REVOLT OF THE OUTWORLDS

By Milton Lesser

Alan Tremaine knew Mars received its water
via the space-warp from Venus. If this life-line
were cut it meant war—and mankind's destruction!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Amplifiers swelled the clarion call of the trumpet above the keening Martian wind which swept into the great central plaza of Syrtis Major City. Two hundred thousand outworld citizens, the entire population of Syrtis, huddled together in the cold and watched the blue and gold banner of the Outworld Federation run up the pole to flutter proudly beside the globe-and-stars flag of Earth.

There was a tremendous roar from the crowd as Alan Tremaine climbed the long flight of steps leading to the platform in the center of the plaza. It's really my father they're applauding, Alan Tremaine thought. The elder Tremaine, dead these two weeks, had made the dream of independence a reality for the Outworlds. Then, on the eve of success, he had been struck down by a still unknown assassin. Alan had been rushed from New Washington University on Earth by the Outworld Federation, to bring the magic name of Tremaine to the ceremony on Mars.

Above him now, Alan could see the military governor of Mars, Lieutenant General Roderick Olmstead, waiting alongside the banks of huge television screens which showed similar scenes on Venus, on Saturn's great moon Titan, on the four large Jovian satellites. But the eyes of all the Outworlds were here on Mars as Alan Tremaine mounted the platform to accept the Declaration of Sovereignty from the governor.

A hush descended on the crowd as General Olmstead unrolled the scroll and held it before the television cameras. "On behalf of the government of Earth," he said, his voice booming across the Syrtis plaza on the amplifiers, "I present this Declaration of Sovereignty to the people of all the Outworlds. The five hundred million citizens of Mars, Venus, Titan and the Jovian Moons will hereafter march alongside the peoples of Earth in Equal Union."

Two hundred thousand voices rose in a thunderous peal of acclaim.

"It is to your everlasting credit," General Olmstead went on, "that your great struggle for freedom bears fruit today bloodlessly. History shall long remember this moment, for the grim alternative of war was always present but shunned by your very great leader, Richard Tremaine."

There was not a sound now in all the vast crowd. Alan Tremaine thought it must be the same elsewhere, with half a billion Outworld citizens watching on their television screens across the solar system.

"The one tragedy of your greatest moment," General Olmstead concluded, "is that Richard Tremaine did not live to see it become a reality. I now place this scroll in the hands of his only son, Alan Tremaine."

His eyes suddenly misty, Alan accepted the Declaration of Sovereignty from General Olmstead. The long political struggle, climaxed today on the windswept plaza of Syrtis Major City, was not his. Attending New Washington University on Earth, he had missed the dramatic sequence of events which led to this day. Almost, he felt like an outsider. But he believed in their fight even if he had had no active part in it. And the name Tremaine was now lifted into the pale sky above Syrtis Plaza on two hundred thousand voices.

"Tremaine! Tremaine! Speech! Speech!"

Alan took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Faces as numerous as the desert sands of Mars gazed up at him. Untold millions more watched their television screens on the other Outworlds. Seated beside her father, Laura Olmstead smiled at him.

"I humbly accept this Declaration of Sovereignty on behalf of all the Outworlds and on behalf of my father," Alan said. "I'm sure that on this day my father would offer thanks to God that our freedom was achieved without violence."

Just then the television screens depicting smaller ceremonies on the other Outworlds erupted into violent activity. There was muted thunder from the Venus screen. People could be seen running about wildly, the drone of jets was heard. Brilliant light flared, blanking the screen momentarily. When it could be seen again, a mushroom-topped atomic cloud was rising from the crater which had been the Governor's Headquarters on Venus. The scene was the same on Titan and the four Jovian Moons.

A voice blared: "Attention! Attention Mars. This is Government Station, Ganymede. Seconds ago, the Outworld Federation met freedom with treachery. Even as tactical atomic weapons were used on the Government Headquarters, their speakers were proclaiming peaceful union. But now the masses have risen behind the spectre of military violence. 'Equal Union is not enough,' their leaders cry. 'We're ready to fight for total independence!' The traitorous Federation militia is marching on the underground Government Station here. Protect yourself, Mars!" Abruptly, the staccato blast of an automatic hand weapon could be heard. The voice from Ganymede was stilled.

General Olmstead rushed to the microphone, pushing Alan roughly aside. "All Martian units!" he cried. "Prepare for war. Directive A-2, this headquarters, put into immediate effect. Martial law is proclaimed. All civilian authority is hereby terminated. Protect the spacefield and the government station. All commissioned leaders of the Outworld Federation on Mars will surrender themselves, weaponless, to the military authorities. Those who resist face immediate arrest." All at once, the microphone squawked into silence. Someone had cut off the generators below the platform.

"Tremaine," General Olmstead raged, "your father is better off dead. Seeing this happen would have killed him. Your name will go down in history, all right—as the worst traitor since Benedict Arnold."

