The Planet Strappers Part 32

"Of course you're not. Somebody would have followed--sometime. We're watching and listening. Just keep your Archer handy..."

The faint, shifting blips in the radar screens was an old story, reminding him that certain things were no better than before, and that some were worse. Somewhere there were other bubbtowns. There were policing s.p.a.ce forces, too. But for millions of miles around, this cl.u.s.ter of eight hundred prefabs and the numerous larger bubbs that served them, were all alone.

Nelsen looked out from his sundeck, and saw dangerous contrasts. The worst, perhaps, was a spherical bubble of stellene. Inside it was a great globe of water surrounded by air--a colossal dewdrop. Within it, a man and two small boys--no doubt father and sons from Pallastown, were swimming, horsing around, having a swell time--only a few feet from nothing. Nelsen spoke softly into his radio-phone. "Leland--close down the pool..."

It wasn't long before the perimeter watch, returning from a patrol that had taken them some distance out, brought in a makeshift dwelling bubb made from odds and ends of stellene. They had also picked up its occupant, a lean comic character with an accent and a strange way of talking.

"Funny that you'd turn up, here--Igor, is it?" Nelsen said dryly.

Igor sniffed, as if with sorrow. He had been roughed up, some. "Very funny--also simple. You making a house, so I am making a house for this identical purpose. People from Ceres are already being here; in consequence, I am also arriving. n.o.body are saying what are proper doing and thinking--so I am informed. I am believing--okay, Igor. When being not true, I am going away again."

The tone was bland. The pale eyes looked naive and artless, except, perhaps, for a hard, shrewd glint, deep down.

Joe Kuzak was present. "We searched him, Frank," he said. "His bubb, too. He's clean--as far as we can tell. Not even a weapon. I also asked him some questions. I savvy a little of his real lingo."

"I'll ask them over," Nelsen answered. "Igor--a friend named Tiflin wouldn't be being around some place, would he?"

The large s.p.a.ce comedian didn't even hesitate. "I am thinking not very far--not knowing precisely. Somebody more is being here, likewise. Belt Parnay. You are knowing this one? Plenty Jollies--new fellas--not having much supplies--only many new rocket launchers they are receiving from someplace. You are understanding this? Bad luck, here, it is meaning."

Nelsen eyed the man warily, with mixed doubt and liking. "I don't think you can be going away again, right now, Igor," he said. "We don't have a jail, but a guard will be as good..."

The watch didn't give the alarm for several hours. Three hisses in the phones, made vocally. Then one, then two more. North, second quadrant, that meant. Direction of first attack. Ionic drives functioned. The cl.u.s.ter of bubbs began to scatter further. Nelsen knew that if Igor had told the truth, the outlook was very poor. Too much deployment would thin the defenses too much. And against new, homing rockets--if Parnay really had them--it would be almost useless. A relatively small number of men, riding free in armor, could smash the much larger targets from almost any distance.

Nelsen didn't stay in his prefab. Floating in his Archer, he could be his own, less easily identifiable, less easily hit command post, while he fired his own homing missiles at the far-off radar specks of the attackers. He ordered everyone not specifically needed inside the bubbs for some defense purpose to jump clear.

In the first half-minute, he saw at least fifty compartmented prefabs partly crumple, as explosives tore into them. A dozen, torn open, were deflated entirely. The swimming pool globe was punctured, and a cloud of frosty vapor made rainbows in the sunshine, as the water boiled away.

Far out, Nelsen saw the rockets he and his own men had launched, sparkling soundlessly, no doubt scoring, some, too.

The attackers didn't even try to get close yet. Far greater damage would have to be inflicted, before panic and disorganization might give them sufficient advantage. But such damage would take only minutes. Too much would reduce the loot. So now there was a halt in the firing, and another component of fear was applied. It was a growling, taunting voice.

"Nelsen! And all of you silly bladder-brains...! This is Belt Parnay...!

Ever hear of him? Come back from h.e.l.l, eh? Not with just rocks, this time! The latest, surest equipment! Want to give up, now, Nelsen--you and your nice, civilized people? Cripes, what will you cranks try next?

Villages built in nothing and on nothing! Thanks, though. Brother, what a blowout this is gonna provide!"

Parnay's tone had shifted, becoming mincingly mocking, then hard and joyful at the end.

Maybe he shouldn't have suggested so plainly what would happen--unless something was done, soon. Maybe he shouldn't have sounded just a little bit unsure of himself under all his bluff. Because Nelsen had made preparations that matched a general human trend. Now, he saw a condition that fitted in, making an opportunity... So he began to taunt Parnay back.

"We've got a lot of the latest type rockets to throw, too, Parnay. You'd have quite a time, trying to take us. But there's more... Just look behind you, Parnay. And all around. Not too far. Who's silly? Who's the jerk? Some new guys are in your crowd, I hear? Then they won't have much against them--they aren't real outlaws. Do you think they want to keep following you around, stinking in their armor--when what we've got is what they're bound to want, right now, too? They can hear what I'm saying, Parnay. Every one of them must have a weapon in his hands. Why, you stupid clown, you're in a trap! We will give them what they need most, without them having to risk getting killed. In s.p.a.ce, there'll have to be a lot of things forgotten, but not for you or for the rough old-timers with you... Come on, you guys out there. There's a folded bubb right here waiting for each of you. Take it anywhere you want--away from here, of course... Parnay--big, important Belt Parnay--are you still alive...?"

Nelsen had his own sneering tone of mockery. He used it to best advantage--but with fear in his heart. Plenty of his act was only counter-bluff. But now, as he paused, he heard Two-and-Two Baines'

mournful voice continue the barrage of persuasion.

