THE SUN-DEATH

The Spaceship Vulcan lay on a tangled mat of vegetation. A thin haze of blue smoke drifted over it from the nearby Venusian village where several of the grass huts were afire. Under the bulging side of the ship twenty of the crew were boisterously herding a group of Venus Mutes, forcing them into the entrance port of the hold. There was very little trouble; only one of the Mutes balked, and a sting ray soon quieted that.

In the glittering control room of the ship Ray Burk, Navigator Unlimited, turned from the viewport with a frown.

"It seems a pity to burn down their shacks," he muttered.

He was a large young man with blond hair, carelessly dressed, yet still bearing that touch of alert authority characteristic of a crack spaceship man. Since it was his first trip on the Vulcan he was still a little out of place—not that he and Captain Lodar didn't understand each other.

Lodar, pacing restlessly back and forth, made no reply. His black eyebrows merely lifted sardonically as he continued his heavy strides. It was typical of Lodar, whose vast energy kept him ceaselessly active, but in the confines of a ship it was like being caged with a lion.

Ray turned back to the viewport. The village, burning sluggishly was desolate beneath the long column of smoke that rose in the still air.

Lodar's strides halted at the magnaflux, he twirled the detector impatiently. "Still clear," he muttered. Then, louder, "Fix a course for Earth, Burk. As soon as all are aboard, we'll take off."

Ray glanced quickly at Lodar, surprised at the sudden change of course, but he said nothing. This was Lodar's last flight, if all went well he was through. Perhaps that was why he was so savagely nervous. After all, it was time he quit. Luck had been with him overlong.

The interphone jingled and Lodar answered it.

"All right, Campora," he said after a moment, "get set for takeoff. Then report up here to me." He turned to Ray. "Take off, Mister. Make it snappy!"

Ray checked the safety lights, then signaled for power. He hoped McVane was sober. The sad-faced little engineer just couldn't stay away from his bottle.

But McVane was at least sober enough, for the metal floor began to throb gently as the converters on the lower deck groaned to life. While the machines built up to speed Ray adjusted the drive for a sixty degree lift. He could hear the soft grate of the Benson Plates shifting on the outer hull.

The interphone tinkled and Ray heard McVane's broad accents. "Ye can rip the bottom off her, Mister!" Yes, McVane was drunk again. He'd been out in the space rays too long perhaps, but the indicators showed him on the job.

Ray closed the ether drive and the ship rose silently as if caught on an elevator belt. He set the course carefully, aware of Lodar at his elbow, watching. If the Captain would only watch McVane as he did the others, things might be a lot better.

Perhaps Lodar was afraid for the hoard of jewels which was rumored to be aboard. Ray had heard whispers of this wealth, but he doubted that Lodar would fear any man, much less the space rats aft. Why, he could whip any ten of them!

Still, it might explain the sudden change in plans. Originally the Vulcan was destined for Mars where the load of Mutes would be sold to the zoos. Lodar's decision to head for Earth was unexpected, as unexpected as so many of his brilliant moves.

Ray had cut in the autopilot when the bulkhead door swung open to admit Campora. The First Mate still wore his rubber marsh boots and a gun slung on his narrow waist.

"A fine haul, Captain." He touched his dark mustache and a grin slit the sallow face. "About fifty Mutes." Then his grin faltered as he saw the Captain's expression.

Lodar faced him with huge fists balled on his hips.

"Who the hell gave you permission to set fire to that village, Mister?"

Campora's brown eyes darted once to Ray as if for support. His lean hand covered the black mustache. "Just a little fun for the boys, Captain." The Mate's voice was placating. "We—"

"Fun, eh!" Lodar's eyes were narrow as he thrust his heavy face forward. "If there's any fun to be dispensed, I'll do it! Do you morons realize that the smoke will alert half the patrol ships in space?"

"I—I'm sorry, Captain." Campora backed away. "You see—"

"Shut up!" Lodar jerked his dark head. "Take over from Burk."

Feeling sorry for the cowed mate, Ray relinquished his controls and gave the course. Campora stared.

"But—I thought we were to head for Mars!"

"I changed that," Lodar interrupted impatiently.

"You never told us!" Campora looked excited. "You agreed that we'd never head for Earth without warning. You know the men won't stand for it!"

"Yes, they will!" Lodar eyed the mate steadily. "Tell 'em they needn't worry, I'll look out for them."

"There'll be trouble!" Campora snapped.

"Is that a threat?" The big man's voice was icy. Then, as Campora subsided mumbling, Lodar turned abruptly to Ray.

"You can come with me, Burk, if you want to look at the cargo."

As he headed for the exit Ray followed curiously. It was the young navigator's first trip to Venus and he'd never seen a Mute close at hand. Which was strange, since his own past was so inextricably tied up with them.

Ray had served five years with the Mars-Venus Company to earn his unlimited navigator's ticket on the Mars passenger flights.

This company was chartered "to develop and exploit the planets of Mars and Venus" and most of its wealth came from the exploitation. For years Venus Mutes had been captured and sold to zoos or to wealthy people for pets.

The practice was strongly condemned by humanitarian groups on Earth. This became so vociferous that, finally, the Earth Federation halted all flights to Venus regardless of charter.

The Company declared such law was illegal. It would send a ship to Venus and have matters settled in court.

At this time Ray Burk was due to command his first ship. He was offered the Venus flight—the breaking of law to be merely a step in establishing precedent, so they said. It sounded like high adventure, with himself carrying the ball. He gladly accepted. And, as expected, he was intercepted by an Earth patrol ship.

But in the ensuing legal battle the Company found its very charter jeopardized. It hastily switched tactics, disclaimed all knowledge of the flight, and said Ray had set an incorrect course. Even hardened politicians smiled at such a thin excuse, but the Company made it stick. Ray lost his navigator's license. He was through.

The Company even went further in order to clear itself. It righteously promised to limit the capture of Mutes and save them from extinction. In fact, it offered to patrol Venus and stop illegal raids by others.

Then the price of Mutes rose to fantastic heights. Poachers moved in to reap fortunes from the trade.

II

Lodar was one of them. Cashiered from the Earth Fleet, an ex-officer, he was well trained to outmaneuver the patrols. It was he who offered Ray his first job in months.

"Get in on the gravy," he urged. "They already made you a goat, and no one else will employ you!"

After all, it wasn't criminal. They were only doing what the Company had done for years. There was a thrill of adventure in the risky smuggling, a sense of getting even with those who had disgraced him unjustly.

Yes, Ray was curious to see these Mutes who were at the base of his trouble.

He followed Lodar along the central corridor to the mid-section well, and down to the lower deck. The surging hum of the converters wafted on the warm air as they passed the engine room.

In the after hold Jenkins and his Number Two Gang were bracing a large metal cage. Entering behind Lodar, Ray stared with mingled feelings at the captives behind the bars.

"Why, they look like humans!" he gasped. No wonder so many people objected to the trade!

They were slightly smaller than humans, with paler skin, and their hair was blond, almost ashen. They regarded their captors with large blue eyes, but the rustling of grass and skins in which they were dressed was the only sound they made.

"Like our earliest type of man, perhaps," Lodar admitted. "But of a different evolution. No vocal cords."

"Just dummies." Jenkins spoke up from behind Ray.

"That's a lie!" The indignant voice was a woman's.

Gripping the bars, she stared angrily out at them. She had the small figure of a Mute, but her bare arms were bronzed, and her hair was dark, in long curls.

