Planet of Death Page 7

“Do you want to come to my cabin for a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”

  “All right,” Crawford said. He carefully put away what he was writing so nobody could see it. Then he followed the beefy-looking doctor through the ship to Fernandez’s cabin. They went inside. Fernandez clicked the lock closed.

  “What’s this all about?” Crawford asked.

  Fernandez held up one fleshy hand. “Have patience, friend. All in good time.” He went to his closet and took out a bottle containing a sparkling liquid. He handed it to Crawford. “Have a drink, friend.”

  Crawford’s eyes opened wide. This was Vellirani whiskey, one of the finest drinks in the universe. He hadn’t drunk much, because he wanted his aim to be good when he hunted yangs. But he had come to like this stuff a lot. And he had missed it since leaving Velliran.

  “I didn’t think liquor was allowed on the ship,” Crawford said.

  Fernandez laughed. He said in his deep rumbling voice, “I put it down as medicine. Nobody can argue with me. Have all you want.”

  Crawford put the bottle to his lips and helped himself.

  Then he said, “You didn’t invite me here just to drink up your liquor, Doc. What’s on your mind?”

  “Captain Hendrin’s on my mind.”

  “Eh?”

  Fernandez said, “Grover’s death this afternoon could have been avoided — if we had left this planet yesterday. I don’t know how you feel about this, Markham. You’re new to the team. The rest of us have been together a long time, and Grover’s death hurt us. It hurt us hard. So we’ve got a plan. You want me to tell you about it, or should I just stop talking right here?”

  “Go on talking,” Crawford said.

  “Okay. You know about the replacement clause in the rules? We can replace the Captain with another member of the crew, if we feel the Captain isn’t capable of commanding.”

  “Of course,” said Crawford. “That’s true on any ship. If the top officer isn’t fit to run things, he’s got to be replaced.”

  “Well, then,” Fernandez went on. “Some of us — mainly Bartlett, Murray, and me — have decided that we ought to leave this planet. It’s for our own good. We aren’t equipped for a world like this. It’s suicide to keep wandering around on foot in that jungle. This ought to be a three-ship job, with armored tanks and heavy guns. You were the first one of us to be attacked by native wildlife. You know what it’s like.”

  “You bet I do.”

  “In my position as doctor,” Fernandez said, “I can declare that Hendrin is temporarily insane. It’s legal for me to do that. We’ll remove him from command and put him down below, where he can’t interfere with things. And we’ll get off World Seven. But I won’t do it unless a majority of the men support me. That’s why I have to know where you stand, Markham.”

  Crawford frowned. “It sounds like mutiny to me.”

  “No. Legal removal of a temporarily insane commander is not mutiny. And we’ll all die if we stay here much longer. Well, Markham? Are you with us?”

  Grinning, Crawford said, “Of course I am! I like staying alive just as much as the next man!”

  CHAPTER 10

  PLANET OF DEATH

  The next day, Crawford heard nothing further about Fernandez’s plan. Maybe Fernandez was waiting until he had everyone on his side, Crawford thought.

  So far as he knew, four of the surviving men were in favor of replacing Hendrin: Fernandez, Murray, Bartlett, and himself. Only one man — Lazenby — seemed willing and eager to remain on World Seven for more exploration. The other three — Chung, Evans, and Dorwin — hadn’t said anything either way, at least not to Crawford. But he had a good idea which side they would join. None of them seemed likely to want to remain on a suicide world like this.

  All day long Crawford expected Fernandez to make his move. Nothing happened, though. Captain Hendrin was still in charge.

  The day after that, the field pairings were shifted around. Instead of going out into the jungle with Lazenby, Crawford went out this time with Chung.

  It seemed that Chung wanted to get a close look at the rock formations of the jungle. He asked to be teamed with someone who could cope with the jungle’s dangers. Captain Hendrin teamed him with Crawford. Lazenby was shifted over to work with Bartlett. Murray took Dorwin, the chemist, up in the helicopter with him in place of Chung.

  The death of Grover had upset the balance of the teams. Before, there had been four two-man teams out and two men back guarding the ship. But now three two-men teams went out to explore, and three men stayed back at the ship.

