“First, of course, they will annex the richest territories on the planet with their raw materials, and later import these materials to Earth. Mind you, this will not take place at once – but make no mistake, it will come, sooner or later, as inevitably as tomorrow.”
“Once the trip has been successfully made the inventors will not rest until they have found a way of carrying freight between the two worlds at economic rates. It may take them ten years to do it, it may take them a century, but sooner or later, do it they will.”
“And that, gentlemen, will mean the end of Metallic Industries.”
There was a pause during which no one spoke. Drakin looked around to see the effect of his words.
“Gratz has told me,” he continued, “that I.C. is convinced their ship is capable of the journey. Is that not so?”
“It is,” I confirmed. “They have complete faith in her and so have I.”
Old John Ball's voice rose again. “If this is not nonsense why have we let it go on? Why has I.C. been allowed to build this vessel without interference? What is the good of having a man there who does nothing to hinder the work?” He glared at me.
“You mean?” inquired Drakin.
“I mean that this man has been excellently placed to work sabotage. Why has there been none? It should be simple enough to cause an ‘accidental’ explosion.”
“Very simple,” agreed Drakin. “So simple that I.C. would jump to it at once. Even if there were a genuine accident they would suspect that we had a hand in it. Then we should have our hands full with an expensive vendetta. Furthermore I.C. would recommence building with additional precautions and it is possible that we might not have a man on the inside.
“I take it that we are all agreed that the Nuntia must fail – but it must not be a suspicious failure. The Nuntia must sail. It is up to us to see that she does not return.”
“Gratz has been offered a position aboard her but has not as yet returned a definite answer. My suggestion is that he should accept the offer with the object of seeing that the Nuntia is lost. The details I can leave to him.”
Drakin went on to elaborate his plan. Directly the Nuntia had left, Metallic Industries would begin work on a space-flyer of their own. As soon as possible she would follow Venus. Meanwhile I, having settled the Nuntia, would await her arrival.
In the unlikely event of the planet being found inhabited I was to get on good terms with the natives and endeavour to influence them against I.C. When the second ship arrived I was to be taken off and brought back to Earth while a party of M.I. men remained to survey and annex territory. On my return I would be sufficiently rewarded to make me rich for life.
“You will be doing a great work for us,” he concluded, “and we do not forget our servants.” He looked me straight in the eye as he said it. “Will you do it?”
I hesitated. “I would like a day or so to think it over.”
“Of course. That is only natural. But there is not a great deal of time to spare – will you let me have your answer by this time tomorrow? It will give us a chance to make other arrangements in case you refuse.”
“Yes, sir. That will do.”
With that I left them. As to their further deliberations I can only guess. And my guesses are bitter.
Beyond an idea that it would appear better not to be too eager, I had no reason for putting off my answer. Already I had determined to go – and to wreck the Nuntia. I had waited many years to get in a blow at I.C., and now was my chance.
Ever since the death of my parents I had set my mind on injuring them. Not only had they killed my father by their negligence in the matter of unshielded rays but they had stolen his inventions and robbed him by prolonged litigation.
Enough, you say, to make a man swear revenge. But it was not all. I had to see my mother die in poverty when a few hundred dollars would have saved her life – and all our dollars had gone in fighting I.C.
After that I changed my name, got a job with I.C. and worked – hard. Mine was not going to be a paltry revenge. I was going to work up until I was in a responsible position, one from which my blows could really hurt them.
I had allied myself with Metallic Industries because this was their biggest rival and now I was given a chance to wreck the ship to which they had pinned such faith. I could have done that alone but it would have meant exile for the rest of my life. Now M.I. had smoothed the way by offering me passage home.
Yes, I was going to do it. The Nuntia should make one trip and no more.
But I'd like to know just what it was they decided in the Board Room after I left.
MURDERS IN SPACE
The Nuntia was two weeks in space but nobody was very happy about it.
In those two weeks the party of nine on board had been reduced to seven and the reduction had not had a good effect upon our morale. As far as I could tell there was no tangible suspicion afoot – just a feeling that all was not well.
Among the hands it was rumoured that Hammer and Drafte had gone crazy before they killed themselves. But why had they gone crazy? That was what worried the rest. Was it something to do with conditions in space – some subtle, unsuspected emanation? Would we all go crazy?
When you are cut off from your kind you get strange fancies. Imagination gets overheated and you become too credulous. That is what used to happen to sailors on their long voyages in the old windjammers. They began to attribute the deaths to uncanny malign influences in a way which would never have occurred to them on Earth. It gave me some amusement at the time.
First had been Dale Hammer, the second navigator. Young, a bit wild at home, perhaps, but brilliant at his job, he was proud and overjoyed that he had been chosen for this voyage. He had gone off duty in a cheerful frame of mind.
A few hours later he had been found dead in his bunk with a bottle of tablets by his side: one had to take something to ensure sleep out here. Everyone agreed that it was understandable, though tragic, that he had taken an overdose by mistake.
It was after Ross Drafte's disappearance that the superstitions began to cluster. He was an odd man with an expression which was frequently taciturn and eyes in which burned feverish enthusiams. A failure might have driven him desperate but under the circumstances, he had everything to live for.
He was the designer of the Nuntia and she, the dream of his life, was endorsing his every expectation. When we returned to make public the story of our voyage his would be the name to be glorified through millions of radios, his the face which would stare from hundreds of newspapers – the conqueror of gravitation. And he had disappeared.
The air-pressure graph showed a slight dip at one point and Drafte was.no more.
I saw no trace of suspicion. No one had even looked askance at me nor, so far as I knew, at anyone else. No one had the least inkling that any one man aboard the ship could tell them exactly how those two men had died. There was just the conviction that something queer was afoot.
And now it was time for another.
Ward Govern, the chief engineer, was in the chartroom, talking with Captain Tanner. The rest were busy elsewhere. I slipped into Govern's cabin unobserved. His pistol I found in the drawer where he always kept it and I slipped it into my pocket. Then I crossed to the other wall and opened the ventilator which communicated with the passage. Finally, after carefully assuring myself that no one was in sight, I left, closing the door behind me.