The Revolt on Venus, Page 4

  CHAPTER 4

  "_Yeeooowww!_"

  Roaring with jubilation and jumping high in the air at every other step,Astro raced out of the gigantic maintenance hangar at the Venusportspaceport and charged at his two unit mates waiting on the concreteapron.

  "Everything's O.K.," he yelled, throwing his arms around them. "The_Polaris_ is going to be brought in for full repairs! I just saw theaudiograph report from the maintenance chief!"

  Tom and Roger broke into loud cheers and pounded each other on the back.

  "Great Jupiter," gasped Roger, "I feel as though I've been sitting upwith a sick friend!"

  "Your friend's going to make a full recovery," asserted Astro.

  "Did you see Major Connel?" asked Tom.

  "Yeah," said Astro. "I think he had a lot to do with it. I saw himtalking to the head maintenance officer."

  "Well, now that we've sweated the old girl through the crisis," assertedRoger, "how's about us concentrating on our vacation?"

  "Great," agreed Tom. "This is your party, Astro. Lead the way."

  The three cadets left the spaceport in a jet cab and rode happily intothe city of Venusport. As they slid along the superhighway toward thefirst and largest of the Venusian cities, Astro pointed out the sights.Like slim fingers of glass, the towering Titan crystal buildings of thecity arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch thesunlight.

  "Where do we get our safari gear, Astro?" asked Roger.

  "In the secondhand shops along Spaceman's Row," replied the bigVenusian. "We can get good equipment down there at half the price."

  The cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting througha section of the city shunned by the average Venusian citizen.Spaceman's Row had a long and unsavory history. For ten square blocks itwas the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of space. The grimy storesand shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowyfigures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts.

  Leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past thecheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finallycame to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the pawnshop:three golden balls. Tom and Roger looked at Astro who nodded, and theystepped inside.

  The interior of the shop was filthy. Rusted and worn space gear waspiled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. An old-fashionedmultiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything.Roger grimaced as he looked around. "Are you sure we're in the rightplace, Astro?"

  Tom winked. Roger had a reputation for being fastidious.

  "This is it," nodded Astro. "I know the old geezer that runs thisplace. Nice guy. Name's Spike." He turned to the back of the shop andbawled, "Hey, Spike! Customers!"

  Out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. "Yeah?" The manstepped out into the pale light. He dragged one foot as he walked."Whaddaya want?"

  Astro looked puzzled. "Where's Spike?" he asked. "Doesn't Spike Freyerown this place?"

  "He died a couple months ago. I bought him out just before." Thecrippled man eyed the three cadets warily. "Wanna buy something?"

  Astro looked shocked. "Spike, dead? What happened?"

  "How should I know," snarled the little man. "I bought him out and hedied a few weeks later. Now, you wanna buy something or not?"

  "We're looking for jungle gear," said Tom, puzzled by the man's strangebelligerence.

  "Jungle gear?" the man's eyes widened. "Going hunting?"

  "Yeah," supplied Roger. "We need complete outfits for three. But youdon't look like you have them. Let's go, fellas." He turned toward thedoor, anxious to get out into the open air.

  "Just a minute! Just a minute, Cadet," said the proprietor eagerly."I've got some fine hunting gear here! A little used, but you won't mindthat! Save you at least half on anything you'd buy up in the city." Hestarted toward the back of the store and then paused. "Where you goinghunting?"

  "Why?" asked Tom.

  "So I'll know what kind of gear you need. Light--heavy--kind of guns--"

  "Jungle belt in the Eastern Hemisphere," supplied Astro.

  "Big game?" asked the man.

  "Yeah. Tyrannosaurus."

  "Tyranno, eh?" nodded the little man. "Well, now, you'll need heavystuff for that. I'd say at least three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols forside arms, and three shock rifles. Then you'll need camping equipment,synthetics, and all the rest." He counted the items off on grubby littlefingers.

  "Let's take a look at the blasters," said Tom.

  "Right this way," said the man. He turned and limped to the rear of theshop, followed by the three cadets. Opening a large cabinet, he pulledout a heavy rifle, a shock gun that could knock out any living thing ata range of a thousand yards, and stun the largest animal at twice thedistance.

  "This blaster will knock the scales off any tyranno that you hit," hesaid, handing the weapon over to Tom who expertly broke it down andexamined it.

