Part 2

"The holes they put the rope through! Look at the edges!" He began see-sawing back and forth with his chair. The rope rubbed against the rusty edges as he did so. "Maybe I can make it in time. It's been only a few minutes and they've got to warm up the ship."

"You mean you're going to face them again. Saints o' Saturn! Leave well enough alone, boy!"

Flip kept at his work. If he could get this part of the rope cut the rest would be simple. "And let 'em get that mine? Hell no! There's something about that xanite I don't understand and I'm going to find out what. I'd like a nice long chat with Miss Vixen too."

Charlie gave up trying to dissuade him and Flip kept sawing. With the mufflers, he couldn't hear the ship leave but he was sure they hadn't gone yet. Those high-power planes took a lot of warming up, especially with Moxims. What to do when he got there? Flip Miller's mind never strayed far from the present.

The rope broke. It was a matter of minutes before he was free.

"Try the same thing, Charlie," Flip said at the door. "You wouldn't be much good out there with a busted wrist and I'll be back before long."

"Maybe," said Charlie doubtfully as Flip streaked out into the rain.

* * * * *

The ship loomed before him in the mist and Flip halted, some degree of sanity entering the elation of his escape. He couldn't see through the fogged windows, but there were three skillful guns inside and he was unarmed. They had taken all the guns from the shack when they left. Besides, the ship's door was closed and a strato-plane's hull is solid metal. Though he considered it, he couldn't just go up and knock.

The rise-rockets were idling. A pink glow appeared at each blast but there was only a soft hissing with the mufflers. The power jets hadn't started; they were geared with a synchronized heat progression which ignited them only when the proper temperature was reached.

A veedle scampered across Flip's foot and he jumped. If a veedle crawled into one of those muffler tubes it would explode, he remembered thinking when he first saw the ship. Flip snapped his fingers. If a veedle could cause it, why not he? With mud! He could fill a power jet and when the ignition started, it would burst like a clogged gun barrel. They couldn't leave. Perfect!

Keeping well below the windows, he approached the ship. The power jets, as usual, were outside and forward of the glowing rise-rockets so he could work in safety. That is, unless the jets started while he was near them. But he would never know it if they did.

Flip scooped up a handful of mud, stuffed it into the five-inch opening. It was like pouring water in a veedle hole but he kept at it, and heat from the smaller tubes blistering his hands. He could hear people moving about inside the plane. Finally he packed one more handful to make sure, grinning to himself.

The door in the side of the ship suddenly opened.

Flip dropped down beside the hull. It was the big fellow with the scarred cheek. He jumped down, walked toward the rear of the ship where Flip was. Making a take-off inspection, Flip decided. What should he do? He could make a break across the rocks, lose himself in the mist. No--they'd track him down, get Charlie again too. Well, there was one thing to do then.

The man was silhouetted against the open door as he walked forward. In the heavy mist, he couldn't see Flip yet. Crouched on hands and toes, Flip sank lower. The muscles in his knees tensed. The man came on. Flip shot toward him, hands outstretched.

His fingers found the thick throat, squeezed with all their might as the force of his spring carried them both to the ground. Flip landed on top, kept his hold on the man's neck. The fellow brought up his hands, plucked frantically at Flip's wrists but he made only soft gurgling sounds and soon his hands fell away. Flip turned him loose. He wasn't dead; a little out of breath. Flip took his pistol from its holster. To keep him quiet a while longer, he slugged a finishing touch on his chin.

With a grin at this aesthetic work, he got to his feet. He had a gun now. But it was still two against one--he'd learned to count the woman--and they were inside. It would be risky entering the ship. Better wait till somebody else came out. They'd be out looking for this fellow soon enough. The door was still open.

Flip dragged the unconscious man under the rounded hull. Eyes on the door, he crouched down beside him to wait.

Suddenly he remembered the mud he'd stuffed in the power jet. Wow! If that thing exploded with him near it--! He leaped up, stuck the gun in his belt. He reached down to drag the man away too. As he turned, something jabbed hard in his side.

