Part 2

I had no choice with the flame-gun tightly gripped in the girl's hand. Arms raised, I stumbled from the control room, along the companionway, through the air-lock. The girl walked behind me like a shadow, her face pale, deadly earnest.

Leaving the ship we set out across the bitter icy plain toward the administration building. The blue-white light no longer streamed from the window. Which meant only one thing. The great wall-safe had been forced! A million in palladium, Uncle John's life savings, were at my father's disposal! Unless that rocket-sled broke all records returning from Verlis....

"Hurry up!" the girl behind me said through chattering teeth. "I'm freezing!"

I quickened my pace, bounding across the all but gravity-less plain. Snow creaked under our feet, our breaths were white clouds, our shadows sprawled like grotesque monsters on the pale ice. At length we reached the low crystalloid building; the girl's gun digging into my back, I opened the door, entered.

* * * * *

The room was a scene of desolation. To one side of the safe stood the twin-cylindered blow torch, shut off, now that its work of destruction was done. The huge door of the safe, its lock melted away, the edges of the hole glowing cherry-red, gaped wide, revealing stacks of small, steel-white ingots. Palladium ... a million dollars' worth! Taon, the big silent Jovian, was busy taking the bars of precious metal from the safe, grunting with satisfaction as he stacked the ingots on the floor. My father, as we entered, had just taken a small, leather-bound book from the safe, was leafing through it with a queer expression on his face. On seeing us, he whirled about, gasping,

"Clare! And you, Stephen!" He turned, frowning, to the big Jovian. "This is your fault, Taon! You have done poorly! I ordered him locked up."

"Don't blame Taon," I grinned. "It wasn't his fault!"

Without a word my father strode into the next room, unbolted the closet. At sight of my home-made magnet, still dangling from its wires, he nodded blandly.

"Very good, Stephen," he said, re-entering the room. "You show signs of real ingenuity. I'm afraid I underestimated you." He glanced at me with an air of satisfaction.

"More than you think!" the girl Clare exclaimed. "We've got to hurry! He radioed John Gibson at Verlis to return at once! He put the call through before I knew he was on the ship!"

For a long minute my father remained silent, puffing at his eternal Martian _eyla_ studying the greenish clouds of smoke as though the future lay revealed in their swirling tendrils. The girl bit her lip impatiently, glanced nervously toward the door. Taon stood motionless, his broad, ugly face stolid, awaiting orders.

"I must confess," my father said at length, "that matters haven't turned out just as I had expected. I had intended to take the palladium ... and my loving son, here ... aboard the ship, make a quick getaway. Now, thanks to that message to Verlis, I am known to be the person responsible for the ... ah ... robbery, and will be pursued by the I.P. men. Moreover, there is another matter" ... his glance fell upon the leather-bound book he had taken from the safe ... "that has caused me unexpectedly to change my plans. I think it is wiser all around for us to remain here."

"But you can't!" the girl cried. "It's madness! He can have you arrested for murder! My father's...."

I never heard the rest of what she was going to say. The staccato roar of rockets, the grinding of steel brakes biting into ice, drowned out her words. A rocket-sled was screaming to a stop before the building, the flare of its exhausts flickering through the window like terrestrial lightning.

Taon stiffened, his hairy hand seeking the butt of his flame-gun. The girl went whiter still. And I drew a quick sigh of relief for the first time in the past two hours. Only my father betrayed no emotion; he sat there like an image carved from ice, that bitter, mocking smile on his lips.

With a bang the door of the building slammed open. Uncle John, tall, gaunt, bushy-browed, strode into the room, frowning.

"Good evening, John," my father said pleasantly. "We've been missing you. You're all that's needed to complete this family reunion."

"Vance! Then it was true, Stephen's message! You've nerve, coming here!" Uncle John shook his head. "Thief! Murderer! Liar! I suppose I was a fool to let you escape that night. I only did so for the honor of the family and the name of Stephen, here. And so you return to commit another robbery, to make sure your son is known as the son of a space-rat!"