Alan shook his head. It all had happened so fast, his senses were still numb with shock. The Federation had told him nothing about this. The Federation had been content with Equal Union, his father's dream. True, a militant minority group within the Federation had longed for total independence, through violence if necessary, but Richard Tremaine had always opposed this. Now, it had happened.

Military control of Venus, Titan and the Jovian moons was inadequate. In hours, the governments would fall. The same was true for the smaller centers of Martian population, but Earth maintained its strongest military garrison in Syrtis Major City. Here the Earth forces, under General Olmstead, could probably hold their own.

But it was open revolt now, something which the dead Richard Tremaine had opposed as steadfastly as he had opposed Earth domination of the Outworlds.

"I didn't know," Alan began. "Nobody told me...."

His voice was drowned in a swirling sea of sound as Federation militiamen threw their wind cloaks and revealed the uniforms beneath them as they charged up the steps toward the platform. Government soldiers, storming up the other side, waited for them. As yet, not a weapon had been fired in Syrtis.

"Stop!" Alan cried, rushing to the edge of the platform. "Are you insane? We wanted Equal Union. We've been granted Equal Union. Put down your weapons and go home."

The front rank of the militiamen, three abreast on the stairs, paused. This was a Tremaine talking. There was a difference between father and son, of course, but a Tremaine had made this day possible.

The leader of the militiamen, a bearded fellow in the uniform of a major, shook his head. "You don't know, Mr. Tremaine. You weren't here when your father spoke his last words. We're carrying out the orders of Richard Tremaine!"

Two government soldiers who had mounted the other side of the platform came up behind Alan and pinned his arms to his sides. "Go ahead and fire," one of them said. "Kill Tremaine's son, why don't you?"

The front rank of militiamen was being pressed up the stairs from behind, but had returned their weapons to their sides. Alan struggled with the soldiers who held him. Below the platform, the vast crowd was seething restlessly, watching the drama unfold above them. The thin sprinkling of government soldiers in their midst could be swept under in seconds unless government station reinforcements were sent at once.

Alan thrust his elbow back, felt it jar against the ribs of one of the soldiers. The man gasped as the air was forced from his lungs. Still gasping, he was spun around by Alan and hurled down on the militiamen mounting the stairs at the head of the platform. Alan whirled, but the second soldier was on him, circling his neck with a powerful arm. They went down together, thrashing and rolling across the platform.

Something roared overhead. Alan was aware of General Olmstead, his daughter Laura huddled behind him, pointing up at the sky. Then a shadow passed swiftly over the platform, came back—and hovered. The roar was replaced by a loud clattering. Still wrestling with the soldier, Alan could see a jet-copter, switching from jets to rotors, hanging half a dozen feet above the platform like an enormous black grasshopper.

More militiamen leaped from the copter to join those swarming up the stairs, their hand weapons spitting death at the first rank of government soldiers which had come up the other side of the platform. The revolution in Syrtis Major City was an actual fact now.

"Get down!" General Olmstead told his daughter. "Flatten yourself."

But the brief firing atop the platform had cleared it of government soldiers. Rope ladders were dropped from the jet-copter.

"Tremaine," someone called from above. "Climb up quickly."

To remain here in Syrtis Major City was madness. Alan could accomplish nothing in the chaos of revolt. Besides, the militiaman had said this was his father's final wish. Armed rebellion for total independence. He had to find out. He caught the swaying rope ladder in his hands and mounted it. At the same moment, General Olmstead and his daughter were forced up another rope ladder at atomic pistol point.

Its passengers securely inside, the jet-copter rose a hundred feet above the platform on its flashing, clattering rotors. Then the jets were cut in and the craft streaked north from Syrtis Major City at supersonic speed.

CHAPTER II

"Lies," General Olmstead said bitterly. "Don't tell me anything. It's all lies."

"I swear I knew nothing about this," Alan insisted.

"Do you realize what you've done? Thousands of innocent people must have died already in the atomic explosions on the Outworlds. Millions more will perish before this war comes to an end. For it's war you've brought to the solar system, Alan Tremaine. Is that what your father would have wanted?"

"I brought nothing," Alan said. "I don't know what my father would have wanted."

"I believe him, Dad," Laura Olmstead said. Alan had met her for the first time two weeks ago on the spaceship from Earth. She was going to join her father on Mars for the Declaration of Sovereignty ceremony. Alan had struck up a quick friendship with her in his darkest moments—when the death of his father had seemed so tragic, bringing Alan's world tumbling down about him. Laura Olmstead's understanding, her frank sympathy, then her cheerful talk and companionship as the two week space journey wore on, had done much to help Alan. They had parted at the Syrtis Major space-port, to meet again three days later as revolution unexpectedly engulfed Mars and the other Outworlds.

"Alan Tremaine is a traitor to Earth and his own people as well," General Olmstead told his daughter now. "I won't hear anything more about it."

Half a dozen militiamen sat about the cabin of the jet-copter with them. Up front, a pilot and a co-pilot were at the controls.

"Alan's new on Mars, Dad. He's been at school on Earth, remember that."

