Read Ebook: Thief of Mars by Hasse Henry Bok Hannes Illustrator

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Ebook has 66 lines and 5795 words, and 2 pages

The helmet phones had given him an idea. He held his breath, listening. He heard the faint clicks of Tarnuff's shoes as he moved along on the opposite side. He seemed to be moving toward the bow. Then Ron heard a different click, as Tarnuff shut off his phone. Ron chuckled as he reached up and shut off his own. He was sure Tarnuff had done that deliberately, and probably was reversing his direction and moving sternward now.

Ron didn't move at all for a minute. He clung there lightly, peering up along the sweeping curve of the hull above his head, ready to use his pistol if Tarnuff should appear there. But Tarnuff didn't appear, and Ron thought it likely he wouldn't for awhile. He hadn't forgotten the other's words, "marksmanship is not all." One bullet apiece! Probably Tarnuff would try to make him waste his bullet, thus putting Ron at his mercy. That would be the logical thing to do.

Keeping this in mind, Ron moved carefully sternward. He held the pistol ready in his hand. Occasionally he peered upward along the curve, alert and ready for anything. He wondered what Tarnuff had in mind. But this wasn't a guessing game, it was far more deadly than that, and he'd have to be very sure before he fired his bullet.

But there was still another danger. This hull was his only world now and he was almost weightless. He clung to it fiercely as he inched along, knowing that it wouldn't take much of a shove to send him drifting free, out of its gravity forever. He looked along the straight line of it and saw the faint glow of the rocket blasts. His brain writhed at a sudden horrible thought. Would Tarnuff try to gain the control room again, change the course suddenly and thus shake him off into space?

At this thought Ron hurried his progress a little, making for the four parallel side tubes he could see a little distance away. They were the only tubes that weren't blasting, being used only in emergency; they would allow him firmer footage, and maybe it would be a good idea to wait there until Tarnuff came somewhere in sight.

As he neared these tubes, something seemed wrong with them. There was something else there--a vague dark blur--between the second and third tubes. Ron stopped suddenly. Could Tarnuff have reached there already? No, that was impossible. He moved forward cautiously, and the blur didn't stir.

And then Ron saw what it was. And he was glad he had shut off his helmet phone, for he laughed loudly, a little hysterically, the sound almost bursting his ear-drums inside the helmet.

Wedged between those horizontally parallel tubes was Oruk's huge body which Ron had thought he had buried in space! Apparently it had been caught in the gravity of the ship again, and had slid slowly along the hull, luckily right in line with those tubes, to finally come to rest there.

But it would be risky. Ron suddenly sobered, moved along until he could grasp Oruk by the collar. He tugged. The body was wedged tight, just fitting the space between the tubes. Ron thrust the pistol into his belt and used both hands. At last the body came free.

He saw that he'd have to leave the pistol in his belt now. If Tarnuff should suddenly appear somewhere over the curve of the hull, it would be the end. But he'd have to risk it.

Hugging the body tightly to him, he moved a little higher, up to the long line of circular ports. He moved slowly back toward the center of the ship, peering into each glassite port as he passed. But he couldn't find what he was looking for; all was dark within.

At last he came to one that wasn't so dark. He saw a faint scintillation of color. Silicytes! There were at least a score of them in this cabin into which he peered. He had almost forgotten about them, but now he was glad of their faint flashing light, for he saw what he sought: one of the lockers containing space-suits.

He knew the Silicytes could live in airless space, so he didn't hesitate. A few blows with his metallic shoe, and the port shattered.

It was almost his undoing. The rush of air from the room came so suddenly it almost swept him away into space. Just in time he grasped the edge of the circular opening with one hand, clung tenaciously to his gruesome burden with the other. Then the air was gone, and he shoved Oruk's body into the room ahead of him.

Instantly the Silicytes crowded around, their chain-like tentacles clashing, reaching out toward him. Ron could feel their crystal coldness even through his space-suit. He shoved them recklessly out of the way, knowing they were harmless. At last he procured a space-suit, and then came a job not to his liking--fitting Oruk's huge body into it. At last, however, it was accomplished. He shoved the bulging, helmeted figure outside again, and climbed out beside it.

Ron's lips tightened grimly now. If his luck held, he'd make Tarnuff waste his bullet....

But where was Tarnuff? For a second Ron thought of clicking on his phone again and calling out, to see what would happen. But no--that would give his own position away. If he didn't know where Tarnuff was, neither did the Martian know where he was.

Ron took a guess and moved toward the stern again.

He knew he would have to be doubly careful now, and yet paradoxically he'd have to take a chance. With difficulty he held the space-suited figure close to his side. As he came ever nearer the stern he began to move oblique upward, peering intently all along the hull's horizon for a sight of Tarnuff. Would this trick work? Perhaps Tarnuff wouldn't fire at the first sight of a space-helmeted figure, as Ron hoped. And yet--why not? He'd be expecting no other moving figure out there except Ron's.

