CHAPTER 7
"What can I do for you, Officer?"
Connel heaved his bulk out of the jet launch and looked hard at the manstanding in front of him. "You Rex Sinclair?"
Sinclair nodded. "That's right."
Connel offered his hand. "Major Connel, Solar Guard."
"Glad to meet you," replied the planter, gripping the spaceman's hand."Have something to cool you off."
"Thanks," said Connel. "I can use it. Whew! Must be at least one twentyin the shade."
Sinclair chuckled. "This way, Major."
They didn't say anything more until Connel was resting comfortably in adeep chair, admiring the crystal roof of Sinclair's house. After apleasant exchange about crops and problems of farming on Venus, thegruff spaceman squared his back and stared straight at his host. "Mr.James, the Solar Delegate, told me you've resisted pressure to join theVenusian Nationalists."
Sinclair's expression changed slightly. His eyebrows liftingquizzically. "Why--yes, that's true."
"I'd like you to tell me what you know about the organization."
"I see," mused Sinclair. "Is that an order?" he added, chuckling.
"That's a request. I'd like to learn as much about the Nationalists aspossible."
"For what purpose?"
Connel paused and then said casually, "A spot check. The Solar Guardlikes to keep its eyes open for trouble."
"Trouble?" exclaimed Sinclair. "You're not serious!"
Connel nodded his head. "It's probably nothing but a club. However, I'dlike to get some facts on it."
"Have you spoken to anyone else?" asked Sinclair.
"I just came from the Sharkey plantation. It's deserted. Not a soularound. I'll drop back by there before I return to Venusport." Connelpaused and looked squarely at Sinclair. "Well?"
"I don't know much about them, Major," replied the planter. "It alwaysseemed to me nothing more than a group of planters getting together--"
Connel cut him off. "Possibly, but why didn't you join?"
"Well--"
"Aren't all your friends in it?"
"Yes, but I just don't have time. I have a big place, and there's onlyme and my foreman and housekeeper now. All the field hands left sometime ago."
"Where'd they go?"
"Venusport, I guess. Can't get people to farm these days."
"All right, Mr. Sinclair," declared Connel, "let's lay our cards on thetable. I know how you must feel talking about your friends, but this isreally important. Vitally important to every citizen in the SolarAlliance. Suppose the Nationalists were really a tight organization witha purpose--a purpose of making Venus independent of the Solar Alliance.If they succeeded, if Venus did break away, Mercury might follow, thenMars--the whole system fall apart--break up into independent states. Andwhen that happens, there's trouble--customs barriers, jealousies,individual armies and navies, and then, ultimately, a space war. It'smore than just friendship, Sinclair, it's the smallest crack in thesolid front of the Solar Alliance, but it's a crack that _can_ be openedfurther if we don't stop it now."
Sinclair was impressed. "Very well, Major, I'll tell you everything Iknow about them. And you're right, it is hard to talk about yourfriends. I've grown up here in the Venusian jungle. I helped my fatherclear this land where the house is built. Most of the men in theNationalists are friends of mine, but"--he sighed--"you're right, Ican't allow this to happen to the Solar Alliance."
"Allow what to happen?" asked Connel.
"Just what you said, about Venus becoming an independent state."
"Tell me all you know," said Connel.
"The group began to form about three years ago. Al Sharkey came overhere one night and said a group of the planters were getting togetherevery so often to exchange information about crops and farmingconditions. I went a few times, we all did, on this part of Venus. Atfirst it was fun. We even had picnics and barn dances every three orfour weeks. Then one night someone suggested we come dressed in oldcostumes--the type worn by our forefathers who founded Venus."
Connel nodded.
"Well, one thing led to another," continued Sinclair. "They startedtalking about the great history of our planet, and complaining aboutpaying taxes to support the Solar Alliance. Instead of opening up newcolonies like the one out on Pluto, we should develop our own planet.We stopped dancing, the women stopped coming, and then one night weelected a president. Al Sharkey. The first thing he did was order allmembers to attend meetings in the dress of our forefathers. He gave theorganization a name, the Venusian Nationalists. Right after that, Istopped going. I got tired of listening to speeches about the wonderfulplanet we live on, and how terrible it was to be governed by men onEarth, millions of miles away."
"Didn't they consider that they had equal representation in the SolarAlliance Chamber?" asked Connel.
"No, Major. There wasn't anything you could say to any of them. If youtried to reason with them, they called you a--a--" Sinclair stopped andturned away.
