Lester del Rey - The Mysterious Planet

Abruptly, there was no need. The man took a final deep breath and moved over to the sidewalk. He swung off down the park, making a faint whistling sound between his teeth, leaving the place to Bob.

Half of the hour of darkness was already gone. Bob moved out a bit where he could explore the sky above, looking for a tiny streak of blue that would be a rocket exhaust, but there was nothing but a speckle of stars shining through streaks in the clouds. Of course, the rocket might be behind one of the clouds, out of his view.

But it was getting late now, and he had to face other unpleasant alternatives. It was more probable that his father had been caught in the warning system, and that one of the super-speed missiles had gone shooting up to intercept him, or that he had been spotted coming down and was even now being carted off toward their prison. To have gotten through the net once and away again was nearly unbelievable luck; a second time would be a minor miracle.

Thule must have picked up the radio signal, anyhow. And Bob had no idea of how clever they were at decoding. If the language machine worked both ways, and there was no reason he could see why it shouldn’t, then they would have had time to strip the minds of their captives of all the information needed to interpret it.

Jakes’s words kept coming back to him. When he looked at them honestly, he had to admit that the other’s explanation of it as a simple trap was better than any other reasoning. And in that case, they had already captured Commander Griffith, and they must be waiting patiently, enjoying their joke on Bob.

But there were still ten minutes left of darkness, and it would be stupid to quit at this stage.

With the heat and light in the air turned down, it had grown cold, and Bob’s teeth began to chatter faintly as he strained to see up through the clouds. He should have worn something warmer, but he hadn’t been out in Thule’s brief night before.

There was the sound of quiet steps in the distance behind him, and he drew deeper into the shadows. Normally, the people of Thule preferred to stay indoors during the darkness, but tonight seemed to be jinxed.

As he listened, there were still more steps along the sidewalk to his right.

Suspicion was stronger in him now, but he tried to play the game out by pulling himself up to the bole of the tree. His fingers explored above him for a handhold he could use in climbing up it, but the branches were just too high here. He couldn’t jump for it without attracting their attention.

It was growing lighter again, moving from night to dawn in a few minutes. He huddled against the tree, unable to see through the drooping branches, except for a few inches near the ground. He could make out feet moving on the sidewalk, and saw another pair cross the grass—probably the man whom he had heard behind him. The two met and stopped, and he could hear their soft voices, too low for the words to be clear.

They stood there for a minute or so, until the full light of day was restored, and the last faint hope that Bob’s father might still land had vanished. He edged around silently, putting the trunk of the tree between himself and the feet, watching to make sure he didn’t step on a twig that would give him away. The voices went on, revealing that they were still there.

Bob debated trying to sneak away, keeping the tree between them. He could also just saunter out casually, as if he had been coming across the grass and had simply passed under the tree. If they hadn’t been watching too closely, this move might not catch their attention. Certainly he couldn’t simply stand there all day. Valin must have missed him by now, and there was probably a hue and cry going up for him right at the moment.

Then his puzzle was settled from outside.

“Bob Griffith,” a voice called out quietly. “Bob, you might as well come out from behind that tree.”

It was Valin’s voice. Bob grunted in angry self-disgust and futility and bent down to come out.

Waiting for him on the sidewalk were Ondu and Valin, both carrying the little hand guns at their hips.

THE TWO THULIANS FELL in beside him quietly, one on each side. They didn’t draw their weapons, but it was unnecessary; as they had told him the first day, there was no place on Thule to hide. The whole planet was his prison.

Valin chuckled softly. “That was a nice trick you boys worked up with the music,” he said quietly. “I still don’t see how you got your parts down so neatly.”

“It grew out of the first hearing,” Bob told him. “I guess it didn’t work very well, since you managed to trail me.”

“It worked well enough for a few minutes. You just couldn’t know that we had a button on your jacket that broadcast where you were any time we put a tracer on it. Would you rather walk or ride?”

It was obviously all going to be very polite. Bob’s lips curled angrily, and then he shrugged.

Anger wouldn’t get him anywhere now. “Depends on where we’re going,” he answered.

Ondu looked at Valin in surprise. “You know, we didn’t tell him. Sorry, Bob. The president wants to see you, so we’re heading for the administration laboratory, where we first took you.”

“We might as well walk, then,” Bob decided. He set off in what seemed the most direct route toward the eight-story building. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to ask questions of you two?”

Valin shook his head slightly. “I think the president would rather take care of that, Bob. And I also think you’ll find it a pleasanter walk if we turn off down here.”

“Definitely,” Ondu seconded him.

“Orders?” Bob asked.

They shook their heads. “Merely a more pleasant walk,” Ondu repeated.

Bob could have told them that no walk was going to be pleasant for a man under arrest. He preferred the shorter way, and kept on straight ahead, past alternate parks and business squares. It was the mam entrance to the city, but there were only a few cars and pedestrians using it.

Ahead, there was the sound of some kind of work going on, almost completely foreign to this quiet capital city of Thule. Bob passed down another business block and found a larger park on his left. The noise was coming from there, and he followed it to its source with his eyes.

Workmen were digging holes in the ground and tamping down a solid foundation, obviously getting ready to move the Navy patrol ship that stood at one side onto a permanent location.

The ship was a new model, suitable for one-or two-man control, and fast; it was about twice the size of the Icarius. Emblazoned on the side were the emblems of a Staff Courier and Junior Commander.

Bob had stopped abruptly to stare at it, and the two Thulians made no effort to hasten him onward. They had tried to keep him from going this way, but now that he was here they seemed content to let him stare at it.

He knew it had been the ship his father had come in. The rating and branch of service were both right. It fitted perfectly. But there was no way of telling how long ago it had been captured; it could have been a week before or within the hour. Bob studied it again, and saw that there were no signs of injury on it. Apparently the capture had been accomplished without any major battle.

But there was nothing more to be learned. Bob headed down the street toward the presidential offices, with the two Thulians beside him.

In the hall outside the offices of the president, there was a small mob of people numbering perhaps a hundred and fifty. All were from the Federation, and Bob realized that they were the prisoners whom he had never seen before. They seemed to be in good condition, though none looked too happy. Standing at both ends of the hall in which the moving belt had been stopped were groups of guards with guns in their hands.