Part 2
Sparks said miserably, "But it was Marlowe's hand on the keys, Cap'n! I swear it was. I know the message don't make sense, but you can't fool a bug-pounder. Every radioman has a distinctive sending style. Ask anybody. Even one of them wise-cracking Donovan boys. They'll tell you. And this was Marlowe's hand--"
"Let's see," said Mallory. He took the flimsy from his senior's fingers, frowned as he ran an eye over the cryptic symbols. "Numerals! All numerals. Sparks--?"
"It was like this. The static interference is still going on. The audio wouldn't bring in voice at all. But as I was twisting the dials, I got this power wave from Lunar III, Joe Marlowe's station. It had a--a sort of cadence. I began putting down the things it sounded like, and--and that's what come out."
Chandler, peering over his comrade's shoulder, said,
"Well, hell's bells, are you all nuts? It must be a code of some sort. Sparks, we use several numerical codes, don't we?"
"Yes." Meekly. "But that ain't one of them, Lieutenant. That don't fit no code in the reg book."
Mallory continued to stare at the message. It was long, and undeniably confusing. It read:
83.7-152-232.12-167.64-31.02-16-184-167.64-9.02-1-126.92-144.27- 186.31-50.95-16-175-47.9-16-14.008-4.002-39.944-50.95-173.04-19- 16-10.25-69.87-14.008-16-184-232.12-186.31-39.944-127.61-14.008- 20.183-184-19-186.31-118.70-16-1-74.91-127.61-14.008-74.91-28.06- 32.06-181.4-14.008-140.13-138-92-20.183-184-39.944-222.-32.06- 138.92-162.46-26.97-126.92-140.13-40.08-10.82-26.97-32.06-31.02- 88.92-14.008-16-184-16-14.008-6.94-79.916-39.944-40.08-195.23- 39.944-114.76-150.43-126.92-232.12-114.76-127.61-14.008-32.06- 126.92-19-88.92-140.92-16-127.61-12-47.9-16-14.008-16-19-20.183- 184-78.96-52.01-16.721-225.97-88.92--
"--and there it began all over again," said Sparks. "The same sequence. I agree, it's a code. But what good is a code when we ain't got the key to it. It ain't a simple word substitution cryptogram or a five-by-five. I studied them in the Academy, and tried them all before I brought this to the Captain. In other words, it ain't no good to us unless we've got the clue--and we ain't got the clue!"
* * * * *
Mallory said, "Billy said this was a message from New Fresno?"
"Well, he was wrong, as usual." Determinedly. "It come from Earth's moon. I know Joe Marlowe's fingers when I hear 'em. Damn, we was classmates for three years. Before I got crazy and gave up chemistry for key-pushing--"
"Chemistry!" Mallory started. "Did you say chemistry? Did you and Marlowe study chemistry together?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Why! Because that's the answer. Marlowe is nobody's fool. He knew you were the radioman aboard the _Libra_, prepared a special code, the key to which would lie in your brain as the 'memory of auld lang syne'--Bud, look at these figures again. You notice the number '16' appearing over and over? Even in that thick skull of yours, '16' suggests--?"
"Oxygen," declared Chandler promptly. "The atomic weight of oxygen."
"And eighty-three point seven? Forty-seven, nine?"
"Krypton. And--let's see--titanium?"
"Right! Grab a pencil, pal! I think we've got a solution here. Jot these down--krypton, europium, thorium, erbium--Hold it!" He looked at his companion disgustedly. "Just the symbols, you dope! Don't you see? The symbols of the various elements employ every letter in the English language except 'j' and 'q'--and those are the two least commonly used, anyway. Start over. Krypton--"
"Kr," said Bud.
"Europium--"
"Eu."
"Thorium. Erbium--"
"'Kreuther'!" howled Bud. "That's it, Dan! Keep going!"
* * * * *
The message slowly scrawled its way onto paper. A word appeared, another, another. Then:
"Ten point twenty-five!" said Mallory. "Followed by 69.87! What the hell are they?"
Bud said, "Maybe he made a mistake? Boron's 10.82. Lithium's 6.94--"
"No. That's not it," said Mallory. He frowned. Captain Algase had long since wakened completely, was listening to his two juniors with glowing pride. Now he cut the Gordian knot.
"Chromium," he suggested, "is fifty-two point one, Dan. The reverse of the number that stumps you."
"Right! That's it, Skipper! And the meaning must be that the symbol is to be written in reverse. 'Rc' instead of 'Cr.' There aren't enough combinations to spell every word in the language unless you use some subterfuges like that."