The leader of the militiamen turned to Alan and said, "We're approaching Red Sands now, sir. Do you wish to go right down or look over the fortifications from the air?"

"Red Sands?" Alan asked. "What's that?"

"Operation Headquarters, sir. Your lieutenants are waiting for you to take charge of the revolution, sir."

"So he's new on Mars," General Olmstead told his daughter. "So he doesn't know a thing about this. He's running the whole show, Laura. He's got us for hostages, too, or didn't you realize it? Earth will think twice about attacking Federation Headquarters with us prisoner there."

Alan was going to tell General Olmstead and his daughter they wouldn't remain hostages long if he could help it, but the militiaman was waiting for his answer. He said, "Let's go right down. Who's in charge of the Headquarters, soldier?"

"Why, you are, sir."

"No. I mean right now."

"Bennett Keifer, sir. Your father's right-hand man."

"Let's go down and meet this Bennett Keifer," Alan said. And, to Laura: "Don't worry about anything, Laura. It's going to be all right."

But when he reached for her hand, she withdrew it and would not meet his eyes directly.

There was nothing but the ochre wastelands of Mars, the dunes marching, windswept, from horizon to horizon. Far away to the east, a thin green line knifed across the rusty sands where vegetation clung precariously to the banks of a Martian canal, nurtured by the waters it brought down from the melting polar cap.

The militiamen flanked them on either side as they walked across the desert, two uniformed figures remaining behind long enough to cover the jet-copter with an ochre-colored tarpaulin which would effectively camouflage it from the air. It was like something from the Arabian Nights, Alan thought as they approached a low, rocky escarpment thrusting up through the sand. The leader of the militiamen placed his hand against a polished spot on the surface of the rock, which pulsed with the contact as a hidden device checked the pattern and whorls of the militiaman's fingerprints. The effect was the same as the Open Sesame of the Arabian Nights, for a great slab-like section of the escarpment rolled ponderously aside, revealing a dark cavity.

"Red Sands," the militiaman said proudly, and led the way inside.

Alan was totally unprepared for what happened next. The door in the rock rolled shut behind them. Lights blazed inside the cavern, brighter than the pale Martian day. A throbbing, busy city was spread out before them below the surface of Mars.

Throngs of men, women and children lined the short road to the city on both sides. A great cry went up from them as Alan, the militiamen, General Olmstead and his daughter approached.

"Hail, Tremaine!" The cry echoed from the rock walls of the underground city. "Hail, Tremaine!" It rolled from the far throbbing reaches of the bustling city. "Tremaine, Tremaine, Tremaine!"

Not for me, Alan thought. For my father. What actually did he know about all this? Perhaps a revolution directed from the secret base here at Red Sands had been his father's secret dream. The adulation with which the people of Red Sands greeted him filled him with a sense of pride. Not for his own accomplishments, but for his father's. Laura Olmstead was, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, part of a different world. Alan shrugged, deciding to suspend judgment until he met and talked with Bennett Keifer.

Now there were cries of: "He looks like his father!" "See, the same brow, the same bearing!" "The eyes are the same, I tell you. We have Richard Tremaine with us all over again!" And always, from all sides: "Hail, Tremaine!"

Alan caught Laura's gaze and tried to smile at her. She was on the verge of tears. "The sycophantic hypocrites," she said. "It's disgusting, carrying on like this while people are dying all over the solar system."

"It isn't for me," Alan told her desperately. "It's in memory of my father."

Laura's eyelids squeezed shut. Tears on her cheeks, she walked blindly ahead, supported by her father's arm. "I hate you, Alan Tremaine," she said.

"Tremaine," Bennett Keifer said half an hour later, shaking his hand with vigorous enthusiasm. "You look so much like your dead father I could have picked you out of any crowd. Sit down, boy."

Alan shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll stand." General Olmstead and his daughter had been left off elsewhere while Alan had been ushered into the Administration Center of Red Sands, a great rectangular structure carved from the subterranean rock of Mars. Finally, he had stood face to face with Bennett Keifer. A big, handsome man in the uniform of a Federation colonel, Keifer had flashing eyes and a direct manner which Alan found disarming.

"I'm sure you have many questions," Keifer said.

"Just one. Did my father sanction this armed revolt?"

"What a strange question. Of course he did."

"Nobody told me before."

"We couldn't reveal it today, Tremaine. Not even to you. We couldn't chance revealing it until our forces had moved on all the Outworlds."

"In his letters, my father always said the glorious thing about the Outworld Federation was how it had achieved its ends bloodlessly."

"Tremaine, I'm telling you. I was here. They brought your father here after he was shot. He died with me at his side. He died saying that the Earth government was trying to trick us. Equal Union was a farce, he said. Equal Union—with Earth bleeding the Outworlds dry of their resources! Don't you see, Tremaine? Earth needs our mineral wealth—heavy water from Venus, iron from Mars, lithium and cobalt from the Jovian moons and Titan. They'll bleed us dry and pay next to nothing for our mineral wealth. Since theirs is the only market, we have no choice. The only alternative was armed revolt for the full freedom Earth wouldn't grant us."

