Part 1

MONOPOLY

By Vic Phillips and Scott Roberts

Sheer efficiency and good management can make a monopoly grow into being. And once it grows, someone with a tyrant mind is going to try to use it as a weapon if he can--

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science-Fiction April 1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

"That all, chief? Gonna quit now?"

Brian Hanson looked disgustedly at Pete Brent, his lanky assistant. That was the first sign of animation he had displayed all day.

"I am, but you're not," Hanson told him grimly. "Get your notes straightened up. Run those centrifuge tests and set up the still so we can get at that vitamin count early in the morning."

"Tomorrow morning? Aw, for gosh sakes, chief, why don't you take a day off sometime, or better yet, a night off. It'd do you good to relax. Boy, I know a swell blonde you could go for. Wait a minute, I've got her radiophone number somewhere--just ask for Myrtle."

Hanson shrugged himself out of his smock.

"Never mind Myrtle, just have that equipment set up for the morning. Good night." He strode out of the huge laboratory, but his mind was still on the vitamin research they had been conducting, he barely heard the remarks that followed him.

"One of these days the chief is going to have his glands catch up with him."

"Not a chance," Pete Brent grunted.

Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he stepped outside the research building.

He paused and let his eyes lift to the buildings that surrounded the compound. This was the administrative heart of Venus City. Out here, alone, he let his only known emotion sweep through him, pride. He had an important role in the building of this great new city. As head of the Venus Consolidated Research Organization, he was in large part responsible for the prosperity of this vigorous, young world. Venus Consolidated had built up this city and practically everything else that amounted to anything on this planet. True, there had been others, pioneers, before the company came, who objected to the expansion of the monopolistic control. But, if they could not realize that the company's regime served the best interests of the planet, they would just have to suffer the consequences of their own ignorance. There had been rumors of revolution among the disgruntled older families.

He heard there had been killings, but that was nonsense. Venus Consolidated police had only powers of arrest. Anything involving executions had to be referred to the Interplanetary Council on Earth. He dismissed the whole business as he did everything else that did not directly influence his own department.

He ignored the surface transport system and walked to his own apartment. This walk was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in the laboratory. As he opened the door of his apartment he heard the water running into his bath. Perfect timing. He was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. He undressed and climbed into the tub, relaxing luxuriously in the exhilaration of irradiated water.

He let all the problems of his work drift away, his mind was a peaceful blank. Then someone was hammering on his head. He struggled reluctantly awake. It was the door that was being attacked, not his head. The battering thunder continued persistently. He swore and sat up.

"What do you want?"

There was no answer; the hammering continued.

"All right! All right! I'm coming!" He yelled, crawled out of the tub and reached for his bathrobe. It wasn't there. He swore some more and grabbed a towel, wrapping it inadequately around him; it didn't quite meet astern. He paddled wetly across the floor sounding like a flock of ducks on parade.

Retaining the towel with one hand he inched the door cautiously open.

"What the devil--" He stopped abruptly at the sight of a policeman's uniform.

"Sorry, sir, but one of those rebels is loose in the Administration Center somewhere. We're making a check-up of all the apartments."

"Well, you can check out; I haven't got any blasted rebels in here." The policeman's face hardened, then relaxed knowingly.

"Oh, I see, sir. No rebels, of course. Sorry to have disturbed you. Have a good--Good night, sir," he saluted and left.

Brian closed the door in puzzlement. What the devil had that flat-foot been smirking about? Well, maybe he could get his bath now.

* * * * *

Hanson turned away from the door and froze in amazement. Through the open door of his bedroom he could see his bed neatly turned down as it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine.

"Hello." The voice matched the calm alertness of a pair of deep-blue eyes. Brian just stared at her in numbed fascination. That was what the policeman had meant with his insinuating smirk.

"Just ask for Myrtle." Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. Now he got it. This was probably the young fool's idea of a joke. He'd soon fix that.

"All right, joke's over, you can beat it now."