"Flowers, Parnay? We ain't got many, yet. But you won't care...

Fellas--do you want to keep being pushed around by this loud mouth who likes to run and lets you sweat for him, because he's mostly alone and needs company? Believe me, I know what it's like out there, too. At a certain point, all you really want is something a little like home. And the Chief ain't kidding. It was all planned. Try us and see. Send a couple of guys in. They'll come out with the proof..."

Other voices were shouting. "Wake up, you suckers...! You'll never take us, you stupid slobs...! Come on and try it, if that's what you want to be..."

What happened, could never have happened so quickly if Parnay's doubtless considerably disgruntled following hadn't been disturbed further by intrigue beforehand. Nelsen heard Parnay roar commands and curses that might have awed many a man. But then there was a cl.u.s.ter of minute sparks in the distance, as rockets, not launched by the defenders, homed and exploded.

There was a pause. Then many voices were audible, shouting at the same time, with scarcely any words clear... Several minutes pa.s.sed like that.

Then there was almost silence.

"So--has it happened?" Nelsen growled into his phone.

"It has," came the mocking answer. "Be cavalier, Nelsen. Salute the new top outlaw... Don't faint-- I knew I'd make it... And don't try anything you might regret... I'm coming in with a couple of my Jolly Lads. You'd better not welsh on your promises. Because the others are armed and waiting..."

The guys with Tiflin looked more tired than tough. Out from under their fierce, truculent bravado showed the fiercer hunger for common things and comforts. Nelsen knew. The record was in his own memory.

"You'll get your bubbs right away," he told them. "Then send the others in, a pair at a time. After that, go and get lost. Make your own place--town--whatever you want to call it... Leland, Crobert, Sharpe--fit these guys out, will you...?"

All this happened under the sardonic gaze of Glen Tiflin, and before the puzzled eyes of Joe Kuzak and Two-and-Two Baines. A dozen others were hovering near.

Nelsen lowered his voice and called, "Nance?"

She answered at once. "I'm all right, Frank. A few people to patch. Some beyond that. I'm in the hospital with Doc Forbes..."

"You guys can find something useful to do," Nelsen snapped at the gathering crowd.

"Well, Frankie," Tiflin taunted. "Aren't you going to invite me into your fancy new quarters? Joe and Two-and-Two also look as though they could stand a drink."

On the sundeck, Tiflin spoke again. "I suppose you've got it figured, Nelsen?"

Nelsen answered him in clipped fashion. "Thanks. But let's not dawdle too much. I've got a lot of wreckage to put back together... Maybe I've still got it figured wrong, Tiflin. But lately I began to think the other way. You were always around when trouble was cooking--like part of it, _or like a good cop_. The first might still be right."

Tiflin sneered genially. "Some cops can't carry badges. And they don't always stop trouble, but they try... Anyhow, what side do you think I was on, after Fessler kicked me around for months...? Let Igor go. He's got law and order in his soul. I kind of like having him around... But keep your mouths b.u.t.toned, will you? I'm talking to you, Mr. Baines, and you, Mr. Kuzak, as well as to you, Nelsen. And I'm take my bubb along, the same as the other ninety or so guys who are left from Parnay's crowd. I've got to look good with them... Cheers, you slobs. See you around..."

Afterwards, Joe growled, "h.e.l.l--what do you know! Him...! Special Police. Undercover. U.N., U.S., or what?"

"Shut up," Nelsen growled.

Though he had sensed it coming and had met it calmly, the Tiflin switch was something that Frank Nelsen had trouble getting over. It confused him. It made him want to laugh.

Another thing that began to bother him even more was the realization that the violence, represented by Fessler, Fanshaw, Parnay, and thousands of others like them back through history, was bound to crop up again. It was part of the complicated paradox of human nature. And it was hard to visualize a time when there wouldn't be followers--frustrated slobs who wanted to get out and kick over the universe. Nelsen had felt such urges cropping up within himself. So this wasn't the end of trouble--especially not out here in raw s.p.a.ce, that was still far too big for man-made order.

So it wasn't just the two, opposed s.p.a.ce navies patrolling, more quietly now, between Ceres and Pallas. That condition could pa.s.s. The way people always chose--or were born to--different sides was another matter. Or was it just the natural compet.i.tion of life in whatever form? More disturbing, perhaps, was the mere fact of trying to live here, so close to natural forces that could kill in an instant.

For example, Nelsen often saw two children and a dog racing around inside one of the rotating bubbs--having fun as if just in a back yard.

If the stellene were ripped, the happy picture would change to horror...

How long would it take to get adjusted to--and accept--such a chance?

Thoughts like that began to disturb Nelsen. Out here, in all this enormous freedom, the shift from peaceful routine to tragedy could be quicker than ever before.

But is wasn't thinking about such grim matters that actually threw Frank Nelsen--that got him truly mixed up. In Parnay's attack, ten men and two women had been killed. There were also twenty-seven injured. Such facts he could accept--they didn't disturb him too much, either. Yet there was a curious sort of straw that broke the camel's back, one might have said.

The incident took place quite a while after the a.s.sault. Out on an inspection tour in his Archer, he happened to glance through the transparent wall of the sundeck of a prefab he was pa.s.sing...

In a moment he was inside, grinning happily. Miss Rosalie Parks was lecturing him: "... You needn't be surprised that I am here, Franklin.

'O, tempora O, mores!' Cicero once said. 'O, the times! O, the customs!'

But we needn't be so pessimistic. I am in perfect health--and ten years below retirement age. Young people, I suspect, will still be taught Latin if they choose... Or there will be something else... Of course I had heard of your project... It was quite easy for you not to notice my arrival. But I came with the latest group, straight from Earth..."