The Sex Life of the Gods
The wrecked scout ship could be covered up, but the loss of Detective
Lieutenant Brice and Nicholas Danson would not go unnoticed, especially
when Beth Danson spilled her story about the strange events that had
gone on at the cabin. Of course, Terra would never be able to
corroborate what she had experienced - yet they were on the verge of
space travel, and they were a war-like race. They could cause all sorts
of unnecessary trouble in space.
It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even if
it meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it.
He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for Doctor
Zuloe. The man wasn't hard to find; he was the only person in the small
anteroom.
"What can I do for you, Firstspacer?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Zuloe."
"I'm Lors."
For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-aged
man with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set of
features. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study of
Lors' face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair.
"Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?"
"I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I'm to blame for having
brought Brice up here."
"You know him?" Doctor Zuloe's eyes narrowed visibly.
"Yes. At least, I think I know him better than you people do."
"Then perhaps you can help us with him. When he arrived here, he was in
a state of acute shock in which he was almost violent. He kept screaming
about witchcraft and all sorts of Terran nonsense. We gave him as much
treatment as we could, under the circumstances, and he stopped acting
like a wildman."
"How is he now?"
"Numb. He's sitting on his bed, in a special room, and staring at the
wall."
"He isn't out of his mind, is he?"
"I don't think so, but he has had a tremendous strain and shock. It'll
take awhile. He isn't of the same structure as the other one."
Lors sighed wearily. "I'll see what I can do with him. Commander Zark
has plans for him."
"Another switch?" The doctor made no attempt to cover his disgust over
the idea.
"An accident, I believe."
"From bad to worse, huh?"
Lors didn't answer him. He merely made a motion with his hand for the
doctor to show him where the Terran was being kept. Doctor Zuloe nodded
and pointed toward a door at the far end of the ward. A blue uniformed
spacer stood guard before the door. He clicked his heels as Lors
approached.
"I want to see the Terran, spacer," Lors said briskly.
The spacer nodded and opened the door. Lors stepped inside and listened
to the lock click into place behind him.
Nolan Brice was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the wall, but
Lors did not believe that he was in a state of shock. He had the knotted
jaws of a man who is firmly determined to betray nothing to his captors.
He sat there with his fingers laced together, hanging between his knees,
his clothing rumpled and hanging loose from his broad frame.
"Nolan?"
Brice swung his eyes to the Firstspacer, the muscles of his jaws
working. "I'll kill you," he said, with a horrible softness in his
voice.
"Nolan. Listen, I'm here to help you."
"You've done a lot of helping, spaceman. I know what you want. Earth."
"Don't be silly. I want to help you and Danson to get back home..."
"I don't need you!"
"Shut up and listen. I'm risking my neck coming in here to help you, so
you damned well better follow orders. In a minute I'm going to call that
guard in here, and we're going to borrow his uniform. Then we'll head
for a scout ship and get you to hell back to Terra. Will that suit
you?"
"This is some kind of trick..."
"Do you want to go, or stay here," Lors demanded coldly. "I don't have
time to lecture you. I'll leave that up to your friend, Danson."
"Play it your way, spaceman," Brice said tightly.
"Okay." Lors stood up and spoke through the door to the guard, pulling
his auto-pistol from the holster. "Come in here, spacer!"
The guard shoved the door open and came in. "What is it, Firstspacer?"
"Him."
The guard swung to look at Brice and, as his head turned, Lors brought
the butt of the pistol down hard. The guard grunted and dropped heavily
to the floor, his auto-rifle falling with a loud thud. By now, if
everything was working out right, Danson should be on his way to the
scout ship hangar. Lors looked at Brice.
"Come on, Nolan. Get into these clothes!"
Between the two of them, the stripping of the guard was fast. In a few
minutes, Brice was wearing the spacer's blue uniform and was buckling
the black cartridge belt about his waist. He gripped the auto-rifle in
his hands eagerly and looked at Lors.
"Hand me his helmet," he said.
Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors saw
the punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in his
defense. Nolan Brice's fist smashed into the side of his face with
stunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed.
"Thanks," he heard Brice snarl.
Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the force of the punch
making his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the sound
of Brice's running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damned
fool, he thought. You can't get off this ship alone!
He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lors dashed down the hallway into the main corridor, passing the limp
body of the doctor and the young spacer who had been on duty at the
desk. Apparently, Brice had come into the place fast, swinging the
auto-rifle like it was a club. Both of the men were unconscious, but
there was no blood in sight.
"Crazy fool," Lors said aloud and slammed the door as he dashed into the
corridor.
Brice was running blindly.
"Brice! Stop!" Lors fired the auto-pistol over the fleeing man's head.
Brice stopped and whirled, dropping to one knee to bring up the rifle he
carried. He snapped off a fast burst and Lors dived across the polished
corridor to hug the wall. He landed, rolling, his pistol zeroed on the
Terran, but he couldn't bring himself to shoot.