Ron was almost at the stern tubes now. He began to wonder if Tarnuff had taken the other direction after all, toward the bow off the ship. He took a firmer hold on the body beside him, moved a few more feet obliquely upward, and then ... he had guessed right! He saw the Martian!

Ron caught only a glimpse of him, flattened against the hull with his pistol held ready, before he jerked his own head down again. He looked at Oruk's dead grayish face inside the plate so close to his own. He could only hope that Tarnuff wouldn't recognize it. Luckily the two helmets were identical, and Ron was sure that if Tarnuff fired at all, it would be at the face-plate.

It was a gruesome thing to do, but this was no time for squeamishness, Ron thought, as he began easing the body up inches at a time. It was the age-old trick to draw the enemys fire.

Nothing happened. He pushed the body higher, almost recklessly, but maintained a firm grip on it. Still higher. He was sure it must be at least partially in Tarnuff's line of vision by now. Why didn't he fire? Could he have detected--

And then it did happen, so suddenly that Ron couldn't even gasp his surprise. There was an abrupt puff of atomic dust above him; at the same instant he felt Oruk's body torn spinning out of his grasp. Then he saw the space-suited figure drifting lazily outward. It was grotesque, headless.

The ruse had worked! Tarnuff had fired his bullet, and very accurately! Ron felt a fierce surge of exultation as he drew his own pistol and then hauled himself swiftly up into Tarnuff's sight.

Tarnuff had risen to his feet. He still held the pistol loosely in his hand. A satisfied little smile was on his lips. Then he caught sight of Ron, the smile vanished, the pistol fell and went skidding lightly across the hull. The expression on his face was so ludicrous that Ron wanted to laugh. Instead, he reached up and clicked on his helmet phone, motioning Tarnuff to do the same.

"Beat you!" Ron cried fiercely. "Beat you at your own game, Tarnuff, and it was easy! Now, before I kill you, I want you to know it's going to be the greatest pleasure of my life!"

Tarnuff looked out at the drifting body he had just blasted. He nodded, and when he spoke his voice almost purred.

"Ah, now I see. Clever, Jordan, very clever. But don't congratulate yourself too soon, because you haven't won yet! We're back at the stalemate again. Why don't you pull the trigger, Jordan? Go ahead and pull it--and blast yourself to dust!"

Startled, Ron looked down at the weapon in his hand. Now it was Tarnuff who was exultant as he went on:

"You never had a chance, Jordan! Never from the beginning! You see, I counted on your Earth chivalry, and you did just what I expected--gave me my choice of what you thought were identical pistols. But they aren't identical! The one you now hold works in reverse! Such reverse pistols have stood me in good stead on several occasions, and I always make it a point to have one with me. Fire it--and you blast yourself, not me!"

They stood facing each other, perhaps thirty feet apart. Tarnuff glanced down and saw the pistol he had dropped. He reached out with his foot and slid it along the hull to Jordan.

"There you are. If you'll compare the two, you'll see that the firing mechanism of yours is in reverse. One needs to look very closely to detect the difference."

Ron didn't bother to pick up the weapon.

"You know I don't know a thing about these Martian pistols, Tarnuff."

"Exactly. You don't."

"All right, Tarnuff, we'll settle it without weapons! I--"

Ron stopped suddenly. Something was wrong with Tarnuff. The Martian was staring past him, real horror on his face and in his voice as he whispered hoarsely:

"My God ... Jordan!"

Ron knew this was no trick. Tarnuff was terrified.

Ron whirled, stared--and became frozen. The pistol, Tarnuff, everything else was forgotten as he felt a chill go up his spine at the sight.

Literally dozens of Silicytes were swarming all over the hull amidships ... and they seemed to be absorbing the metal, literally devouring it, digesting it! Already a gaping hole was in the hull, and it grew even larger as more Silicytes came swarming up from below, to join in the fantastic meal!

"You did this!" Tarnuff was shrieking now at Ron. "You fool, you must have let them out one of the portholes! I had those rooms lined with wood, the one thing they won't digest--and you let them escape!"

Ron paid little heed to Tarnuff's raging, but went leaping toward the Silicytes, with some notion of throwing them off into space, anything to get them away from there. But he couldn't even reach them. When he was yet yards away, he felt a fierce heat exuding from them, heat generated by the digested metal! And he saw them becoming slowly, rosy radiant.

The heat drove Ron away. He turned and walked back toward Tarnuff again. The latter hadn't moved.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it!" Ron laughed suddenly, laughed in joyous relief, and pointed. "Look! Here comes help, and just in the neck of time!"

Far behind them a tiny silvery dot was barely discernible against the darkness; but it grew steadily larger as it took on the shape of a space-ship, moving unmistakably toward them. They watched in silence as it came nearer.

Suddenly Tarnuff exclaimed:

"Help, did you say, Jordan? Here comes the final touch, you mean--our finish! That's a patroller!"

"Are you sure of that, Tarnuff?"

"Sure of it? Man, I've been dodging the Patrol so much out here that I can tell 'em a million miles off!"

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