Star Pirate

The ship had landed as lightly as a snowflake on the barren plain, switched off her rockets. The air-lock clanged open and two bulky figures in asbestoid jumpers swung down; so hot was the rock from the rocket exhausts that their lead-soled gravity shoes left silvery patches as they strode toward the administration building. One of the men, to judge from his build, was a Jovian, huge, squat, mighty-thewed; the other, a slender earthman, his face hidden by the hood that protected him from the cold. I waited until they were within twenty feet of me, then raised the flame-gun.

"Stop where you are!" I said curtly. "This is private property ... the property of the Cerean Mining Company. What do you want?"

The earthman paused, studying me as I stood there in the light that streamed from the doorway.

"So big," I heard him mutter as though to himself. "Who'd have thought it! Eleven years! It's passed quickly ... for some."

This didn't make much sense, but it wasn't the meaning of his words that struck me. It was his voice. There was something about the voice that sounded a familiar chord in the back of my mind. For a moment I tried to puzzle out the disturbing memories but without much success. Then, shaking off the strange uneasiness, I raised the gun once more.

"Stay where you are! Another step and I'll shoot!"

The earthman continued to move toward me, the big Jovian in his wake.

"If you must shoot, Steve," he said quietly, "I suppose there's no help for it. You'd regret it, though, I think."

Again the puzzling familiarity of that voice! Where had I heard those calm, bitterly mocking tones before? And how did he know my name? Was this some trick to force an entrance into the administration building where Uncle John's fortune in palladium lay?

"You asked for it!" I cried, drawing a bead on him.

The stranger must have realized that I meant business. He was only ten feet from me, now, and could have guessed from my expression that I was about to shoot. With a swift movement he threw back the hood that concealed his face. My arm sagged down and I heard myself give a quick involuntary gasp. No mistaking those clean, sharp features, those frosty, sardonic eyes, that lined, thin mouth, lips twisted in an ironic smile! The man who stood there in the light that jetted from the doorway was my father!

It had been eleven years since I'd seen him, but he hadn't changed much, except that his black hair was gray at the temples. Apart from that, he didn't show his forty-five years in the least. Staring at him, my memory flashed back to that night eleven years before in this same administration building. There had been three owners of Cerean Mining in those days. My father; his brother-in-law, Uncle John; and big, red-haired Carl Conroy. They had formed the partnership on earth shortly after my mother's death, come here to Ceres looking for rare palladium. They'd just scraped along for five years, then struck the rich vein of ore. And about two months after the big strike, there came that terrible night.

I was only nine at the time, and had been sent off to bed. I was awakened by the hiss of a flame-gun, a short gasping cry. I remember lying there long minutes, terrorized, then creeping to the head of the stairs, peering down. On the floor of the big room, near the safe, was Carl Conroy, a terrible blackened form, with my father bending over him. I can remember Conroy's twisted figure, the stench of burned flesh, my father's hoarse breathing. Then suddenly the door opened and my Uncle John entered, his face gray, a gun in his hand. Uncle John spoke slowly. He said that he'd noticed some of the palladium was missing every morning, and he'd asked Conroy to watch the safe. Now he knew who the thief was. My father seemed sort of stunned, choked. And I'd clung there unnoticed, hoping to wake up and find it all a dream. But it hadn't been a dream. Keeping his prisoner covered, Uncle John had backed toward the micro-wave communications set to call the authorities at Verlis. For a long moment my father stared at him, then leaped for the door. I screamed.

Uncle John could have shot him in that instant, but he didn't. He just stood there, flame-gun in hand, as my father disappeared into the darkness; then he climbed the stairs to where I crouched, crying, and put an arm about my shoulders. "We'll try to forget this, Stephen," he said to me. "There's a space-ship leaving Verlis in the morning. Maybe he can make a fresh start somewhere else in the solar system. We'll bury Conroy out here, report that he died an accidental death. That's the least I can do to keep you from being known as the son of a murderer." And I cried myself to sleep on Uncle John's shoulder.

All that eleven years ago. We'd never mentioned my father again. When people asked me, I said that he was dead. I hoped he was. The thought of having a father who was a murderer, a thief, a fugitive in the solar system, wasn't pleasant. Better to think he'd died bravely, decently, on some far-flung world. And now, after eleven years...!

"You remember me, then ... son?" My father laughed ironically; he strode by me into the room, followed by the big Jovian. The latter, I noticed, carried several large cylinders on his back.

I stood there undecided, confused, fumbling with the flame-gun. My father perched himself on the edge of the table, lit a slender, aromatic Martian cigarette, an eyla, the same kind he'd smoked in the past. Its fragrant, sharp aroma awoke memories of my childhood. Suddenly he spoke.

"Where's John?"

"He's gone to Verlis, to arrange for our passage to earth. The vein's worked out."

"So that's why the miners' shacks are dark." He nodded. "I arrived just in time, then. And from the close watch you were keeping, I'd say the palladium was still here." For a long moment he eyed me, studying my face. "Healthy, and as sanctimonious as John, from the looks of you. Taon" ... he turned to the big silent Jovian ... "his gun!"

Before I realized what had happened, the Jovian had snatched the flame-gun from my grasp.

"I apologize, Steve," my father said blandly, "for using force. But in my past eleven years knocking about the solar system, I've noticed that people are unaccustomed to yield to reason. It's for your own good, as well. Some years ago on Jupiter I saved Taon's life. If you were to commit an indiscretion, such as killing me, he would tear you to bits. A faithful fellow, Taon. And since I am about to force this safe, I felt that you might do something rash with that gun...."

I stood there, speechless, as the huge Taon swung a double-cylindered oxy-hydrogen burner from his shoulders. He tinkered for a moment with first the hydrogen flash, then the oxygen one; a moment later a jet of cruel white flame bit into the big wall-safe.

"Good Lord!" I whispered. "I've known all along that you were a thief, a murderer, but with all the solar system to prey upon, why must you come back here! To rob your own brother-in-law, after he let you escape that night! And to make sure your son is known as the son of a common thief! I'd rather have the cheapest space-rat as a father than you!"

For just a moment there was a cloud in my father's eyes, but the ironic bitter smile clung to his lips.

"Very melodramatic," he applauded. "You inherit that, I think, from the other side of the family. John has the same flair for theatrics. I regret now that the business of obtaining a space-ship, of finding certain ... necessary persons ... took so long. Had I come sooner, I might have aided in your education." He turned to the big Jovian. "How goes it?"

"Safe good steel," Taon grunted. "One ... two ... hour job."

"No hurry." My father puffed lazily at his eyla, flicked a bit of ash from his coat sleeve. His gestures, his well chosen words, his carefully modulated voice, all indicated that he was playing the role of debonair, cosmopolitan man of the worlds. The perfect gentleman--even when engaged in cracking a safe! I hated him for it! This space-rover, thief, murderer ... my father! Better to see him imprisoned at Verlis, than to have him at large, adding to the shame of our name. With one leap, I crossed the room, snapped on the micro-wave communications set.