"But in Equal Union we had an equal, representative vote for the first time. This Earth granted us."

"Representative vote, Tremaine. There's the catch. There are ten people on Earth for every Outworlder. What kind of equality is that?"

"I don't know," Alan admitted. "I think my father would have—"

"I'm telling you what your father said. I was there. Why don't you do this, Tremaine: get acquainted with our city. I don't want to rush you. When you're ready to take over and make the decisions, I'll step aside. How does that sound?"

"I don't want to usurp your authority just because my name's Tremaine," Alan said. "I don't understand this, not yet. I'm going to try, though." He was suddenly weary. It was the same feeling he had when news of his father's death had reached him on Earth. The world tumbling down about his shoulders. Atlas trying to hold up the globe but shorn of all his strength.

He said, "Is there someplace I can go to clean up? My head feels like it's spinning."

"Someplace to go," Keifer repeated the words, smiling. "Your father's apartment here in Red Sands is yours. I'll have one of our enlisted men show you the way. And take your time about things, Tremaine. No one is rushing you."

Alan thanked him and said, "What about General Olmstead and his daughter?"

"Don't you worry. Naturally, they're prisoners of war. But they'll be well-cared-for here. We're civilized people, Tremaine."

They shook hands again, then Alan followed a militiaman outside, through the corridors of Red Sands to a large apartment quarried in the rock wall of the underground city. He dismissed the enlisted man and found a bent, elderly figure waiting for him inside.

The man had gray hair and thin, stooped shoulders—as if he had spent the better part of his life pouring over books. He spoke in a thin, reedy voice, choked with emotion. "Is any one waiting for you outside?" he inquired.

Alan shook his head.

"Then listen to me. I shouldn't be here. If Keifer knew—" the elderly man shrugged "—I don't know what might happen. Alan, I am Eugene Talbrick. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"Yes," Alan nodded. "My father wrote about you often. He said you were always a pillar of strength to him, a...."

"No matter," said Talbrick. "You have heard of me. Alan, the good name of Tremaine is being used to bathe the solar system in blood!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Keifer. He says your father secretly wanted armed revolt. It's not true, Alan. And do you realize what Keifer plans to make of you?"

Alan frowned. Eugene Talbrick, his father had always written, was an inspirational figure behind everything the Outworld Federation stood for. If Richard Tremaine had been the eloquent spokesman for freedom, Talbrick was the thinker. If Tremaine could be compared to Washington historically, then surely Talbrick could be compared to an older Thomas Jefferson, or Ben Franklin perhaps. "No," Alan said. "I've only just met Keifer."

"You'll be a figurehead, Alan. Listen."

Talbrick walked to a television screen on the wall and soon had it working. A grave-faced news commentator was saying, "... riots all over Syrtis Major City. The magic name of Tremaine is on everyone's lips, Richard the father, Alan the son. If Richard Tremaine had not sanctioned this revolution, the people say, their forces never would have struck all over the solar system. If Alan Tremaine was not here to lead them, they might have accepted the Declaration of Sovereignty. But with the memory of one Tremaine and the leadership of another, they will fight now for total freedom.

"Elsewhere on the revolution front, search jets are sweeping wide over the Martian desert for some trace of Governor General Olmstead, who was kidnapped by Federation forces along with his daughter. Up to this moment, no trace of them has been found....

"Here's a bulletin from Earth. Government warships have been dispatched to Venus, Titan and the Jovian Moons to put down the provisional Federation governments which have risen there. Heavy casualties on both sides are feared."

Talbrick blanked the television screen. "Believe me, Alan," he said. "Civilization may depend on your decision. Your father never sanctioned this armed uprising. Keifer lied. Keifer dreams of an independent Federation which can drive Earth to its knees economically. Or worse. You're to be in command, but he'll pull the strings behind you."

Alan paced back and forth without speaking. He hardly could believe Talbrick any more than he could believe Keifer. The one had been behind his father, offering strength from deep, philosophical wisdom. The other had been beside Richard Tremaine in all his stormy political fights.

Alan smiled without humor. "Charge and counter charge," he said. "My ears will probably be ringing with them. Do you have any proof?"

"Yes," said Eugene Talbrick. "A letter from your father to you. It's in my own quarters now. I wouldn't mail it for fear it would be intercepted on its way to Earth."

"A letter?"

"He knew it was the end. He knew he was dying. He wrote the letter and gave it to me because he had seen through Keifer too late. Will you come with me now?"

"Of course," Alan said, and followed the old man from his father's apartment.

"Here we are," Eugene Talbrick told him a few minutes later. He opened the door to his own quarters and stepped inside. Alan followed him into darkness, heard the old man groping ahead of him for the switch which would fill the windowless, rock-hewn apartment with light.

The door clicked shut behind them.

"That's funny," Talbrick's reedy voice was close at hand. "The light doesn't work."

