Beyond the Point of Unknown (Space Travel & Alien Contact Novels). Ray Cummings

Beyond the Point of Unknown (Space Travel & Alien Contact Novels) - Ray Cummings


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hour the morning siren would arouse the passengers. I was seated in a secluded corner of the deck, when George Prince came along. He went past me, a slight, somber, dark-robed figure. He had on high, thick boots. A hood was over his head, but as he saw me he pushed it back and dropped down beside me.

      For a moment he did not speak. His face showed pallid in the dim starlight.

      "She said you loved her." His soft voice was throaty with emotion.

      "Yes." I said it almost against my will. There seemed a bond springing between this bereaved brother and me. He added, so softly I could barely hear him: "That makes you, I think, almost my friend. And you thought you were my enemy."

      I held my answer. An incautious tongue running under emotion is a dangerous thing. And I was sure of nothing.

      He went on, "Almost my friend. Because—we both loved her, and she loved us both." He was hardly more than whispering. "And there is aboard one whom we both hate."

      "Miko!" It burst from me.

      "Yes. But do not say it."

      Another silence fell between us. He brushed back the black curls from his forehead. "Have you an eavesdropping microphone, Haljan?"

      I hesitated. "Yes."

      "I was thinking...." He leaned closer. "If, in half an hour, you could use it upon Miko's cabin—I would rather tell you than anyone else. The cabin will be insulated, but I shall find a way of cutting off that insulation so that you can hear."

      So George Prince had turned with us. The shock of his sister's death—himself allied with her murderer—had been too much for him. He was with us!

      Yet his help must be given secretly. Miko would kill him instantly if it became known. He had been watchful of the deck. He stood up now.

      "I think that is all."

      As he turned away, I murmured, "But I do thank you...."

      * * * * *

      The name Set Miko glowed upon the door. It was in a transverse corridor similar to A22. The corridor was forward of the lounge: it opened off the small circular library.

      The library was unoccupied and unlighted, dim with only the reflected lights from the nearby passages. I crouched behind a cylinder case. The door of Miko's room was in sight.

      I waited perhaps five minutes. No one entered. Then I realized that doubtless the conspirators were already there. I set my tiny eavesdropper on the library floor beside me; connected its little battery; focused its projector. Was Miko's room insulated? I could not tell. There was a small ventilating grid above the door. Across its opening, if the room was insulated, a blue sheen of radiance would be showing. And there would be a faint hum. But from this distance I could not see or hear such details, and I was afraid to approach closer. Once in the transverse corridor, I would have no place to hide, no way of escape. If anyone approached Miko's door, I would be trapped.

      I threw the current into my apparatus. I prayed, if it met interference, that the slight sound would pass unnoticed. George Prince had said that he would make opportunity to disconnect the room's insulation. He had evidently done so. I picked up the interior sounds at once; my headphone vibrated with them. And with trembling fingers on the little dial between my knees as I crouched in the darkness behind the cylinder case, I synchronized.

      "Johnson is a fool." It was Miko's voice. "We must have the passwords."

      "He got them from the radio room." A man's voice: I puzzled over it at first, then recognized it. Rance Rankin.

      Miko said, "He is a fool. Walking around this ship as though with letters blazoned on his forehead, 'Watch me.... I need watching.' Hah! No wonder they apprehended him!"

      Rankin's voice said: "He would have turned the papers over to us. I would not blame him too much. What harm—"

      "Oh, I'll release him," Miko declared. "What harm? That braying ass did us plenty of harm. He has lost the passwords. Better he had left them in the radio room."

      Moa was in the room. Her voice said, "We've got to have them. The Planetara, upon such an important voyage as this, might be watched."

      "No doubt it is," Rankin said quietly. "We ought to have the passwords. When we are in control of this ship...."

      It sent a shiver through me. Were they planning to try and seize the Planetara? Now? It seemed so.

      "Johnson undoubtedly memorized them," Moa was saying. "When we get him out—"

      "Hahn is to do that, at the signal." Miko added, "George could do it better, perhaps."

      And then I heard George Prince for the first time, "I'll try."

      "No need," Miko said unexpectedly.

      I could not see what had happened. A look, perhaps, which Prince could not avoid giving this man he had come to hate. Miko doubtless saw it, and the Martian's hot anger leaped.

      Rankin said hurriedly, "Stop that!"

      And Moa, "Let him alone, you fool! Sit down!"

      I could hear the sound of a scuffle. A blow—a cry, half suppressed, from George Prince.

      Then Miko: "I will not hurt him. Craven coward! Look at him! Hating me—frightened!"

      I could fancy George Prince sitting there with murder in his heart, and Miko taunting him:

      "Hates me now, because I shot his sister!"

      Moa: "Hush!"

      "I will not! Why should I not say it? I will tell you something else, George Prince. It was not Anita I shot at, but you! I meant nothing for her but love. If you had not interfered—"

      This was different from what we had figured. George Prince had come in from his own room, had tried to rescue his sister, and in the scuffle, Anita had taken the shot instead of George.

      "I did not even know I had hit her," Miko was saying. "Not until I heard she was dead." He added sardonically, "I hoped it was you I had hit, George. And I will tell you this: you hate me no more than I hate you. If it were not for your knowledge of ores—"

      "Is this to be a personal wrangle?" Rankin interrupted. "I thought we were here to plan—"

      "It is planned," Miko said shortly. "I give orders, I do not plan. I am waiting now for the moment—" He checked himself.

      Moa said, "Does Rankin understand that no harm is to come to Gregg Haljan?"

      "Yes," Rankin said. "And Dean. We need them, of course. But you cannot make Dean send messages if he refuses, nor make Haljan navigate."

      "I know enough to check on them," Miko said grimly. "They will not fool me. And they will obey me, have no fear. A little touch of sulphuric—" His laugh was gruesome. "It makes the most stubborn, very willing."

      "I wish," said Moa, "we had Haljan safely hidden. If he is hurt—killed—"

      So that was why Miko had tried to capture me? To keep me safe so that I might navigate the ship.

      It occurred to me that I should get Carter at once. A plot to seize the Planetara—but when?

      I froze with startled horror.

      The diaphragms at my ears rang with Miko's words: "I have set the time for now—two minutes—"

      It seemed to startle Rankin and George Prince as much as it did me. Both exclaimed: "No!"

      "No? Why not? Everyone is at his post!"

      Prince repeated, "No!"

      And Rankin, "But can we trust them? The stewards—the crew?"

      "Eight of them are our own men! You didn't know that, Rankin? They've been aboard the Planetara for several voyages. Oh, this is no quickly planned affair, even though we let you in on it so recently. You and Johnson.... By God!"

      There was a commotion


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