"What did they call you?" demanded Connel, getting madder by the minute.
"Anyone that disagreed with them was called an Earthling."
"And you disagreed?" asked Connel.
"I quit," said Sinclair stoutly. "And right after that, I started losinglivestock. I found them dead in the pens, poisoned. And some of my cropswere burned."
"Did you protest to the Solar Guard?"
"Of course, but there wasn't any proof any one of my neighbors had doneit. They don't bother me any more, but they don't speak to me either.It's as though I had a horrible disease. There hasn't been a guest inthis house in nearly two years. Three space cadets are the firstvisitors here since I quit the organization."
"Space Cadets?" Connel looked at the planter quizzically.
"Yes, nice young chaps. Corbett, Manning, and a big fellow named Astro.They're out in the jungle now hunting for tyrannosaurus. I met themthrough a friend in Venusport and invited them to use my house as a baseof operations. Do you know them?"
Connel nodded. "Very well. Finest cadet unit at the Academy. How longhave they been in the jungle?"
"About four and a half days now."
"Hope they get themselves a tyranno. But at the same time"--Connelcouldn't help chuckling--"if they do, Space Academy will never hear theend of it!"
Suddenly the hot wilting silence around the house was shattered by athunderous roar. Connel jumped up, followed Sinclair to the window, andstared out over the clearing. They saw what appeared to be awell-organized squadron of jet boats come in for a landing with nearmilitary precision. The doors opened quickly and men poured out onto thedusty field. They were dressed alike in coveralls with shortquarter-length space boots and round plastic crash helmets. Each mancarried a paralo-ray gun strapped to his hips. The uniforms were abrilliant green, with a white band across the chest. The men formedranks, waited for a command from a man dressed in darker green, and thenmarched up toward the house.
"By the craters of Luna!" roared Connel. "Who are they?"
"The Nationalists!" cried Sinclair. "They threatened to burn down myhouse and destroy my farm if I wrote that letter to the delegate.They've come to carry out their threat!"
Connel pulled the paralo-ray gun from his hip and gripped it firmly. "Doyou want those men in your house?" he asked Sinclair.
"No--no, of course not!"
"Then you have Solar Guard protection."
"How--?" Sinclair asked. "There are no Solar Guardsmen around here!"
"What in blazes do you think I am, man!" roared Connel as he lunged forthe door and stepped out onto the porch. The men were within a hundredfeet of the porch when they saw Connel. The Solar Guard officer spreadhis legs and stuck out his jaw, his paralo-ray gun leveled. "The firstone of you tin soldiers that puts a foot on these steps gets frozenstiffer than a snowball on Pluto! Now stand where you are, state yourbusiness, and then _blast off_!"
"Halt!" The leader of the column of men held up his hand. Connel sawthat the plastic helmets were frosted ove
r, except for a clear bandacross the eye level. All of the faces were hidden. The leader steppedforward, his hand on his paralo-ray gun. "Greetings, Major Connel."
Connel snorted. "If you'd take off that Halloween mask, I might know whoI'm talking to!"
"My name is Hilmarc."
"Hilmarc?"
"Yes. I am the leader of this detachment."
"Leader, huh?" grunted Connel. "Leader of what? A bunch of little tinsoldiers?"
"You shall see, Major." Hilmarc's voice was low and threatening.
"I'm going to count to five," announced Connel grimly, lifting hisparalo-ray gun, "and if you and your playmates aren't back in yourships, I start blasting."
"That would be unwise," replied Hilmarc. "Your one gun against all ofours."
Connel grinned. "I know. It's going to be a whale of a fight, isn't it?"Then, without pause, he shouted, "_One--two--three--four--five!_"
He opened fire, squeezing the trigger rapidly. The first row ofgreen-clad men were immediately frozen. Dropping to one knee, thespaceman again opened fire, and men in the second row stiffened as theytried to return the fire.
"Fire! Cut him down!" roared Hilmarc frantically.
The men broke ranks and the area in front of Sinclair's house crackledwith paralo-ray gunfire. Darting behind a chair, Connel dropped to thefloor, his gun growing hot under the continuous discharge of paralyzingenergy. In a matter of moments the Solar Guard officer had frozen nearlyhalf of the attacking troop, their bodies scattered in variouspositions. Suddenly his gun spit fire and began to smoke. The energycharge was exhausted. Connel jumped to his feet and snapped toattention. He knew from experience that if being hit was inevitable, thebest way to receive the charge was by standing at attention, taking thestrain off the heart. He faced the clearing and a dozen shots ofparalyzing energy hit him simultaneously. He became rigid and the shortfurious battle was over.