  Chung and Crawford went east from the ship. Lazenby and Bartlett took another path not far away. The jungle was so thick that neither team could see the other.

  Crawford felt uneasy in the jungle without Lazenby. Chung wasn’t very talkative. The geologist was a round-faced man with yellow skin and black hair. As they moved through the jungle, Chung collected samples of rocks and soil. Crawford tried to pretend that he too was doing scientific work. Without Lazenby to help him, though, he didn’t get much done. He wondered if Chung would guess the truth about him.

  About half an hour after they set out, Crawford heard a human voice yelling somewhere to his left.

  Chung was bent over, prying a shining white stone from the ground. Crawford said, “Did you hear that?”

  “Sorry, no. What was it? An animal cry?”

  “An animal? Nope! That sounded like Lazenby, and I’ll bet he’s in trouble!”

  Just then another cry came from the same place. “Come on,” Crawford said. “Let’s see what’s going on!”

  He swung around and began to head in the direction of the sounds. In this part of the jungle thick vines hung down everywhere, slowing him down. He had to slash his way with his knife. Chung followed him.

  “Lazenby!” Crawford yelled. “Lazenby, are you all right? Where are you?”

  After a moment came Bartlett’s voice, quite close. “It’s all right. We don’t need your help.”

  Crawford slowed up. He caught sight of Bartlett about twenty feet away, standing near some giant ferns. Crawford made his way over to the other man, with Chung right behind.

  Bartlett was looking down at the ground. Lazenby was lying there.

  The little biologist was sprawled out on his stomach. He looked dead. Crawford felt chilled with sadness. Lazenby was the one who was most deeply interested in searching the jungle for its secrets. And now — had some jungle creature killed him — ?

  “What happened?” Crawford asked.

  Bartlett looked pale and nervous. He said, “I don’t know. Something sprang at him from the tree up there, and he fell over. I couldn’t see what it was. Look, why don’t you and Chung run back to the ship and tell the others? I’ll watch the body.”

  “Wait a minute,” Crawford said. “Wait a minute!”

  He pointed to Lazenby’s body. The “corpse” was trying to sit up! Lazenby moved his legs, then his arms. He succeeded in turning himself over. He stared at Crawford with eyes that were becoming glassy.

  There was a deep, bloody knife wound in Lazenby’s chest.

  “Bartlett’s lying!” Lazenby whispered hoarsely. “It wasn’t any animal that got me. It was Bartlett. He knifed me … the way he did the other one … because I was going to tell you …”

  “Tell me what?” Crawford asked eagerly.

  But it was too late. Lazenby slumped over. He clutched at the wounded place. His face was filled with agony. The effort of speaking had been too much for him. Lazenby fell forward.

  “He’s dead,” Crawford said. He balled his hands into fists. His closest friend in the expedition was dead — and Bartlett had murdered him!

  Bartlett moved his foot. Now Crawford saw the knife that Bartlett had been hiding beneath his boot all this time. It was a long, wicked, blood-smeared knife. It was the knife that had killed Lazenby.

  Crawford had seen a knife like that before. It looked just like the knife that the Vellirani had been kille
d with! The knife that had been found in his own hand!

  Quickly Bartlett bent down and grabbed the knife. He gripped it tightly. Chung started to back away into the jungle, frightened. Bartlett beckoned to him.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said. “Stay right where you are, Chung!”

  Crawford said, “What is all this, Bartlett? You killed Lazenby, didn’t you?”

  “Sure I did. And you had to be right nearby, of course. You had to get here before he died. Before I had a chance to dump his body in that pool of acid. You had to hear everything. Well, now I’ll just have to kill you too. And Chung.”

  He moved forward with the knife.

  Crawford didn’t dare go for his gun. Bartlett was too close to him. One false move, and that knife would be deep in his ribs. As for Chung, he was frozen with fear. He couldn’t move at all.

  Bartlett lifted the knife toward Crawford’s chest.

  “Wait a second,” Crawford said. “Before you murder me — at least let me die knowing what this is all about. Why did you kill Lazenby?”

