Chapter IV

Standing in the doorway, the girl of the unsmiling blue eyes surveyed the new men silently. Her trim, aloof figure instantly commanded their attention, and their respect as well.

"I cannot waste words on you," she said abruptly, "for my time is limited. I know all of your names, so you shall know mine as well, although it will mean nothing to you. I am Cynthia Marnik, but you will address me always as Commander. You will obey me implicitly in all things here. Second to me, you will obey Luhor.

"All of you volunteered to come. Now that you're here, you are part of our scheme of things and you will work as hard as you did in the swamp. It is dangerous work, but you will have ample remuneration. Idlers and grumblers will be done away with, I promise you. Your lives were forfeit in the swamp, and that is not altered by your being on Vulcan." She paused as if waiting for objections, but every man was silent.

"Very well; Luhor will explain later what you're here for. Meanwhile you are free to go anywhere you like within the city, but be ready to work about eight earth-hours from now." As abruptly as she had come, Commander Cynthia Marnik turned and was gone.

The men smoked and talked among themselves, speculating what their tasks might be. The memory of the Prison Swamp was too recent for them to care much.

Mark rose quietly and stepped out of the dining-room. He'd noticed that Aladdo was absent from the meal, and he wondered if his Venusian friend was still an 'honored guest.' Deciding to inspect the city, Mark tried to retrace his steps to those buildings where he had heard the blast furnaces; but at the first cross-corridor Ernest Carston stepped out and walked beside him. He smiled at Mark Denning, but held a warning finger to his lips.

They walked in silence, while the corridors became rockier and more dimly lighted. At last, far away from the city, Carston stopped under an immense jutting rock and quietly gripped Mark's hand. There was a world of feeling in his voice as he said barely whispering:

"I'd lost hope of ever seeing any of you again!"

"How did you get here?" Mark asked the question that had been burning in his mind. "Did they pick you up at the swamp, too?"

"Yes. We're both on the same trail--and here the trail ends."

"But I had no idea you'd preceded me," Mark told him. "It must have been considered a far more important assignment than I was told, to send _you_ to the Swamp!"

"We didn't know, we weren't certain," Carston said thoughtfully. "But we received a bit of information which, if true, was of the greatest importance. It seemed impossible, fantastic, but the hazard was so great, that even what amounted to a vague rumor warranted my going. You were to follow in a few months, without knowing I had gone ahead. Well, you already know most of the rest; but Earth's government doesn't even suspect the deadly peril it will soon have to face!"

"I'm afraid," Mark stated frankly, "that there are a lot of gaps in what I do know. I can tell, of course, that something mighty big is going on here. But what was that bit of information you received?"

"It goes back nearly a quarter of a century," Carston replied slowly, "and concerns a man named George Marnik. He, and his young wife, were among the first pioneers to venture out to Callisto. Those were the ruthless years, when the great Earth Monopolies stopped at nothing, were very often lawless, and usually got what they wanted." Carston paused to light a cigarette.

* * * * *

"George Marnik," he went on, "discovered one of the richest palladium veins on Callisto, and was developing it slowly. But--one of the Monopolies decided that it wanted Marnik's rich vein. In an ensuing struggle with some of the Monopoly's hired hoodlums, Marnik's wife was burned down brutally with an electro-gun. She left a daughter, about five years old, whom they had named Cynthia ... do you follow me?"

"Go on," Mark said in a cold, dry voice.

"Well, after the tragedy, George Marnik disappeared. He was never heard of again--except by the Earth Monopolies. They heard of him plenty. He terrorized the spacelanes for years, and more than one Monopoly went under, bankrupt by the incessant attacks on their ships by an enemy who had achieved a ruthlessness greater even than theirs. It was rumored that Marnik had vowed never to set foot on Earth again, and that his life was dedicated to the destruction of the Monopolies. He almost achieved his task, except that the Earth's government finally stepped in and dissolved the Monopolies." Carston paused and drew in a long breath.

"And then?" Mark urged, as if fascinated by this saga of another day.

"Why, then as you know, Emperor Bedrim of Venus achieved his famous alliance with Dar Vaajo of Mars, and together they sought to end Earth's domination and exploitation of their planets. You know about the bitter ten years' war--that's history. But when the Tri-Planetary Patrol was formed, during the truce that followed at the death of Bedrim, half the Solar System was searched for George Marnik's base and the rich plunder he was reputed to have there. It was all in vain. You can now see why! The Patrol has never been able to land on Vulcan."

"But if I remember correctly," Mark Denning said reminiscently, "George Marnik was certified as dead, as the years went by and piracy ceased. The records gave no information as to his daughter Cynthia, she was merely marked 'Missing.'"

