Corridor of the Suns

CHAPTER II

The crystal chimes of Valloa whispered down into the room from above, their throbbing tinkling rising and falling in the silence.

Evers lay and looked up at the girl, and then he laughed mirthlessly. “Do you have any idea how far away Andromeda Galaxy is?”

“Very far, they say,” Sharr answered. “They told exactly how far, in the news.” She added. “We do get the news bulletins now, you know, since the Federation decided to civilize us.”

Evers said nothing. This red-haired piece was intelligent, and not to be bluffed, and he was in trouble right up to his neck.

“The bulletins told,” Sharr continued sweetly, “about a man named Eric Lindeman who was a Federation scientist, an astronautical engineer-designer, they called him. And how he wanted to make a star-ship go faster and farther than ever before.”

Yes, Evers thought heavily. Lindeman’s big dream. It had brought them all to this, all three of them. And yet, even now, he could not regret the dream and their passion for it. It had been worth while.

Long ago, man had won the stars, by the invention of the overdrive that hurled ships in a shortcut through hyper-space, thousands of times as fast as light. Out through the galaxy had spread the ships, the commerce and civilization of the Federation, to thousands of suns and worlds.

But beyond the shores of our galaxy, out across the vast ocean of outer space, glimmered other great continents of stars, other galaxies. Could a ship cross that gulf, could man win the galaxies too, if the overdrive were stepped up so that an even tighter dimensional short-cut attained speeds tens of thousands of times greater?

Lindeman was sure it could be done. It had, he pointed out, always been theoretically possible, but nobody had tried it yet. He would try it. And he had infected his assistants — Evers and Straw — with his own enthusiasm. They had eagerly laid their plans for the building of the Lindeman drive.

And then, from the chief of their Bureau, had come the peremptory order to discontinue the research as “impractical and unnecessary at the present time.” All appeals and arguments had been flatly rejected.

Disappointed and angry, Lindeman had quit the Bureau — and had taken Evers and Straw with him. They would build the drive. If not for the Federation, then for themselves. Lindeman had a few past patents that had brought him credits. He used them to buy a four-man express cruiser, and they three had built the Lindeman drive into it. Man was going to step out into inter-galactic space.

But he wasn’t, they soon learned. From Galactic Control, the branch that governed all space travel, came a formal directive that was backed by a decision of the Council itself. No experimental voyages outside the galaxy were permitted, now or in the near future.

“There are thousands of fringe planets in our own galaxy that need development,” said the directive. “There is work for many generations along our own starways. To start a star-rush to another galaxy could fatally cripple the orderly development of our own. Permission denied.”

Lindeman had had enough. His ship had the drive in it and was ready to go. He had cursed the Council, GC and all Bureaus, he had explained to Straw and Evers the penalties they would face if they violated an official directive, and then the three of them had taken off, had plunged out of the galaxy and hit for Andromeda.

And this, Evers thought bitterly, was their homecoming from that voyage. Straw was hurt, and Lindeman was hiding with him in the ship in the jungle, and he lay here trussed up like a pig with a Valloan wench gloating over him.

The girl was saying, “You made quite a stir, you know. Most people thought you’d die out there. But in case you ever did come back, GC had all kinds of notices out about you.”

Evers said sourly, “All right, you’ve been clever. You spotted me and got me away from the GC man, and have me all to yourself. But what makes you think I’m worth a fortune to you?”

“To Schuyler Metals,” said Sharr casually, “fifty thousand credits is just small change.”

Evers worst fears were realized. It would have been bad enough to be picked up by Galactic Control. But the real danger, ever since they came back from Andromeda, was Schuyler.

Peter Schuyler. The man who owned, lock, stock and barrel, the biggest metals corporation in the galaxy. From the first moment that he and Lindeman and Straw had made their appalling discovery at Andromeda, they had known that when they got back their lives would be worth just nothing if Schuyler got hold of them.

He said, “Then Schuyler Metals has been offering rewards for us?”