There was a soft series of repeated thuds, someone moving across the carpet quickly.

"Who's there?" Eugene Talbrick called.

"Look out!" Alan cried, suddenly wary. He brushed past the old man and collided with someone there in the darkness. Briefly, they struggled, then something struck the side of Alan's head. He fell to his knees, groping blindly ahead. His arms wrapped about a pair of legs, clung there grimly. Something lashed out at his chest, spilling him over on his back.

"Alan, where are you?" Eugene Talbrick said. "What's the matter?" Then Eugene Talbrick screamed once and was still. A weight fell across Alan, pinning him to the floor. Half-conscious, he rolled the heavy thing off him and scrambled unsteadily to his hands and knees. The door opened and closed swiftly, light from the corridor streaming in, then fading. Alan staggered to the door, opened it.

Outside in the corridor, there was no one.

Inside, the slender form of Eugene Talbrick was stretched out on its back. A red pool of blood was spreading on the carpet under him. Alan knew he was dead without feeling for the pulse.

A knife had been plunged into Eugene Talbrick's side, immediately below the heart.

CHAPTER III

"Now, just a minute, Alan," Bennett Keifer said later. "Before you go off half-cocked like that—"

"Eugene made some accusations, then died," Alan insisted, "before he could show me the proof."

"We're all grownups here, Alan," Keifer said easily. There was no mistaking his tone. He would assume Alan was a grownup. "You're twenty-five," he went on. "One day soon you'll take over the Federation movement, so you can't afford to be impetuous. You tried to find that letter, didn't you?"

"Yes," Alan admitted. "It wasn't there."

"Of course it wasn't. It never existed. Alan, listen to me. Talbrick was an old man. Our viewpoints differed diametrically. He couldn't reconcile himself with the fact that your father agreed with me."

"But—"

"But that isn't important. This is. Someone, some unknown person, killed your father. Someone killed Talbrick. Richard Tremaine, then Talbrick. I'm next in line, Alan. Or maybe you are. Someone is out to wreck the Federation from the inside, by killing off its leaders."

"If what you say is true, why didn't they finish the job in Talbrick's apartment? They could have killed me, too."

"You frightened them off."

"I'll be frank," Alan said coolly. "Let's assume you were responsible. You couldn't afford to kill me. You need me for a figurehead."

Keifer smiled. "I should be angry. I'm not." He flipped the intercom toggle on his desk and said, "Haddix, come in here, please."

The door opened. A tall, gangling man in the uniform of a Federation captain entered the room. He moved with easy, feline grace. When he spoke, he purred like a great cat. "Yes, sir?" he said saluting Keifer. "You sent for me?"

"Alan, this is Captain Haddix, the Internal Security Officer here at Red Sands. Captain, will you tell Mr. Tremaine where I was for the past three hours?"

"Right here, sir. You had a brief interview with this man, then remained here with me, discussing the water ultimatum."

"You see?" Keifer said. "Right here."

Perhaps he had jumped to an unwarranted conclusion, Alan thought. He said, "What is this water ultimatum?"

Keifer dismissed the Internal Security Officer, then explained, "We're in trouble, Alan. An hour ago, the Earth colonial office contacted us with an ultimatum. Either we lay down our arms and tell the provisional governments on the other Outworlds to surrender their authority, or Mars' water supply is cut off. We were given one hour."

"But Earth's own military forces here on Mars would die of thirst."

Keifer shrugged. "Apparently they're expendable. Of course, I rejected the ultimatum."

"What can you do?"

"I don't know," Keifer said. "They can do what they say, unfortunately."

It would be simple, Alan knew. Arid Mars had depended for water which flowed in an adequate trickle from the polar caps until the coming of the Earth colony. For the past twenty years, though, water-surplus Venus supplied Mars with its water. A warp had been opened in space from the Venusian orbit to the Martian, with life-giving water flowing through from the second planet to the fourth at the rate of fifty thousand gallons per second. It had been a stupendous sub-space engineering feat, for the warp varied in length from sixty to two hundred million miles, depending upon the orbital positions of the two planets. Earth could shut the warp at any point along its vast length. Parched, arid Mars would be forced to lay down its arms in a matter of days.

"Captain Haddix is taking a ship along the warp-route," Keifer said, "assuming the ultimatum is in earnest. He might be able to find the break, but I doubt if he could repair it. Would you care to go along?"

"Yes," Alan said. He still didn't believe Earth would subject millions of people, its own military garrison included, to killing thirst.

"Very well. I—"

At that moment, a buzzer sounded on Keifer's desk. "Yes, what is it?"

The voice was frantic. "This is the reservoir, sir. The water's stopped flowing. The warp is closed!"

"We'll ration what we have left," Keifer said grimly. "Two quarts per person, effective immediately." Then, to Alan: "I'll make arrangements for you with Captain Haddix. They weren't fooling, Alan. They gave us exactly one hour."