"Joke? I don't see anything funny, unless it's you and that suggestive towel. You should either abandon it or get one that goes all the way round."

Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs.

"Shut up and throw me my dressing gown." He gritted.

The girl swung her legs out of bed and Brian blinked; she was fully dressed. The snug, zippered overall suit she wore did nothing to conceal the fact that she was a female. He wrapped his bathrobe austerely around him.

"Well, now what?" she asked and looked at him questioningly.

"Well, what do you think?" he burst out angrily. "I'm going to finish my bath and I'd suggest you go down to the laboratory and hold hands with Pete. He'd appreciate it." He got the impression that the girl was struggling heroically to refrain from laughing and that didn't help his dignity any. He strode into the bathroom, slammed the door and climbed back into the bath.

The door opened a little.

"Well, good-by now." The girl said sweetly. "Remember me to the police force."

"Get out of here!" he yelled and the door shut abruptly on a rippling burst of laughter. Damn women! It was getting so a man had to pack a gun with him or something. And Pete Brent. He thought with grim satisfaction of the unending extra work that was going to occur around the laboratory from now on. He sank back into the soothing liquid embrace of the bath and deliberately set his mind loose to wander in complete relaxation.

A hammering thunder burst on the outer door. He sat up with a groan.

"Lay off, you crazy apes!" he yelled furiously, but the pounding continued steadily. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger burning within him. He flung the door wide, his mouth all set for a withering barrage, but he didn't get a chance. Four police constables and a sergeant swarmed into the room, shoving him away from the door.

"Say! What the--"

"Where is she?" the sergeant demanded.

"Wherethehell's who?"

"Quit stallin', bud. You know who. That female rebel who was in here."

"Rebel? You're crazy! That was just ... Pete said ... rebel? Did you say rebel?"

"Yeah, I said rebel, an' where is she?"

"She ... why ... why ... she left, of course. You don't think I was going to have women running around in here, do you?"

"She wuz in his bed when I seen her, sarge," one of the guards contributed. "But she ain't there now."

"You don't think that I--"

"Listen, bud, we don't do the thinkin' around here. You come on along and see the chief."

Brian had had about enough. "I'm not going anywhere to see anybody. Maybe you don't know who I am. You can't arrest me."

* * * * *

Brian Hanson, Chief of Research for Venus Consolidated, as dignified as possible in a damp bathrobe, glared out through the bars at a slightly bewildered Pete Brent.

"What the devil do you want? Haven't you caused enough blasted trouble already?"

"Me? For gosh sakes, chief--"

"Yes, you! If sending that damn blonde to my apartment and getting me arrested is your idea of a joke--"

"But, my gosh, I didn't send anybody, chief. And this is no joke. That wasn't Myrtle, that was Crystal James, old man James' daughter. They're about the oldest family on Venus. Police have been after her for months; she's a rebel and she's sure been raising plenty of hell around here. She got in and blew out the main communications control panel last night. Communications been tied up all day." Pete lowered his voice to an appreciative whisper, "Gosh, chief, I didn't know you had it in you. How long have you been in with that bunch? Is that girl as good-looking as they say she is?"

"Now listen here, Brent. I don't know--"

"Oh, it's all right, chief. You can trust me. I won't give you away."

"There's nothing to give away, you fool!" Brian bellowed. "I don't know anything about any damn rebels. All I want is to get out of here--"

"Gotcha, chief," Brent whispered understandingly. "I'll see if I can pass the word along."

"Come here, you idiot!" Brian screamed after his erstwhile assistant.

"Pipe down there, bud," a guard's voice cut in chillingly.

Brian retired to his cell bunk and clutched his aching head in frustrated fury.

For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars.

"Listen here, guard, you've got to take a message to McHague. You can't hold me here indefinitely."

"Shut up. Nobody ain't takin' no message to McHague. I don't care if you are--"

Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck and jam a rag over his nose and mouth. Swift shadows moved expertly before his astonished gaze. Another guard was caught and silenced as he came around the end of the corridor. Someone was outside his cell door, a hooded figure which seemed, somehow, familiar.