"You touch me deeply, John!" my father observed dryly. "As sanctimonious as ever! Pure, honest John Gibson! Ceres' outstanding citizen!" He surged to his feet, leaned across the desk; for the second time that night his cold, mocking mask dropped, revealing the man beneath. Eyes like glowing coals, face etched in savage lines, he stared at my uncle. "I've thought of you a great deal these eleven years! In the radium fields of that hell-planet Mercury, hunting gold in the stinking Venusian jungles, prospecting the dusty, choking deserts of Mars! And there was one thing that kept me going! The thought of this minute! A year ago I'd scraped together enough to buy the little space-yacht outside. Then I had to go to Terra, find Clare...." He motioned toward the girl.

Uncle John swung about, noticing the girl for the first time as she stepped from the shadows. His face took on a drawn, tight look.

"Who is this girl?" he croaked.

"Allow me." My father waved an airy hand. "Miss Clare Conroy, daughter of the late Carl Conroy."

"Daughter of...! But I didn't know he had a daughter! Why is she here?" Uncle John whirled about. "What deviltry is this? You, the murderer of her father, kidnaping the daughter...."

"Not kidnaping, Mr. Gibson," Clare said quietly. "I came of my own free will."

* * * * *

I gasped. This girl, Conroy's daughter! And she'd come with the man who had killed her father, to the scene of the crime, was aiding him in stealing the palladium. I felt as though I were living some mad nightmare.

My father, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself hugely. He stumped out his _eyla_, smiled ironically across the desk.

"You see," he said, "Clare has faith in me. She believes that after her father's death, and my own foolish flight, the partnership agreements were destroyed, leaving you, John, sole possessor of Cerean Mining. You didn't know Conroy had a daughter on earth. I was a fugitive who'd never dare go to court over my share, and Stephen knew nothing of the arrangement, and wouldn't have contested if he had. Thus Cerean Mining was yours."

"You're accusing me of robbery?" Uncle John roared, the veins of his temple standing out. "You ... a murderer, a thief! Good Lord! You accuse me when I arrive to find you committing burglary!" He pointed to the blasted safe door.

"I'll admit," my father said, smiling, "that my original intention was to take two-thirds of the palladium, force Stephen aboard, and leave. With a murder charge hanging over me, I couldn't afford to take the matter of the metal to court. But now something has occurred that in my wildest dreams I hadn't hoped for. At no time did I take into account that vain, boastful streak in your character, John. You had committed an act which you thought supremely skilful, supremely clever, yet you had to play the pious, honest business man. You longed to boast of it, to tell someone, but to do so would have meant your neck. And so, bursting to recount your cleverness in gaining control of Cerean Mining, you yielded to sheer folly. You kept a diary!" My father waved toward the leather-bound book he had found in the safe.

For just an instant Uncle John remained motionless, shadows flickering over his gaunt face. Then he leaped, clutching for the book.

Quick as he had been, Taon was quicker. The big Jovian seemed to slide across the room as though on wires. His huge hand caught Uncle John, held him back as one would hold a child.

My father, who had not even blinked, flipped through the pages of the little black book.

"It _was_ clever, John," he said serenely. "Very subtle. You heard me coming, that night, rayed Conroy, ran outside. I entered, knelt at his side. It was then, dying, that he told me of his daughter on earth. A moment later you entered, caught me supposedly red-handed. Stephen, on the stairs above, saw me kneeling beside Conroy, saw you enter. Even so, I might have had a chance in court if I hadn't lost my head, run away. Naturally you hushed the matter up, 'for the honor of the family.' You didn't want an I.P. patrol investigating the crime. The mine was in your control and you won Stephen over by not prosecuting me. It might have been wiser if you had. However, I also believe in the honor of the family. Clare and I have no wish to see you in the lethal-ray chamber. We'll take a third of the palladium apiece," he motioned toward the heap of gray ingots, "and leave you a third. Which you don't deserve."

Eyes hollow pits, my uncle stared at the precious metal. The million he had counted on, reduced by two thirds! His bony fingers clutched his belt tightly.

"And if I refuse?" he said slowly.

"You'll be turned over to the authorities at Verlis for the murder of my father!" Clare's voice was like a silken lash.

Then suddenly Uncle John threw back his head, laughing.

"You fools!" he said. "D'you think I'd come back here alone after my beloved nephew so kindly warned me? There's plenty of room in my sled!" He raised his voice, shouting, "Scott! Carr! Help! Quick!"