Sharr nodded her red head. “Of course. They sent agents to every fringe world where you’d be likely to land, secretly passing out pictures of you with their reward-offers.” She laughed. “Half the people on Valloa would have recognized you, if I hadn’t seen you first.”

“It won’t work,” Evers said harshly. “You can’t possibly get me out of here and deliver me to them, without being seen by GC men.”

“I don’t have to,” she assured him. “While you were unconscious, I sent them a message. They’ll be along for you — with the money.”

The certainty of defeat, the blasting of his last hopes, snapped Evers’ temper. “Why, you thieving little tramp—”

He went on, telling her what he thought of her, using simple words of one syllable and great force.

Sharr flushed with anger and raised her hand to slice down at him in the Valloan nerve-stunning blow. Then she stopped, and shrugged.

“Go ahead.” she said. “I suppose I’d feel the same way, in your place.”

She went back and sat down and continued to swing one leg over the other, watching him with cool green eyes.

Evers’ brain was a confusion of raging, desperate thoughts. He knew what would happen to him — to all of them — if Schuyler got hold of them. The course Schuyler would follow was crystal clear. Three men had come back from Andromeda galaxy, and they must die for having gone there.

He wished now they’d simply landed and surrendered to Galactic Control in the first place, and told their story. But that was the trouble — they might never have been given a chance to tell that story, from a GC cell or anywhere else.

Schuyler Metals had the power to reach into many places. That it swung heavy weight inside the Galactic Bureaus was now evident. The directive that had forbade them to build or try out an inter-galactic ship — he was sure now that that had been inspired by Schuyler. And if Schuyler had that kind of influence, he could arrange to have them silenced fast if they surrendered. Their one chance had been to get their information secretly up to the Council through a contact, first. And the chance had failed, thanks to an alert GC patrolman and this damn girl.

A thought occurred to Evers’ desperately groping mind. He didn’t think it was worth much, but it was the only card he had left.

He looked up at Sharr and asked, “Why do you think Schuyler Metals is willing to pay so much for us?”

She shrugged her bare, shapely shoulders lightly. “How would I know? All I care is that they pay well. I suppose they want the secret of your ship?”

Evers shook his head. “Lindeman didn’t keep his drive a secret. It was formally patented. Besides, what good is it when GC forbids extra-galactic flight?”

Her green eyes became interested and intent. “I hadn’t thought of that. Why do they want you so badly, then?”

“Because of something we found at Andromeda,” he said.

“Something that Schuyler Metals wants?”

“No,” he said. “Not that at all. Something we found there that they don’t want anyone to know about.”

Her brows drew together. “I don’t understand that. What did you find there?”

Evers looked up at her somberly. The question took him back to that unforgettable moment, when their little ship had come out of overdrive, the long nightmare traverse through hyper-space ended, and they three had looked out wild and eager at the vast burning cloud of Andromeda’s alien suns, blazing across the whole firmament.

“What will we find here?” Straw had cried. “What?”

And remembering that moment of eager anticipation, and the ironic and appalling sequel to it, Evers’ voice was heavy as he answered,

“We found out something there. Something so dangerous that we’re going to be killed by Schuyler just because we know it.”

Sharr stared at him, and then suddenly got to her feet. “Oh, no,” she said with sudden passion. “You’re not going to appeal to my sympathies. I don’t have any — for Earthmen.”

Her green eyes blazed. “So I am a thief, and the daughter of thieves. I’m also a Valloan. And what have Earthmen brought Valloa but new ways that we do not want, and teaching that is given with contempt!”

“So you don’t like Earthmen,” Evers said. “You like your own skin, don’t you? And you’re in danger, as well as I.”

She stared at him unbelievingly. He went on rapidly, making his pitch for all it was worth.

“There’s something going on at Andromeda that Schuyler can’t allow to be known. He’ll put us out of the way, to silence us. And just in case, he’ll also put out of the way anyone we could have told that secret to, since we returned. That means you, Sharr.”

