Planet in Peril

IV. City of Fear

It was obvious that Belt City was haunted by a nameless fear. You could read it in the drawn and haggard features of the folk who hurried down the narrow streets, searching the shadows and probing the dark leering mouths of gloom-drenched alleys with wary, suspicious, fearful eyes. Star and Phath had hardly left the spaceport before they noticed the difference between the Mercurian capital and other towns.

"Yakdar!" swore the slender Venusian. "Chief, you notice how the people scurry from shop to shop ... like something, some unseen horror, was snappin’ at their heels?"

Star’s handsome, bronzed face was grim, his green eyes—usually sparkling with deviltry and mischief—were brooding and somber. He nodded curtly.

"I also notice they do their shopping in little groups—twos and threes—I don’t see anyone who’s walking all alone," he retorted in a low voice to his partner.

Many of the shops and stores they passed were closed, boarded up, darkened and empty. More than a few sported hastily painted "For Sale" signs. For a thriving young metropolis, the rich capital of a metals-wealthy world, this seemed more than odd ...

It seemed ... sinister!

When they reached System House near the square where stood the traditional First Landing monument, so similar to those on many other worlds, they were hustled into the Governor’s study. He was a lean, harried-looking man, with fine aristocratic features in a worn, tired face, under a trim head of silver hair. He greeted the two adventurers with relief and optimism almost visible in his manner.

"Welcome to Mercury, sir! Thank heaven you’ve come," he said in tones that shook, just a little, with tension . "The Patrol seems helpless to do combat with this mystery-menace—this shadowy terror that stalks our streets, and is driving our citizens away from Belt City in droves—!"

"Which explains the abnormal number of closed and shuttered shops we noticed on the way here," commented Star. The Governor nodded sadly.

"I’ve tried to put heart into my people, to remind them of their hardy forebears, those staunch and fearless men and women who pioneered a rugged, lawless, unexplored frontier world teeming with unknown perils ... but civilization has softened their fibre, I’m afraid. Not a ship leaves for Earth, or Luna, or Venus, but dozens and dozens of our citizens are on it, fleeing from the horror that hovers over our heads and strikes seemingly where and when it will ..."

"Your law-enforcement agencies are certainly policing the streets—?"

The Governor nodded, silvery hair glistening in the muted light of tooled lamps of native Mercurian craftsmanship. "Of course! I’ve recalled every member of the Civic Guard from vacation or sick leave, drafted government clerks to free other officers from desk jobs, so they can patrol the streets. But nothing serves to halt the spread of these horrible crimes ...”

"The Fire Troll," murmured Star Pirate thoughtfully, and was startled to see the effect his unthinking words had on the older man, who paled to the lips, and swayed as if about to collapse.

"Steady there, sir!" snapped Star, bracing the Governor with a strong arm about his shoulders. He eased the other into a nearby chair and pressed a hip-flask of potent Jovian brandy to the older man’s lips. After a grateful sip or two, the Governor was breathing more easily, the color returning to his worn and weary face. He drew a deep breath and attempted a rather shaky smile.

"You must forgive me, sir; I’ll admit I have been under considerable strain these last two weeks ... these ghastly murders, the inability of the police to capture this fiend—"

As if on cue, a burly, heavy-set man in a dark uniform came brusquely into the room, stopping short when he saw the visitors. He had a square, red face and eyes as cold and hard and gray as fractured steel.

"Sorry, Grayson! Didn’t know you were in conference," he said shortly. The Governor beckoned him near and made the introductions. The newcomer was Commissioner Hardrock, commander of the local law-enforcement agencies. He eyed Star and the slim Vunusian distrustfully—even truculently. But at the same time something very much like relief glimmered in his cold gray eyes.

"Star Pirate, eh?" he barked. "Heard of you, of course. Patrol says you've reformed; work for the law these days, not against it. Hope so!" Then, abruptly, Hardrock turned to the Governor and crisply reported that there had been another murder.

Governor Kirkland blanched, his fine, aristocratic features wincing with pain. "A-another, you say? Where, man?"

"Alley behind the Golden Horseshoe ," rapped the Commissioner. "Miner called Sam McCallister ... been with Mercury Metals & Minerals for eighteen years. Lean and leathery little fellow, all steel wire and whipcord. Didn't die until after the medics got to him. Dragged himself a block or so, following the Troll—"

"Great heavens! ... Even with the kind of burns he must have had?" cried Grayson Kirkland in amazement.

Reluctant admiration showed in Hardrock's blunt features. "Cursed tough and gutsy little fellow," he nodded. "Don't think I could have done it myself, and I'm no weakling!"

"Did McCallister say in which direction the Fire Troll went?" inquired Star Pirate, keen interest lighting his green eyes. Hardrock nodded.

"Eastaway, down Settlers' Street," he said. But he said the words to Star Pirate's back, for already the tall space-adventurer was halfway out of the door.