"They can talk." She shook the bars vigorously. "Release us, you sinners!"

Lodar suddenly scowled. "You're no Venus Mute!" He grabbed her hand and twisted it over. The palm was small and pink, not the bluish white of a Mute.

"Turn us loose, you heathen!" she raged, her large brown eyes aflame. "The Great Zipher will pour his wrath on you!"

"A missionary!" Lodar snorted savagely. He whirled on Jenkins. "Who brought her in here?" he bellowed in sudden fury.

Jenkins backed away, blinking his short-sighted eyes. "I—I don't know. I never seen her before."

The captain turned back to Ray. "Help me get her out," he growled.

Ray silently guarded the door while Lodar entered the cage and dragged the protesting girl outside. She refused to leave without the others, but Lodar grimly hauled her out and threw her clear of the door.

"I ought to throw you off in space!" He eyed the girl viciously.

Ray locked the door uneasily. Kidnaping a missionary would mean plenty of investigation. Earth zealously protected all its numerous and varied religious workers. This one, he knew, belonged to a very small sect—a cult founded in dim antiquity.

"Wait till my father learns of this!" The girl was rubbing her elbows. "He'll call down the wrath of the Great Zipher on this—this ark of abominations! The grave will open to swallow you. Death and oblivion shall come, and everlasting torment—"

"Shut up!" Lodar pushed the girl away. "Why you people waste your time on Mutes—"

"They're not mute!" she stormed. "Woe to you, you—"

"Shut up!" Lodar bawled.

"Very well." She drew herself up to a full five feet, one. "I'll show you!" She went to the bars. "Emu! Emu! Tell this heathen what the Great Zipher says."

One of the Mutes shuffled forward, a man with blank face. He drew a breath and recited in singsong tones.

"The Great Zipher say, come unto me all ye who look for work, and I give."

"See!" The girl turned imperiously. "Now, let them loose!"

"A parrot!" Lodar snapped. "Come on above or do I drag you?"

For a moment she looked rebellious, then she shrugged the skin cloak about her slender shoulders and turned with them to the well stairs.

McVane was leaning curiously out the engine room door, his loose jacket flapping in the pulsing of warm air.

"A gurrl, eh?" He shook his graying head. "That's a bad business, Lodar." His pale blue eyes blinked owlishly.

"Don't get ideas," Lodar snapped. "It wasn't my doing."

"Nah?" McVane teetered solemnly as he leaned forward. "What's your name, girlie?"

"Ellenor." She stared at the engineer.

McVane blinked. He scratched his whiskery chin. "Well, Ellenor, ye can have my cabin for the while," he offered.

"Come on, up you go!" Her dark eyes were bright with anger, but she climbed to the upper deck without further trouble.

They locked her in McVane's cabin.

"Funny, Mac giving up his room for her," Ray remarked as they headed forward to the control room.

"Because he's a no-good drunk?" Lodar sneered. "While some of us could be little gentlemen?" His face turned somber. "McVane is goofy. Had a wife and two kids. They were on that spaceship, Jeena, that was lost a few years back. If I didn't let him drink he wouldn't be worth jetting!"

So that explained the captain's easy going attitude toward the little engineer. At least Lodar had some feelings!

"Why not take this girl back to Venus?" Ray suggested.

"And run into a patrol? Earth Fleet or Company ship, it makes no difference. If we're caught it means life!"

They were operating outside the law, and no one would listen to their excuses. Ray felt suddenly cold as he thought that over. Unease dampened his admiration for the captain. Lodar was too smart to be captured, his ruthless ability would see the Vulcan through all right. But he was quite capable of murdering the girl, if necessary, as a last resort in getting rid of her!

Scowling, Ray followed the captain. In the control room they found Campora studying the magnaflux. He looked nervous as Lodar headed straight for him.

"What about this girl we got aboard?" the captain demanded harshly.

"Girl?" Campora looked innocent.

"You led the raid, didn't you?" Lodar's dark eyes were dangerous. "Maybe you were looking for some more fun?" He stepped close to the mate. "Or are you just blind?"

"There was a whole bunch of captives." Campora backed away. "We was in a hurry, and—"

"You damned liar!" Lodar seized his tunic. "You brainless idiot!" His free hand whipped up to slash across Campora's face.

With an oath Campora jerked free and reached for his belt.

Before he could free his gun Lodar's heavy fist smashed into his jaw. The mate slammed against the wall, then sagged to the floor. "Dirty rat!" Lodar took his gun, then kicked him till he stirred.

"Next time you draw on me," he grated, "you go out the disposal chute!"

"That didn't solve anything." Ray stooped to help Campora up.

Probably Campora had brought the girl aboard, perhaps her presence would hang them, but the captain could have used more proper means of discipline. Instead he had deliberately goaded Campora to action. It was as if Lodar had to give physical vent to his rage like a caged animal slashing at the bars.

Then, as Lodar turned briefly his way, Ray thought he saw an appeal for understanding in the dark eyes that slowly lost their angry glare. A fleeting look of the trapped lion, but it was gone in an instant.

"Mind your own business," the captain said sourly. He turned to Campora and growled, "Go wash your face!"

Ray's lips tightened helplessly. After all, Lodar's word was law. It was the only way to run a spaceship on its vast journeying through emptiness. It was the only insurance against hysteria from taut nerves, the fear of space rays, and claustrophobia in the little metal world.

With a long breath he turned to the magnaflux and swung the detector beams. The magnatoid field would instantly react to anything within five units. There was no time lapse as with radar, a vital point when riding on a Benson Drive.

There was no sign of patrols. Only the dim globe of Venus behind and the smaller points of Mars and Earth ahead. Except for the haze of star dust space was empty of threat.

Lodar was again pacing back and forth. Ray could hear his heavy step on the metal plates.

Tramp—tramp—tramp. Then, to his relief, Lodar halted.

"You're a handsome young buck." At the captain's light tone Ray turned, surprised, but there was no sign of mockery on the other's heavy face. "You go talk to that blasted girl. Calm her down. If she'll keep her mouth shut promise her we'll drop her off on Earth."

Ray felt his anger dissipate under a surge of relief. So Lodar was going to take a chance on the girl's silence. He was willing to protect her from the crew and deliver her right side up. After all, it would have been simple to drop her off in space. The crew would never blab. In fact the crew would have urged it.

Under his hard surface Lodar was all right!

In more cheerful frame of mind Ray quit the control room. As he headed along the main corridor a sudden gale of laughter echoed from the well. There was an unpleasant tone to it that drew him, frowning, to the lower deck.

Several of the crew were in the after hold. They were grouped around the cage of Mutes and one of them held a long rod. The tableau was obvious, Ray strode in angrily.

"That'll be all of that!" he snapped.

Jenkins' glasses glinted as he turned, still grinning. "Captain told us to stand guard, Sir."

His short-sighted squint measured the young navigator.

"Get out!" Ray clenched his fist. "All of you, except Williams, get out!" He waited as they filed past him with sullen looks, then he turned into the engine room.

McVane was sitting at his little desk, drowsing in the warm, oily air. He roused at Ray's tread and absently closed a lower drawer before he turned. Hiding his bottle! The man would drink himself to death!

"The girl is in your cabin," Ray said shortly.

"Good." McVane's eyes were bleary and, for a moment, pity closed in on Ray. After all, he had no right to condemn the little engineer for his weakness—his whole family wiped out.