Nolan Brice, however, had no scruples about shooting at Lors. He fired
continually, cursing as the bullets missed. Beyond the Terran, Lors
could see four other spacers running down the hall toward Brice. One of
them fired.
Brice whirled, spotted them, and brought up his rifle. The gunfire, in
the emptiness of the hall, sounded like a machinegun being fired in a
cave. Lors saw a spacer slam backwards, rolling crazily from the impact
of the bullet that Brice had triggered.
The Terran was hunched over in a crouch, like an old gunfighter,
shooting from the hip. Suddenly he jerked to his feet, spun crazily in
two directions at once and fell flopping to the floor. The auto-rifle
clattered as he let it fall.
Lors came slowly to his feet and shoved his gun back into its holster;
then he walked over to where Brice was staring at the ceiling through
unseeing eyes. It was a damned shame, but he had brought it on himself.
One of the spacers looked at him.
"Are you all right, sir?"
Lors nodded.
"Is he a spacer?" One of them asked, looking at the uniform.
"An escaped Terran," Lors said, then he remembered that Danson was
probably down at the hangar. "Don't jettison this body until I give you
the orders. Put it in quick freeze."
"Yes, sir," the spacer said.
But Lors was already on his way down the corridor. He could do nothing
for Brice now ... perhaps it had even been a good thing. The shooting
would have drawn most of the high ranking officers toward the end of the
ship, leaving a comparatively clear space between him and the hangar. He
hoped that the doctor would stay out for awhile.
As the Terrans said, they weren't out of the woods yet.
He found a vacant elevator and took it down to the hangar level. As the
door whirled open, he raced into the corridor, nearly upsetting a
startled spacer with his rush. He had no idea how long it would be until
it was discovered that Narvi had let Danson out, but he knew the escape
would not remain unnoticed for long.
He burst into the repair bin area of the hangar and jerked his head
toward the tubes. When a ship came into the side of the mother-ship,
they entered through a large port which made it easier for the pilot of
the scout ship. But to leave the starship, one had to install the
smaller craft into one of the many blast tubes on either side of the big
hangar.
He looked frantically about the area for Danson and spotted the Terran
standing unobtrusively near the pilot entry to one of the blast tubes.
Nick Danson, garbed in the blue and yellow of a Firstspacer, was a twin
for Lors. He hoped anxiously that none of the repairmen would notice the
trick.
Lors grabbed a mechanic by the arm. "Spacer! I'm on an urgent mission.
Where can I get a ship?"
The young spacer looked thoughtful for a moment, then pointed toward a
tube on the other side of the hangar. "In that tube, sir."
"Thank you."
"I'll help you rig it," the spacer said.
"Never mind, I'll do it myself. Go about your work."
"Yes, sir." The spacer turned away, a puzzled look on his face.
Lors motioned to Danson and headed toward the tube door. He could well
understand the spacer's bewilderment. While it was possible for the
pilot of a scout ship to launch his own craft, it was highly impractical
and not normally done. He hoped it didn't arouse their suspicions. He
yanked the door open and looked over his shoulder. Danson was almost to
him, running hard. Heads turned as the mechanics watched him run.
"Hurry!"
Danson reached the door and Lors shoved him into the tube.
"Where's Brice," Danson demanded.
Lors slammed the door and whirled the wheel of the spider lock. He
didn't answer. He was too concerned with getting the door secured.
Through the port in the heavy door, he could see spacers gesturing and
pointing at the blast tube.
"Where's Brice!"
"He's dead." Lors secured the wheel and noticed that a Vice-commander
had come into the hangar area. "Get in the ship! Fast!"
Outside, the hanger workers were milling about like a fleet of bees.
Lors turned to Danson and saw him standing beside the ship, his eyes
wild with disbelief.
"Get in the ship!"
"Not without Brice!"
Lors exploded in his native tongue. "Get in that ship, Danson! How long
do you think it'll be before they come in the emergency door?"
Nick's eyes were wide and violent. "I'm not leaving Nolan up here,
goddammit! Get out of my way!"
Lors shoved the Terran as he came in and watched him backpedal into the
side of the scout ship. Danson muttered a curse and dived at the
spaceman. Lors had no choice in the matter. He swung hard, Terran style,
in what had come to be known as the "ole one-two." His left fist dug
into Nick's stomach and, when he bent with the blow, Lors brought his
right fist up from the floor and felt it smash into Danson's face. The
Terran slammed backwards against the ship, his head striking the metal
sides. He crumpled into an unconscious blue mound beside the ship.
He wasted no time. Casting a glance at the lifeless panel that was the
emergency door at the far end of the blast tube, he grabbed Danson under
the arms and hauled him up the short ladder to the cockpit of the ship.
If they came through that emergency door, he was finished. He could not
push the button in the wall that would open the huge port in the side of
the starship.
They would die if he did!
It would be one thing, to free an alien, but to intentionally kill
members of his own race would mean disaster. Thirty seconds after he
pushed the wall button, would open the port at the end of the tube and
send the void of space rushing into the chamber. Anyone who did not have