Space Lawyer (21 page)

As if in sleep! Indeed, it seemed as if any moment the eyes would open, and the perfectly formed midget would arise and inquire in anger what did these strange intruders mean by barging in on its beauty nap.

Jem had been getting more and more jittery as they had proceeded in this curious world. So had his three ship mates. One of them now uttered a strangled cry, spun on his heel and started to run back up the tunnel ramp. His mates followed him in headlong rush. Only Jem, torn between superstitious fear and loyalty to Kerry, teetered indecisively.

"Come back!" thundered Kerry. "It's not alive. It's been dead billions of years."

Yet even he had been tempted to turn and flee. He was pretending a confidence of which he couldn't be sure.

The men paused, hesitated, and returned unwillingly. Then they all stared again. Kerry prodded the outstretched figure. It was metallic to the touch.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief. Had it yielded like flesh, for all his lack of superstition he might incontinently have gone from there. He laughed a little shaky laugh.

"It's an effigy," he explained. "A cunningly painted effigy to simulate life. Something like what you can find in the cathedrals still standing in ancient Europe."

Sally said: "Perhaps it's more like the Egyptian mummies. A case enclosing the dead body within."

"It might be," admitted Kerry. He stared around the place.
"Look! There are dozens more like this one. It's a mausoleum."
"A mausoleum of a vanished race," breathed Sally, "from an alien universe. She looked down at the painted tiny figures. "Why, they were beautiful!" she mused. "Like lovely little girls! What a pity they've gone!"

Jem glanced in wonder from the painted effigy toward Sally, and back again. Now that he knew that what he saw was not alive, his native courage had returned. "You know, Miss Sally," he exclaimed admiringly, "she might have been your kid sister."

"By Saturn!" said Kerry, starting. "You're right, Jem. The same straight features. Even the hair—"

"Stop dissecting us like that," cried Sally. "It—it's somehow ghoulish."

Kerry roused himself with an effort. "Well," he said, "we'd better leave this for the while. We've got other work—"

Sparks's voice resounded in his communication set. It was shrill with terror. "Mr. Dale! Mr. Dale!"

"What's the matter, Sparks?" he answered immediately. "We're being attacked. The pirates! They're all about the rim! They're shooting down at us."

"Use your space cannon," shouted Kerry. "Tell Bill—" Sparks's voice was chattering. "It—it's jammed. We're caught like rats!"

A huge concussion sounded in their helmets. A moment's dreadful silence. Then again Sparks's terrified cry. "They've dragged a space cannon over. That one dented our forward hull. They're getting ready to shoot again."

Jem whirled, unlimbered his ray-gun from his belt. "All right, boys!" he cried. "Let's get out there and give 'em what for!"

"Stop, you fool!" Kerry snapped. "They'd shoot us down like sitting ducks." Then to Sparks. "Blast off as fast as you can. If you can fix the cannon, circle back later and bomb their ship. If you can't, head toward Ganymede. Raise the Patrol and bring them back."

"B-but how about you—?"

"We'll make out. Get going before they reload."

The next few moments were like eternity. They crouched tensely,
waiting . . . waiting . . .

Then came the roaring of rockets, followed in split seconds by another thunderous concussion. Another agonized second. Had Sparks managed to clear before the shot? Faint cries sounded in their sets. Then a lurid string of oaths. "The blarsted soandsos!" bellowed a strange voice. "They got away. They'll raise the Patrol."

"Stop your damn whining, Sims!" said another voice, sharp, authoritative, chilling in its ferocity. "It'll take them a week to get to Ganymede. By that time we'll be through here, and away."

Jem started to growl. Kerry stopped him with an unmistakable gesture for silence. This was a two-way business. If they could hear the pirates in their communication sets, then the pirates could hear
them.

The man named Sims was chuckling now. "Ye're right, as always, boss. This here's the biggest bit o' swag we've ever tied into. Won't old Foote be tickled!"

"Hmm!" This was the leader called the Boss. "Foote, eh? Well, I don't know."

A third voice was heard. "Don't know what, boss?"

"Don't know about Foote. What if he
did
hire us. What's a measly hundred thousand, or even a million, to what we've got."