"What do you know about these Mutes?" he asked more gently.

"They can't talk." McVane drew into himself. "Go ask the girl if you want to know!" His hand trembled toward the lower drawer.

Disgusted, Ray turned away. The whole crew wore an armor plate of callous indifference! It was like no ship Ray had ever flown. Muttering, he climbed back to the main deck, to McVane's cabin.

The girl was sitting on a bunk, combing her hair with angry sweeps. She gave him one hot glance, then ignored him completely.

"Look," he began, "I'm as anxious to get you out of here as you are. I don't want to see you—hurt—"

"The Great Zipher will guard me," she snapped. "He gives peace and security in our times."

"Sure, sure." Ray frowned impatiently. "But the rest of us want peace and security, too. If you make trouble—"

"Why is a young man like you consorting with these sinners?" She looked at him with sudden curiosity. "You don't belong here!"

Ray stared at her. What was her name? Oh, yes, Ellenor.

"If you repent in time—"

He laughed harshly. "Nothing doing. This may be no healthy job, maybe I'll quit after this, but don't get ideas. What I came to—"

"I know what you came to beg," she said scornfully. "I will make no deal with evil. You can't harm me. You will all slay yourselves. The ship is doomed!"

She spoke with such certainty that for a moment Ray wondered if she might know something. Perhaps she was aware of coming rescue. Still, that was ridiculous. She had been caged with the rest. She was bluffing, perhaps to allay her own fears.

He tried another tack. Sympathy. He asked her about herself.

She was a missionary's daughter, born on Venus, and had grown up among the words of the Great Zipher.

"And who is the Great Zipher?" Ray demanded, amused. There were countless little religions flourishing under free thought.

"No one knows. We know he saved the world from the last great plague of Depression. People were affected by a great Gloom and saw no purpose in life. They shrunk inside and suffered mental disease. The Great Zipher said—only believe that ye have plenty, and spend your substance in good things, and these shall come to pass."

"And did they?" he prodded.

"Are there any more plagues of Depression?" she asked tartly.

It sounded like a cheerful religion, but Ray declined to argue. He reverted back to his main purpose.

"Being religious, you shouldn't demand vengeance on us," he pointed out. "Suppose we turn you loose if you promise to keep that little mouth shut?"

"Your own sins will betray you anyway."

"There's nothing wrong in capturing these Mutes," he snapped. "They're not human. We don't mistreat them!"

"How long do they live in captivity?" she demanded bitterly. "A few months, a year or two, and then they die. On strange planets, cut off from all their kind, they die miserably."

He gave it up.

When Lodar heard of this he shook his head and guffawed.

"You're too easy, Burk. Perhaps Campora can do better."

"She'll come to her senses in time," Ray urged. Above all, he didn't want Campora turned loose on the girl. "Give me time."

"Yea." Lodar's smile was grimly mocking. "In time she'll make a complete sucker of you! But it might be diverting. Go ahead!"

III

The very vastness of space lends a sense of security from detection. The enormous speed required to cover the parsecs between systems gives advantage to those who elude the patrols.

The Vulcan, bound for Earth, streaked through the blackness like a swift needle in illimitable space. Its sensitive detector beams probed the spangled cosmos for danger.

Inside, the crews changed shift and slept, lulled by the warm hum of converters. It was a secure little world of glittering lights and steel, no different from the many Company ships which Ray had flown in the past.

He was standing in the warm hold, staring through the bars at the Mutes. Their large eyes turned to his, but there was no other sign of awareness, life. They were delicately built, almost like children. No wonder they made appealing pets, semi-slaves.

Almost angrily Ray shook the bars. "Can't you talk," he growled. There was an uneasy movement, but no answer. "Speak up, you dumbbells!" He grew impatient under the silent stares.

Impatient with himself for trying to make them talk, as if that would solve anything! Yet, they seemed so intelligent. They were clothed, they had some sort of local government. Surely they must be able to communicate. But they only stared!

He had a fleeting impression as if they were sorry for him.

He wondered suddenly if they were telepathic. He concentrated on the idea, but no inkling came. Only blankness. They were just animals. They had to be.

Abruptly he left the hold and climbed to the upper deck. In the corridor Williams stopped him.

"I hear we're still headed for Earth, Sir." The man's dark face held a worried look.

"Yes." Ray waited, but the other only shuffled his feet in uncomfortable silence, so he turned toward the girl's cabin.

Ellenor would know the answer.

"Are those Mutes telepathic?" he demanded almost savagely of her. The whole idea was unwelcome. In fact, his interest in the Mutes was like a foolish obsession!

"No." She stared at him a long while. "They know how people feel," she said at last. "They know how everything feels—animals, plants, and even the soil."

"That's nothing. I know how people feel."

"No, you don't." She let that sink in. "On Venus they know when the soil wishes to grow things; they know when things are due to happen. The moon of places tells them where to settle; where they are welcome. Theirs is a language of—of feelings, you might say."

"Instinct. Well developed."

"More than that." She assumed a kindly air of instruction. "It is learned. I know that you, for instance, are at war with yourself. You admire this Captain Lodar, but he is evil. Yet you are sorry for him."

"Sorry!" The idea of feeling sorry for Lodar was startling. It had never even vaguely occurred to him. Lodar was too self-sufficient.

She shrugged, a dainty movement. "You are mentally blind. You don't believe your inner senses." Her delicate face wore a frown as she groped for words. "Lodar hopes to retire on Earth, to live in peace on his ill-gotten gains. But Lodar knows he will never live to enjoy that peace." Her eyes grew large as they met his. He had the uneasy feeling as if she'd opened his mind like a book. Probably her words had overstimulated his imagination. "And you know that, too, inside of you," she ended.

"I know—"

"That Lodar will die," she completed placidly. "Better take us back to Venus."

Was the girl trying to bewitch him? Bog him down in a tangle of mystic nonsense? An air of intimacy tingled his senses. He wanted to touch the girl, to comfort her. Abruptly he stood up.

"Better think over about that promise to keep silent." He felt as if something very fragile had shattered. He was vaguely sorry about it, yet determined to stick to reality.

Campora was in the control room when Ray arrived. The First Mate was anxiously focussing the triangulation vernier on the magnaflux screen.

"There's a ship on our tail," he muttered. "See if you can analyze it."

Ray took over and explored the field for tensions around the black dot on the screen.

"Got an eight plate Benson Drive," he concluded at last. "It's a Company ship!"

Campora sounded a general alarm. "I told Lodar to keep off an Earth course!" he gritted.

There was a rush of feet in the corridor as the crew ran for their stations. In minutes the captain himself appeared. Lodar already knew what to expect. He brushed Campora aside after a dozen words.

"Get the gun crews set," he told him shortly.

"How about changing course?" the mate demanded sullenly.

"I know what to do!" Lodar rapped. "Get going!" His eyes narrowed angrily as he watched Campora stamp out and slam the door. Then abruptly he turned to prowl nervously from control panel to magnaflux and back again.

Ray said nothing. He was wondering alertly just how this was going to affect the girl. He hoped she'd forgotten. Under onslaught of Lodar's driving energy human lives were nothing. Even now the captain's dark eyes blazed with excitement, a savage delight in the approaching danger.

The young navigator began to plot the other ship's course. It was curving in behind them on the left. The intent was obvious; to overtake from one side and drive the Vulcan into a sheering curve. It would take power to get away, lots of power!