  “Because he knew too much,” Bartlett snapped. “And he was going to tell you.”

  “About the murder on Velliran?”

  “Yes.”

  “You killed that Vellirani, didn’t you?” Crawford asked.

  Bartlett nodded. “Sure I killed the blueback. And I pinned the rap on you.”

  “Why? Who’d you have to kill?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Bartlett said. “I never meant to. It was all a mixup. I was trying to do some research, while I was on Velliran. I picked out a native and questioned him. Asked him a few questions that he didn’t like. He got excited. We had an argument. I — hit him a few times. He said he’d get me arrested. He’d report me. I knew he could get me in all kinds of trouble.”

  “So you killed him?” Crawford asked.

  “I told you, I didn’t mean to. But he got so excited. He ran out into the street. I followed him. And I stabbed him.”

  Crawford shook his head, puzzled. “How come I got arrested, then?”

  Bartlett laughed. “I was thinking fast. You know all the strange drugs the Vellirani have?”

  “Yes,” Crawford said. His friend Jeff Hallam was studying them.

  “Well, one of them is a kind of instant knockout drug. It blanks you out for a minute or so. You don’t fall down, or anything. You just don’t know what’s happening to you. Lazenby got a few samples of that drug while we were on Velliran. He was studying it. He told some of us about it, and I went out and got some too. I happened to have it on me when I killed the blueback.”

  Crawford nodded. “So you gave me the drug and stuck the murder knife in my hand?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But what about the witnesses? Five Vellirani, standing right there! They must have seen —”

  “I gave them the drug too,” said Bartlett. “All you have to do is hold the container under somebody’s nose and give him a quick sniff. I drugged all five of them. They didn’t know what was going on. When they woke up again a minute later, they were so confused they couldn’t say what happened.”

  So Lazenby was right. The killer had been on this ship. Bartlett was the murderer! Bartlett had framed him! And he had come all the way to this fantastic planet to find it out!

  He said, “Why me? Who’d you give me the knife?”

  “You happened to be there,” Bartlett said. “Right on the spot. It didn’t have to be you. It just happened that you were the one who came along. I never figured I’d see you again. And then of course you showed up at the ship, claiming to be Paul Markham! I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw you. But I figured, as long as you didn’t know what had happened to you, it didn’t matter.”

  Lazenby had finally found out who the real killer was. Lazenby had been going to tell him the truth.

  But Lazenby was dead.

  “Now you know the story,” Bartlett said. “And now you’re going to die, you and Chung. I’ll feed you two and Lazenby to the acid pit. There won’t be anything left of you. And then I’ll go back and tell the sad story to the others of how you fell in the pit by accident and were killed.”

  Bartlett gripped the knife tightly. And then he leaped.

  The knife was heading straight for Crawford’s chest.

  Crawford had the quick hands of a man who has lived with danger all his life. As the knife drew near, he slapped Bartlett’s wrist. That knocked the deadly blade away from Crawford’s body.

  A moment later Crawford grabbed Bartlett’s arm and twisted the wrist. Bartlett yelped. The knife dropped to the ground. Crawford kicked it out of sight into the underbrush.

  “Get help, Chung!” he yelled. “He’s gone crazy!” Chung broke out of his freeze. He turned and rushed away toward the ship.

  Bartlett no longer had his knife, but he was still dangerous. He was almost as tall as Crawford, and just as strong. His fist slammed into Crawford’s middle. Crawford grunted in pain. He went stumbling back against a tree. Bartlett rushed forward. There was no room for Crawford to draw a gun.

  Bartlett hit Crawford again and again. Crawford was dizzy and had to work hard to keep from going down. But he kept his balance. He got his hands up and gave Bartlett a hard push. Bartlett stepped back a foot. Crawford blocked Bartlett’s punches and brought his own fist across in a solid blow to Bartlett’s chin. Bartlett was stunned for a moment. Crawford hit him again, hard, in the belly.

  Bartlett went staggering back. Crawford hit him again. He wanted to knock Bartlett out and bring him back to the ship. He wanted to take Bartlett back to Velliran and make him confess his crime.

  In that way, Crawford could clear his own name.

  But Bartlett was not going to go back to Velliran.

