Ghosts of Ganymede

6. The Ghost Strikes Again

The fiery liquid in Phath's hip-flask of strong Venusian brandy proved to be a potent restorative. A swig or two of the golden fluid set the slim girl coughing, and very soon she was herself again.

"You must forgive me, please!" she said, limpid blue eyes pleading. "But the last few days have been a hellish ordeal for Uncle Scotty and me, and to ... suddenly realize we had a friend Like Star Pirate ... well, I—I—"

Star grinned that impish grin of his, and silenced her with a lifted hand. "No need to apologize, Miss Barlow," he said. "We’re here to help,"

"My name is Susan," she said with a wan smile. His green eyes sparkled.

"As in Sweet Sue, I suppose?"

She nodded and sat up, thanking Phath for the brandy with a nod. "Uncle Scotty is resting, but I'll have to wake him pretty soon to have his lunch. The doctor said he must keep his strength up ... you can talk to him then."

"Fair enough," Star said cheerfully. "And the first thing I'll want to know is—where are the other six gems your uncles discovered on that uncharted moon? Branigan says they were not on the person of either man, nor in their little craft, and that McGuire refused to reveal their hiding place. I very much need to examine the gems for myself."

"Hid 'em in the only place no one'd think to look, Mr. Star Pirate," said a weak voice from the doorway leading to one of the other rooms. "Big Bill, he put the metal box right smack in the firing chamber of Sweet Sue's cyclotron!" They turned to see the thin little Scotsman leaning against the door. He gave them a shaky grin, then came faltering over to wring Star's hand in a grateful grip.

"Clever!" murmured Star Pirate, and Sue Barlow sat her uncle down and began serving him a hot, nourishing soup, with a thick chicken sandwich and a bowl of fresh chopped salad. "No one is likely to go poking around in the middle of the atomic motor which powered the little tug."

A little while later, having retrieved the queer alloy box from its secret hiding place, the redheaded space adventurer was examining the six shimmering black pearls with a variety of cunningly miniaturized instruments he had fetched with him from his ship.

"Find anything, chief?" inquired the Venusian when he was finished. Star shrugged.

"Nothing, really," he said, rather ruefully. "The pearls have no magnetic charge, are not radioactive—outside of their unexpected weight, there's nothing odd about them except their rarity. Mineralogy knows nothing of such stones ... only the lost Asterites mined them, I guess."

"And are they really as rare and valuable as Uncle Scotty says they are?" demanded Sue Barlow, breathlessly.

"Worth a huge fortune, I’d say," grinned the Pirate. "Enough to send you to the classiest finishing-school back on Earth, and buy you all the pretty dresses and fine jewelry any girl's heart could desire."

The two adventurers were just leaving the little shack in the forest, when the televisor chimed. It was Branigan calling for Star Pirate, on the off-chance that he happened to be there. In the ground-glass view-screen, the Patrol officer's face was grim and heavy, his expression an odd mixture of sheepishness and truculence—a combination Star had never before seen in a human countenance.

"What's up, Branigan?"

"You can tell McGuire he's out of suspicion," muttered the officer in subdued tones. "That is, unless he's anywhere about Madame Ong’s Cafe ..."

"McGuire’s right here in the cabin," said Star, "where he’s been during the hour or so I've been here. What happened in Madame Ong’s Cafe? Another ghost-murder?”

Branigan gave him a sour look. "Should have known you'd be onto it, you young devil! But it’s quite true—black, ghostly shape throttled the life out of a dancing-wench in front of dozens of witnesses. Marks on the girl's throat are identical with those on Barlow, says the coroner. Happened about twenty minutes ago."

He rang off, leaving the Pirate staring with a baffled expression into the blank gray screen.

"The same black ghost or ... or another?"