Alan met Captain Haddix outside, where plans were made for their flight to the space-warp route. If Earth did this, Alan thought bleakly, then maybe Keifer was right. For Earth would thereby condemn itself in the eyes of the Outworlds with such blatant disregard for human life.

"They haven't touched us so far, Dad," Laura Olmstead told her father. "Alan won't let them."

"We're prisoners in this room. But I think Alan's a prisoner, too. Up here." General Olmstead tapped his head. "They've got the boy fooled, Laura, if what you told me is the truth."

"I'm sure it is. I'm sure Alan wouldn't have betrayed his own father like that. You've got to trust him, Dad."

General Olmstead grunted. "We don't have any choice, do we?"

Laura was thinking: Please, Alan. Please. They've got you confused. You didn't do this intentionally. Please.

The door to their prison chamber suddenly slid, with much grating and creaking, into the wall. A tall, distinguished-looking man in the uniform of a Federation colonel came into the room. "I am Colonel Bennett Keifer," he introduced himself, "second in command to Alan Tremaine here at Red Sands. How do you do, Mr. Olmstead?"

"General Olmstead," Laura's father said coldly.

"We recognize no Earth titles here in Red Sands, Mr. Olmstead. We recognize your importance, though."

"Exactly what does that mean?"

"There are certain things Alan Tremaine would like to find out. The strength of the Earth garrison at Syrtis Major, the number of jet-copters at your disposal, your plans for putting down the insurrections at the smaller Martian settlements."

"You'll get nothing from me," General Olmstead promised.

"Perhaps. Your daughter is a lovely woman, Mr. Olmstead. Quite lovely."

"If you as much as touch her, I'll kill you with my own hands!"

"Theatrics, Mr. Olmstead. You are in no position to do anything of the sort. You can save us both a lot of trouble if you answer my questions."

"Get out of here," General Olmstead said.

Shrugging, Keifer called over his shoulder: "Guard!"

Two strapping figures entered the chamber and waited for orders.

"Take Mr. Olmstead to another room, please. I wish you were more reasonable, Mr. Olmstead. We need that information badly."

Struggling and cursing, General Olmstead was borne from the room. "Don't worry about me," Laura called after him. "We both have a duty to Earth."

"This is ironic," Keifer said after the door had closed. "I had planned it thoroughly. We have men here who are experts in an art which was old when civilization was young."

"Torture?" Laura said. "My father won't—"

"I said it's ironic. I never expected you, Laura. The General has a daughter, a common, ordinary girl. He loves her. He sees things in her no one else does. But you—you are beautiful. Listen to me, Laura. Your father is an experienced professional soldier. We can use him here in Red Sands. If we make an alliance, the Federation could hold all of Mars in a week."

"What kind of alliance?"

"There are few women in Red Sands," said Keifer. "None of them as pretty as you. I'm restless, Laura. That kind of alliance." Quite objectively, he let his eyes study her slowly, starting at the top of her head and working down without passion, without hurry. When he finished, she was blushing. "Exactly that kind of an alliance," he said.

"You're crazy if you think I—"

"Your father expects the worst. He thinks we're going to hurt you. We're not. We're going to hurt him.

"Plans can change. Your father will be tortured, while you are sitting here with me. We can break a man, Laura, physically and mentally. We can make him talk. Or—you can save us the trouble."

"How?"

"By telling your father you believe this is the winning side. By telling him you're going to live with me."

"To—what?"

"To live with me."

"I wouldn't marry you if—"

"My dear young lady. I never said anything about marriage. Perhaps later, I don't know. I'm a cautious man. You're still an unknown quantity, you see."

"You can just get out of here."

"As you wish. But let me tell you something: here in Red Sands we're subtle when we have to be, crude when we must. Now, take your father. There are ways of hurting a man, of pulling out his fingernails slowly, of applying pressure to certain nerves at the base of the skull, of a slow, steady pounding of the soles of the feet, of breaking bones, starting with the toes and—"

"That's enough!" Laura cried. "Don't say any more."

Keifer shrugged. "Also as you wish. Your father will not be harmed, I promise you. Tonight, you may come to my quarters if you wish. If you don't my promise will no longer be valid. In a day or two, perhaps we can tell your father of our alliance. Will I see you tonight?"

"Yes," Laura said. "Just get out of here now."

"Tonight," Keifer told her, and left the room.

CHAPTER IV

"This is Colonel Keifer calling warp-ship seven. Come in please."

"Warp seven, sir?"

"Captain Haddix?"

"A moment, sir."

Keifer waited impatiently, then saw Haddix's gaunt face on the viewscreen. "Where are you now, Haddix?"

"Starting out along the warp-route, sir. Has there been a change in plans?"

"Yes. I want you to return tonight, Captain Haddix. Without Alan Tremaine."

"But I thought—"

"Don't. We still need Tremaine's name, but the boy is suspicious. No one has to know he has been killed. This is one case where we want the name but not the game. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"One more thing, Captain. How would you like to attain your majority?"

"Yes, sir!" Haddix beamed.

