Read Ebook: Destination—Death by Peacock Wilbur S

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Ebook has 68 lines and 6833 words, and 2 pages

A cone of blackness flared from the gun in his hand, caught Tom Headley, dropped him in his tracks. He twitched silently, lay where he had fallen, his right arm splashing liquid from the tiny pool at his feet.

Bart Caxton tossed the gun aside, leaned over, unscrewed the hinged valve on Headley's oxygen tank, then callously dumped the unconscious man into the pool.

Then, without another glance at the body submerged in the pool, Caxton caught up three of the living rocks, turned and fought his way back to the ship. He stood for a moment in the ship's port, staring bleakly at the pool where the dying body of his partner lay. Then he slammed the port, cogged it shut.

He laid the rock animals in a dark corner of the tank room, then walked heavily back to the control room and removed his suit. Grinning, he sank into the pilot's seat, and his hands raced over the controls.

Rockets drummed, and the ship fled into space on a tail of flaming gasses.

Bart Caxton watched the gauges, then reached out and adjusted the oxygen valve. He would have to go on three-quarters' rations, but there would still be oxygen left when he struck the spacelanes.

And back on Uranus, Tom Headley stirred out of his unconsciousness. He gasped, struggled to his feet. Metal banged on his shoulder, and a reaching hand found the opened valve. He instinctively screwed it shut, dull horror and terror piling in his mind.

He knew that he had but seconds to live, and the utter futility of his predicament made the situation even more horrible. True, he had his radio--but its range was less than a hundred miles; it would bring rescue only if a rescue party landed. He laughed a bit, grimly, ironically, remembering the great supply of food tablets that were in his suit. All that he lacked to live was air.

Then he frowned, seeing the oxygen gauge in his suit. The needle pressed tight against its stop-post. He tapped it, then checked another gauge. And sudden understanding came to his eyes--and he fought against the hysterical laughter that filled his throat.

Bart Caxton had failed in his murder attempt.

For Tom Headley's shoulder tank was full of liquid oxygen. He had fallen into a pool of oxygen, liquesced by the tremendous pressure of Uranus, and the pressure of the atmosphere had forced the oxygen into his tank.

Now there were but the interminable weeks of waiting that were to come before a rescue expedition was sent to save him.

And on the ship speeding back to the spacelanes, Bart Caxton clawed at his shirt collar. He gasped, trying to get oxygen from the dying air. He read the gauges with incredulous eyes, then came to his feet and lurched down the corridor. He swung through the door of the tank room, swayed there, his eyes straining into the semi-darkness.

And a terrible scream ripped at his constricted throat. For he knew then the thing that Headley would shortly discover. The pools of semi-frozen liquid on Uranus were of liquid oxygen--and the animals in those pools lived on pure oxygen.

Even as he watched, one animal turned from the last tank of oxygen, ran frantically about on short legs, then collapsed, its split mouth gaping in death.

Caxton screamed, felt nausea cramping at his body. He remembered then the liquid into which he had rolled Headley's body, and he knew the other man would live to see Earth again. And he knew then that the animals in the ship had used in minutes the life-giving gas that should have lasted for days.

And even as he screamed, he fell. And the last sight he had was of the rock-animals' split mouths laughing at him and his plans in an awful mocking silence.

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