The Ballad of Venus Nell

Ii

Venus Nell was no saint, any preacher would paint A bad ending for her at a peek. But her worst enemy would be forced to agree There was nothing wrong with her physique. She was flat where it flattered, and curved where it mattered, A creature of streamline and bubbles; She had bright yaller hair, and a definite flair For taking men's minds off their troubles.

She never had known the cap or the gown Of grammar- or high-school or college, Which didn't mean she couldn't win her A.B. In a certain and specialized knowledge. She had lure and illusion; creating confusion 'Mongst men was but one of her tricks. Doug's eyes opened wide when she strolled to his side --And he fell like a cargo of bricks!

She drawled, "Howdy, sailor!" and Dougal turned paler, "H-howdy!" he managed to answer. Then, in sudden alarm, "Are you one of the charm- Gals?" he questioned, "Or only a dancer?" Now, why an admission of her true position Nell should at that moment decide To conceal is a mystery buried in history; Whatever the reason, she lied.

In fashion designed to make any man blind She lowered her lashes and blushed. (Which was no mean achievement itself.) "Oh, believe Me! I'm no--entertainer," she gushed. "I sell cigarettes, and I sometimes take bets On the rocketship races--" MacNeer Slowly nodded his head as he quietly said "A girl like you shouldn't be here!

"I think we'd do well to get out of this hell Of evil and vice," he decided. Nell had to sit still and bite her lips till Her inner amusement subsided. This curious sucker, it suddenly struck her, Meant business! His motives were pure. To lead on the calf should be good for a laugh ... She smiled at him, shy and demure.

"Oh, I cannot do that," she replied, "but a chat In a quieter spot--?" And she led Dougal out of the blare to a cool garden square With the stars burning high overhead. She gave orders by sign that a beaker of wine Be served in their shady retreat, And wondered how long it would be ere this strong, Handsome stranger acknowledged defeat.

But strangest to tell, it was Doug and not Nell Who emerged from that contest the victor. It was nothing he did, but a loneliness hid In her bosom that finally tricked her. For Doug spoke of the night, and the glorious flight Of ships through the reaches of Space; Of his hopes and his schemes--and his words wakened dreams That softened the lines of Nell's face.

Iii

He was just on the verge of confessing the urge That brought him back out of the void When a servant discreet appeared in their retreat And Nell faced the fellow, annoyed. "Well?" she icily said. The man bobbed his head. "A visiphone call on the rack." Nell sighed as she rose. "Some friend, I suppose. Wait, Dougal; I'll hurry right back."

An expression surprisingly soft in her eyes, She answered the visiphone. Her caller, however (the cradle-monk), never Detected her altered tone. "Hey, Nell, there's a chump on his way to your dump, A big, quiet sort of a lout By name of MacNeer--" Nell told him, "He's here; What's all the commotion about?"

A hungry grimace of greed mottled the face of The vengeful space-harbor assistant. "Do I get my percent for a tip on the gent?" He parried in accents insistent. "You mean--?" whispered Nell. And, "Surer than hell!" The answer came back, swift and eager, "I've just seen his log, and he's in from the Bog With a claim-stake the size of Omega!"

Now, for those who don't know their A. L. & O.[3] The "Bog" is a treacherous sector Of planetoids legion, a tightly-packed region Avoided by every prospector. None but the most daring do any space-faring In those lethal, whirlagig niches, But spacemen all claim that the Bog is aflame With infinite, fabulous riches.

'Twas thence that the crew of the L-32 Returned with a cargo of ore That assayed ninety-one and a half to the ton --Or maybe a little bit more. It was out of the Bog that old space-weasel Scrogg Withdrew on his gravity-tractor The rock 4-Omega, which brought such a figure Scrogg set himself up as a Factor.

So it's easily seen why Nell's new, serene Complaisance should disappear rudely. She gasped and she started; her crimson lips parted; Her eyes narrowed sharply and shrewdly. "You're positive?" Slyly responded the spy, "Why else would he put into Krull With motors O.Q., and flame-jets brand-new, And fuel-chambers more than half-full?"

[Footnote 3: A. L. & O.--Astrogational Loci and Orbits, the space mariner's handbook.]