  He was off balance as Crawford hit him. He started to fall. Crawford hit him in the chin again. To keep from falling, Bartlett stepped backward, his arms whirling through the air. He took three clumsy steps.

  And the ground gave way underneath him.

  What looked like solid ground opened. It was just a pit covered with branches and leaves. Bartlett fell until only his shoulders and head could be seen.

  Crawford stared into the pit. He saw something yellow and slimy in there. Fifty shiny thin transparent arms reached up to twine around Bartlett. They were pulling him down. Within seconds he was below the surface of the yellow slime. A few bubbles appeared.

  Then all was still.

  Crawford felt sick. He saw how the trap worked. The yellow liquid was sticky and tough on top. Leaves and branches falling from the trees stuck to it. They turned the top of the pit into an innocent-looking patch of ground. But when anything heavy stepped on that patch of ground, the thing in the pit got a meal.

  Even now a few leaves were landing on the sticky stuff. In another hour the trap would be as good as new.

  Crawford took one last look and turned away. Bartlett was gone. Crawford didn’t exactly feel sorry about that. He was still sure he could clear his name, even without Bartlett’s confession. Now that he knew what had happened, he could hunt up some real witnesses on Velliran — such as the man who had sold the drug to Bartlett.

  He picked up Lazenby’s body. A couple of small scavengers had already started to feed on it. Crawford chased them away. Sadly he headed back to the ship to announce that World Seven had claimed two more human beings.

  As he neared the ship, Crawford heard the high whining sound of a blast-gun. He moved faster. When he stepped into the clearing, he saw Chung lying dead near the edge of the jungle. His chest had been burned open by the blast-gun.

  A little closer to the ship was another dead body — Dorwin. He had been shot with a blast-gun too.

  Crawford heard shouts and the sound of fighting coming from the ship.

  What was going on? Had the take-over begun? Was Captain Hendrin shooting at the men who were trying to take away his power?

  Suddenly Crawford heard Fernandez’ deep voice coming from within the shi
p: “Markham! Bartlett! Hurry up!”

  So the take-over had started!

  Crawford put Lazenby’s body down and ran toward the ship. He counted up the score as he ran. Bartlett, Lazenby, Chung, Dorwin, and Grover were dead — five men. He was the sixth. That left four: Captain Hendrin in the ship, holding off Fernandez, Evans, and Murray.

  The hatch was open. Crawford leaped into the ship. Just within the airlock he saw the dead body of Murray. A little deeper in the ship was Fernandez — alive.

  “Markham!” Fernandez called. “Where’s Bartlett?”

  “He’s dead. So is Lazenby. What’s going on?”

  “We sprang the uprising on Hendrin. He’s holed up in his cabin, armed with a blaster. Just me and Evans left here. You have a gun.”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on up here. But be careful.”

  Crawford climbed up the catwalk of the ship, gun in hand. By the time he had reached the place where Fernandez was, the doctor was no longer there. Crawford stared ahead into the darkness. He heard the sounds of blast-gun shots.

  Then Evans came staggering down the corridor. He had been shot in the middle. He died practically at Crawford’s feet. Seven corpses for World Seven now, Crawford thought.

  “Fernandez?” he called. “Where are you?”

  No answer. Crawford made his way toward Captain Hendrin’s cabin. When he got there, he found the door had been blasted open. Hendrin had dropped his gun. Perhaps it was out of ammunition. Fernandez was wrestling with him. The two men were down on the floor of the cabin, slugging it out with bare fists.

  “Help me, Markham!” Fernandez shouted. “He isn’t armed. Let’s get him tied up.”

  The Captain looked like a wild man. Crawford entered the cabin and crept around behind Hendrin. He wrapped his arm around the Captain’s throat.

  “Hold still and you won’t get hurt, Captain,” Crawford said. “I’ve got a blast-gun here.”

  Hendrin didn’t move. But suddenly, before Crawford knew what was happening, Fernandez grabbed the gun from his hand and fired it at the Captain. Hendrin was killed instantly. Crawford let go of him, jumped forward, and clamped Fernandez’s wrist before he could shoot again.