"Hello, pantless!" a voice breathed.

He knew that voice!

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"Somebody by the name of Pete Brent tipped us off that you were in trouble because of me. But don't worry, we're going to get you out."

"Damn that fool kid! Leave me alone. I don't want to get out of here that way!" he yelled wildly. "Guards! Help!"

"Shut up! Do you want to get us shot?"

"Sure I do. Guards! Guards!"

Someone came running.

"Guards are coming," a voice warned.

He could hear the girl struggling with the lock.

"Damn," she swore viciously. "This is the wrong key! Your goose is sure cooked now. Whether you like it or not, you'll hang with us when they find us trying to get you out of here."

Brian felt as though something had kicked him in the stomach. She was right! He had to get out now. He wouldn't be able to explain this away.

"Give me that key," he hissed and grabbed for it.

He snapped two of the coigns off in the lock and went to work with the rest of the key. He had designed these escape-proof locks himself. In a few seconds the door swung open and they were fleeing silently down the jail corridor.

The girl paused doubtfully at a crossing passage.

"This way," he snarled and took the lead. He knew the ground plan of this jail perfectly. He had a moment of wonder at the crazy spectacle of himself, the fair-haired boy of Venus Consolidated, in his flapping bathrobe, leading a band of escaping rebels out of the company's best jail.

They burst around a corner onto a startled guard.

"They're just ahead of us," Brian yelled. "Come on!"

"Right with you," the guard snapped and ran a few steps with them before a blackjack caught up with him and he folded into a corner.

"Down this way, it's a short cut." Brian led the way to a heavily barred side door.

The electric eye tripped a screaming alarm, but the broken key in Brian's hands opened the complicated lock in a matter of seconds. They were outside the jail on a side street, the door closed and the lock jammed immovably behind them.

Sirens wailed. The alarm was out! The street suddenly burst into brilliance as the floodlights snapped on. Brian faltered to a stop and Crystal James pushed past him.

"We've got reinforcements down here," she said, then skidded to a halt. Two guards barred the street ahead of them.

Brian felt as though his stomach had fallen down around his ankles and was tying his feet up. He couldn't move. The door was jammed shut behind them, they'd have to surrender and there'd be no explaining this break. He started mentally cursing Pete Brent, when a projector beam slashed viciously by him. These guards weren't fooling! He heard a gasping grunt of pain as one of the rebels went down. They were shooting to kill.

He saw a sudden, convulsive movement from the girl. A black object curved out against the lights. The sharp, ripping blast of an atomite bomb thundered along the street and slammed them to the ground. The glare left them blinded. He struggled to his feet. The guards had vanished, a shallow crater yawned in the road where they had been.

"We've got to run!" the girl shouted.

He started after her. Two surface transport vehicles waited around the corner. Brian and the rebels bundled into them and took away with a roar. The chase wasn't organized yet, and they soon lost themselves in the orderly rush of Venus City traffic.

* * * * *

The two carloads of rebels cruised nonchalantly past the Administration Center and pulled into a private garage a little beyond.

"What are we stopping here for?" Brian demanded. "We've got to get away."

"That's just what we're doing," Crystal snapped. "Everybody out."

The rebels piled out and the cars pulled away to become innocuous parts of the traffic stream. The rebels seemed to know where they were going and that gave them the edge on Brian. They followed Crystal down into the garage's repair pit.

She fumbled in the darkness a moment, then a darker patch showed as a door swung open in the side of the pit. They filed into the solid blackness after her and the door thudded shut. The beam of a torch stabbed through the darkness and they clambered precariously down a steep, steel stairway.

"Where the dickens are we?" Brian whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, you don't have to whisper, we're safe enough here. This is one of the air shafts leading down to the old mines."

"Old mines? What old mines?"

"That's something you newcomers don't know anything about. This whole area was worked out long before Venus Consolidated came to the planet. These old tunnels run all under the city."