She came over and looked down at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re clever. Earthman. But you can’t trick me.”

“Can’t I?” he said. “Think it over, Sharr. If Schuyler dares to grab three men right out of the hands of GC to shut them up, do you think he’ll take any risks that a Valloan baggage might be able to talk?”

She thought it over, walking back and forth in the crystal room. She turned and shot a sudden look at him.

“I still don’t believe it. But Earthmen are capable of anything. I’m turning you over for the money — but I’ll take no chances.”

She went to a little wooden cupboard and took out of it an energy-gun — Evers’ own gun. She stood with it in her hand, looking down doubtfully at herself.

The skin-tight silken white pants and the band she wore across her breasts were a fine costume for showing off her bold, leggy beauty. But they had their drawbacks.

“I don’t see where you’re going to hide the gun,” he gibed.

Sharr ignored him. She went back to the chair she had been sitting in, and slipped the gun under the straw cushion there.

She suddenly straightened, and Evers rolled half over and listened intently. From outside, faint above the last tinkling of the crystal chimes, came a rushing scream of sirens.

Hope flared for a moment in Evers. Better the GC patrols than what was facing him! But the sirens got even fainter, and then died away, and there was only the dying echoes of the Valloan bells.

Sharr, at a little window peering, said with satisfaction, “They went across town. They’re on a wrong trail.”

“Yes,” said a man’s flat voice from behind them. “We know. We set up the decoy to get them out of this district.”

Sharr flung around to face the door, and Evers rolled over fast. He knew when he saw the two men that his pitch had failed, that it was too late now for tricks.

They were Earthmen, and they were not young. They had tough-guy written all over them in a quiet, unobtrusive way. The stocky one with the flat, brick-like face kept his hands in his pockets, and the tall, dark smiling one came forward and looked down at Evers.

“It’s him,” he said. “Evers. One of them.”

The stocky man came forward too. He said to Evers, “Where are Lindeman and Straw?”

Evers shrugged. “At Andromeda. I came back alone.”

The tall man smilingly drew back his foot for a kick, but Flat-face shook his head. “Not that way. Makes no difference anyway. They’re out in the jungle somewhere, and we can soon find them. We’d better get going.”

Sharr came forward and demanded, “What about my fifty thousand credits?”

“You’ll get it,” said Flat-face.

“I want it now!”

“Listen,” said Flat-face patiently, “we do things in a certain way. The money will be paid when we have all three men. You’re to come along with us, and the boss will give you your money then.”

The tall smiler was hauling Evers to his feet. Evers shot Sharr a glance that had a harsh meaning in it. The Valloan girl’s face became tight and quiet, and she went and sat down in the chair and said,

“I found your man for you and I’m not going anywhere till I get paid.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” said Flat-face. He started toward her. “Now listen—”

Her hand slipped down beside the cushion. Evers suddenly uttered a loud yell. It startled Flat-face and he turned irritably.

“Will you shut him up?” he snapped to his comrade. “He can’t be heard in here, but once we get outside—”

The diversion of Evers’ yell had given Sharr her chance, as he had intended. She came up out of the chair like a hunting leopard, with the gun in her hand.

“I am not going anywhere and neither are you till I get my credits,” she said to Flat-face as he turned back toward her.

Flat-face hesitated, for the Valloan girl looked dangerous now.

But the tall man holding Evers let go of him and grabbed inside his jacket.

Evers’ hands were bound behind him but there was one thing he could do. He lowered his head and butted the tall man in the stomach. The tall man cried out in pain and staggered away, bumping into Flat-face. Flat-face instantly seized the opportunity to snatch for his own gun.

Evers, trying to keep his balance, yelled, “Shoot!”

Sharr did so. The nasty little beam from her gun, notched to stunner strength, hit Flat-face and his pal as they did a sort of clumsy staggering waltz together. They both dropped like sacks.

Evers went over to the girl, who was looking blankly down at the two senseless men. He said grimly,

“You might as well cut me loose. You’re in as much trouble now as I am.”