Ray called McVane on the interphone, breathed a sigh of relief as the engineer promptly answered. "We're running into trouble. Get your teakettle going—fast," he ordered.

"Ay, ay," McVane mumbled.

"Keep awake!" Ray hissed savagely. "If we're caught now it'll mean life for us!"

"Take it easy, I'll give ye power. If need be," McVane added morosely, "enough to blow us all to hell!"

The captain was studying the magnaflux when Ray turned.

"They're cutting in." His thick finger traced a curve. The pursuer's tactics were obvious—to drive the Vulcan into an ever-tightening spiral aided by his greater speed.

"Why don't they radio?" Ray glanced at the silent receiver.

"At this speed?" Lodar grunted. "No chance! There'll only be a few seconds of contact."

It was true. On any course, the two ships would flash past each other with scant time for talk. If the Vulcan was an innocent trader it would haul to, if not it would travel, or surrender. There was no chance of surrender.

Lodar had too much at stake. He was carrying a fortune back to Earth. His last chance at a decent life. As for the crew, most of them were wanted by the police in half the cities of Earth. Their safety lay in the outer planets or in space.

"We'll take a chance." Ray glanced at Lodar for confirmation, then tapped the magnaflux. "They've got more power, more guns, and they'll outrun us. We've got to cut out."

"Go ahead!" Lodar nodded tensely, like a leashed hound scenting trouble. "Campora's got the gun crews ready."

Ray hadn't figured on blasting at the Company ship. He had hoped for a swift getaway. Still, this was no time for fine distinctions. After all, he had joined the Vulcan of his own free will. He couldn't change his mind now. But, if he ever got out of this....

He turned to the controls, concentrating on his job.

The Benson Plates on the outer hull shifted gratingly, turning to alter the drive. The moan of the ether whorls pitched higher as the Vulcan creaked to swing ponderously on a new course. It made a huge figure S curve, designed to pull it out of the threatened spiral.

In seconds the proximity alarms shrilled. As the ship cut closer to its pursuer Ray tightened the turn till the Vulcan swung sharply to right. There was a rattle of sound as loose objects spilled over the decks.

The other ship was on the ordinary visiscreen now, a black streak that danced to one side of the Vulcan. Under his feet, Ray could feel the jarring thrust of McVane's converters, he could sense the leap of the Vulcan as he closed in the last dregs of power.

But still the other ship crept closer.

Ray shook his head silently at Lodar who stood at the interphone. The captain glanced hastily at the visiscreen, turned back to his mouthpiece.

"Got the range, Campora?" He leaned forward, hawklike. "Now!" he bellowed.

The Vulcan shook as the broadside was fired and the thrusting drive faltered while power surged to the weapons.

It was a miss. Lodar swore.

"Fire at will," he yelled, slamming down the phone. He hurried to the visiscreen.

The other ship had shifted course to follow them, though it was still abeam, still trying to drive them into a spiral. Ray swung the Vulcan again, cutting dangerously close. The dot on the visiscreen swelled and centered on the beam again.

Campora's crew were firing intermittently. A shot exploded on the Company ship's hull, a spray of melted steel that flashed and was gone.

"We disabled them!" Lodar exulted.

The other ship was losing way, still holding its course, but slowing. Then they flashed by it. Ray felt relief. The other wasn't badly hurt. He'd get back to port.

And, in that moment, the Company ship blasted with all its guns. The Vulcan rocked under the blow of solid energy. A vast eruption tore out a section of rear plating. The Benson Drive quit.

Then they were out of range.

Lodar was on the interphone. "Get on that damage!" he roared. "Campora, keep those guns ready. McVane! Hello, McVane!" He slammed down the instrument. "Some day I'll kill that McVane with my own hands!"

"Maybe he's hurt," Ray snapped.

Lodar grunted and picked up the phone again. "Hello, Williams, get a first aid crew out and look for casualties."

He turned to pace the floor, aroused, thirsting now for action. Up and down, up and down, as if the pent up energy flamed within him.

For the present the engagement was over. Both ships were damaged. They would drift thousands of miles apart before either could resume flight. At least the Vulcan was fairly safe. And space was a vast hiding place.

"They'll never take us now," Ray said, trying to divert Lodar's ceaseless activity. The man positively burned with energy.

"Not alive, anyway!" The captain turned. "Not for their brand of justice! You know why I was cashiered from the Earth Fleet? I was an upstart. I didn't belong to the right clique. So when someone stole the club funds they refused to hold a trial. Sure, they just asked me quietly to resign so as to avoid a scandal." He ground his teeth. "I was no thief!"

"That's when my wife left me," he added flatly. "Can you expect justice from scum like that?" He glared. "Take all you can, my boy, and die like a man when the time comes!"

It was the same old story Ray had heard a dozen times, and he was sick of it. Also he was sick of Lodar's ceaseless pacing. The fight had left the man wound up like a spring!

"I'll go look things over." Ray turned to the exit without waiting for the other's approval.

The corridor was strangely silent now that the vast throb of the converters no longer boomed along it. There was a dim clatter of men working in the after section of the ship, but Ray turned to the mid-section well and slid down to the engine room.

The auxiliary generator was whining briskly, but the main converters were in bad shape. Blue, acrid smoke poured from the inspection plates, hazed in the glaring lamplight, and there was a stinging odor of extinguisher gases.

McVane was lying on the metal floor.

Ray dragged him to the well and put him on the elevator. The engineer wasn't badly hurt, only a nasty cut on the head. In the upper passage he halted Williams and several of the crew.

"Where's your first aid kit?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Sir." Williams grinned. "Captain ordered us on another job. The kit's aft."

Swearing, Ray hurried to the after section and retrieved the medical supplies. Back in the corridor, he decided to let the girl look after McVane. She might as well be of some use.

He dragged McVane to the cabin and unlocked the door.

The girl inside almost bowled him over in a frantic attempt to escape.

"Here, quiet down!" He held the struggling figure, enjoying a brief moment of her nearness. "The scrap is over. You're perfectly safe."

"I don't care about that!" the girl flamed. "What are you doing to my friends?"

"Nothing." He turned her loose reluctantly. "Here, take care of McVane." Watching her cautiously, he dragged the engineer inside.

"Let me out!" She tried to squeeze past him. "They're doing awful things!"

"Calm down." He frowned uneasily. "You look after McVane. I'll take a look at your friends."

Despite her protests he locked her in again, then impatiently hurried to the well to slide down and turn into the hold.

Six of the crew were clustered by the cage which held the Mutes.

"What—" Then he saw what had happened. The sight made him sick.

The Mutes lay in grotesque heaps. Dead. They had been rayed!

"Who ordered this?" he demanded thickly. His mouth felt dry. His stomach was tying itself into knots.

Williams' swarthy face turned his way. "Campora said it was the captain's orders." The man spat deliberately. "A damned good idea, too, unloading them!"

IV

Abruptly Ray turned and ran for the upper deck. He burst into the control room.

Lodar turned from the chart file. The captain's face was white. His eyes burned starkly.

"So—you know they're dead." His voice was expressionless. "Are they any worse off dead than in a zoo?"

"You ordered those Mutes killed!"

Lodar made a hopeless gesture. "If we're intercepted, and have to fight, we'll all be killed, including the Mutes. So we get rid of them. We're clean, we go to Earth!"

