Читать книгу The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack - Carey Rockwell - Страница 36

CHAPTER 10

“Can I speak with you a minute, spaceman?”

Roger turned from the automatic food dispenser and stared at a wizened little man standing beside him, grinning up at him toothlessly.

“What do you want?” asked Roger.

“Just talk. Let’s sit down at this table, eh?” said the little man, taking the cadet by the arm. “Gotta little deal I think you might be interested in.”

Roger cast a quick appraising glance over the shabbily dressed man and walked to the table. Unless someone knew Roger personally, it would have been hard to recognize him. No longer wearing the vivid blue of the senior Space Cadet, he was now dressed in black trousers fitting snugly around the legs, a midnight blue pull-over jersey, and the black-billed hat of the merchant spaceman. His once close-cropped blond hair was beginning to grow shaggy around the edges, and with the hat pulled low over his forehead, he might have been another person entirely.

Leaving the space station on the jet liner had been easy for Roger, since no one suspected he would violate his trust. But once his absence was discovered and the warrant issued for his arrest, it had been necessary for him to assume some sort of disguise to elude the Solar Guard MP’s. Roger had wound up on Spaceman’s Row in Venusport as a matter of course. Luckily, when he left the station, he had the foresight to take all of his money with him, so he was not yet in need.

On Spaceman’s Row, Roger found the new freedom from discipline enjoyable at first, but now the novelty had worn off. Having visited all of the interesting places on the Row, existence there had become boring. His one attempt to leave Spaceman’s Row had nearly met with disaster. Running into a squad of Solar Guard MP’s, he had made a hurried escape into a near-by jet taxi. Back on the Row, Roger had lounged around the cafés, feeling the loneliness that haunts men wanted by the law. And only because he was so lonely he had agreed to talk to the little man who sat and stared at him from across the table.

“You a rocket pusher, astrogator, or skipper?” asked the little man.

“Who wants to know?” asked Roger cautiously.

“Look, sonny boy,” was the quick retort. “I’m Mr. Shinny! I’m the fixer of Spaceman’s Row. You want something, come to me and I’ll get it for you. I don’t care why you’re here. That ain’t none of my business. But the fact remains that you’re here, and you don’t come down here unless you’re in trouble space deep!”

Roger looked at the little man more closely. “Suppose I am in something deep? What could you do for me?” he asked.

“What would you want done?” asked Shinny slyly.

“Well,” said Roger casually, “I could use a set of papers.”

“What happened to your own?”

“Solar Guard picked them up,” answered Roger simply.

“For what?” asked Shinny.

“Taking ice cream away from the skipper’s pet monkey!” snapped Roger.

Shinny threw back his head and laughed. “That’s good—very good!” He wiped his mouth after spitting at a near-by cuspidor. He reached over and patted Roger on the arm. “You’ll do, sonny! You’ll do right well on the Row. Join me in a little acceleration sport?”

“What’s that?” asked Roger.

“Rocket juice!” said Shinny. “Ain’t you never heard of rocket juice?”

“I’ve heard about it,” said Roger with a smile, “and I’m still here to talk about it because I never drank any of it.” Roger liked the little man for some reason—he couldn’t tell why. He had met several people on the Row since his arrival, but they had all wanted to know how many credits he had and where he was staying.

“I took a jolt of that stuff once in Luna City,” said Roger. “I was ready to blast off without a rocket ship!”

Shinny laughed again. “Good lad! Well, you won’t mind if I have just a little one?” He paused and wiped his lips. “On you, of course!”

“One”—Roger held up his finger—“on me, of course!”

“Hey, there!” yelled Shinny. “You, with the asteroid head! Gimme a short bucket of that juice and bring a bottle of Martian fizz along with it!” The bartender nodded, and Shinny turned back to Roger. “Martian fizz is nothing more than a little water with sugar in it,” he explained.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Roger. “What about those papers?”

“I’ll talk to you, spaceman to spaceman,” said Shinny, “when you’re ready to talk to me, spaceman to spaceman!”

They were silent while the bartender slopped a glass full of bluish liquid in front of Shinny and the bottle of Martian fizz and a glass in front of Roger. Roger paid for the drinks and poured a glass of the mild sweet water. Sipping it silently, he suddenly put the glass down again and looked Shinny in the eye.

“You know who I am,” he stated quietly.

“Yep!” replied Shinny. “You’re Roger Manning, Space Cadet! Breach of honor and violation of the Spaceman’s Oath. Escaped from the Venus space station on a jet liner. But one of the best men on a radar scanner and astrogation prism in the whole alliance!” Shinny related the information rapidly.

“He had known all the time,” thought Roger. “He was testing me.” Roger wondered why.

“What are you going to do about it?” questioned Roger, thinking about the one-thousand-credit reward, standard price offered by the Solar Guard for all wanted men.

“If I had wanted to, I could have bought the finest jet liner in space with money made on Solar Guard rewards,” snapped Shinny. “We got our own spaceman’s code here on the Row. It goes something like this. What a man wants to bring with him down here, he brings. What he don’t bring, don’t exist!”