"Which makes the word," said Bud, "'forces.' Go on, pal...."
Mallory plunged into the heart of the coded letter. "39.944--"
"Argon," said Bud, "'A.'"
"114.76. Indium. 150.43--"
"Samarium. 'Sa.' Next?"
"Iodine."
"'I.'"
The message was finished. Bud handed it to Captain Algase. Mallory's curiosity was at fever pitch. He had not been able to piece the letters together as he went along; he had gained but a smattering here and there. He waited. The skipper read slowly, breaking the message up into coherent sentences.
"'Kreuther power behind revolution. Heavy forces now threatening New Fresno--'"
"Kreuther, huh?" growled Bud. "I thought so."
"'Hasten assistance. Lane warns--'" The captain stopped, stared a moment, glanced swiftly at Mallory. There was a tight note in his voice. "'Lane warns Lady Alice, cabal spy, now in _Libra_--'"
"Lady Alice!" blurted Mallory. The warmth of the control turret suddenly weighed down upon him; his brow felt hot, oppressed, as if some gigantic hand had descended upon his temples.
"'Captain saith,'" continued Algase, "'intensify protection of new secret ray.'" He crumpled the paper. "And that is all, gentlemen. Mallory--"
"Yes, sir?"
"Our fears were justified. There _is_ a spy on the _Libra_. We must take no chances. You will arrest Lady Alice Charwell, place her under lock and key for the duration of the voyage."
Bud Chandler muttered, "Where does Marlowe get that Old English stuff? 'Saith!' Why didn't he say, 'Says'?"
"Because," Mallory answered mechanically, "there is no 'ys' combination in the elemental vocabulary. He had to say it that way." The recollection of his unpleasant duty flooded back on him; with it came protest. "But it can't be true, Captain! There must be some mistake. Surely Lady Alice wouldn't be--"
"On the contrary, Daniel," Algase's voice was unusually gentle, "she would be. Once her family owned all of Io. It is more than likely that she should want to see the globe freed of Board control; regain her lost property. She could well be in league with Kreuther to overthrow the present government. According to this, she _is_."
"Yes, sir," acknowledged Dan dully. He was thinking of Captain Smith's warning. Of the book Lady Alice had been reading, the book on military tactics. "Shall I make the--the arrest now, sir?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Very good, sir!" He turned and left the room. His jaw was white and rigid; a dull hurt was behind his eyes....
* * * * *
A strained assemblage awaited his return to the mess hall. As he entered the room all conversation ended abruptly; an almost audible silence fell upon the group of passengers. Lemming half rose from his seat, opened his mouth as though to say something, closed it again, his lips a white slit against the green pallor of his cheeks. Lady Alice's eyes were tense, expectant. Captain Smith moved forward to meet him. The ex-space officer's heavy frame was poised and ready; there was a note of subdued eagerness in his voice. He said stridently, "Well, Lieutenant--?"
Dan Mallory's patience with the older man was quite exhausted. He said curtly, but in a voice that did not reach the ears of the others, "Captain, I must remind you that you have no authority whatsoever on this ship! I appreciate your willingness to help, but--" Angrily. "For God's sake, man, stop acting like the hero of a Twenty-second century dime novel! Stop fingering your needle-gun, and--"
Smith looked embarrassed. His heavy shoulders sagged, and swift contrition swept over Mallory as the one-time officer said, "I--I'm sorry, Lieutenant."
Lemming had found words at last. He asked, shakily, "The--the message, Lieutenant? Was it--?"
He had to arrest Lady Alice, thought Dan Mallory. But he didn't have to humiliate her. To brand her eternally as a traitor in the eyes of her associates. And he still held doggedly to the hope that somehow, somewhere, had been made a dreadful mistake. He said, "The message was a routine transmission, Mr. Lemming. Of no great importance. Now, will you all be kind enough to disband, quietly?"
No one moved. Mallory, glancing at the faces about him, felt again that conviction that an interwoven webbing of intrigue entangled these passengers. He said, firmly, "That is not a request, but a command! You will all retire to the observation deck at once!"
The little group stirred. Mallory sought the side of Lady Alice, said, "I've been wanting to show you the ship, Lady Alice. Wouldn't you like to see it now?"
Her look of pleased surprise burned him. She said, "Why, Lieutenant, how nice! I would enjoy it."