  As Tom checked the gun, the proprietor turned to the other cadetscasually.

  "Why would three cadets want to go into that section of the junglebelt?"

  "We just told you," said Roger. "We're hunting tyranno."

  "Uh, yes, of course." He turned away and pulled three heavy-dutyparalo-ray pistols out of the cabinet. "Now these ray guns are thefinest money can buy. Standard Solar Guard equipment...."

  "Where did you get them?" demanded Roger sharply.

  "Well, you know how it is, Cadet." The man laughed. "One way or another,we get a lot of gear. A man is discharged from the Solar Guard and hecan keep his equipment, then he gets hard up for a few credits and so hecomes to me."

  Tom closed the shock rifle and turned to Astro. "This gun is cleanenough. Think it can stop a tyranno, Astro?"

  "Sure," said the big cadet confidently. "Easy."

  "O.K.," announced Tom, turning back to the proprietor. "Give us the restof the stuff."

  "And watch your addition when you make out the bill," said Rogerblandly. "We can add, too."

  A half-hour later the three cadets stood in front of the shop with allthe gear they would need and hailed a jet cab. They stowed their newlypurchased equipment inside and started to climb in as Astro announced,"Spaceport, driver!"

  "Huh?" Roger paused. "Why back there?"

  "How do you think we're going to get to the jungle belt?" asked Astro."Walk?"

  "Well, no, but--"

  "We have to rent a jet launch," said Astro. "Or try to buy a used onethat we can sell back again. Pile in, now!"

  As the cab shot away from the curb with the three cadets, the proprietorof the pawnshop stepped out of the doorway and watched it disappear, apuzzled frown on his face. Quickly he re-entered the shop, and limpingto a small locker in the rear, opened it, exposing the screen of ateleceiver. He flipped on the switch, tuned it carefully, and in amoment the screen glowed to life.

  "Hello, this is the shop," called the little man. "Lemme speak to Lactu!This is urgent!" As he waited he stared out through the dirty window tothe street where the cadets had been a moment before and he smiledthinly.

  * * * * *

  Arriving at the spaceport, Astro led his unit mates to a privately ownedrepair hangar and dry dock where wealthier Venusian citizens kept theirspace yachts, jet-powered craft, and small runabouts. Astro opened thedoor to the office with a bang, and a young girl, operating an automatictypewriter, looked up.

  "Astro!" she cried. "How wonderful to see you!"

  "Hiya, Agnes," replied Astro shyly. The big cadet was well known andliked at the repair hangar. His early life had been spent in and aroundthe spaceport. First just listening to the stories of the older spacemenand running errands for them, then lending a helping hand wherever hecould, and finally becoming a rigger and mechanic. This all preceded hisyears as an enlisted spaceman and his eventual appointment to SpaceAcademy. His big heart and honesty, his wild enthusiasm for any kind ofrocket power had won him many friends.
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br />   "Is Mr. Keene around?" asked Astro.

  "He's with a customer right now," replied Agnes. "He'll be out in aminute." Her eyes swept past Astro to Tom and Roger who were standing inthe doorway. "Who are your friends?"

  "Oh, excuse me!" mumbled Astro. "These are my unit mates, Cadet Corbettand Cadet Manning."

  Before Tom could acknowledge the introduction, Roger stepped in front ofhim and sat on the edge of the desk. Looking into her eyes, heannounced, "Tell you what, Astro, you and Tom go hunting. I've found allI could ever want to find right here. Tell me, my little space pet, areyou engaged for dinner tonight?"

  Agnes looked back into his eyes innocently. "As a matter of fact I am."Then, grinning mischievously, she added, "But don't let that stop you."

  "I wouldn't let a tyranno stop me," bragged the blond-haired cadet."Tell me who your previous engagement is with and I'll get rid of him innothing flat!"

  The girl giggled and looked past Roger. He turned to see a tall, solidlybuilt man in coveralls scowling at him.

  "Friend of yours, Agnes?" the newcomer asked.

  "Friend of Astro's, Roy," said Agnes. "Cadet Manning, I'd like you tomeet my brother, Roy Keene."

  Roger jumped up and stuck out his hand. "Oh--er--ah--how do you do,sir?"