Roger smiled and stuck out his hand. “All right, Mr. Shinny! I want a set of papers—space papers! Made out in any name, so that I can get out into space again. I don’t care where I go or on what, or how long I’m gone. I just gotta blast off!”

“You want papers for the astrogation deck, or control, or as a power pusher?” asked Shinny.

Roger thought a moment. “Better make them for the control deck,” he said.

“Credits,” said Shinny. “You have any credits?”

“How much?” asked Roger.

“One hundred now,” said Shinny, and then added, “and one hundred when I deliver.”

“Guaranteed papers?”

“Positively!” snorted Shinny. “I don’t sell things that ain’t good! I’m an honest man!”

Roger reached inside his jersey and pulled out a small roll of crumpled credit notes. He counted off one hundred and handed them over to Shinny.

“When do I get the papers?” asked Roger.

“Tomorrow, same place, same time,” answered Shinny.

“What’s the name of this place?” asked Roger.

“Café Cosmos.”

Roger picked up his glass of sweet water, raising it in a toast to the little man in front of him. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Shinny, when you come here with the papers, or I come looking for you with bare knuckles!”

“You don’t scare me!” snapped Shinny. “I’ll be here!”

Roger tilted his chair back and smiled his casual smile. “I know you’ll be back, Mr. Shinny. You see, I really mean what I say. And more important, you know I mean what I say!”

Shinny got up. “Tomorrow, same time, same place,” he said, hurrying out the door.

Roger finished the bottle of Martian fizz, suddenly very depressed. He didn’t really want the false papers. He just wanted to get away from the deadly humdrum existence on Spaceman’s Row. He walked wearily back to his scrubby little bedroom to wait for night to come. He hated to go back to the room, because he knew he would think about Tom and Astro and the Space Academy. Now he couldn’t allow himself to think about it any more. It was past. Finished.

* * * *

“You got who?” asked Loring.

“I said I got the best astrogator in the deep for ya!” snapped Shinny.

Loring looked at Mason and then suddenly burst out laughing, dropping his head on the table.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Shinny. “You got space fever or something?”

Mason, sitting quietly in the dirty hotel room, was grinning from ear to ear.

“So you got Manning for us, eh?” repeated Loring at last. “I wanta tell you something, Shinny. I was the one that got that kid to break outta that space station!”

“You what?” asked Shinny. The little spaceman had come to like the straightforwardness of Roger.

“That’s right,” said Loring. “When Mason and me loused up taking over the Annie Jones, that kid, Manning, was on the radar watch at the station. At the same time we were gonna crash into the station he crossed a coupla wires and was talking to his girl back on Earth! They think he fouled up the radar and caused the crash!”

“Then he’s your fall guy,” commented Shinny thoughtfully.

“Right,” said Loring. “And now you come along and tell us that we can get him to astrogate us out to Tara! I tell ya, Mason, this is the greatest gag I’ve heard in years!”

“Yeah,” agreed Mason, his weak mouth still stretched in a stupid grin, “but you have to be careful he never finds out it was us that got him into all his trouble!”

“Leave that to me,” said Loring. “He’ll never know a thing. In fact, he’ll thank us for getting him off the station and then giving him a chance to get back in space.” He turned to Shinny. “You got the ship?”

“I told you before,” said Shinny, “there ain’t anything to be had.”

“Well, we gotta have a ship,” said Loring. “A fortune waiting for us in the deep and no space wagon to go get it!”

“There is a ship,” said Shinny. “Not too good, but a spaceship.”

“Where?” asked Loring.

“Near Venusport. Out in the jungles, to be exact. Needs a little fixing, but it’ll make a deep space hop well enough.”

“Who does it belong to?” demanded Loring.

“Me,” said Shinny, a strange twinkle in his eyes.

“You?” gasped Loring. “By the craters of Luna, where did you get a spaceship?”

“Fifteen years ago a freighter was forced down in the jungles right near Venusport,” said Shinny. “I was prospecting near by for pitchblende, back when everybody thought Venus was loaded with it. I saw the crew leave in jet boats. Soon as they was out of sight I went over to take a look. I wanted to see if there was any grub I could swipe and save myself a trip back to Venusport for more supplies. Anyway, I went aboard and found the grub all right, but I got nosy about why they had made an emergency touchdown. I looked around the power deck and found they had busted their reaction timer. I got the idea then of fixing it up and bringing it back to Venusport to give them young jerks a surprise. I lifted her off the ground and then figured why should I give it back? Just move it someplace else and let the vines and creepers grow over it for a few days.”

“Didn’t the crew come back looking for it?” asked Loring.

“Did they?” chortled Shinny. “I’ll say they did! Almost drove them poor fellers crazy. I guess they searched for that old wagon for three months before giving up.”

“And—and you mean it’s still there—and in good condition?” asked Loring.

“Needs a little fuel,” said Shinny, “and probably a good overhaul, but I don’t think there’s anything serious the matter with it.”