They moved in a direction opposite that of the rest of the passengers. Even so, they did not escape unnoticed. From the corner of his eye Dan Mallory caught the glitter of Dr. Bonetti's spectacles, realized that the dumpy man was watching them shrewdly. And for a moment his eye met that of Captain Garland Smith; the old officer's head was nodding in mused speculation. He, too, had guessed Mallory's concealed purpose.
Only the girl herself seemed unaware that this was not merely a pleasantry. Her shoulder brushed that of Mallory as they pressed through a narrow doorway; the soft, feminine warmth of her heaped reproach on the young lieutenant, as did her words.
"Lieutenant, I see you can take advice as well as give it. I had no idea, last night, when I suggested that you reveal the man beneath the uniform more often, that you would actually--"
They were alone now. And Mallory turned to face her, his voice purposely hard and impersonal.
"If you please, Lady Alice! It is my painful duty to inform you that you are under arrest!"
"Under ar--!" Her gasp ended in a burst of light laughter. She brought her hand to her forehead in mock salute. "Aye, Lieutenant! Brig, ho! But if I'm not too inquisitive, what charges are preferred against me? Murder? Of course, I _do_ kill time most horribly, but these long trips--or could it be theft? I'm sure I've stolen nothing. Unless you mean--" She paused in sudden confusion; her eyes lifted to his; there was something written there, something breathtaking. Mallory had to hold tight.
"The charge," he said tersely, "is--treason! That message was from Lunar III, Lady Alice. It bore a warning from the commander of the Intelligence Division there, advising us that you had been discovered to be a member of Igor Kreuther's organization!"
* * * * *
The light died from the girl's eyes, the smile on her lips turned to ice. Her slim body stiffened, straightened. And for an instant Dan Mallory saw, with swift prescience, that this girl was not all charm and allure; that beneath her tempting softness there was a core, steel-strong, of strength and daring.
"Treason! Treason, you--you blind fool!" she spat. "You dare accuse _me_, Lady Alice Charwell, Grand Duchess of Io, Lady of the Rocket and Globe, Maid of the Golden Crest, of--of treason! Sir! My family ruled Io when that dominion was first discovered. For almost three hundred years the Charwell crest has--"
"Please, Lady Alice!" pleaded Mallory. "I know how you feel about it. To your mind, your actions were not treasonable. But Io is no longer yours; it is under the guardianship of the Control Board. And you mustn't talk this way. I will be called to testify against you; anything you say will be convicting evidence--" He touched her shoulder as though the warmth of his hand might melt its icy stiffness.
She shrugged herself loose disdainfully.
"I think we can dispense with the amenities, Lieutenant. The smile on the lips ... the gracious invitation to 'see the ship' ... the friendly hand of comfort...." There was scorn, anger, pain in her eyes. "It is my right to demand the privilege of communicating with my accusers, is it not? Those on Earth who--?"
"I'm sorry. No audio transmission is possible because of the blanket-static. The message came through in a code."
"I see. I must wait, then, until we reach New Fresno. Never mind, Lieutenant Mallory. You have said enough. I presume you are placing me under guard? Where--in my own quarters? Very well. If you will be kind enough to escort me there!" She laughed brittlely. "But, of course, you will. You couldn't let a traitor out of your sight, could you?"
In throbbing, bitter silence they moved down the corridors to Lady Alice's stateroom. There she spoke for the last time.
"The message that accused me, Lieutenant. Might I be permitted to hear the damning evidence? What did it say?"
There was no harm, thought Mallory miserably, in telling her that. The words were like acid, etched into his brain. He repeated them. She listened intently, frowned--and then a new, curious look stole into her eyes. She said, "But--"
"Yes?" said Mallory. "Yes?"
The look faded. She laughed scornfully.
"Hoping to hear more 'convicting evidence,' Lieutenant? I'm so sorry to disappoint you. Now, will you lock the door after me, please?"
Dan Mallory made a last try. It would cost him his rocket if anyone heard his words, but--
"Lady Alice," he pleaded, "I'm honestly sorry about this. I don't believe you are guilty. If you'll trust me, tell me your side of the story, I'll do everything in my power to--"
"You have done," said the girl tightly, "more than enough right now. Guard me well, Lieutenant!" With a short, mocking laugh she slipped through the door, Mallory waited a long minute, then turned the key in the lock. Its grate was a taunting sneer. He returned to the bridge....
* * * * *
He couldn't help overhearing the end of that conversation. The runway that fed the control turret was narrow and metal-walled; it formed a perfect soundbox. Moreover, the door was ajar. The voice was Captain Algase reached his ears perfectly as he approached the room.