At once the front door of the administration building burst open and half a dozen space-rats, denizens of the slums of Verlis, swarmed into the room, flame guns in hand. Vaguely I heard Clare scream and I dove to snatch up the gun she let drop. As I whirled to face the intruders, a bolt of blue flame leaped out, knocking the gun from my hand. Taon crouched to spring, his huge muscles standing out in ridges, but my father's quiet voice halted him.

"No good, Taon," he said quietly. "They'd only blast you to bits. I must, I think, be getting old. I should have realized he'd have men with him. Well, John," he turned to my uncle, "you win this round. Just what do you propose to do?"

"Your ship is outside," Uncle John said with an unctuous smile. "And these men of mine can handle her. I'm taking this palladium back to earth with me!"

"And us?" my father asked quietly.

"So far as Ceres knows, you will have left aboard the yacht with me. So far as Terra will know, you four contracted space-fever and were buried in the void. All heirs, claimants, to the palladium gone, leaving me sole owner. As for this diary" ... he tossed the book onto the floor, blasted it to ashes with a beam from his flame-gun. "And now," he went on calmly, "my men will take the four of you outside, dispose of you. Buried under a few feet of ice, your bodies will certainly never be found."

* * * * *

Clare's hand fluttered to her throat. I stood there stupidly, gaping. My whole life seemed to be whirling like a pin-wheel. This cold killer, my Uncle John! My Uncle John whom I had trusted, who had been a father to me these eleven years! I felt that I should say something, do something heroic, but I could only stare. The six space-rats, their guns ready.... Clare's pallid face ... Taon, standing there like a colossal robot. All at once my father's voice broke the brittle silence.

"Come, come, John!" he said dryly. "You're being melodramatic now. Such slaughter is useless."

I watched him as he spoke. He was standing near the safe, hands behind his back, outwardly very calm, but I could see his eyes darting about the room in search of some means of escape. Uncle John must have noticed his eyes, too, for he waved the men forward.

"No chance for any of your tricks, Vance," he said harshly. "You four stand in my way and you're going to be removed! Take them out!"

Still stunned, I stumbled from the room between two of the space-rats. One of them, a half-breed with Venusian blood predominant, walked behind Clare, gun in hand. Despite her pallor she kept her chin high. Taon was stolid, emotionless as always, while my father was jaunty, careless, as though merely going for a stroll. As we passed through the door, I glanced back. Uncle John was busy picking up the ingots of palladium; he seemed to have forgotten us already. His eyes were bright with avarice, triumph, and he seemed to caress each bar of the precious stuff as he touched it. The sight filled me with sudden rage.

"You're mad!" I cried. "Mad! You can't hope to get away with this!"

He glanced up impatiently. "Hurry up with it!" he snapped, and slammed the door behind us.

Like four automatons, we crossed the icy plain. Near a jagged pinnacle of rock, on the edge of the landing field, the half-breed paused.

"As good a place as any," he grunted. "Line them up over there!"

They placed us with our backs to the rock, retreated several paces, flame-guns ready. I shot a furious look at my father. Was he going to see us all butchered by the energy blasts without so much as a struggle? Better to go down fighting than this. And Clare ... so young, lovely.... I was just flexing my muscles for a desperate leap when my father spoke.

"Gentlemen," he said, "it would be to your credit to permit at least one of us to die happy. Now it so happens that I am addicted to the use of the Martian _eyla_. It is, I find, far superior to terrestial tobacco, having a cheering effect not unlike benzedrine. If you would permit me to enjoy one last smoke of it, I would find my transition to another and, I hope, better world infinitely more pleasant."

The half-breed glanced questioningly at his companions, then at the little administration building across the plain.

"Come," my father said pleasantly. "Surely you won't refuse a man's last wish. It takes only eight minutes to smoke an _eyla_ tube. And at the first sign of any trickery, you can shoot."

The half-breed shrugged. "Okay," he grunted.

With elaborate care my father drew one of the slim, greenish tubes from his pocket, lit it.

Quickly the minutes slipped by. The half-breed stamped his feet against the cold, glanced at the _eyla_. Only a tiny stump remained in my father's fingers.

"All right," the Venusian growled. "Let's get this over with!"

"As you wish," my father said cheerfully. He took a last puff of the tube, tossed it onto the ice, ground it out with his foot. One long glance he shot toward the lights of the administration building, shining through the gloom, then straightened up. "And now--" he murmured.