“By the craters of Luna,” exclaimed Loring, “we’ll blast off immediately!”

“Hold on,” said Shinny. “I didn’t say I’d give it to you.”

“Well, what do you want for it?” demanded Loring.

“Now let me see,” mused Shinny. “I figure that if you figure to get as much as twenty million credits out of the copper, a full quarter share ought to be about right.”

“Five million credits for a—a ship that’s been rotting in the jungle for fifteen years!” exclaimed Loring.

“She’s in good shape,” defended Shinny. “I go out there every six months or so and turn over the reactors just to keep ’em from getting rusty.”

“Why didn’t you try to do something with it before?” asked Loring.

“Never had no occasion to,” answered Shinny. “Well, is it a deal, or isn’t it?”

“Too much,” snapped Loring.

“That’s my price,” said Shinny.

“I could take the ship and not give you anything,” sneered Loring.

“If the Solar Guard looked for three months in that jungle, with a hundred men and instruments, do you think you’ll find it?”

“I’ll give you a fifth share,” said Loring.

“Nope,” said Shinny, “I’ve named my price. You either take it or leave it!” He glared at Loring.

Mason finally spoke. “Take it, Loring,” he said, “and let’s get out of here. I’m getting jittery over that investigation that’s coming up on the station.”

“All right,” said Loring, “it’s a deal. One quarter share for the ship.”

“Done!” said Shinny—“Now I guess we’d better go talk to that boy Manning, eh?”

“Don’t you think it’ll be a little dangerous taking him along?” whined Mason.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” said Loring.

“If it was me,” said Shinny, “I wouldn’t give it a second thought. You’re going into deep space. It ain’t like a hop to Mars or Titan. This is as deep as you can go. If I was you, I’d want the best there is in my crew. And from what I’ve heard about that young feller, he’s the best there is on the radar bridge. You know who his father was?”

“Who?” asked Mason.

“Ken—” Shinny suddenly closed his mouth tight. “Just another spaceman,” he said, “but a good one!” He rose quickly. “Well, I’m supposed to meet Manning in an hour at the Cosmos.”

The three men left the dingy hotel and walked out into the main street of Spaceman’s Row. In a few moments they arrived at the Café Cosmos. Roger was already there, seated at the same table and watching the door. When he saw Loring and Mason with Shinny, he eyed them warily.

“Hiya, kid!” greeted Loring. “Glad to see you took my advice and got away from ‘Blast-off’ Connel.” Mason waved a salute, and the three men sat down.

Roger ignored Loring and Mason, speaking directly to Shinny. “Did you complete our deal?” he asked softly.

“Nope,” answered Shinny. “I brought you another one instead.”

Roger held out his hand. “My one hundred credits—now!”

“Never mind the credits, kid,” said Loring, “we’ve got more important things to talk about.”

Roger continued to look at Shinny, his palm outstretched on the top of the table. “One hundred credits,” he repeated coldly.

Reluctantly, Shinny handed over the money. Slowly, carefully, Roger counted the bills, and then, after putting them away, he turned to face Loring for the first time.

“You said you have something important to discuss with me?” he drawled.

“I see you learned fast, kid!” said Loring with a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t trust Shinny as far as I could throw a comet!”

Mason laughed loudly. The other three merely glared at him, and he stopped abruptly.

“Here’s the proposition, Manning,” said Loring, leaning across the table. “I’ve gotta ship and I wanta make a hop into deep space. I want you to do the astrogation!”

“I’m interested,” said Roger. “Keep talking.”

Briefly Loring described the copper satellite, its potential value, and what they expected to get out of it. Roger listened without comment. When Loring had finished, Shinny told him about the ship and its condition. When Shinny finished, Loring turned to Roger.

“Well, Manning,” he asked, “how do you like the setup?”

“How much do I get out of it?” asked Roger.

“One twentieth of the take,” said Loring.

“There are four of us. One full quarter-share, nothing less,” drawled Roger.

“One-fourth to Shinny and one-fourth to him,” whined Mason. “That only leaves us a fourth apiece!”

“That’s more than you’ve got now,” snapped Loring. “All right, Manning, you’re in!”

Roger smiled for the first time. “When do we blast off?”

“As soon as we get that space wagon in shape we hit the deep!” said Loring.

“I think I need a drink on that,” said Shinny. He yelled for the bartender, who brought rocket juice and Martian fizz.

Roger picked up the glass of the sweet water and glanced around the table.

“What’s the name of that space wagon you’ve got buried in the jungles, Mr. Shinny?”

“Ain’t got no name,” said Shinny.

Roger paused, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Then I propose we name her after the hearts of each of us here at the table.”

“What’s that?” asked Loring.

“Space Devil,” said Roger.

Shinny grinned, his frail body trembling slightly from his silent laughter. He held up the glass of rocket juice.

“I propose a toast to the Space Devil!”

“To the Space Devil,” said the others together.

“And whatever trouble she brings,” added Roger softly.