There was an uneasy silence; then Sims piped up: "Ya got somethin' there, boss. But Foote, he knows our hideout. Suppose he tips off the Patrol?"

"Let him!" The Boss's voice was edged with contempt. "You men don't know it—how could you? None of you have been scientifically trained the way I have. But those solid blocks we've been mining out are pure energy. What holds them together I don't know. But if they react the way I think they will, we've got unlimited power on tap; power to which all the power now generated in the System will look like a popgun. Do you men know what that means? Power in a different sense; power over the entire System, and their blasted Interplanetary Councils and Commissions. They'll come whining to us, begging for mercy."

Once again that strange voice took on terrible overtones of ferocity. "That's when I'll step on their necks, bash their blasted faces in.
I'll
take over their System;
I'll
be handing out the orders; and they'll crawl to obey.
Me,
that they drove away as an outlaw years ago."

"You never told us nothin' like that," said the third voice. "What happened then, boss?"

"None of your damned business, Grant!" snarled the Boss viciously. "And don't be asking unnecessary questions."

"Okay, boss; okay!" said Grant hastily. "I didn't mean no harm."

"Then keep your mouth shut about what doesn't concern you. All right now; let's get back to our job."

"How about these funny looking buildings?" asked Sims timidly. "Maybe there's other stuff inside."

"Ah!" The Boss's voice was almost approving. "You've got a head on your shoulders, Sims. You're right. This place has all the earmarks of an advanced civilization. Who knows; they might already have mined out blocks of energy; and saved us the trouble. We'll go down and investigate."

In the ensuing silence, Kerry opened his helmet; motioned to the others to do the same. He didn't want their voices to be heard by the descending outlaws.

The crewmen's faces were grim and drawn. Even Sally looked scared. "What are we to do now?" she asked. "We're trapped. They'll find us—"

"Let's go out fighting," begged Jem. "If we blast 'em down, mebbe we kin grab their ship."

Kerry shook his head. "They've got a full complement. That means at least twenty-five men. That man they call the Boss sounds highly competent. He's been at this game too long to be caught off guard. He'll have left some five men on board, with strict orders to keep watch. He's got about twenty with him. We might blast down half a dozen; even a dozen. The remainder will get
us."

"But we'll only die here, Kerry," Jem argued. "They'll find us here, and block us up. Then we're sunk!"

"There's a chance of that," admitted Kerry. "But there's also a chance they won't spot this particular mausoleum. When and if they go away, we'll have to figure out some strategy to capture their ship. I'm going to replace my helmet, so I can listen in on what they're doing. But the rest of you keep them off; otherwise you won't be able to talk. I'll gesture to you in space code any orders I may have. Stay here, while I go up to the entrance and do a little spying." He looked severely at Sally. "This is an order. You're to stay with the others."

She inclined her head. "As you order, Captain Dale."

He stared at her suspiciously. She was doubtless mocking him. Well, that could wait. With a grunt he snapped his helmet shut and moved cautiously up the ramp. At the entrance orifice he peered carefully out.

Just as he had expected, there were over twenty in the pirate group, all space-suited and helmets down. Obviously they had not yet realized that there was breathable air on the little world.

They slithered down the steep incline, scattered and single. Kerry's finger itched on his projectile gun, even as he was compelled to approving comment. "Their leader knows his business," he muttered to himself. "Though he doesn't suspect that there's a live being around, he keeps his men scattered against any possibility of a single blast cutting them all down. If only," he added, "I knew which one he was. Shoot him down, and the others will run for it."

But there was no way of telling. Even when his voice came through the communication set, it could not be placed. Nor was there any differentiation in space suits or helmets.

They were hidden now, behind a neighboring tower. Muffled voices came to him.

"Bah!" growled one. "They's nothing but lousy walls. They must be solid clear through."

"Keep searching along the sides," ordered the Boss. "Whoever built these built them for a purpose. There
must
be an entrance."

A minute later there was an exclamation of fear, followed by a bedlam of excited voices. "Ah!" thought Kerry. "Someone has fallen into the mausoleum, just as Sally had done." That gave him an idea. If they all went inside, maybe it would be possible for his own little force to hold them inside; and eventually seal up the entrance. Then

But his half-born scheme died swiftly. The Boss's voice was plain now. "All right! You five stand outside here as watch. The rest of us will descend."