"Cold-blooded murder!" Ray gritted. "A cowardly—"

"Stop it!" Lodar's voice cracked. "They're not human. Getting hysterical won't bring them back. Forget it. We're not playing ring-around-the-rosy!"

"You'll pay for this!" Rage at his own helplessness almost gagged Ray. "When we land on Earth I'm going to have you hunted down like a dog!"

"It takes evidence to hang a man." The captain chuckled mirthlessly. "Do you think I'd willingly jettison a valuable cargo? We'll be drifting for a week, at the mercy of any patrol ship that comes along. I had to do it."

A sudden thought iced Ray's boiling emotions.

Ellenor! He'd have to watch out for the girl.

With the Mutes gone, Lodar would have to reckon with the girl.

Ray turned to the door. He had to get away from Lodar before he was tempted to shoot the man!

"You and I are through, Lodar." He tried to keep his voice steady, to bottle up his fury. He'd need all his wits to get out of this mess! His former grudge against the Company, against Earth justice, was childish and futile. He had been a brainless fool to fall for the romance, the swashbuckling air of the Vulcan. "I'll work with you till we land," he said through clenched teeth. "After that we're through!"

He slammed the door behind him. He wanted to get as far away from Lodar as possible, to the rear of the ship, where a repair crew was blasphemously patching the hull.

Several space-suited figures were outside, welding the plates, while others, inside, used plastic matting to save the air. Jenkins was in command.

"Where are we now, Mr. Burk?" he asked Ray.

"About halfway to Earth." Ray tried to sound normal.

"Is the captain still insisting on going ahead?"

Ray nodded, dislike of the other welling in him.

"Looky." Jenkins drew him to one side. "The men don't like the idea, see, of going to Earth. Most of us skipped out to space for a good reason, see?"

Ray nodded again, and his lips tightened impatiently. Jenkins was a bully.

"Well, sir, maybe you could persuade the captain to change his mind, huh? We don't want trouble."

"All right, I'll see." Ray started to turn away.

"Campora tried to tell the captain." Jenkins' grimy paw rested on Ray's arm, while he peered at him through his glasses. "But Lodar don't like Campora, see?"

Ray had paused despite his loathing for the man.

"Sure." Jenkins moved closer. "Campora knifed a guy just before he skipped Earth. It was his second offense. Don't let on I told you." He looked anxious. "I was just trying to help, see?"

"Yes." Ray turned away disgustedly. "I'll talk to Lodar."

He was beginning to hate every man aboard the Vulcan. That wasn't good. It was a sign of space hysteria. He'd have to guard against such things.

Vigilance was the only safety factor.

Stay out in space too long and you begin to brood. Worse still if you are psychologically able to stick it out long enough, you become infected with the deadly space rays that burn you up with febrile energy. Or you go batty with claustrophobia.

And they had all been out too long. They were reckless and unstable. He must get Ellenor away safely if it was the last thing he ever did.

Before the day period was over he went to see the girl, dreading to face her with the news of the Mutes' slaying. But she already knew.

"You needn't tell me." Her brown eyes were dazed with pain. "I know. They are dead."

What was there to say? That he would have saved them if he could? That he was sorry? Furious at Lodar? They were only fine words. He turned silently to the bunk where McVane lay asleep, his gray head swathed in bandages.

"He's all right," Ellenor said. "He lost a lot of blood, but I got the cook to bring some food. He ate it."

Ray turned back to her. He took her arm and led her to a chair, aware once more of that tingle of pleasure at the touch of her.

"I'll do what I can to help you," he said earnestly. "But you've got to promise Lodar that you'll keep quiet. If you don't I'm afraid he'll—"

"I'm not afraid!" Her red lips curled. She had parted the long, dark hair in two braids, which she was now tugging as if for emphasis. "If you are my friend—"

"I am," he interrupted swiftly. "God knows I'm sorry enough to be tangled up in this outfit! But it'll take more than just—"

The door opened and Lodar walked in. He glanced suspiciously at the girl, then took a look at McVane. Evidently satisfied, he straightened up.

"I saw the latch open and wondered if the girl was still safe." His dark glance rested impassively on her. "Have you decided to be sensible?"

"Sure she has," Ray said quickly.

"You can't frighten me!" The girl's dark eyes were unquailing before Lodar's. Her voice rose. "It's you who is afraid, you murderer! No matter how you strive—"

"Shut up!" Lodar said.

"You'll never see Earth!" she ended recklessly.

Lodar spun on his heels and stalked out.

"You idiot!" Ray hissed, then hurried after Lodar. She would drive the man to drastic action in spite of all effort to save her silly little neck! As he locked the door, Lodar eyed him curiously.

"Quite the spitfire, isn't she?" he remarked mildly.

Ray wondered if he meant just that or if he was covering up a consuming rage. He was still wondering about it as he uneasily went to his own cabin. Of one thing he was sure, that Lodar would save his own skin at any cost!

That thought kept him tossing on his bunk long after he'd snapped off the light. He could hear the captain's restless movements in his cabin next door. He could hear the sounds of the Number Three repair crew, his ears were straining for the hum of the converters.

There were many noises on the Vulcan, softer and more furtive. The stir of men off duty, the murmur of voices. Uneasy speculations.

Opposition to Lodar's course seemed a material thing, a tangible force distilled of fear. Like a cross current that moved deeply. Ray scowled at the dark ceiling of his cabin. Of course, it was only imagination. The unusual silences. The cessation of driving power on the Vulcan. These were playing tricks with his ears. The Vulcan was drifting, slowly curving off course toward the sun.

McVane was supervising repairs on his machines. He had moaned about feeling sick, but Lodar had refused to listen to his pleas. For one thing, they had drifted two days now and the Vulcan had inevitably expended its momentum against the solar pull. It had begun the long fall sunward. And, beside the threat of being broiled, there was the deadly danger of space rays. They would burn up a man just as surely, even though in a different way. So haste was imperative.

It might take a week to repair the main converters. The insulation was badly charred on the stator coils. Several were burned out completely. So McVane was put to work.

The rattle of chain hoists and hiss of arc welder echoed hollowly through the drifting ship. Even so, had it not been for the comforting hum of the auxiliary generator the silence would have been maddening.

Ray had avoided seeing the girl since the death of the Mutes. Probably she blamed him as much as the others for their murder, lumping him in a general category of black infamy. And how could he prove to her that he wasn't like Lodar, Campora, and the rest? Unless she could really sense thoughts, as she hinted. It seemed preposterous, yet she might have learned some such thing from the Mutes.

She might even know what Lodar was thinking! Ray grinned at that. Even now the captain was probably fuming like an angry bull.

He was eating a huge meal when Ray entered his cabin to give him a report. He continued to ladle vast quantities of hash while the young navigator outlined the progress of repairs. Finally he threw down his spoon and wiped his mouth.

"Those men are deliberately stalling on the job!" he snarled.

Ray didn't deny it. They'd both known it all along.

"If you'd change your mind about heading for Earth—" Ray stopped. The dishes jumped as Lodar banged the table.

"Give in to a bunch of lousy space scum?" Lodar glared. "I know what they're afraid of. Every one of them is a jailbird! But, by Jupiter, I'm running this ship!"

"No one is running the ship right now," Ray said coldly. "The Vulcan is falling faster every minute. Our distance from the sun—"

"I'll talk to the swabs!" Lodar's jaw bulged as he pushed away his chair. "I'll beat out their brains if I have to!" He jerked open the door, then stared out. "What do you want?"

