Planet in Peril

VII. "Star Pirate to the Rescue!"

Back at the Jolly Roger, Star Pirate and Phath made a few calls to Patrol headquarters for the Mercury/Venus jurisdiction, and checked on a few things with the vast archives of Computer Central, where exhaustive records of every description were stored for instant access.

They dined that evening at Governor Kirkland's executive mansion, where the cuisine was an interesting mixture of traditional Earthling dishes, such as sirloin of beef, asparatus in mustard sauce and chef's salad, and certain exotic native Mercurian dishes, including deliciously crunchy fried moss-cakes, a simmering stew of spicy tubers swimming in fungus-broth, and tasty, tender lichen-balls with Sunside pepper.

The only other guest at the Governor's table was Hardrock, the police commissioner. He was a grim, taciturn fellow, and said little outside of an occasional grunt and nod of the head during the meal. Afterwards, in the Governor's library over a superb Martian brandy and aromatic cigars of golden-ripe Venusian tobacco, the commissioner waxed a little more eloquent.

"Understand you've been questioning that crazed charlatan, who calls himself the 'High Priest of the Sun,' " he said gruffly.

"We have," Star nodded quietly. "But while he may prove to be a charlatan of sorts, I didn't find him 'crazed' in particular.*'

Hardrock gave vent to a harsh bark of laughter. "Fellow has high degrees in his field from Earth's finest universities," he growled. "Had an excellent job here with Mercury Metals, checking sites in the Belt for unsuspected deposits of rare radioactives. Threw the whole thing over—job, career, everything!—to go bump his forehead on the ground, grovelling before the cursed sun. Mad—and dangerous!"

Star cocked one eyebrow quizzically. "How—’dangerous’?" he inquired in lazy tones. The heavy-faced man scowled at him with eyes like cold steel.

"A fanatic, isn't he? All fanatics are dangerous ... or can be!"'

"Maybe ... but he seemed sane and normal when I talked to him, and he answered my questions openly and frankly enough," commented Star.

Hardrock showed him a nasty, thin-lipped grin.

"Probably didn’t know who you were," the bigger man grunted. "May find it kinda hard to get folks to answer your questions from here on in, Mr. Star Pirate—now that everybody in town knows you're here on Mercury, hoping to bust these Fire Troll murders wide open!"

"What do you mean?" asked Star with a slight frown.

The commissioner chuckled, put down his cigar, and drew a crumpled sheet of flimsy paper from the inner pocket of his uniform tunic. He rapped it with a blunt forefinger.

"That fat fool who runs the Horseshoe must have blabbed his head off," growled Hardrock. "’Cause the afternoon newsfax has your picture smeared all over the front page, under big scare headlines."

And he showed Star the afternoon edition of the Belt City Sentinel. Just as he had said, an excellent likeness of the redheaded adventurer and his Venusian sidekick occupied most of the front page, under roaring headlines that announced—

STAR PIRATE TO THE RESCUE!

Famed Adventurer to Bat tie Fire Troll!

Star bit his lip in vexation. It had not occurred to him to ask the manager of the Golden Horseshoe to keep his, Star’s, presence on Mercury a secret. ...

While the Governor’s private flyer had picked them up at the field and had flown them to the executive mansion, Star elected to stroll back to where they had berthed their trim little speedster, afoot. It was a mild and splendid night, with a pleasant breeze from the north, redolent of the strange but not unpleasant aroma of native moss-farms and lichen-groves. Stars blazed in the dim amber-purplish haze that was the sky of the Twilight Belt and very few were abroad, except for alert and wary officers on patrol against further enormities by the Fire Troll.

Phath eyed the night sky dubiously.

"Cursed if I can see how anybody can tell night from day, here in the Belt," he complained. "The sky looked exactly the same at noon as it does now ..."

"Certainly a big change from night and day on Venus, I bet," said Star with a straight face. Phath flushed and bit his lip. As everyone knew, the sun and stars and open sky were completely hidden by the eternal clouds which veiled from view the face of his wet and swampy home world.

"Speakin’ of daylight," said Phath, adroitly changing the subject, "you beginnin' to see any yet, chief? This case sure looks mury as midnight to me!"

Star shook his head slowly. "Maybe a glimmer, here and there, but there are still plenty of unanswered questions."

"Like what?" pressed the Venusian as they sauntered along the deserted slum streets near the spaceport.

"Like the chance that neither Bill Borden nor the latest victim, Sam McCallister, actually saw what they both said they saw," retorted the redhead. Phath blinked pink eyes at him.

"Then why in the name of Yakdar did they say they—?"

"Both men were drinking shortly before they were killed," rapped Star Pirate briefly. "Suppose somebody slipped a drug into their last drink of the night. A hallucinogen, let's say?"

Phath rubbed his hairless jaw reflectively. "Hmm . . . hadn't thought of that trick, chief, I gotta admit!" They were just passing the Golden Horseshoe, from whose swinging doors came light and heat and sounds of loud music and louder jollity. The Venusian suggested they go in and ask the plump Uranian who served that last drink to the two murdered men. Star shook his head.

"They might still have the bar tab for McCallister, but the one for Borden would long ago have been tossed in the trash," he said. "No, that trail's a cold one—if trail it is."

The blaze and clamor of the bustling saloon faded behind them; the muddy path they trod was completely deserted and steeped in darkness. The two continued on their way, both deep in their thoughts. And then, without the slightest warning—

"Chief! Look out—!" yelled Phath hoarsely, his voice raw with shock and surprise, and something very close to terror.

Out of the black yawning maw of a filthy alley lurched into the dimness a monstrously tall, hulking figure. It was naked, its yellow hide glinting with thick scales. Eyes of scarlet fury burned through the murk above a cruel hooked beak; sleek, curved horns swayed against the wan glimmer of the distant stars—

And horrible four-fingered paws, sizzling and smoking with heat, reached out to clutch—and kill!