian's arms were a vise crushing away his life.Latham had a glimpse of a cliff falling sheerly away, with thosedeadly thorn-ferns reaching up from below.
_If I'm to die, it's going to be my way!_
That was Latham's last conscious thought as he surged against theJovian's braking body; his fingers clung tenaciously, his last ebbingstrength carried them both over the edge. Kraaz's arms broke away.Latham lashed out with his feet, then he was twisting, falling, farout into space ... and that's all he remembered.
Hands were tugging at him. A shrill chatter of voices rang in hisears. Someone was holding a gourd to his lips, trying to pour a hotsticky substance down his throat. Latham sat up and knocked the gourdaway. The little group of gweels fell back. Some of them were stillchattering, staring overhead with awe-stricken eyes.
Latham looked up and saw Kraaz, the Jovian. The huge bulk hung twentyfeet above, tangled in the foliage of a giant fern.
One thorn had entered his chest, another completely pierced histhroat. He was quite dead.
Wearily, Latham made his way back up to the village. Kueelo still laythere with the blackened hole through him. Latham tore away theleather pouch holding the Josmian; he had fought through hell andswamp and jungle for this, and by all the Redtails of Jupiter, he wastaking it back! He thought of Penger, and the tsith awaiting himthere. Most of all he thought of Callisto and the iridium fields,which would mean much more tsith. Clutching the Josmian as though itwere his life's blood, Joel Latham staggered away from there and beganthe long route back.
* * * * *
The men at the compound would not soon forget the night when JoelLatham returned. Penger was there of course; some prospectors from thenear-by hills, the crew of a supply freighter, a motley scattering ofothers whose business was unknown and unasked.
They stared in disbelief at the caricature that suddenly came out ofthe night to stand in the doorway of Penger's place. Clothes ripped inshreds, mud and blood bespattered, one arm dangling, tangled hair thatlooked unreal as if sewed to his scalp. An awful whiteness about thelips and eyes that were dark empty pools. Maybe it had once been anEarthman, but it was unrecognizable now! Joel Latham stood there foran instant, seeking out Penger behind the bar. Black exhaustionthreatened to take him, but with an effort he hoisted himself up.
He made his way across the room and slumped against the bar. Spacemenmoved out of his way. There was something about his eyes.
Penger moved down to him, stood staring in amazement.
"So it's you!" said Penger, and seemed unable to say more.
"It's me, all right." Latham's eyes were searching out the rows ofbottles. Martian thasium, Earth bourbon, the potent arack fromGanymede. It all left him cold. He was looking for the deadly tsith,and he saw no sign of it. "It's me, all right," Joel Latham saidagain, and he placed a closed fist upon the bar. "I've come to makethat deal with you, Penger!"
His fist opened slowly, and Penger was staring down at the Josmian.
"So it was true! And you really went after that thieving pair ... youtook it from them...." Penger's voice was unbelieving, but hecontinued to stare at the Josmian.
"It's yours if you want it, Penger. Dirt cheap! One thousand credits.That'll be enough to get me out of here on the first freighter, andset up for another try at the Callisto iridium fields. That's all Iwant."
Penger nodded, took the gem from Latham's hand and held it to thelight. "It's a beauty!" He replaced it in Latham's open palm. "But Ididn't promise to buy it! All I said was, I'd make you a deal."
Latham felt his stomach turning over. Kueelo had said this man was adevil! He got the words out: "What kind of a deal?"
"You ask one thousand credits. I offer you one thousand glasses oftsith! That'll last you a long time here."
So that was the devil's plan! Latham felt a cold sickness come overhim. He was sick from his wounds, sick from exhaustion, sick for thedesperate need of tsith. He found himself saying, "One drink rightnow! And eight hundred credits--"
"No drinks. Not until we make the deal. One thousand glasses of tsith,and that's my final offer."
Latham stared about him. Any spaceman here would offer five times athousand credits for such a gem! But they sensed that this was privatebetween him and Penger, and no man dared go against Penger here atVenusport. They watched the tableau in silence.
"I've got to get to Callisto!" Latham cried wretchedly, fighting backthe sickness. "Here--it's yours--just one drink now, and enoughcredits for passage!"
"Why Callisto?" Penger's voice was mocking. "So you make anotherstrike there, and it all ends with tsith anyway!" He reached beneaththe bar, brought out a crystal flagon of tsith. For a moment he heldthe sparkling blue liquid to the light, then placed it on the shelfbehind him.
"Damn you!" Latham tried to leap forward, but almost collapsed aswaves of nausea shook him.
"So. You see what I mean? In another year you'll be dead anyway, sowhat does it matter?" Penger leaned forward, smiling thinly."Earthman, what did you say your name was? Joel Latham, wasn't it?"
Latham swayed and clutched at the bar. He glared at the man, wonderingwhat diabolical scheme he was planning now.
* * * * *
Penger's eyes bored into him. "Joel Latham, I knew your father yearsago before he died on Mars. He was a fine man. A man of courage. Iwonder what Carl Latham would say now if he could see his son--"
"People from here to Mars and back," Latham rasped, "are alwaystelling me they knew my father! I'm sick of hearing about it! All Iwant to know, do you buy this Josmian or not?"
"I may make you another deal. Suppose I give you the thousand credits.But if I do, you don't go to Callisto."
"Where, then?" Latham's brain was throbbing, seeking out the gimmick.There must be a gimmick.
Penger glanced at a tall, angular man who had stayed in thebackground. A silent signal passed between them.
"They need a chart man at Asteroid Station Three. The work is not hardbut it's a thankless, monotonous existence. You're alone on ananchored world a half-mile in diameter. You sign on for three years,and there you stay. You have every need within reason, includingtechnical library and one-way radio. A government ship brings suppliesonce a year, and they don't include tsith."
Penger paused and peered at Latham, whose face had gone pale beneaththe growth of beard. "Your task would be to chart the thousands ofrogue asteroids that cause havoc in the spacelanes every year. Iunderstand you once knew ray-screens, co-ordinates and parabolics. Youcould brush up."
"It seems ... you know a lot about me!" Latham's voice was frightened.It didn't want to leave his throat. He was staring at the glitteringblue tsith behind Penger.
Penger motioned to the tall, angular man with the bright eyes. The manstepped to the bar.
"This is George Elston of Interplanet Commerce. He's been looking formonths for the right man. Frankly, I don't think it's you"--Lathamfelt the impact of Penger's scorn--"but he has a cruiser outside, andhe can up gravs within half an hour in case you are interested."
"I'm not--" Latham continued to stare at the glittering blue flagonjust out of reach.
"I thought not. Well, I've made you two offers. I'll buy your Josmianfor credits or tsith!" Penger counted out a thousand credits andslapped them on the bar. He poured a glass of tsith and placed it downgently. "Your choice, Latham! A choice of escape!"
* * * * *
A terrible quiet had come over the room. Latham's eyes werefever-bright, burning deep in his skull. His stomach twisted like anest of col
d serpents. A choice of escape! There was no choice. Therewas only tsith. He had only to take it. Penger was right. He would diehere within a year, but he had resigned himself to that.
He would die out there on the Station, too; he would die a thousanddeaths without tsith. Three years! Latham had heard of a few tsithhounds who tried it. He knew in every detail the agonies of body andmind a man went through, before the absence of the stuff either brokehim of the terrible need, or left him a gibbering, mindless wreck. Notmany of them ever pulled through it.
Joel Latham thought of all this and made his choice. He slammed theJosmian on the bar; his trembling