Campora was standing in the corridor. At Lodar's expression he fell back a pace, then held his ground.

"The men asked me to represent them—"

"Now, by hell!" Lodar roared. "I've had enough! Are you a First Mate or a sniveling messenger boy for the crew? Get out of my way!"

"I want to warn you—"

"Stand aside." Lodar shoved the mate back.

"Better listen to him." Ray's voice was harsh. Lodar deserved all he got, but there was no sense in stirring the Vulcan to a charnal house of mob violence. He knew only too well the temper of the crew after two days of wracking tension.

"Listen to a coward like this?" Lodar sneered savagely and pointed at Campora. "He's afraid for his own hide! But he wasn't scared to stick a knife in a man's back on Earth! Oh, no! But now he's petrified at the thought of a policeman. He's stirring up the crew. He's a traitor to his rating!"

"You can't handle men when your own temper blows up!" Ray snapped. Lodar should know that. He was an ex-fleet man.

Lodar jerked round, visibly struggling for control. "I guess you're right," he admitted slowly, his first fury spent. He turned to the mate, whose sallow face and slitted eyes were full of venom. "So you're afraid of Earth and the police, the whole kit and kaboodle of you. Well, we won't land there."

Campora looked his utter disbelief.

"We'll swing a thousand miles off Earth and I'll land in the escape boat. You can go on to Mars, sell the Vulcan to pay off the crew and yourself." Lodar smiled grimly. "Now get out of my way!"

As the captain strode down the corridor, Campora turned bitterly to the young navigator.

"He's lying, he's going to land on Earth. The filthy double-crosser wants to pay us off with a stolen ship, too!" Campora grabbed Ray's arms. "That escape boat is loaded with his takings. Thinks we're a bunch of suckers to let him be the big shot on dear old Earth! We'll see about that!"

"You're a fine officer!" Ray stared at the mate.

V

It was a mystery to him how Campora had ever won his position. Once upon a time he must have had a lot of ambition, because it took a lot of drive for a self-educated man like Campora to become an officer. Perhaps the struggle had soured him.

Ray knew how tough it was. He'd had to fight his way, but—He stopped in mid-thought. Actually, he was no better. They were all in the same boat!

When Ray went aft a little later he found the repair crew working furiously. Lodar paced back and forth between the two main converters, his fists clenched and eyes alert. One of the crew lay sprawled in a corner. A glance was enough. The man was dead.

Ray shrugged mentally. Lodar was within his rights, as captain, to enforce his orders even to this extent.

Nor did Lodar relax his driving vigilance one whit as the hours dragged by. He raged from crew to crew, hammering down all sign of opposition, aflame with a single purpose—to repair the ship and take it to Earth. Anger, pride, or stubbornness—it made no difference which drove him—his mind was made up.

There was no turning him now.

"I'll run the Vulcan where I wish if I have to kill every man of you!" he raged.

Ray searched the crew's quarters and removed all likely weapons. He got a spare key for McVane's cabin and took it to the girl.

"Better lock yourself in," he told her. "There may be trouble!"

"I know." Her dark eyes were serious. "If you would only persuade the captain—"

"Nothing doing!" Again he felt an impulse to touch her, to hold her. He wondered if it sprang from his own mind or hers—or was he just nuts? But her smile, at least, sent a flood of warm relief coursing through him as he left.

He turned to his own cabin.

As navigator, there was nothing at present for him to do. It might be best for him to get some rest while he could. He was afraid to sleep, but long training had taught him how to cat-nap. He relaxed, keeping an ear trained for trouble.

The repair work must go on or the Vulcan was lost, for the sun was perilously close. Ray had been afraid to tell the crew just how close, because the single escape ship would hold only a fraction of them.

He must have fallen asleep, because he was suddenly aware that the sound of work had ceased. Instead he could hear the quavering notes of McVane's voice, singing lugubriously. Plainly he was sad.

And drunk!

Ray jerked on his tunic and hurried out.

In the corridor he paused at Lodar's cabin and tried the door. It was locked. So, Lodar had gone to bed, contemptuously certain that he'd licked the crew into shape. Which meant that Campora should be in charge.

But there was an air of unease, of impending disaster, in the driveless ship. Perhaps it was a result of McVane's doleful song, but Ray found himself suddenly tense.

The ship was too quiet. No sound came from below as he went to the well. Even McVane had quit his lament. Momentarily Ray was tempted to see if Ellenor was all right. He decided against it, hurried along the corridor to the crew's quarters, aft.

As soon as he stepped inside the mess room, suspicion froze him. At his step the huddle of men had suddenly broken. The faces which turned his way all wore the same tense look.

It was time for the payoff!

There would be no more talk. Their faces told him that.

Jenkins peered at Ray through his glasses. Without preamble, he demanded, "Are you in with us or Lodar?"

It was a ridiculous question. All of Ray's training had conditioned him to meet such emergency in only one way. Right or wrong, there was only one answer.

He leaped back through the door and slammed it, then swung the emergency latch and spun the sealing wheel. It would hold them for a while—till they burned it down.

He dashed for the central well, slid down the pole in a mad spiral, and jumped for the engine room. McVane was alone at his desk, a shrunken figure in the glaring lights, his head slumped down on his chest.

Ray kicked the chair from under him and hauled him erect. "Get to the control room!" he panted.

McVane's lean hand closed on his bottle, then his feet were dragging as Ray hauled him to the well. His head wobbled as he took up the song again.

"You fool!" Ray shook him violently. "There's mutiny! Up, quick!" He propelled the smaller man up the stairs. In the main corridor he stopped at the girl's cabin.

"Here." He shook McVane again, then handed him the keys. "Get that girl to the control room."

While McVane fumbled at the lock Ray hammered on Lodar's cabin. It was an age before the captain appeared. His dark eyes took in McVane and the girl, then swept back to Ray.

"Trouble, eh?" Without waiting to hear more he reached for his gun and joined them.

It was vital to hold the front of the ship. In any other section they would be merely prisoners. Lodar ran swiftly past McVane and the girl, while Ray brought up the rear, alert for attack.

So Lodar was first to enter the control room.

Ray didn't see what happened, but a moment later came the zing of ray guns, a scream. Campora stumbled from the room. He ran past Ray, still screaming, headed aft, waving an arm which was blasted to a stump.

Ray went on, gritting his teeth.

"Didn't expect us so soon," Lodar said grimly as they gathered in the control room. "He figured on holding this place, but he got too excited!" He pointed to the splatter of burned metal where Campora's shot had missed him.

He turned to McVane who was looking sick. "Here, take this gun and stand by." Then, as he shoved the weapon in the other's shaking hand, "We'll jump 'em before they organize." He faced Ray. "Coming?"

Ray nodded grimly. He was playing a travesty of an officer's duty, but it was the only way.

The two went down the passage, peering into cabins as they headed for the well. Here Lodar slammed down the fire hatch, thus blocking off the lower deck. He had just snapped the last wedge when Ray heard the clang of metal aft, and the patter of feet. The crew had burned out of their prison.

"Let's hold them here," Ray said. "I took their guns yesterday."

"Good!" Lodar stood beside him, legs outspread.

But as the first man, Williams, appeared and sighted Lodar, there was the vicious zing of a ray gun. The wall beside Lodar erupted sizzling metal as he ducked.