Six flame-guns swung up to face us. Taon, betraying his first signs of emotion, gazed anxiously at my father. The latter's face was tense, anxious. In another moment....

* * * * *

And then it happened. A blasting, thundering roar echoed across the plain! Dazed, I saw the windows of the administration building give forth a blinding flash, lighting up the ice like a magnesium flare! A sound of shattering glass, of splintering plastic reached us. The administration building was being wrecked systematically by a mystic, unknown force!

With the explosion, the space-rats whirled toward it, instinctively. At the same instant my father plunged forward, Taon at his heels. The huge Jovian seized two of the men, crashed their heads together with a sickening crack. Limp, they fell to the ground, and Taon passed on. While the giant was thus disposing of two of our adversaries, my father had leaped upon another, borne him to the ground in a wild tangle of arms and legs.

All this in a split second, before I could collect my wits. The three remaining space-rats leaped back, gripping their guns. A flash of blue flame leaped out, scorching Taon's shoulder, but before the man could fire again the Jovian's huge fist had stretched him upon the ice. Moving forward, I saw the Venusian half-breed aim at my father who was still struggling with his first opponent. With all the force at my command I hurtled forward, deflecting his arm so that the dazzling blue bolt of flame tore up the ice, harmlessly. As I struggled with the man I saw Taon pick up his third opponent, hurl the inert form at the remaining space-rat, sending him to the ground. Then my father arose from the unconscious figure of his antagonist, dug a flame-gun into the half-breed's ribs. At once his struggles ceased; he raised his hands submissively over his head.

"Thanks, Stephen," my father drawled. "I shouldn't be here if you hadn't deflected his aim. How badly are you hurt, Taon?"

"Little burn," the Jovian rumbled. "No hurt much." He grinned as Clare ran toward us. "No die now, missy."

"Chin up," my father said, patting her shoulder. "It's all right now, child. Let's go back to the house."

As soon as our prisoners were disarmed and bound, we returned to the administration building. It was wrecked by the explosion. Doors and windows blown out, walls blackened. Inside, it was even worse. Chairs, desks, splintered, the floor littered with d├ębris--and Uncle John, a charred and terrible figure, sprawled before the safe, one hand still clutching an ingot of palladium.

"What ... what was it?" I whispered. "What caused the explosion?"

"Hydrogen," my father said gravely. "As I stood there with my hands behind my back, I opened the hydrogen valve of that oxy-hydrogen blow torch. We'd used a good bit of it to blast open the safe, but there was still plenty, under that pressure, to fill the room, unite with the oxygen already present. A gas explosion, and a powerful one."

"But," I demanded, "what caused the gases to unite? What ignited them?"

"And you've been working at these mines all these years?" he cried. "Don't you know that certain metals like platinum, or palladium, act as a catalyst? The gases are absorbed on their surface, unite. And when hydrogen and oxygen unite...." He stooped, picked up one of the gray ingots. "Here's what ignited that mixture! I knew I had only to stall until enough hydrogen had entered the room to create an explosion." He shrugged. "I suppose the play's ended. Now that John's gone, the metal will only be divided two ways. Half to Clare, as her father's only heir, and half to me. I'll turn my share over to you, Stephen, as recompense for any unpleasantness I may have caused you in the past. Your late uncle's rocket-sled is still outside. I'll have Taon load half the palladium aboard it and you can go to Verlis, set up as a wealthy young gentleman of leisure." He smiled, sardonically.

I stared at him. From that smiling mask his eyes were fastened upon me.

"And you, sir?" I asked.

"Me?" he seemed surprised. "I'll be taking Clare and her little fortune back to Terra. After that" ... he shrugged again. "It'd be of no interest to you, I'm sure. Taon, take half of these ingots and put them aboard the rocket-sled outside."

"No!" I heard myself saying in a queer choked voice. "No! I ... I'm coming with you and Clare. If you'll have me ... Dad."

For the third time that night my father's bitter mocking mask fell from him ... and this time for good.

"Steve!" he murmured, putting an arm about my shoulders. "Steve!"

Taon, busy picking up the gray ingots, paused, his gaze shifting from Clare to Dad to myself.

"Good!" he grinned. "Dam' good! All one family soon now! Very dam' good!"