Tiny suns set in rare metals, crystals of fire
that mocked Terra's diamonds and pearls as
lusterless pebbles and pale glass, the ancient
treasure left behind the same time-worn
trail of sudden blood and stiffening corpses!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
For a long minute the big man did not speak, rocking gently on hisheels, hands clasped behind his broad back. The dim glow of the atomicsin the corridor cast shadowy bars of gold and sable across his coldface, picked glints of steel and silver from his heavy gunbelt andsaffron uniform. The only sound was the gentle tinkle of leg-ironsas the prisoner lounging on the cell-bench idly swung his crossedleg, returning the heavier man's reptilian stare with a detached,infuriating coolness.
It moved him to break his silent regard. The thick voice rasped in thedim-lit cell.
"You know why I am here, Kurland?"
The black-bearded outlaw shrugged, a glitter of white teeth splinteringhis calm stare.
"Were you other than Gion, Marward of Jupiter, I should know. As itis, I do not."
Gion's hard lips smiled briefly at the iron compliment.
"I rate you higher than you think, Kurland. I should have come fartherstill to see you hanged at dawn."
The outlaw shrugged. "I might say the same, had I had your luck."
The big man nodded, his eyes never leaving Kurland. The sharp browsover his enormous eyes lay straight and commanding, and there werelines about his tight mouth Kurland had never seen. Slowly, softly,Gion went on, rocking easily on his booted heels.
"Suppose, came dawn, you did not hang, Kurland?"
The swinging leg halted, the big body tensed in its chains. Then slowlyKurland eased back against the cold stone wall, a thin, mocking smileplaying across his face.
"You should know me better, Gion. I am not for sale, even at such aprice. Nor my comrades."
Cold pride flashed in Marward's eyes. "I buy no man's loyalty," heretorted. "Were yours for sale, I should not be here, nor would you. Ioffer a supposition, nothing more."
Kurland rose, a powerful, black-clad figure imposing even in tornuniform and clinking chains. He stared fiercely at the heavy sub-rulerof the outer Jovian plains, the iron-souled tyrant who had broken andsuborned Earthly sway until much of the giant planet lay supine andtrembling before him.
"You have not come to taunt me, nor play with suppositions, Marward.Why not be plain?"
"I shall be plain enough," promised Gion, dropping a hand upon theheavy butt of his silver-mounted glare-pistol. Kurland's teeth flashedin the gloom. There was magic still in his flaming name.
"You know the Jewels of Orion?"
"I have heard of them."
"They have vanished."
The outlaw shrugged, half a laugh breaking through his beard. "Myregrets, Marward. I had no hand in it."
Gion bared his teeth wolfishly. "I did."
Bland astonishment swept Kurland's face. Then, slowly, a grim smilethrust aside his wonder.
"Forgive my start, Marward. You have stolen so much."
Fiercely Gion brushed aside the cold insult. He stepped back, his facein shadow. The prison cell was electric with his vibrant hate. "Youwill have it, will you, Kurland? I came to make an offer."
"Go on," said the outlaw, immobile.
"I am not loved, here on Jupiter," said Gion. "I usurp the authority ofgreater men. I intrigue, I plot. I conquer and steal, if you will. Itrequires gold. A fortune." He paused, watching the outlaw. "An agenton Venus flashed me word that the Je