"Precisely!" Carston assented.

"Then that vital bit of information you received must have concerned this base on Vulcan!"

"No. Worse! It concerned that George Marnik _was alive and planning to end the Inter-Planetary Truce, to loose bitter war upon three worlds again_!"

"Good Lord!" Mark was stunned. "But how? Venus and Mars were disarmed under Earth's dictated peace!"

"Yes, true. Mars is a small and dying race and not to be greatly feared. But Venus has never become reconciled. You know their unholy pride and their utter conviction that theirs are the greatest minds in our universe. Underneath the apparently peaceful surface, revolt's smoldering."

"Revolt fanned by Marnik?"

"Yes," Carston went on. "If George Marnik did have some fantastic plan in mind, Venus would be the likeliest place for him to find backing and followers. On the face of it, it seemed absurd, of course. But when the supply of Venusian Pearls dwindled to a mere trickle, and a criminal from the swamp was found dead millions of miles away, in the vicinity of Callisto, we knew then that there was a definite tie-up. It was time to investigate. George Marnik, the last space pirate, _is alive_--an ancient, embittered wreck living on hate!" Carston fell silent.

* * * * *

"And Commander Cynthia, his daughter," Mark whispered musingly, "is the one in charge now!"

"Yes. You wouldn't have believed it possible, eh? But remember, during those reckless years when her father was the most hunted man in the universe, Cynthia grew up with him, constantly at his side, learning all the tricks of a master at piracy. She must share her father's hatred for a world that only brought them tragedy and sorrow. Marnik's psychopathic, of course, his mind's warped; she must share his views, although at times I wonder ... sometimes when I look at her...." His voice dwindled.

"So it all boils down to one thing," Mark's analytical mind had already absorbed all the facts. "That Spacer that brought us here is a menace to civilization. Its speed alone is beyond anything we have at present; a fleet of them could wreak havoc on Earth's forces. Earth must be warned at all costs, Carston!"

Ernest Carston looked at Mark pityingly, lines of weariness and anxiety creasing his face. "Do you think," he said slowly, "if there were any way out, I would be here? Vulcan and the Venus Swamp both have a thing in common: there's no escape, except through Marnik. Commander Cynthia only carries out his orders."

"But she's a woman, Carston. If she could be made to realize what another Inter-Planetary war means--the awful carnage, the destruction--perhaps she could somehow be reached!"

"I wish that were possible!" Carston exclaimed fervently. "But she's like a being that's hypnotized. George Marnik must dominate her completely, old and decrepit as he must be. Remember, it's the only life she's ever known. He must be the only being she's ever loved."

"Have you any concrete knowledge of their plans?"

"No. Only deductions. Dar Vaajo, ruler of Mars, was here three weeks ago. Cynthia brought him. For hours he was with Marnik in the latter's palace. That can only mean one thing, of course. And then there's the new metal. That is the real problem and the real menace!"

"Metal? A new alloy?" Mark Denning was all interest.

"Nothing so simple as that," Carston explained with tragic calm. "A metal unique in the universe! A new, _allotropic_ form of beryllium which _beyond a certain temperature reacts by hardening in direct ratio to pressure and heat_! Once cast, it is literally heat and blast proof, and so light that it triples efficiency in relation to fuel consumption. And George Marnik's building, has been building, a fleet of these Super-Spacers!"

"I suppose they're mining that metal here?" Mark's face was white.

"Yes, on the _sunward_ side of Vulcan! That's what swamp convicts are brought here for."

"And I suppose either the ore, or the smelted metal's being shipped to secret bases on Mars and Venus?" Mark's voice was strained and opaque.

"Not yet, Earthman!" The alien voice was at once like a whiplash and like a fragment of music. Both men whirled about.

* * * * *

Out of the shadows, as if emerging from the bizarre scene of tortured rocks and twisted cavern-walls, stepped a slender figure with pendant wings.

"Aladdo!" Mark felt a curious tingling at sight of his Venusian friend, as he went forward with hands outstretched.

It was nothing compared to the shock mirrored on Carston's face. "Aladdian!" he too exclaimed, a mixture of despair and impotent rage in his voice.

"Peace, lower order!" Aladdo laughed, but hiding his hands behind his back as he addressed Mark. "I shall not trust my hands to you again. _It is enough to have crippled wings!_" The Venusian stared full into Carston's eyes as he uttered the last words significantly, and the latter's face turned deep red.

"Are you still a guest? Where are they keeping you? I've missed you...." Mark turned to Carston, his face alight. "Aladdo saved my life in the swamp!"

"I'm staying with the Commander and her father. It is a small universe after all," he added, turning to Carston, "eh, Colonel?"