They went five hundred feet down the air shaft before they reached a level tunnel.

"What do we do? Hide here?"

"I should say not. Serono Zeburzac, head of McHague's secret police will be after us now. We won't be safe anywhere near Venus City."

"Don't be crazy. That Serono Zeburzac stuff is just a legend McHague keeps up to scare people with."

"That's what you think," Crystal snapped. "McHague's legend got my father and he'll get all of us unless we run the whole company right off the planet."

"Well, what the dickens does he look like?" Brian asked doubtfully.

"I don't know, but his left hand is missing. Dad did some good shooting before he died," she said grimly.

Brian was startled at the icy hardness of her voice.

Two of the rebels pulled a screening tarpaulin aside and revealed one of the old-type ore cars that must have been used in the ancient mines. A brand-new atomic motor gleamed incongruously at one end. The rebels crowded into it and they went rumbling swiftly down the echoing passage. The lights of the car showed the old working, rotten and crumbling, fallen in in some places and signs of new work where the rebels had cleared away the debris of years.

Brian struggled into a zippered overall suit as they followed a twisting, tortuous course for half an hour, switching from one tunnel to another repeatedly until he had lost all conception of direction. Crystal James, at the controls, seemed to know exactly where they were going.

The tunnel emerged in a huge cavern that gloomed darkly away in every direction. The towering, massive remains of old machinery, eroded and rotten with age crouched like ancient, watching skeletons.

"These were the old stamp mills," the girl said, and her voice seemed to be swallowed to a whisper in the vast, echoing darkness.

Between two rows of sentinel ruins they came suddenly on two slim Venusian atmospheric ships. Dim light spilled over them from a ragged gash in the wall of the cavern. Brian followed Crystal into the smaller of the two ships and the rest of the rebels manned the other.

"Wait a minute, how do we get out of here?" Brian demanded.

"Through that hole up there," the girl said matter-of-factly.

"You're crazy, you can't get through there."

"Oh, yeah? Just watch this." The ship thundered to life beneath them and leaped off in a full-throttled take-off.

"We're going to crash! That gap isn't wide enough!"

The sides of the gap rushed in on the tips of the stubby wings. Brian braced himself for the crash, but it didn't come. At the last possible second, the ship rolled smoothly over. At the moment it flashed through the opening it was stood vertically on edge.

* * * * *

Crystal held the ship in its roll and completed the maneuver outside the mountain while Brian struggled to get his internal economy back into some semblance of order.

"That's some flying," he said as soon as he could speak.

Crystal looked at him in surprise. "That's nothing. We Venusians fly almost as soon as we can walk."

"Oh--I see," Brian said weakly and a few moments later he really did see. Two big, fast, green ships, carrying the insignia of the Venus Consolidated police, cruised suddenly out from a mountain air station.

An aƫrial torpedo exploded in front of the rebel ship. Crystal's face set in grim lines as she pulled the ship up in a screaming climb. Brian got up off the floor.

"You don't have to get excited like that," he complained. "They weren't trying to hit us."

"That's what you think," Crystal muttered. "Those children don't play for peanuts."

"But, girl, they're just Venus Consolidated police. They haven't got any authority to shoot anyone."

"Authority doesn't make much difference to them," Crystal snapped bitterly. "They've been killing people all over the planet. What do you think this revolution is about?"

"You must be mistak--" He slumped to the floor as Crystal threw the ship into a mad, rolling spin. A tremendous crash thundered close astern.

"I guess that was a mistake!" Crystal yelled as she fought the controls.

Brian almost got to his feet when another wild maneuver hurled him back to the floor. The police ship was right on their tail. The girl gunned her craft into a snap Immelmann and swept back on their pursuers, slicing in close over the ship. Brian's eyes bulged as he saw a long streak of paint and metal ripped off the wing of the police ship. He saw the crew battling their controls in startled terror. The ship slipped frantically away and fell into a spin.