  "Quite well, Cadet," replied Keene gruffly, but with a slight twinkle inhis eye. He turned to Astro and gripped the big cadet's hand solidly."Well, Astro, it's good to see you. How's everything going at SpaceAcademy?"

  "Swell, sir," replied Astro, and after introducing Tom and bringingKeene up to date on his life history, he explained the purpose of theirvisit. "We're on summer leave, sir, and we'd like to go huntingtyrannosaurus. But what we need most right now is a jet boat. We'd liketo rent one, or if you've got something cheap, we'd buy it."

  Keene rubbed his chin. "I'm afraid I can't help you, Astro. There'snothing available in the shop right now. I'd lend you my Beetle, but oneof the boys has it out on a three-day repair job."

  Astro's face fell. "Oh, that's too bad." He turned to Tom and Roger."Well, we could drop in from a stratosphere cruiser and then work ourway back to the nearest colony in three or four weeks."

  "Wait a minute!" exclaimed Keene. "I've got an idea." He turned andcalled to a man standing on the other side of the hangar, studying aradar scanner for private yachts. "Hey, Rex, mind coming over here aminute."

  The man walked over. He was in his late thirties, tall andbroad-shouldered, his hair was almost snow-white, contrasting sharplywith his deeply tanned and handsome features.

  "This is the _Polaris_ unit from Space Academy, Rex," said Keene. "Boys,meet Rex Sinclair." After the introductions were completed, Keeneexplained the cadets' situation. Sinclair broke into a smile. "It wouldbe a pleasure to have you three boys as my guests!"

  "Guests!" exclaimed Tom.

  Sinclair nodded. "I have a plantation right on the edge of the junglebelt. Things get pretty dull down there in the middle of the summer. I'dbe honored if you'd use my home as a base of operations while you huntfor your tyrannosaurus. As a matter of fact, you'd be helping me out.Those brutes destroy a lot of my crops and we have to go after themevery three or four years."

  "Well, thanks," said Tom, "but we wouldn't want to impose. We'd be happyto pay you--"

  Sinclair held up his hand. "Wouldn't think of it. Do you have yourgear?"

  "Yes, sir," replied Astro. "Arms, synthetics, the works. Everything buttransportation."

  "Well, that's sitting out on the spaceport. That black space yacht onRamp Three." Sinclair smiled. "Get your gear aboard and make yourselvesat home. I'll be ready to blast off in half an hour."

  Astro turned to Keene. "Thanks a lot, sir. It was swell of you to set usup this way."

  Keene slapped him on the shoulder. "Go on. Have a good time."

  Shaking hands all around and saying quick good-bys, the three boyshurried out to stow their gear aboard Sinclair's luxurious space yacht.While Roger and Tom relaxed in the comfortable main cabin, Astro hurriedbelow to inspect the power deck.

  Roger laughed as the big cadet disappeared down the hatch. "That guywould rather play with a rocket tube than do anything else in theuniverse!"

  "Yes," said Tom. "He's a real lucky guy."

  "How?"

  "Ever meet anyone that didn't love that big hick?"

  "Nope," said Roger with a sly grin. "And that goes for me too! But don'tyou ever tell him!"

  * * * * *

  Major Connel had been waiting to see the Solar Alliance Delegate fromVenus for three hours. And Major Connel didn't like to wait for anyoneor anything. He had read every magazine in the lavish outer office atopthe Solar Guard Building in downtown Venusport, drunk ten glasses ofwater, and was now wearing a path in the rug as he paced back and forthin front of the secretary who watched him shyly.

  The buzzer on the desk finally broke the silence and the girl answeredquickly as Connel stopped and glared at her expectantly. She listenedfor a second, then replacing the receiver, turned to the seething SolarGuard officer and smiled sweetly. "Delegate James will see you now,Major."

  "Thank you," said Connel gruffly, trying hard not to take his impatienceout on the pretty girl. He stepped toward an apparently solid wall thatsuddenly slid back as he passed a light beam and entered the spaciousoffice of E. Philips James, Venusian Delegate to the Grand Council ofthe Solar Alliance.

  E. Philips James was a small man, with small hands that were movingnervously all the time. His head was a little too large for his narrowbody that was clothed in the latest fashion, and his tiny black mustachewas carefully trimmed. As Connel stalked into the room, James bouncedout of his chair to meet him, smiling warmly.

