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Read Ebook: Frau Pauline Brater: Lebensbild einer deutschen Frau by Sapper Agnes
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Ebook has 220 lines and 12507 words, and 5 pages
The Death From Orion
Tiny suns set in rare metals, crystals of fire that mocked Terra's diamonds and pearls as lusterless pebbles and pale glass, the ancient treasure left behind the same time-worn trail of sudden blood and stiffening corpses!
For a long minute the big man did not speak, rocking gently on his heels, hands clasped behind his broad back. The dim glow of the atomics in the corridor cast shadowy bars of gold and sable across his cold face, picked glints of steel and silver from his heavy gunbelt and saffron uniform. The only sound was the gentle tinkle of leg-irons as the prisoner lounging on the cell-bench idly swung his crossed leg, returning the heavier man's reptilian stare with a detached, infuriating coolness.
It moved him to break his silent regard. The thick voice rasped in the dim-lit cell.
"You know why I am here, Kurland?"
The black-bearded outlaw shrugged, a glitter of white teeth splintering his calm stare.
"Were you other than Gion, Marward of Jupiter, I should know. As it is, I do not."
Gion's hard lips smiled briefly at the iron compliment.
"I rate you higher than you think, Kurland. I should have come farther still to see you hanged at dawn."
The outlaw shrugged. "I might say the same, had I had your luck."
The big man nodded, his eyes never leaving Kurland. The sharp brows over his enormous eyes lay straight and commanding, and there were lines about his tight mouth Kurland had never seen. Slowly, softly, Gion went on, rocking easily on his booted heels.
"Suppose, came dawn, you did not hang, Kurland?"
The swinging leg halted, the big body tensed in its chains. Then slowly Kurland eased back against the cold stone wall, a thin, mocking smile playing across his face.
"You should know me better, Gion. I am not for sale, even at such a price. Nor my comrades."
Cold pride flashed in Marward's eyes. "I buy no man's loyalty," he retorted. "Were yours for sale, I should not be here, nor would you. I offer a supposition, nothing more."
Kurland rose, a powerful, black-clad figure imposing even in torn uniform and clinking chains. He stared fiercely at the heavy sub-ruler of the outer Jovian plains, the iron-souled tyrant who had broken and suborned Earthly sway until much of the giant planet lay supine and trembling before him.
"You have not come to taunt me, nor play with suppositions, Marward. Why not be plain?"
"I shall be plain enough," promised Gion, dropping a hand upon the heavy butt of his silver-mounted glare-pistol. Kurland's teeth flashed in the gloom. There was magic still in his flaming name.
"You know the Jewels of Orion?"
"I have heard of them."
"They have vanished."
The outlaw shrugged, half a laugh breaking through his beard. "My regrets, Marward. I had no hand in it."
Gion bared his teeth wolfishly. "I did."
Bland astonishment swept Kurland's face. Then, slowly, a grim smile thrust aside his wonder.
"Forgive my start, Marward. You have stolen so much."
Fiercely Gion brushed aside the cold insult. He stepped back, his face in shadow. The prison cell was electric with his vibrant hate. "You will have it, will you, Kurland? I came to make an offer."
"Go on," said the outlaw, immobile.
"I am not loved, here on Jupiter," said Gion. "I usurp the authority of greater men. I intrigue, I plot. I conquer and steal, if you will. It requires gold. A fortune." He paused, watching the outlaw. "An agent on Venus flashed me word that the Jewels of Orion, crown jewels of a vanished race on some forgotten planet beyond the stars, were to be shipped once more to Betelgoran. A hundred fortunes, Kurland. I gave orders and he shipped as passenger, with the consigned jewels."
"And then?" Kurland's eyes burned through the gloom.
Kurland's glare was deadly. "Make your offer, vulture."
"Go and bring me the jewels."
Kurland flung back his head, a sudden roar of laughter in his muscled throat. The chains clashed on wrist and ankle as he flung derision in the other's paling face.
"You send a wolf on a jackal's errand, Marward! You think I would return, or venture one lean hungry mile on such a rat's voyage to help you on your way, you whom I have fought these many months, you who broke and exiled me, you who made me outlaw and today must hang me for it?" His scorn rasped bitingly in the prison cell, but Gion of Jupiter was not moved by the love or hate of men. He nodded to the tiny barred window.
"Look from the window."
Kurland looked, seeing in the growing pearl of dawn the black and ugly shapes athwart the sky were six gibbets stood ranged along the ramparts of Gion's northern fortress in the Montral foothills.
"You understand," nodded Gion, leaning against the door. "You will return, and with the jewels, or your five young companions will be swinging there to greet you when my men take you, as they took you once before, Kurland."
The outlaw turned, ice-veined, but Gion did not stir.
"I am a prisoner. Judged and doomed. No ship, no crew."
"Escapes have been arranged before."
Kurland surveyed the big man curiously. "Why not go yourself on this golden errand, Marward?"
Gion shrugged. "Leaving my empire to the wolves? You know I dare not, nor trust a lieutenant in my place. This is not a secret for friends or followers."
"I am no friend of yours. You dare trust me?"
"Outlaw, fugitive, renegade ... need I fear you, Kurland?" smiled Gion coolly. "My word against yours."
Kurland nodded slowly. "I see. But should I return with the jewels, what assurance have I that my crew and I do not instantly decorate your gallows yonder?"
"None," admitted Gion. "Reliance upon my word, I imagine, would give you scant comfort, but it is not to my interest to have even the slightest suspicion turned upon me while the jewels are in my possession. Compared to them, you and your arrogant little band are not worth the snapping of a broken twig. Bring me the Orions, Kurland, and your five slip the noose with a day's grace to be beyond my grasp. What more do you require?"
"A ship and my crew to man her," replied Kurland, steadily. "I am your enemy forever, Gion."
Gion smiled, not without malice. "If you will have it so, Kurland. I am a bad enemy."
"You used me once too often, Gion. I was an honest man when first my ships came trading here, too stiff to crawl to your thieving crew, too callow to stomach your vicious thrust to power. Exiled, dishonored, branded, I bear a prouder title than yours, Marward. I am your enemy."
"Serve me, then, and I promise you scant reward," Gion calmly agreed. "Your ship lies in the hangar, beyond the outer towers. Fueled. The chart is marked, your course is set. There are no guards."
Kurland suggestively clanked his chains.
Gion stepped into the corridor, his heavy face set and intent. Drawing his gun, he leveled a short tube with his left hand, focussing it on Kurland's chains through the doorway grill. As the outlaw pulled, links parted like melted cheese in the tinted purple glow.
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