"Good. Return tonight without Tremaine and you'll be promoted. Good luck, Captain."

Alan felt awkward in the cumbersome spacesuit, clomping along the hull of warp-ship seven with Captain Haddix. Ahead of him, Haddix looked like some grotesque monster in the shapeless, inflated suit. But Haddix had learned to slide his feet along in their magnet-shod boots and could move with comparative ease.

"There's the warp-station," Haddix called over the suit intercom, pointing with one gauntleted hand toward a black globe which obscured the starlight overhead. From the globe, an incredibly straight black line darted out across the gulf of space like a bridge to infinity. From here it seemed only inches thick, but Alan knew it was actually fifty feet across.

"That's the warp," Haddix said. "It bends space as if space were a sheet of paper with Venus at one corner and Mars at another. You fold the sheet of paper across to place Venus and Mars in juxtaposition. In the same way, this warp folds space, aligning Venus and Mars in sub-space."

"Why can't men travel the same way?" Alan asked. "It's almost instantaneous, isn't it? It takes almost a month by spaceship from Mars to Venus."

Haddix's laughter purred over the intercom. "Uh-uh," he said. "The stresses in a space-warp are tremendous. Water has no shape to lose, so it doesn't matter. A man would be mangled. Well, are you ready, Mr. Tremaine?"

"I guess so."

"Fine. Just point yourself in the direction of the warp-station, unmagnetize your boots and switch on your shoulder jets. Once you get the hang of it, it's a cinch. Here we go."

Ahead of him, Alan saw Haddix's form suddenly lift from the hull of the spaceship and rocket up toward the warp-station. Alan followed him, feeling utterly no sensation of movement after the initial acceleration.

A featureless black globe several hundred yards in diameter, the warp station floated toward them. Following Haddix's lead, Alan alighted on his hands, cutting his shoulder jets and cart-wheeling into an upright position. The warp-station, he knew, was merely a terminal point for the space-warp itself. Untended, it housed the tremendous atomic power plant which unfolded the water on the Martian end of the warp from sub-space to normal space.

"As you can see," Haddix said, "the station is working. But there's no water."

Alan could feel the pulsing of great machinery underfoot. But the black tube of sub-space, yawning awesomely half a hundred feet to his left, was empty.

"Want to take a look?" Haddix demanded.

Alan nodded through the glassite helmet of his space suit, then fell into dragging, magnetized step beside Haddix. Soon they approached the lip of the sub-space tube, where sub-space intersected normal space in a fifty foot wide channel.

"It doesn't look dangerous," Alan said.

"For water, it's not. The pressure would crush a man to jelly."

Alan peered over the edge. Below him perhaps a dozen feet, a white line had been painted. Over it in stark white letters was the word CAUTION. Beyond that point, apparently, the actual space-warp began. "Look out!" Alan shouted. "What are you trying to do?"

Haddix was leaning against him, their two bulky suits in sudden, dangerous contact. Alan could feel himself slipping over the edge. Yelling now, his own voice deafening him inside the glassite helmet, Alan groped with clumsy, gauntletted hands for Haddix. He clutched the shoulder of the man's spacesuit, then felt himself tumbling over the edge into the tube.

There was a jolting sensation above him. He was sliding down the inflated body of Haddix's spacesuit, sliding, sliding. He wrapped his arms about the legs of the suit and clung there. Below his dangling feet was the white line and the word CAUTION painted there. Immediately below that, the space-warp itself.

"Let go of me!" Haddix screamed. "You'll kill us both."

Alan looked up. Haddix was clinging to the lip of the tube with both hands. Suddenly, Haddix began rocking back and forth in an attempt to dislodge Alan.

"Don't try it," Alan said. "All I've got to do is yank at your legs a little harder and we'll both fall down there."

"I can't climb up with you hanging on like that. I—I can't hold on much longer. This warp-station's at Earth normal gravity, Tremaine. My hands are slipping!"

"Listen to me," Alan said. "We can still get out of this. I can climb up your back, then pull you up after me."

"How do I know you will?"

"You don't. If we just hang here, we're as good as dead." Alan could feel the strain in his arms as he clung to Haddix's suit. For Haddix, the strain was double. Haddix could not be expected to hang there more than a few moments.

"I'm coming up," Alan said. "Don't try anything foolish."

Hanging by one arm, Alan reached up with his other hand and grasped the belt of Haddix's suit. Suspended there by both arms now, he reached up again for the flange of metal at the neck of Haddix's suit, where the glassite helmet fit. He got the gauntletted fingers of one hand around it, then almost lost his precarious grip. He swung sickeningly over the abyss for one harrowing moment, then held the flange with both hands. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the lip of the tube itself and soon clambered up and over. He lay there briefly, panting. He had never been nearer death in his life.

"Help!" Haddix gasped. "I can't hold on much longer."

Alan crouched there, looked over the edge. Haddix still clung with both hands.

"Why did you try to kill me?" Alan demanded. "Did you kill my father and Eugene Talbrick too?"

