Chapter IV

Lorine Landreth proved a canny navigator. She set a course far beneath the ecliptic, and for two days they did not encounter a Patrol. Curt had noticed the spacer was painted solid black and carried no insignia; an old trick of George Landreth's.

Was George Landreth connected in some way with all the far-scattered events which DeHarries called the _pattern_? Had he allowed his gnawing hate to encompass the entire Federation? All else was relegated to unimportance in Curt's mind beside this single throbbing question. War between the planets was imminent, as more and more monstrous happenings occurred without reason. Curt doubted that Landreth himself could be behind it all; it was too far-reaching and purposeful. But Curt was resolved to follow his present lead, and hope for a way to report back to DeHarries.

And there was another question. Kueelo.

Late on the second day Curt was off duty when there came a soft rap on his stateroom door, and Kueelo entered.

"The girl is studying maps of the K'Yarthan Swamp," he announced. "Jeffers and Rikert are at the controls. I think they will bear watching, those two."

Curt nodded. He studied Kueelo. The little Martian was over his anger, but now he seemed strangely perturbed.

"I've been waiting to speak to you alone, Curt Emmons. Remember, Jeffers couldn't understand why you brought _me_ along? I've wondered the same thing. From the very first. There were many others to choose for the escape, strong ones like Rikert."

"You made it, didn't you?" Curt snapped. "Before this is over, you may wish you were back at the Prison mines."

"That doesn't answer my question. Why did you select _me_?"

Curt hesitated. "All right. If you must know, I always had a feeling you didn't belong at the Prison. Sure, I knew you were a 'political.' But no ordinary one! And I don't think your name is Kueelo!"

He watched the other's face, saw emotion ripple across the chiselled features.

"So," the Martian said softly. "I thought you might have guessed. Was it the tune, the little aria I always sang? Many times I could feel you listening. I sensed that you knew ... but I could not keep it within me, Emmons!"

"Doesn't that aria occur somewhere in the _Deimian Cabal_?"

"So you know that! But for you--for any Earthman--"

"I know very little about it," Curt said quickly. "I've heard that it's rooted in your religion somehow, but the thing's meaningless to me."

* * * * *

Kueelo stood still and straight. Curt could almost see the emotion welling up inside him like a slow ocean tide. Then Kueelo made up his mind. He spoke rapidly and without pause. "You are right. My name is not Kueelo. I am Tor Ekkov, Supreme Co-ordinator of the Society of Deimos on Mars! This cannot mean much to you, an Earthman, so I'll tell you only this--when the occasion demands we can, and often have, served as a balancewheel in the politics of Mars. Jal Tagar knew this when he took over Mars six years ago. Oh, he planned well! The twelve Co-ordinators throughout Mars were simultaneously arrested. It was a paralyzing blow. And Jal Tagar took me, the supreme Co-ordinator, by a most treacherous ruse--"

The little Martian paused. Hate blazed in the indomitable black depths of his eyes.

"So Jal Tagar completed his _coup_, and Mars was under his heel. He deemed that death was too good for _me_. Only the Mercury mines would do, for that was a slow death."

"You paint a dark picture, Kueelo, or, rather, Tor Ekkov, but all this was six years ago! The Federation has recognized Jal Tagar's government. He has ruled well, and Mars has co-operated in every...."

Tor Ekkov paced the floor, stopped in front of Curt.

"Do you really believe that, Emmons? What can anyone believe--_now_?" He noticed Curt's start of surprise. "Yes, I have heard of the strange forces at work in the System! And let me assure you: when dark events are brewing, you'll find Jal Tagar's hand in it somewhere!"

Curt waved a hand wearily. "Man, don't you know we're going into the K'Yarthan Swamp? You'd better start thinking about that!"

"I believe _your_ mission is greater than you pretend, Curt Emmons. You're no prison-board Investigator! Why did you stop me when we had control of this ship? We could have gone back to Earth--or Mars."

"Don't ask questions, Tor Ekkov."

Tor's eyes were steady on him. "We've got to trust each other," he urged. "If I can't return to Mars, it's imperative that I get to a Tele-Magnum!"

Curt laughed outright at that one.

"We're going into K'Yarthan, and you speak of Tele-Magnums!"

"I must get my voice through to Mars!" Tor's eyes seemed like black jewels in the pallid face. "There are those of my Society who believe I still live--and when they hear my voice, hear my aria, you will see a new Mars!"

Curt shrugged at Tor's babbling: In the face of what was happening throughout the Federation, what did he care about a new Mars? But the mention of a Tele-Magnum struck a sudden note. Lorine Landreth must have a secret base in the K'Yarthan Swamp! If there should be a Tele-Magnum there, powerful enough to contact Earth ... Curt came back to his senses, laughed mirthlessly at such a remote chance.

In the next instant he was on his feet, as the clangor of the emergency alarm rang through the ship. For a moment he stared at Tor's startled face, then rushed into the corridor with the little Martian pounding after him.

* * * * *

They found Lorine and the others in the Control Room. The girl was calm, impassive, bending over the open receptor as a voice sliced through.

"... have had you in our beam for the past five minutes! As you carry no insignia, you will go into a drift immediately while we approach! Venus Guard calling...."

Jeffers' dark face broke into a grin, but Lorine remained serious. "They never patrolled this far from Venus! Jeffers, look to the emergency tubes. We may need some speed!" She turned to Curt. "Get on the V-Panel, will you Emmons? See if you can pick them out."

The crystyte panel came to life. Curt grasped the directional-finder, swung it in eccentric parabolas. Star pinpoints arced to and fro. A touch on the Magni-lens brought the blackness swimming into closer view, then they sighted the Guard. Six formidable spacers emblazoned with the Imperial Venus Emblem.

Curt glanced at the proximity dial. They seemed a comfortable distance away, but he knew what a tremendous area the network of "finder-beams" covered!

"Last warning," the voice razored. "Nullify your control immediately, or we blast!"

"They're bluffing," Lorine decided.

"They can't reach us yet. If we can get away from those finder-beams they'll never pick us up again. Jeffers, prepare for emergency blast!" She hurried to the control-console.

"This will give our position away!" Curt exclaimed.

She glanced at him impassively. "Just stay on that panel, Emmons." The little spacer vibrated anew. Rockets thundered on full power, then the spacer leaped forward, executed a wide parabola that carried it miles out of position. Almost at once Lorine cut all rockets, and they sped forward on the momentum.

"Safe," she smiled thinly. "They'll never spot us now, a solid black ship!"

Again Curt centered the Panel. The Venus Guard had broken formation, widening the area of search. Magnetic beams, pale green and swirling, criss-crossed miles of space.

Then Curt peered intently, puzzled, as a new kind of beam appeared. It seemed to uncoil across space, carrying a little bubble of brighter color before it. Suddenly the bubble burst. An expanse of blinding white light illumined the depths of space! It continued to spread outward. One edge of the perfect light-sphere very nearly touched their speeding ship!

Startled, Lorine jabbed at the rocket studs. Once more they swept into a parabola before she cut power. Dozens of the strange light-spheres were appearing behind them now, dotting space for a thousand-mile radius, expanding, shoving back the darkness. Three more times Lorine used rockets, changing direction, before they were out of the danger zone. Then their ship was a silent black ghost speeding away.

"Fine thing!" Jeffers exploded as he watched the scene behind them. "Springing a new stunt like that. What a target we'd be if we got caught in one of those things!" He grinned at Curt. "What won't they think of next, eh?"

"Yeah," Curt said wryly. "A guy just ain't safe any more. If I were you I'd write 'em a letter about it!"