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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.
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