"It was Keifer!" Haddix cried. "Keifer thought you were suspicious. He was going to get you out of the way and keep using your name."

"Did he kill my father?"

"I don't know. Honest."

"And Talbrick?"

"One of my men did it. At Keifer's orders. Get me out of here, I'm begging you."

"O.K.," Alan said. He braced himself and hauled Haddix up out of the tube, then turned and jetted back toward the waiting warp-ship. They entered the airlock together, waited for the green safety light which announced the return of normal pressure and air, then stripped off their deflated spacesuits and glassite helmets.

Cat-quick, Haddix yanked an atomic pistol from his belt.

Instinctively, matching reflex for reflex, Alan slapped it from his hand. The weapon roared, blasting the air over Alan's head as he dove for Haddix. They went down together, rolling across the floor. Alan was aware of Haddix shouting for help, of the man's long fingers closing on his throat, of a knee driven painfully into his groin.

The inner lock door swung open. The warp-ship's pilot crashed through and scrambled on the floor after the atomic pistol. "Get out of the way, Captain," he said. "I've got him covered."

But Haddix was a growling, choking, feline animal now, trying to squeeze the life from Alan's throat. Desperately, Alan groped blindly with his fingers. His thumbs found Haddix's eyes, gouging. Haddix screamed and tumbled clear, clawing at his face.

Alan sucked air into his lungs and sprang to his feet as the atomic pistol was discharged. He felt a sudden, burning numbness in his left arm, then was grappling with the pilot chest to chest, the atomic pistol between them. When the weapon went off, Alan was flung across the airlock, slamming against the wall. The pilot went down to his knees slowly, disbelief on his face as he died trying to stuff entrails back into his belly.

Haddix and Alan went for the atomic pistol at the same time. The Security Officer got his fingers around it and turned, snarling, toward Alan.

"All right, you no good son—" he began.

Alan stepped on his wrist, pinning it on the floor with the weapon. He kicked Haddix in the face with his other foot and retrieved the atomic pistol as Haddix slumped forward.

"Now listen," Alan said, breathing in great sobs, "we're going forward. You'll call Keifer and tell him I'm dead. Try anything else and I'll kill you. Understand?"

Haddix understood.

Alan followed him, stuffing his numb left hand into a pocket of his blouse as a temporary sling. By the time they reached the control cabin, the left side of his blouse was soaked with blood.

"Good dinner, wasn't it?" Bennett Keifer asked Laura.

"Yes," she said.

"Did you like the wine?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad you decided to accept my invitation. Are you?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you have to say, 'yes'?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Come here, Laura."

Dad, she thought. It's for you. Alan, Alan, where are you? She walked to where Keifer was sitting.

"Sit down, Laura."

She sat.

"You still don't like me," he said, as if it were both regretted and unexpected. "But you're all alone now. I've given you the opportunity to start a new life here with me. Your father can't help you. And Alan Tremaine—"

"What about Alan?" Laura asked eagerly.

"I want ours to be a frank relationship. No lies. No deceits. Alan Tremaine is dead."

"What—what did you say?" Laura cried.

"Tremaine is dead. I got word this afternoon. An accident at the warp-station."

"It isn't true," Laura whispered. "It cant be true. Please. Please...."

"Listen to me, Laura. I'm going to win. I can't be stopped now. I'm offering you half, a woman's share of empire. Not just the Outworlds. I believe I can force Earth itself to its knees."

Alan, Alan, forgive me. I said I hated you....

"It isn't madness, Laura. With Tremaine's name and my plans, the Outworlds will rally behind me. And after they hear how Earth has sundered the space-warp from Venus—"

"Earth wouldn't," Laura said mechanically.

"It's on every Martian's lips," Keifer said.

"Then you did it yourself."

"Laura, Laura. I said a woman's share of empire. Don't worry yourself over the details. Wealth and jewels and importance, that's a woman's share. It's yours if you want it."

"My father—"

"Is a prisoner. Will you come here now?"

Laura looked at him, at this man who would carve a solar empire for himself by twisting the legitimate motives of the Outworld people. It's for Dad, she thought. She tried to fill her mind with that and nothing else. For her father. Otherwise, he would be tortured. For her father. For her father....

But when Keifer smiled down on her, calmly sure of himself, she thought of other things, of Earth, which did not yet understand the full extent of Keifer's madness, of Alan, who had been slain treacherously....

"That's for my father!" she cried, and slapped Keifer's face.

He caught her hands, pinning them at her side. "You little vixen," he said. The imprint of her fingers was on his cheek. There was quick hatred in his eyes, but lust as well. "Why don't you cry for help?" he taunted her. "My guards will hear you."

Laura freed one of her hands and slapped him again, then watched as rage swept the lust from his eyes. "I'll break you," he promised, biting off the words one at a time. "You'll come crawling." He forced her down slowly on the couch.

They both looked up as the door to the room slid noisily into the wall.

Alan stood there.

CHAPTER V

"Get up," Alan said, jerking the atomic pistol from his belt.