One of the green-clad men released Hilmarc from the effects of Connel'sninth shot and he stepped forward to stare straight into Connel's eyes."I know you can hear me, Major. I want to compliment you on yourshooting. But your brave resistance now is as futile as the resistanceof the entire Solar Guard in the near future." Hilmarc smiledarrogantly and stepped back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will attend tothe business I came here for--to take care of a weakling and aninformer!" He turned and shouted to his men. "You have your orders! GetSinclair and then burn everything in sight."
* * * * *
"Astro, Tom," gasped Roger. "I--I can't go on."
The blond-haired cadet fell headlong to the ground, almost buryinghimself in the mud. Tom and Astro turned without a word, and grippingRoger under each arm, helped him to his feet. Behind them, the thunderof the stalking tyrannosaurus came closer, and they forced themselves togreater effort. For two days they had been running before the monster.It was a wild flight through a wild jungle that offered them littleprotection. And while their fears were centered on the brute behindthem, their sleepy, weary eyes sought out other dangers that lay ahead.More than once they stopped to blast a hungry, frightened beast thatbarred their path, leaving it for the tyrannosaurus and givingthemselves a momentary respite in their flight.
Astro led the way, tirelessly slashing at the vines and creepers withhis jungle knife, opening the path for Roger and Tom. The Venusian cadetwas sure that they were near the clearing around the Sinclairplantation. Since early morning he had seen the trail markers they hadleft when they started into the jungle. The cadets knew that if theydidn't reach the clearing soon they would have to stand and fight theterrible thing that trailed them. During the first wild night, they hadstumbled into a sinkhole, and as Tom wallowed helplessly in theclinging, suffocating mud, Astro and Roger stood and fought the giantbeast. The shock rifles cracked against the armorlike hide of themonster, momentarily stunning him, but in the darkness and rain, theywere unable to get a clear head shot. When Tom finally pulled himselfout of the mudhole, they struggled onward through the jungle, with onlyone shot left in each blaster.
"How much farther, Astro?" asked Tom, his voice weak with fatigue. "I'mstarting to fold too."
"Not too far now, Tom," the big cadet assured him. "We should be hittingthe clearing soon now." He turned and looked back. "If we could only geta clear shot at that brute's head!"
"Hang on, Roger," said Tom. "Just a little more now."
Roger didn't answer, merely bobbing his head in acknowledgment.
Behind them, the crashing thunderous steps seemed to be getting closerand Astro drove himself harder, slashing at the vines and tangledunderbrush, sometimes just bursting through by sheer driving strength.But the heavy-footed creature still stalked them ponderously.
Suddenly Astro stopped and sniffed the air. "Smoke!" he cried. "We'realmost there!"
Tom and Roger smiled wanly and they pushed on. A moment later the giantcadet pointed through the underbrush. "There! I see the clearing!And--by the stars--there's a fire! The house is burning!"
Forgetting the danger behind them, the three boys raced toward theclearing. Just before they emerged from the jungle, they stopped andstood openmouthed with astonishment, staring at the scene before them.
"By the craters of Luna!" gasped Astro. "Look!"
The outbuildings of the plantation were burning furiously, sending upthick columns of smoke. The wind blew the dense fumes toward them andthey began to cough and gag. Through the smoke they saw a strange arrayof jet craft in the clearing. Then suddenly their attention was jerkedback to another danger. The tyrannosaurus was nearly upon them.
"Run!" roared Astro. He broke for the clearing, followed by Roger andTom. Once in the open, the boys ran several hundred yards to the nearestjet craft, and safely in the hatch, turned to see the monster come tothe edge of the clearing and stop. They saw the brute clearly for thefirst time.
It stood up on its hind legs, standing almost a hundred feet high. Itmoved its flat, triangular-shaped head in a slow arc, peering out overthe clearing. The smoke billowed around it. It snorted several times infear and anger. Astro looked at it, wide-eyed, and finally spoke in awedtones. "By the rings of Saturn, it is!"
"Is what?" asked Tom.
"The same tyranno I blasted when I was a kid, the one that trapped me inthe cave!"
"Impossible!" snorted Roger. "How can you tell?"
"There on the head, the scars--and that eye. That's the mark of ablaster!"