  "Major Connel! How delightful to see you again," he said, extending aperfumed hand.

  "You could have seen me a lot sooner," growled Connel. "I've beensitting outside for over three hours!"

  James lifted one eyebrow and sat down without making any comment. A truediplomat, E. Philips James never said anything unless it was absolutelynecessary. And when he spoke, he never really said very much. He satback and waited patiently for Connel to cool off and get to the point ofhis call.

  In typical fashion, Connel jumped to it without any idle conversationalprologue. "I'm here on a security assignment. I need confidentialinformation."

  "Just one moment, Major," said James. He flipped open his desk intercomand called to his secretary outside. "Record this conversation, please."

  "Record!" roared Connel. "I just told you this was secret!"

  "It will be secret, Major," assured James softly. "The record will gointo the confidential files of the Alliance for future reference. Aprecaution, Major. Standard procedure. Please go on."

  Connel hesitated, and then, shrugging his shoulders, continued, "I wantto know everything you know about an organization here on Venus known asthe Venusian Nationalists."

  James's expression changed slightly. "Specific information, Major? Orjust random bits of gossip?"

  "No rocket wash, Mr. James. Information. Everything you know!"

  "I don't know why you've come to me," replied James, visibly annoyed atthe directness of the rough spaceman. "I know really very little."

  "I'm working under direct orders of Commander Walters," said Connelgrimly, "who is also a delegate to the Solar Council. His position ashead of the Solar Guard is equal to yours in every respect. This requestcomes from his office, not out of my personal curiosity."

  "Ah, yes, of course, Major," replied James. "Of course."

  The delegate rose and walked over to the window, seemingly trying tocollect his thoughts. After a moment he turned back. "Major, theorganization you speak of is, so far as I know, an innocent group ofVenusian farmers and frontier people who meet regularly to exchangeinformation about crops, prices, and the latest farming methods. Yousee, Major"--James's voice took on a slightly singsong tone, as thoughhe were making a speech--"Venus is a young planet, a vast new world,with Venusport the only large m
etropolis and cultural center. Out inthe wilderness, there are great tracts of cultivated land that supplyfood to the planets of the Solar Alliance and her satellites. We arebecoming the breadbasket of the universe, you might say." James smiledat Connel, who did not return the smile.

  "Great distances separate these plantations," continued James. "Life ishard and lonely for the Venusian plantation owner. The VenusianNationalists are, to my knowledge, no more than a group of landownerswho have gotten together and formed a club, a fraternity. It's true theyspeak the Venusian dialect, these groups have taken names from the oldVenusian explorers, but I hardly think it is worth while investigating."

  "Do they have a headquarters?" Connel asked. "A central meeting place?"

  "So far as I know, they don't. But Al Sharkey, the owner of the largestplantation on Venus, is the president of the organization. He's a veryamiable fellow. Why don't you talk to him?"

  "Al Sharkey, eh?" Connel made a mental note of the name.

  "And there's Rex Sinclair, a rather stubborn individualist who wrote tome recently complaining that he was being pressured into joining theorganization."

  "What kind of pressure?" asked Connel sharply.

  James held up his hand. "Don't get me wrong, Major. There was noviolence." The delegate suddenly became very businesslike. "I'm afraidthat's all the information I can give you, Major." He offered his hand."So nice to see you again. Please don't hesitate to call on me again forany assistance you feel we can give you."

  "Thank you, Mr. James," said Connel gruffly and left the office, a frowncreasing his forehead. Being a straightforward person himself, MajorConnel could not understand why anyone would hesitate about answering adirect question. He didn't for a moment consider the delegate anythingbut an intelligent man. It was the rocket wash that went with being adiplomat that annoyed the ramrod spaceman. He shrugged it off. Perhapshe would find out something from Al Sharkey or the other plantationowner, Rex Sinclair.

  When he crossed the slidewalk and waited at the curb for a jet cab,Connel suddenly paused and looked around. He felt a strange excitementin the air--a kind of tension. The faces of passing pedestrians seemedstrained, intense, their eyes were glowing, as though they all were inon some huge secret. He saw groups of men and women sitting in opensidewalk cafes, leaning over the table to talk to each other, theirvoices low and guarded. Connel shivered. He didn't like it. Somethingwas happening on Venus and he had to find out what it was before it wastoo late.