The Devil's Asteroid Page 6

Hisbeast-men hurried to him among the bushes.

  "Huh, boss?" they asked anxiously. "Ship no good? What we do?"

  He looked over his shoulder. Somewhere in the night enemies hunted forhim. The beast-folk were beneath contempt, would be left alone. Only hehad shown himself too dangerous to be allowed life.

  "Goodbye, boys," he said, with real regret. "I'm not much of a boss if Ibring bullets among you. Get back home, and let me haul out by myself. Imean it," he said sternly, as they hesitated. "On your way, and don'tget close to me again--death's catching!"

  They tramped away into the gloom, with querulous backward looks. Parrtook a lonely trail in an opposite direction. After a moment he paused,tingling with suspense. Heavy feet were following him.

  "Who's coming?" he challenged, and ducked to avoid a possible shot. Nonecame. The heavy tread came nearer.

  "Boss!" It was Ling.

  "I told you to go away," reminded Parr gruffly.

  "I not go," Ling retorted. "You no make me."

  "Ling, you were boss before I came. Now that I'm gone from you--"

  "You not gone from me. You my boss. Those others, they maybe pick newboss."

  "Ling, you fool!" Parr put out a hand in the night, and grabbed a mightyshaggy arm. "I'll be hunted--maybe killed--"

  "Huh!" grunted Ling. "They hunt us, maybe they get killed." He turnedand spat over his shoulder, in contempt for all marauding Martians andtheir vassal Earth folk. "You, me--we stay together, boss."

  "Come on, then," said Parr. "Ling, you're all right."

  "Good talk!" said Ling.

  * * * * *

  They went to the other side of the little spinning world, and therenobody bothered them. Time and space were relative, as once Einsteinremarked to illustrate a rather different situation; anyway, the villageunder Varina Pemberton numbered only eight men--Parr and Ling couldavoid that many easily on a world with nearly nine hundred square milesof brush, rock and gully.

  In a grove among grape-vines they built a shelter, and there dwelt formany weeks. Ling wore well as a sole friend and partner. Looking at thebig, devoted fellow, Parr did not feel so revolted as at their firstglimpse of each other. Ling had seemed so hairy, so misshapen, like atroll out of Gothic legends. But now ... he was only big and burly, andnot so hairy as Parr had once supposed. As for his face, all tusk andjaw and no brow, where had Parr gotten such an idea of it? Homely itwas, brutal it wasn't....

  "I get it," mused Parr. "I'm beginning to degenerate. I'm falling intothe beast-man class, closer to Ling's type. Like can't disgust like. Oh,well, why bother about what I can't help?"

  He felt resigned to his fate. But then he thought of another--VarinaPemberton, the girl who might have been a pleasant companion in happier,easier circumstances. She had banished him, threatened him, wheedled himout of victory. She, too, would be slipping back to the beast. Her bodywould warp, her skin grow hairy, her teeth lengthen and sharpen--Ugh!That, at least, revolted him.

  "Look, boss," said Ling, rising from where he lounged with a cluster ofgrapes in his big hand. "People coming--two of 'em."

  "Get your club," commanded Parr, and caught up his own rugged length oftough torn-wood. "They're men, not beast-men--they must be looking fortrouble."

  "Couldn't come to a better place to find it," rejoined Ling, spittingbetween his palm and the half of his cudgel to tighten his grip. The twoof them walked boldly into view.

  "I see you, Sadau!" shouted Parr clearly, for there was no mistaking thegaunt, freckled figure in the lead. "Who's that with you?"

  The other man must be a new arrival. He was youngish and merry-faced ashe drew closer, with black curly hair and a pointed beard. There was amental-motive look to him, as if he were a high grade engineer ormachinist. He wore a breech-clint of woven grasses, and lookedexpectantly at Parr.

  "They aren't armed," pointed out Ling, and it was true. The pair carriedsticks, but only as staffs, not clubs.

  "Parr!" Sadau was shouting back. "Thank heaven I've found you--we needyou badly." He came close, and Parr hefted his club.

  "No funny business," he challenged, but Sadau gestured the challengeaside.