"--don't want to have to remind you again, Norton, that it is highly unethical for a space officer to become involved with a woman passenger. Especially with a married woman."
And the surly voice of Third Mate Rick Norton saying, "Very well, sir!" Then footsteps approaching the door, a figure confronting his squarely, Norton flushing, snarling, "Getting an earful, Mallory?"
Dan was in no mood for bickering. He said, "Don't mind me, Norton. I've known for months you were a skirt-chaser. I don't consider it any of my business."
Norton's cheeks flamed. He said insultingly, "And I suppose you stand behind your stripes as you say that?"
"Forget the stripes." Mallory looked at his fists. "I stand behind these."
"Good!" Norton swung. He was a well-built man, a strong man. His blow packed dynamite--but it needed a target to set off the percussion cap. It found no target but a moving one. Mallory ducked, rolled with the punch, came up inside the Third Mate's guard to land a short, jabbing left to the midsection, a blasting right to the point of Norton's jaw. Norton gasped and collapsed soggily. Arms behind him reached out to support his falling weight; other lips behind Mallory whistled softly as Bud Chandler, coming up to serve his trick, witnessed the swift, decisive exchange of blows. And Captain Algase, releasing Norton's inert form, glared at Mallory.
"Well! Well, Lieutenant, I think you know we have rules against brawling?"
"Aye, sir!"
"But--" Captain Algase stroked his jaw speculatively, "In this case--Chandler, get him below! It served him right. Maybe he'll spend this rest period sleeping, instead of stirring up trouble amongst the passengers. Dan, my boy--"
He led the way back into the turret, completed the log record for the previous trick, handed it to Mallory, who had slipped into the control bucket.
"Twenty-four more Earth hours and we'll be there," he said. "And, believe me, I'll be glad when this trip ends. Trouble. Nothing but trouble from beginning to end. Long tricks and short tempers. Norton getting mixed up with that Wilmot dame--a damn' hussy if I ever saw one, and her husband a neurotic wreck. Smith bothering the blistering Hades out of me, wanting to 'help' catch spies and a thousand other--" He glanced at Mallory, who had stiffened at the word. His glance was sympathetic. "I'm sorry I had to ask you to arrest her, Daniel. But it's experiences like that that make strong men out of space officers.
"You have to be hard in this business. Crime hides beneath strange disguises. The sweetest smiles, the friendliest hand-shakes, the most honeyed words, may conceal--"
"If you please, sir!" said Dan Mallory, white-lipped.
"I know, lad. I've seen the way you looked at her. But remember--forty thousand innocent lives! Had she learned the secret of that new weapon, our voyage might have been disastrous. From this distance she could have made a flight to Io in one of the auxiliary safety rockets, given the plans to Kreuther's forces. The very weapon we look to for salvation would have been used against us. Io might have become a nest of rebellion, instead of a peaceful member of the solar family. Now that we've snared our spy, the messenger--whoever he is--will be safe."
On the visiplate it was a glowing red spark, but in the _perilens_ before him it was a gigantic orb dominating the heavens through which the _Libra_ hurtled. Jupiter; monster of Sol's scattered brood, untamed sphere of writhing gases and vague mystery, itself a pseudo-parent emanating enough heat to make its far-flung satellites livable worlds. Soon they would fling themselves, they aboard the _Libra_, halfway around that gigantic orb, settle to the small body now wanly visible as a silver crescent.
* * * * *
Dan Mallory punched a control-key savagely, felt the _Libra_ shake itself into a slightly changed curve, turned to his superior.
"I'm not so sure of that, sir. Oh, I'm not trying to defend Lady Alice. Earth's Intelligence officers don't make mistakes--not mistakes of that magnitude, anyway. But there are other passengers I don't trust. Lemming. Wilmot. Dr. Bonetti. Why are they aboard the _Libra_? Why were they so excited when they heard we'd received a message from Lunar III? Suppose one of them is also a spy?"
"Or suppose," said the skipper, "one of them bears the secret of the new ray weapon. Wouldn't that one naturally be excited?"
"But the others?" Mallory inquired.
"I don't know. You may have something there, Daniel. I'm still taking no chances. I've put Aiken on guard at Lady Alice's door. If anyone tries to liberate her--What _is_ it, Sparks?"
He snapped the query at the intercommunications box which was spluttering and growling. The radioman's tone was weary. "It's Mr. Wilmot again, sir. He insists on talking to you."