"So you haven't had enough, Earthman?" It was the other fellow, Voss. He must have come out the other side, circled around the back.

The rockets were glowing cherry red now. The power jets would ignite any moment.

* * * * *

"Get away!" cried Flip. "I clogged a tube! It'll explode--"

"No more of your tricks, Earthman," said Voss. He yanked Flip's gun from his belt, stuck both of them in Flip's belly.

"You fool, we'll be blown to bits."

"Shut up," said Voss, eyeing his comrade lying beside the ship. He poked him with the toe of his boot. The man groaned, moved slightly.

Flip saw bubbles ooze from the jet he'd stopped up. It was a matter of seconds.

Ignoring the gun, Flip hit Voss in the face. The man staggered back. Flip whirled to run. As he turned, the mist exploded red. Something crashed into him. An ear-splitting roar.

His head hit the rock and he was stunned for a moment. Something large and heavy lay across him. It was quiet in the mist and the rain was cool. It was a man's body across him. Something hot and sticky seeped through his clothes.

Flip shoved the man aside, sat up. He looked at the man's face. It was Voss. The back of his head was gone. His shoulders were a crimson mass and his back and legs were shredded.

Flip got to his feet. He was covered with blood too but could find only slight cuts. Voss had received the full force of the explosion and his body had protected him.

"Are all Earthians so lucky?" said a voice.

Flip looked up. The woman, Captain Vixen, was standing before him in the rain. One hand was on her hip. The other held a pistol.

Flip stared at her a long time and neither spoke.

"Lady," he said finally, "must this game go on forever?"

"Not for you," she replied.

* * * * *

"Earthman," said the woman, "in the hills, I am Queen. On the mainland, I am Terror. In the swamps, I am Death. Whatever defies me on this--my planet--dies. It needs be so, for the resources of Venus have been plunder to the Universe. Imperialism ruled until my father, king before me, died fighting it. You, Earthman, are a symbol of those that killed him, those that drove my people to poverty--until I came. I am a symbol of the Venus that _was_--and, as I live, shall be again. You understand now why you die...."

Flip looked at the woman and the rain molded her hair into golden ringlets, the wind shaped her body in the sheer lines of an ancient goddess. The mist softened the chill beauty of her face and her green eyes were misty in the deepening twilight.

The wind was keen and Flip shivered.

"You are the coldest woman I ever knew," he said.

"And you are the coolest man."

"Since I am to die," said Flip, "you may tell me why you wanted that worthless mine."

"The xanite is worthless--" She paused. "The asphalt mixed with it is pitchblende. It was a secret of my father's that the lost Swamp Mine holds enough _radium_ to buy the Universe--to return Venus to her rightful place again."

She raised the pistol, took aim at his chest. Her hand was without a tremor.

"At the swamps," said Flip, "you said you'd never killed a man."

"I spoke truth. Now I am alone--I must."

Flip heard a splash. A veedle scurried across the woman's boots. She screamed. The mud-mouse streaked off into the mist. The woman's arms dropped to her sides. Her eyes were wide. For a fleeting second, the epitome of womankind was on her face. And the warmth of irrational helplessness. Then quickly it was gone, the mask returned. She jerked up her gun and fired. The shot went over Flip's head as he dived. His lunge knocked her down. He snatched the pistol from her hand, hurled it into the mist.

Pinning her arms to the ground, Flip sat upon her and laughed.

"You're a woman," he gritted, "you're a woman--afraid of a mouse!" She struggled violently to free herself. "You're a woman, forced into a deadly legend--a persecution complex. You're beautiful...."

He bent, kissed her full upon the lips.

She freed one arm, slapped him across the face. He didn't feel it. There were tears in her emerald green eyes. Flip threw back his head, roared his laughter to the wind.

He'd forgotten Captain Vixen carried two guns.