"Well, I'll be a rocket-headed Earthworm!" said Tom.
The smoke thickened at the moment, and when it cleared again, the greatbeast was gone. "I guess the smoke chased him away," said Astro."Smoke!" He whirled around. With the threat of the tyrannosaurus gone,they could face the strange happenings around the clearing.
"Come on," said Tom. He started for the burning buildings in back of thehouse.
Just at that moment a group of the green-clad men came around the sideof the house. Astro grabbed Tom by the arm and pulled him back.
"What's going on here? All these ships, buildings burning, and those mendressed in green. What is it?"
The three boys huddled behind the jet and studied the scene.
"I don't get it," said Tom. "Who are those men? They almost look as ifthey're soldiers of some kind, but I don't recognize the uniform."
"Maybe it's the fire department," suggested Roger.
"Wait a minute!" roared Tom suddenly. "There on the porch! MajorConnel!"
"Omigosh!" said Astro. "It is, but what's the matter with him? Why is hestanding there like that?"
"He's been paralo-rayed!" exclaimed Roger. "See how still he is!Whatever these jokers in uniforms are, they're not friendly!" He raisedhis shock rifle. "This last shot in my blaster should--"
"Wait a minute, Roger," said Tom, "don't go off half-cocked. We can't domuch with just three shots. We'd better take over one of these ships.There must be guns aboard."
"Yeah," said Astro. "How about that big one over there?" He pointed tothe largest of the assembled crafts.
"O.K.," said Tom. "Sneak around this side and make a dash for it."
Gripping their rifles, they slipped around the stern of the small ship,and keeping a wary eye on the milling men around the front of thebuilding, they dashed toward the bigger ship.
On the porch of the main house, Major Connel, every muscle in his bodyparalyzed, saw the three cadets dart across the field and his heartskipped a beat. Immediately before him, two of the green-clad men wereholding Sinclair while Hilmarc addressed him arrogantly.
"This is just the beginning, Sinclair. Don't try to cross us again.Neither you nor anyone else can stop us!" He whirled around and facedConnel. "And as for you and your Solar Guard, Major Connel, you cantell them--"
Hilmarc's tirade was suddenly interrupted by a shrill whistle and theglare of a red flare overhead. There was a chorus of shouts as the menducked for cover.
A voice, Connel recognized as Tom's, boomed out over the loud-speaker ofthe large jet ship near the edge of the clearing. "Now hear this! Youare covered by an atomic mortar. Drop your guns and raise your hands!"
The men stared at the ship, confused, but Hilmarc issued a curt command."Return to the ships!"
"But--but he'll blast us," whined one of the men. "He'll kill us all."
"You fool!" roared Hilmarc. "It must be a friend of Connel's orSinclair's. He won't dare fire an atomic shell near this house, for fearof killing his friends! Now get aboard your ships and blast off!"
From their ship, Tom, Roger, and Astro saw the men scatter across thefield, and realizing their bluff had failed, they opened fire with theparalo-ray guns. But their range was too far. In a few moments theclearing around the Sinclair home was alive with the coughing roar ofthe jets blasting off.
As soon as they were alone, Sinclair snatched up an abandoned ray gunand released the major from the charge. Connel immediately jumped foranother gun. But then, as the jets started to take off, he saw that itwould be useless to pursue the invaders. Thankful that the cadets hadarrived in time, he trotted across the clearing to meet them as theyclimbed wearily from the remaining jet ship.
"By the craters of Luna," he roared good-naturedly, "you threespace-brained idiots had me scared! I thought you would really let gowith that mortar!"
Tom and Roger grinned, relieved to find the spaceman unhurt, whileAstro looked off at the disappearing fleet of ships.
"What's happened, sir?" asked Tom. "What's it all about?"
"Haven't time to explain now," said Connel. "I just want you three toknow you got back here in time to save the rest of this man's property."He turned toward Sinclair, who was just approaching. "Did you recognizeany of them?" he asked the planter.
Sinclair shook his head. "I thought I did--by their voices, I mean. ButI couldn't see anyone through that frosted headgear they were wearing."
"Well, they left a ship. We'll find out who that belongs to," saidConnel. "All right, Corbett, Manning, Astro. Stand by to blast off!"
"Blast off?" exclaimed Roger. "But we're on leave, sir!"
"Not any more, you're not!" snapped Connel. "You're recalled as of now!Get this ship ready to blast off for Venusport in five minutes!"