"That's them," Crystal said with satisfaction. "How are the others doing?"

"Look! They're hit!" Brian felt sick.

The slower rebel freight ship staggered drunkenly as a torpedo caught it and ripped away half a wing. It plunged down in flames with the white flowers of half a dozen parachutes blossoming around it. Brian watched in horror as the police ship came deliberately about. They heard its forward guns go into action. The bodies of the parachutists jerked and jumped like crazy marionettes as the bullets smashed into them. It was over in a few moments. The dead rebels drifted down into the mist-shrouded depths of the valley.

"The dirty, murdering rats!" Brian's voice ripped out in a fury of outrage. "They didn't have a chance!"

"Don't get excited," Crystal told him in a dead, flat voice. "That's just normal practice. If you'd stuck your nose out of your laboratory once in a while, you'd have heard of these things."

"But why--" He ducked away instinctively as a flight of bullets spanged through the fuselage. "They're after us now!"

Crystal's answer was to yank the ship into a rocketing climb. The police were watching for that. The big ship roared up after them.

"Just follow along, suckers," Crystal invited grimly.

She snapped the ship into a whip stall. For one nauseating moment they hung on nothing, then the ship fell over on its back and they screamed down in a terminal velocity dive, heading for the safety of the lower valley mists. The heavier police ship, with its higher wing-loading, could not match the maneuver. The rebel craft plunged down through the blinding fog. Half-seen, ghostly fingers of stone clutched up at them, talons of gray rock missed and fell away again as Crystal nursed the ship out of its dive.

"_Phew!_" Brian gasped. "Well, we got away that time. How in thunder can you do it?"

"Well, you don't do it on faith. Take a look at that fuel gauge! We may get as far as our headquarters--or we may not."

* * * * *

For twenty long minutes they groped blindly through the fog, flying solely by instruments and dead reckoning. The needle of the fuel gauge flickered closer and closer to the danger point. They tore loose from the clinging fog as it swung firmly to "Empty." The drive sputtered and coughed and died.

"That's figuring it nice and close," Crystal said in satisfaction. "We can glide in from here."

"Into where?" Brian demanded. All he could see immediately ahead was the huge bulk of a mountain which blocked the entire width of the valley and soared sheer up to the high-cloud level. His eyes followed it up and up--

"Look! Police ships. They've seen us!"

"Maybe they haven't. Anyway, there's only one place we can land."

The ship lunged straight for the mountain wall!

"Are you crazy? Watch out--we'll crash!"

"You leave the flying to me," Crystal snapped.

She held the ship in its glide, aiming directly for the tangled foliage of the mountain face. Brian yelped and cowered instinctively back. The lush green of the mountainside swirled up to meet them. They ripped through the foliage--there was no crash. They burst through into a huge, brilliantly lighted cavern and settled to a perfect landing. Men came running. Crystal tumbled out of her ship.

"Douse those lights," she shouted. "The police are outside."

A tall, lean man with bulbous eyes and a face like a startled horse, rushed up to Crystal.

"What do you mean by leading them here?" he yelled, waving his hands.

"They jumped us when we had no fuel, and quit acting like an idiot."

The man was shaking, his eyes looked wild. "They'll kill us. We've got to get out of here."

"Wait, you fool. They may not even have seen us." But he was gone, running toward a group of ships lined up at the end of the cavern.

"Who was that crazy coot and what is this place?" Brian demanded.

"That was Gort Sterling, our leader," the girl said bitterly. "And this is our headquarters." One of the ships at the back of the cavern thundered to life, streaked across the floor and burst out through the opening Crystal's ship had left. "He hasn't got a chance! We'll be spotted for sure, now."

The other rebels waited uncertainly, but not for long. There was the crescendoing roar of ships in a dive followed by the terrific crash of an explosion.

"They got him!" Crystal's voice was a moan. "Oh, the fool, the fool!"

"Sounded like more than one ship. They'll be after us, now. Is there any other way of getting out of this place?"