Kerry cursed. That bird was certainly a tactician of no mean gifts, even though perverted to piracy. Who the devil was he? Kerry racked his memory. It was the rule of the Interplanetary Council to decree as legal outlaws all fugitives from justice. That meant that the branded one could be blasted down on sight by any citizen. But there had been many such decrees over the years; not as many, no doubt, as in the earlier and more turbulent eras of space travel; but enough to make identification of any one particular outlaw exceedingly difficult.

The metal of the great tower into which they had dived evidently blanked out communication. It had been fortunate that there had been a direct line of communication before through the open tunnel with the
Flash.
All lie could hear was the conversation of the outer guards.

One of them was saying shakily: "Jeez! This here place gives me th' creeps! Supposin' some o' them birds what built this here town is still hangin' around?"

"Rats!" jeered another. "They been dead a long time. Ain’t you heard the Boss say so?"

"Yeah!" chimed in a third. "But I read onct in
a book-when they made me go t' school—about a people back on Earth called 'Gyptians. They useta build themselves tombs when they died; jest like this. An'—so the book said
—
when thousands o'years later people came to open 'em tip, there was a curse—"

"Holy cow!" quavered the one who had spoken first.
"I'm gonna get outa here."

"Shut yer bloody jaw!" snapped the second. "You quit yet post and the Boss'll blast ya down.
You've
seen 'im when he's sore.

"Yeah! But I'm still scared."

There was a little silence; then a jumble of voices, as if men were coming out of the tomb.

Then, like the snap of a whip, the Boss's accents, furious
,
raging.

"You blasted fools! Carry it carefully. I'll burn down the first man who lets go his end. Do you hear me? It's not alive; it's an effigy. Damn it; a statue!
What
a find!"

Kerry shrank against the tunnel wall, peered out stealthily.

The group had emerged into unobstructed vision. Four men were staggering under the weight of a tiny effigy. One of the space-suited figures gestured. "All right! Put it down a while and catch your breath. But ease it down."

"Aha!" thought Kerry. "So
you're
the Boss. Here goes!"

He raised his projectile gun. But as he did, the group swirled, and the Boss was hidden again in an indistinguishable mob. Kerry cursed; then grunted philosophically. Perhaps there'd be another chance.

There wasn't. Everyone out there was gesturing excitedly. It was impossible to tell which was which. And they had opened up again; so that a single shot would not catch more than one or two.

But there was no question that the men were on the verge of rebellion. Terror sounded in their voices.

"Look, Boss!" pleaded one. "We got enough swag out there in the open. Let's not fool around with th—this!"

"It sure looks alive," cried another. "I don't aim to mix up with no—"

"Stop this infernal caterwauling!" gritted the Boss. "You've rested—more than enough. Pick it up again; or by the rings of Saturn—"

One of the men, as he stooped unwillingly, suddenly straightened up. His goggled helmet stared toward the base of the tower in which Kerry was ensconced, his rubberoid finger pointed directly toward the tunnel opening. As Kerry flattened himself against the inner wall, the man's voice was shrill with excitement.

"Look over there!" he shouted. "There's another tunnel; and
it's open!
"

All helmets turned in the direction of the pointing finger. The voice of the Boss rose triumphant.

"Open it is!" he cried. "When they abandoned this planet millions of years ago, this must have been the last structure they quit. And they left in a hurry; they didn't have time even to seal it up as they did the other ones. That means they left things behind. Come on, men; here's where we'll find real loot."

Kerry began to sweat. Now they must be discovered. At the best the five of them could kill off a few of the invaders. The others would scatter outside and take up sniping positions so that they dare not emerge. The pirates could then place their space cannon in a commanding position and blast a seal upon the entrance. They would then be trapped inside, without food or drink, to await inevitable death!

It would be better to go down fighting; and take as many of the pirates with them as they could. Flattened against the dark of the inner wall, he gestured frantically behind him. If only Jem was watching up the dark tunnel and was able to decipher his code gestures. The light was tricky.