  "I'm not here to fight. I say, you're needed. Things have gone wrong,awfully. The others got to feeling that there was no reason to obey awoman chief, even though Miss Pemberton has many good impulses--"

  "I agree to that," nodded Parr, remembering the girl's many strangebehaviors. "I daresay she wasn't much of a leader."

  Sadau did not argue the point. "Shanklin, as the previous newest man,grabbed back the chieftaincy," he plunged ahead. "Those other foolsbacked him. When I tried to defend Miss Pemberton, they drove me out. Istumbled among the others--that crowd you used to capture thepatroller--and got a line on where you were. I came for help."

  One phase had stuck in Parr's mind. "You tried to defend that girl. Theywere going to kill her?"

  "No. Shanklin, as chief and king, figures he needs a queen. She's notbad looking. He's going to marry her, unless--"

  Parr snorted, and Sadau's voice grew angry. "Curse it, man, I'm notcasting you for a knight of the Table Round, or the valiant space-herowho arrives in the nick of time at the television drama! Simplify it,Parr. You're the only man who ever had the enterprise to do anythingactual here. You ought to be chief still, running things justly. And itisn't justice for a girl to be married unofficially to someone shedoesn't like. Miss Pemberton despises Shanklin. Now, do you get mypoint, or are you afraid?"

  It was Ling who made answer: "My boss isn't afraid of anything. He'llstraighten that mess out."

  Parr glanced at the big fellow. "Thanks for making up my mind for me,Ling. Well, you two have talked me into something. Sadau, shake Ling'sbig paw. And," he now had time to view the stranger at close hand,"who's this with you?"

  The man with the black curls looked genially surprised. "You know me,boss. I'm Frank Rupert."

  Parr stared. "Never heard of you."

  "You're joking. Why, I almost got that Martian patroller into space,when Miss Pemberton--"

  Parr sprang at him and caught him by his shoulders. "You wereRuba--Rupert! It's only that you didn't talk plain before. What'shappened to you, man?"

  Sadau hastily answered: "The degeneration force is obviated. Reversed.All those who were beast-men are coming back, some of the later arrivalscompletely normal again. Haven't you noticed a change in this big husk?"

  Parr turned and looked at Ling. So that was it! Day by day, the changehad not been enough to impress him. As Ling had climbed back along hislost evolutionary trail, Parr had thought that he himself was slippingdown....

  "Don't stop and scratch your head over it, Parr," Sadau scolded him."It'll take a lot of explaining, and we haven't time. You said you'dhelp get Miss Pemberton out of her jam. Come on."

  * * * * *

  It was like the television thrillers, after all, Parr reflected. ButSadau was right on one count--Parr didn't quite fill the role of thespace-hero. He had neither the close-clipped moustache nor the gleamingtop boots. But he did have the regulation deep, unfathomable eyes andthe murderous impulse.

  It was just after noon. Shanklin, as chief-king, had also set up for apriest. In the center of the village clearing, he stood holding a sullenand pale Varina Pemberton by one wrist, while he recited what garblingsof the marriage service he remembered. His subordinates were gathered toleer and applaud. They did not know of the rush until it was all overthem.

  Parr smote one on the side of the neck and spilled him in a squallingheap. Sadau, Ling and Rupert overwhelmed the rest of the audience, whileParr charged on into Shanklin. His impact interrupted the words "I takethis woman" just after the appropriate syllable "wo". As once beforewith Ling, Parr dusted Shanklin's jaw with his fist, followed with adigging jab to the solar plexus, and swung again to the jaw. Shanklintottered, reeled back, and Parr closed in again.

  "I always knew I could lick you," Parr taunted. "Come on and fight,bridegroom.
I'll raise a knot on your head the size of a wedding cake."

  Shanklin retreated another two paces, and from his girdle snatched theMartian knife. He opened its longest blade with a snap. Varina Pembertonscreamed. Then, above the commotion of battle, sounded the flat smack ofan electro-automatic. Shanklin swore murderously, dropping his knife.His knuckles were torn open by the grazing pellet.

  And Parr, glancing in the direction whence the shot came, realized