"Tell Mr. Wilmot I will see him at midday mess."
Sparks was stubborn about it.
"But he insists his message is important, sir. He demands to see you at once. Says--"
"_Demands!_" The skipper's jowls reddened. "Please tell Mr. Wilmot passengers do not _demand_ favors of spaceship officers. I will see him at mess. That is all!" And he cut the communications board; turned to Mallory angrily. "That's why I didn't put you on report for slugging Norton. Wilmot's mad as a hornet and I don't blame him. Norton catting around after his wife--"
Chandler appeared, grinning. He said to Mallory, "What a sock, pal, what a sock! If that guy counts sheep in his sleep, he's going to wake up allergic to mutton. Wish I had done it. He's a grouchy son-of-a-- What's biting you?"
Mallory said, "That's just it, damn it! I don't quite know. It just came upon me like a flash that someone said something funny ... something that didn't ring true ... but I can't remember what it was. If I could--"
"See, Skipper? It's got him, too. We're all going to be candidates for the straitjacket squad when we finish this trip."
Algase smiled sourly. "Well, don't lift gravs for the next twenty-four hours, that's all I ask. See you later, boys." He turned to leave; was interrupted by the buzz of the intercommunications box. "What, again! Yes, Sparks--what is it this time? If it's Wilmot again, tell him to go beat his brains out with a rusty bar! I'll see him at--"
Sparks' voice was harsh with excitement.
"It is Wilmot, sir! But I can't tell him anything. He's dead, sir! Murdered!"
* * * * *
Chandler said, "Murdered? Mi-god!" Captain Algase said a more effective and less printable thing which ended in, "Come on!" And he and Chandler pounded down the runway, their footsteps ringing on the Jacob's-ladder, disappearing in the distance.
Dan Mallory, his thoughts chaotic, sat chained to his bucket seat by the obligation of guiding the spaceship through the treacherous void. His fingers played over the control keys automatically; slowly the chaos left his brain and cold, clear, reasoning thought took its place.
Wilmot dead. Why? The first thought that suggested itself was Norton. Motive--jealousy. The desire to get Susan Wilmot's husband out of the way so--
But that was illogical. Norton was a skirt-chaser and a quixotic fool, but he wasn't a criminal. Murder was not in his line. Why else, then?
Because Wilmot had been the bearer of the formula? Had he been slain by a spy? And if so, by whom? Lady Alice was in her cabin, or at least--with a swift constriction of the throat--Dan hoped she was. He pressed the intercommunications button hurriedly; Sparks' face appeared before him on the visiplate. "Get me the M-13 plate, Sparks! The one in the stateroom passageway!"
The scene shifted. Aiken, a space gob, looked up as the audio before him glowed into life, touched his forelock respectfully. "Lieutenant Mallory?"
"The prisoner is in her stateroom?"
"Aye, sir."
"She hasn't been out?"
"Not for a moment, sir." The sailor added, "Might I ask the lootenant what the h--I mean, what's going on?"
"Plenty!" snapped Dan. "That's all, sailor. Carry on!"
The glow faded. Mallory shook his head. No dice on that hunch. Then what else--?
The thought came so suddenly, so breathtakingly, that it literally lifted him out of his chair. There was but one possible answer! The reverse of his former theory. Wilmot was neither the bearer of the precious secret nor a spy. He was the "innocent bystander"; the traditional victim who, from time immemorial, has always been the one to get bopped. Somehow the nervous, jittery little man had learned _who_ the spy was. He had attempted to communicate his knowledge to Captain Algase; the petulance of his own nature had rendered this impossible. And the spy, knowing that Wilmot had learned his secret, had--
Again he pressed the button. This time Sparks said, "Lieutenant Mallory? Have you seen Mr. Lemming? The captain wants to question him, but he can't be found anywhere--"
"Never mind that!" rapped Mallory. "Sparks, I want to know this. How was Wilmot killed?"
"Rayed, sir. Needled."
"I thought as much. And who was the first to find him?"
"Dr. Bonetti, sir. He's being held under suspicion. He confesses to having supplied Wilmot with drugs, sir. _Teklin-root_, sir. (That would be, thought Mallory swiftly, the package surreptitiously exchanged in the observation room.) But he claims he didn't kill Wilmot--"
"Quick, man! Was Captain Smith anywhere around the radio turret when this happened?"
"Why--why, he _had_ been, sir. But he left before Mr. Wilmot did--"