"So you took their guns!" he snarled, firing at the same time as Ray.

With yells, their attackers retreated, blasting wildly. The corridor filled with acid smoke and red-hot metal. Half the lights were gone, the rest were hazed by the stinking fumes. The mutineers were firing blindly from behind a corner, depending upon mere volume rather than any sort of aiming.

"Back up!" Lodar gasped. "Campora gave them all those weapons."

They retreated to the control room and bolted the door, while McVane and the girl stared.

"We're in a spot," Lodar admitted.

"And we can thank you for it," Ray snapped. "This crew will have no more compunction over killing us than they had over bumping off those Mutes!"

"Well, now." McVane shifted his feet restlessly. "Let's not squabble. Anyway, 'twas Campora persuaded the captain to get rid of the Mutes."

They all tensed at a sudden sound outside—metal dragging the floor and voices. Then suddenly the smell of burning paint.

The door panel turned red, the paint peeled off, and dropped to the deck. Within seconds a hole blazed through.

Lodar aimed his gun at the opening and fired. He grinned as a yelp sounded, then moved beside the door to trigger several bursts along the corridor beyond. There were horrible yells, the scurry of retreat, then silence. Lodar stooped to peer.

"Got four of 'em," he announced. "That'll cool 'em off!"

He crossed swiftly to the chart case, heaved it aside, and slid open a small hidden panel. He reached inside to close a switch. "This'll help too," he added grimly. "Gas!"

"What a monster!" the girl said.

Lodar ignored her. He was looking at McVane. The engineer had taken a bottle from his pocket, was stretching his scraggy neck to gurgle it.

"Can't you stay sober?" With a stride Lodar swept the bottle away and smashed it on the deck.

"What for?" McVane slumped against the wall.

Lodar raised his hands angrily, but Ellenor moved swiftly and swung him away from the groggy engineer.

"Let him alone!" she raged. "He doesn't care any more. You can't beat that out of him!"

Lodar's eyes glittered. "You know too much about everything," he said tightly.

Her chin tilted defiantly. "I know that you'll never see Earth again!"

"Damn you!" He lashed out suddenly. His slap sent her sprawling against the wall.

With a snarl Ray hurled himself at Lodar. His fist slammed a shoulder as Lodar spun to meet the infuriated charge. A second blow, that crunched Ray's knuckles on the other's head, never even jarred the larger man.

Growling, he reached out. His huge hands closed on Ray's neck, the thumbs dug into his windpipe.

"You dumb fool!" Lodar's clenched teeth lay bare between tight drawn lips. Convulsively his strangling grip tightened.

Ray's fist slammed the grinning lips, with savage joy he felt the smash of teeth. He hammered at Lodar's face, beating it in frenzied rage while his lungs strained for air. His back jolted the wall and Lodar was slamming his head on the plates.

His lungs were jerking, the room blurred with pulsing darkness. He saw only Lodar's blazing eyes, felt the power of his viselike grip. The man was made of steel, driven by raw violence.

And, in that flashing moment, Ray guessed Lodar's secret, the why of his driving energy, cagelike pacings, and burning eyes!

Space Rays! Ray heaved convulsively, trying to break the strangling grip.

Lodar had been too long in space. The days were killing him, burning him up inside. He would go on with roaring metabolism, like an overdriven jet, till his heart burst!

And that would be soon now. Lodar's compelling urge to return to Earth was the instinct of a dying animal for its lair, to die with its kind. Nothing would stop him. Nothing except death!

The pounding in Ray's head flashed streams of light through the blackness. Only faintly could he feel his own hands beating for air.

Then suddenly his tortured lungs heaved, sucking in life. The grinding clutch dropped from his throat. For a moment he could only gulp, rub his agonized neck. Then slowly sight returned.

McVane stood holding a gun. There was a foolish, startled look on his lined face as he stared at Lodar. The captain, gritting his teeth and leaning on the control board, held a hand to his shoulder. It was a mass of blood and rags.

"You—you fool!" Lodar swayed, starting at the engineer. "You bleary-eyed little Sir Galahad!"

The girl was pressing a cup of water to Ray's lips. He drank, still gagging, staring at her bruised face. He was conscious of her arm around him, of the pleasure her nearness lent. He shook his throbbing head.

McVane was speaking petulantly. "Let's—let's have no more arguments." The little man's eyes were pleading. "I had to do it, Lodar. And you're the only real friend I had!"

"Some friend!" Lodar ground his teeth in pain, then grimaced as blood dripped from the smashed gums. "Here, help me patch up this shoulder."

Obediently McVane hunted up bandages. Lodar's eyes were somber as the engineer and Ellenor tied up his burned shoulder and put the useless arm in a sling.

"I lost my temper," he muttered at last. "Forget it."

He probably meant it for a declaration of peace. Ray's own fury had cooled now he knew what lay behind the other's violence.

After all, the girl's words must have stung Lodar to a hopeless frenzy. She had blasted at his innermost longing to see Earth for the last time. Deep in his own heart he'd known all along that he would die like a dog in space. Her words had only drawn the searing truth from his own subconscious hell.

They all jumped as the interphone shrilled.

Ray switched on the speaker. There was a medley of sound, smashing glass, shouts, and laughter.

"They've got into McVane's liquor." Lodar crossed the room painfully till he stood beside Ray.

"Ay—and the gas didn't stop them," the engineer added. "They plugged the lines."

Suddenly Jenkins' voice cut shrilly above the background din on the speaker. "Can you hear me, Lodar?"

"I hear you." Lodar's eyes were slitted with pain.

"Okay." There was a fumbling sound. "We're going on to Mars. Take it or leave it. You set the course and we'll get your damned engines going."

"You can rot!"

"Better think it over, Captain. If you monkey around too long, the boys will get impatient. We'll wreck the engines!"

"You wreck those engines and none of you will see Mars or any other place," Lodar said heavily. "There's only one escape boat and the only way to it is through this control room. I'll leave you stranded!"

Jenkins' laughter rattled the speaker. "We'll shoot you down with the broadsides if you try!" There was a rustling, then, "Hang on, Lodar, a friend of yours wants to talk!"

VI

There was a hiss of breath, then Campora's voice cut in. The low tones were shaken by fury. "I'll be waiting, Lodar. No matter where we land, I'll kill you!" His voice rose higher. "So help me, Lodar, if I have to burn while I do it, I'll kill you!"

His voice had cracked hysterically while a shout of approval from the others welled over the receiver.

Lodar snapped off the speaker. "I should have burned off both his arms!" he rumbled. He went to the medical kit and took another pain killer.

If there had been any chance of talking Lodar into a compromise Ray would have tried, but he knew it was useless. Lodar was hag-ridden by that compulsion to head for Earth. Like a dying elephant he was blind to all else. If necessary, the death of the Vulcan would be his swan song.

As for the crew, liquor had flamed their hatred of the captain beyond all reason. Campora would certainly never back down now. Nor would it do any good to tell them of their peril from the sun. They'd think he was lying!

Had there been time, there was air and food enough for a siege, but the sun was too close now. A lengthy deadlock would be fatal.

The only other solution was to flee on the escape ship. Leave the crew to their doom. Ray tried not to think what that would be like—the slow roasting to death for the crew. But, even as the thought kept recurring, he knew escape that way was hopeless. As soon as the escape boat took off the crew would blast it with the broadside guns. Anything within miles of their blast would be shriveled!