Iv

Now, though Nelly was young, as has often been sung, Her chosen profession was old. Both instinct and habit advised her to "_Grab it!_" Whenever she heard the word "gold." She broke the connection, her vivid complexion More flushed, and with movements exotic Returned to the glade in which Dougal had stayed, Her inner emotions chaotic.

She studied MacNeer as she slowly drew near, Appraising him in a new light. Nell trusted her spy; he would not tell a lie-- But somehow it didn't seem right! MacNeer didn't act like a man who had cracked A cache of asteroid dough, And yet--Venus Nell smiled tightly--Ah, well, She'd know in a minute or so.

With a cute little shrug she curled on the rug And smiled into Doug's sober face. "Go on!" she implored, "and tell me some more About your adventures in Space. Have you ever struck gold in the terrible cold?" Her voice was a query and taunt. Doug grinned at her there as he fondled her hair. "I've found all the gold that I want!"

Nell's eyes opened wide. "You have?" she replied, And suddenly somewhere within her A duel transpired 'tween the Nell who admired This miner and Nelly the sinner. Which would have won out is a matter of doubt But Dougal MacNeer, growing bolder, At that moment tossed dice with Fate--and he lost! --By placing a hand on her shoulder.

He bent to her ear, and, "Nelly, my dear," He whispered, "Come lift gravs with me To the skyways above ... I'll teach you to love ... How wonderfully happy we'll be...." And--that was a story to Nell old and hoary; Nell shrugged with a gesture resigned; A lustful and bestial man, just like the rest Of his sex.... And she made up her mind.

Averting her face, she escaped his embrace And whispered, "Wait here for a minute--" A prearranged sign brought a fresh jug of wine To Doug--with a sleeping drug in it. Dougal, gleaming of eye, the glass lifted high And drank it down, swiftly and deep; In no time at all, he lay there asprawl In impotent, stertorous sleep.

V

A pungent aroma jarred Doug from his coma Much later. He lifted his head To find he was not in the cool, shady grot But in some sort of workshop, instead. His senses were blurry, his tongue thick and furry; He gagged at the odor and choked. Then, head still awhirl, he noticed the girl, And, "Nelly, where are we?" he croaked.

But the girl standing there with the bright yaller hair Was hardly the girl of his dreams. She was distant and cold, her manner was bold, Her eyes glistened brightly with schemes. With icy élan she spoke to the man At Dougal's side, "Very well, Gurk, He's come to his senses, let's drop the pretenses; Its time we got down to our work."

"Work, Nell?" Dougal gasped, and confusedly clasped His hammering head in his hands. He learned, then, that he was bound, foot and knee, To his seat by unbreakable bands. Nell said with a numb, deadly smile, "Don't play dumb! Be smart and you'll shorten this visit. We know from your log you struck gold in the Bog; Now, come clean and tell us--where is it?"

"G-gold?" gulped MacNeer. "Th-there's some mistake here!" He grinned, "Aw, you're kidding me, honey! Now, be a good sport--" The girl cut him short, "I don't think this matter is funny! I gave you a chance to go into your dance; If you won't, why--" She shifted her eyes To her white-coated aide. "Well, Gurk, I'm afraid He must talk through the menavise."

As Doug MacNeer's eyes opened wide in surprise Gurk drew from a nearby cask A shimmering, fiery helmet of wire; A sinister sort of mask. Doug never had seen the fantastic machine Before, but he'd oftentimes heard Of the dreaded and hated device that translated Men's thoughts into spoken words!

With a terrible cry of anger, on high He lifted his brawny fists, But an instrument clicked, and manacles snicked! Like vises about his wrists. "Well, now will you tell us?" persisted Nell. "There's nothing to tell!" he said. Nell's warm lips drew fine, and she made a brief sign ... And the helmet dropped over his head!

Vi

It was Nell who depressed the stud that expressed In flaming, electric flood The current that boils its way through the coils Of a menavisal hood. There was silence at first, then the silence burst In a moment of horror fraught, As Doug MacNeer's voice babbled clear In fragments of tortured thought.

"_I don't understand ... I can't move a hand ... Head aches, and my brain is on fire.... Stars ... Nelly ... Oh, Lord!_" Thus Dougal's thoughts poured In words through the webwork of wire. "_Must be a mistake ... I can't be awake The orbit of Ceres is reckoned At three-oh-oh-ten...._" Nell stepped forward then. "O.Q., Gurk--let up for a second!"