"You know each other?" Mark asked, surprised.

Carston's face reddened and then paled. "I'm a servant of my Government," he answered the Venusian stiffly. "My duty is to obey, not to question orders, Princess!"

"What is all this? What do you mean, 'Princess'? Will someone explain?" Mark was exasperated.

"Aladdian's the daughter of the late Emperor Bedrim of Venus," Carston said, then fell silent.

A look at the Venusian's smiling face told Mark it was true. His own face was ludicrous, his mouth partly open, for the moment speechless. Then a dark flush of anger swept up like a tide to the roots of his hair.

"A girl ... a defenseless girl that's never committed a crime in her life, condemned to that Venus Swamp! To the most ghastly, the most cruel living-death in the universe...." Words failed him as he shook with rage. "What was Earth's Government thinking of? The Council must have been mad!" Mark Denning choked.

"Careful!" Ernest Carston warned. "Remember you're an Earthman, Denning. To question the Council is treason!"

"Treason be damned, and the Council too!" Mark raged. "There are limits! There's no reason for that Prison Swamp except greed. Better atom-blast habitual criminals than to condemn them there; _that_ is worse than any crime!" He towered above Carston, a formidable engine of destruction, his face a mask of fury.

Then a tiny, fragile hand was on his arm and the Venusian's calm voice rose in the brief silence, "It is too late to remould the past. But we can refashion the immediate future, Mark Denning."

"Can we? How? It seems that Marnik and Commander Cynthia hold all the cards!"

"Not all," Aladdian shook her exquisite head. "They have perfected their plans for the immediate future--but we can be _the element of the unpredictable_!"

"You mean ... you're not in sympathy with their plans? That you won't serve as a rallying point to sway the masses of Venus?" Carston looked bewildered. "I thought when I saw you, that was the reason they'd brought you here! We know that your people would revolt at a word from you, Princess! That's what our Government feared."

"I know. And I will not lead my people to an hecatomb in space. But neither will the Earth continue to exploit my planet and debauch my people. This time, there will be a peace and it will be equitable." Aladdian had drawn herself to a full four feet eleven inches, and there was an imperious note in her voice. Carston stood silent and grim.

* * * * *

Mark, looking at his Venusian friend anew, thought irrelevantly that, with the spike-heeled sandals of Earth, Aladdian would be only slightly under the average height of an Earth girl. He shook his head irritably. This was no time to ponder inconsequential things.

"Aladdian," he said, "do you know much of their plans and what is being done with this new metal?"

"Partly. We have discussed ways and means since my arrival here. George Marnik is very impatient; I think he fears he may die before he can see his plans carried through. First he will equip a fleet equal or superior to Earth's forces. Then he will take over Callisto, the new Gibraltar, between the inner and outer planets, after which he will complete an alliance with Venus and Mars. He does not plan to conquer Earth, he knows it would take years; but his scheme would bottle your planet, relegate it to the status of a minor power, without inter-planetary colonies, without outer revenues. Venus and Mars alone would expand in the Solar System."

"For a while," Mark said laconically. "Mars would never be content with anything short of complete rule, as long as Dar Vaajo lives! And the metal?..."

"It is smelted here under a secret process, and parts for the space cruisers and special rockets manufactured. Then they are stored in one of the asteroids where they will be assembled later into a fleet. That is all the data I have now."

"But this Luhor," Mark asked, "what is his real status? Commander Cynthia seems to trust him implicitly."

"She does," Aladdian replied. "He's an old friend of George Marnik, one of his trusted lieutenants from the pirate days. But he's a cold devil--combines the worst from both Venusian and Martian. Don't under-estimate him ... he can be deadly!"

"I've had occasion to see that," Mark said dryly.

"They're all deadly in this deadly little planet!" Carston said vehemently. He looked far older than his scant thirty years, his face was bleak and haggard.

"But this is heaven in comparison with the Prison Swamp," Aladdian told him coldly. She seemed to have a determined animosity toward the high-ranking Earth official.

"It wasn't I who sent you there!"

"No. It was only your relentless pursuit that eventually resulted in my capture," the Venusian answered, "and it was only you who cut the tendons of my wings. Oh, I know--you were only acting under orders."

Aladdian was smiling again as she turned back to Mark. "We had better all go back to our quarters now, but it would be best if we did not return together." She moved away, then added: "Watch Luhor, Mark; I am not sure, but I think he too is part of the 'unpredictable.'"

Mark watched her slim figure, with the azure wings and tight-curling, blue-black hair, melt away into the shadows.

"I will see you tomorrow," her voice floated back like a golden molten stream.