Nor did Ray like the way in which McVane and Lodar were now whispering on the other side of the room.

Lodar had unearthed a bottle of Terran Whiskey in the emergency kit and had given it to McVane. They'd had a drink together. A peace offering. Now the engineer was adjusting Lodar's bandages, whispering in urgent tones.

The captain's eyes, pin-pointed with pain, rested somberly on Ray, then shifted as the young navigator returned the stare. Lodar muttered something, his expression setting purposefully. As he stood up, twisting his lips, Ray moved closer to the girl.

He knew Lodar well enough to expect anything. And McVane, after all, was Lodar's man. They'd traveled together too long to split in a pinch.

As the two now crossed the room toward him Ray's hand closed on his gun. At the suspicious move, Lodar's eyes gleamed sardonically.

"Mac and I were talking it over," he said. "Even if we lick the crew there's no time left to repair the Vulcan. She's going to take the sun-dive."

Ray nodded silently. Ellenor's hand was resting on his gun arm and it bothered him. He tried to shake her off, but she seemed intent on holding onto him. At any other time he would have been thrilled, but not now.

Lodar went on carefully. The escape boat would hold all four of them but it couldn't make a getaway. Their only alternative was a diversion.

"Two of us stay on the Vulcan and engage the crew," Lodar concluded. "The other two get away."

The proposal was an obvious solution, but, coming from Lodar, it could hide black treachery. The captain's overwhelming desire to see Earth again had already precipitated disaster. The man was blind to all but the one great yearning.

"Ellenor wouldn't be any good in a scrap," Ray countered slowly, trying to find a hitch in the plan. "She takes off with one of us."

Lodar argued bitterly. The girl had given enough trouble, she rated no better break than the rest. The lucky ones should be chosen by chance, and chance alone.

Ray flatly refused to budge.

When Ellenor tried to enter the argument it deteriorated into a wrangle between the captain and herself. By this time McVane had almost reached the singing stage again, plainly endeavoring to drown his fright now that the chips were down. Finally the girl took his bottle from him.

"All right!" Lodar growled at last. "I'm in no shape to argue forever. One of us goes with the girl. We'll choose by lot."

He turned to rummage in the emergency kit again. "Ah!" He found a tin of wooden matches and clumsily broke it open. "We'll use three of these. I'll break two, leave one whole. The man who picks the whole one goes with the girl. Right?"

Ray frowned. He trusted neither Lodar nor McVane, but there was no other way to decide the issue unless they resorted to a free-for-all.

"All right," he agreed slowly. "Let Ellenor hold the matches."

Lodar sneered.

"Now wouldn't that be nice for you!" he snarled. "I'll hold them. I'm still giving orders. Or do you want to argue about that, too?" His hand rested on his gun belt.

Ray hesitated. It wasn't so much that he was afraid to die. Only he didn't want to be suckered into it. On the other hand, Lodar had an equal right to be suspicious. "All right," he agreed slowly.

"Don't do it!" Ellenor protested sharply. "There must be another way." But no one paid any attention.

Lodar turned his back and they heard him break two of the matches. When he faced them again there were three little sticks in his large fist. Only the tops showed.

He extended his arm to McVane. "You first. It was your idea!"

McVane blinked, biting his lip, then slowly chose one of the little bits of wood. His hand closed over it, felt it blindly, then he sat down licking his lips. As an afterthought he reached for the bottle.

Lodar grunted, a satisfied grin distorted his split lips.

"You next." His black eyes burned on Ray.

The younger man took one of the two remaining matches. He exhaled sharply as he drew out a whole one.

Lodar rasped an oath, drew the remaining match across the room. "You win!" he ground out.

Ray relaxed slowly. A faint surprise tinged his relief. He had misjudged Lodar, expecting him at the last moment to renege. Instead, the big man had merely turned to McVane.

"So you and I are the hostages, eh, Mac?" A grim smile lit his face, while his hand rested briefly on the other's narrow shoulder. "Come on, let's get going."

The three men prepared the escape boat. As they loaded the little ship with extra provisions, Ray was alert for treachery, but the captain seemed to have taken his fate philosophically. He even tried to cheer up McVane, though his heavy witticisms only made the little man look sadder.

"Get that girl in," he growled at last.

Ellenor paused briefly as she entered the escape port. Her eyes sought Lodar's. "I'm sorry about the things I said," she offered gently. "I—"

"Go on, get in!" Lodar shoved her, then turned to Ray. "You too. Get set for takeoff. When McVane and I tackle the crew I'll toss a signal bomb into the corridor. You'll hear it explode. Take off, fast!"

Ray nodded. He shook hands with McVane, hesitated briefly, then offered his hand to Lodar.

"Go on!" Lodar snarled. "Get out before I get some sense and change my mind!"

Before Ray closed the inner lock, McVane passed him an envelope. "Give it to the girlie," he muttered.

Inside the escape ship, Ray closed the little hatch, then touched the emergency button which swung open the outer port on the Vulcan's hull. With the butt of his gun he hammered a signal. They were ready.

Neither he nor Ellenor spoke as they waited. The seconds dragged in silence except for the sound of their breathing.

Suddenly a hollow boom resounded, followed by the sharp rattle of metal.

"That's it!" Ray gunned the little escape ship clear.

They were out in space. The black shape of the Vulcan swung behind them, dwindling. It looked inert and ghostly. It looked a dead ship, with no sign of the conflict that was raging inside.

Ray turned the escape boat sharply left, away from the sun, and set the drive for Earth. Behind them the Vulcan was fading into blackness off to one side of Sol. Now and then a pale gleam touched the dark sides as it swung sluggishly.

It was all the escape ship could do to gain steady acceleration against the mighty pull behind them. For a while Ray nursed the tiny converter along, till he was sure the drive was winning. Then he joined Ellenor in the cramped little mid-section.

Her brown hair was combed back, starkly outlining the pale face. Her brown eyes were large, underneath one of them was the ugly bruise from Lodar's hand.

"We're loaded down with loot," Ray growled disgustedly. "Let's hope there's grub enough to see us to Earth."

He stared sharply as she remained huddled silently. She was holding the envelope which McVane had given. As he sat down beside her she passed him a sheet of paper. He recognized McVane's untidy scrawl.

"Lodar always wanted to end in a blaze of glory," he read, "so this idea was O.K. with him, too." Ray stared, puzzled.

The girl raised her hand, showing him the two matches that had been wrapped in the note. They were both unbroken!

"Why," Ray gasped, "that means—"

"Lodar cheated," she said softly.

Ray stared back at the Vulcan. His hand was on the controls, poised to turn back the little ship. It was unthinkable to leave Lodar now!

"It won't do any good," Ellenor said. "Lodar's life was spent anyway. But McVane—" Suddenly she was crying.

Ray's arm was around her. "He was a hesitant little hero, wasn't he?" He smiled gently down on the girl. They knew that McVane had never loved life, was only drinking himself to the grave, but a deep sense of pity smote him.

Perhaps the fight inside the Vulcan would be over swiftly as Lodar had his moment of glorious battle. Perhaps McVane would die quite happily beside his friend.

It wouldn't be entirely in vain.

Ray felt a new purpose in his own life. Lodar's wealth would fight for the right of the Mutes to life, and Ray would join Ellenor, see that she was protected, helped in the battle to come with the powers that sought to enslave her Venus.

It seemed his fate was always to be inextricably tangled with that of the Mutes.