Isaac Asimov: The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF

Another man stood beside her. He was dark in complexion and looked as if he had a short temper. He was snapping the fingernails of two hands in a manner that showed characteristic impatience and nervousness. His name was Erle Masters.

An older man came into the room, fitting glasses over his eyes. He took a quick look around the room. Tony came to his feet.

Laurette said tonelessly, “Lieutenant, this is my father. Daddy, Lieutenant Tony Crow of the IPF. Those two are the outlaws I was telling you about.”

“Outlaws, eh? said Professor Overland. His voice seemed deep enough to count the separate vibrations. He rubbed at a stubbled jaw. “Well, that’s too bad. Just when we had the DeTosque strata 1007 fitting onto 70. And there were ample signs to show a definite dovetailing of apex 1007 into Morrell’s fourth crater on Ceres, which would have put 1007 near the surface, if not on it. If we could have followed those up without an interruption—”

“Don’t let this interrupt you,” Masters broke in. His nails clicked. “We’ll let these three sleep in the lounge. We can finish up the set of indications we’re working on now, and then get rid of them.”

Overland shook his graying head doubtfully. “It would be unthinkable to subject those two to cuffs for a full month.”

Masters said irritably, “We’ll give them a parole. Give them their temporary freedom if they agree to submit to handcuffs again when we land on Mars.”

Tony laughed softly. “Sorry. You can’t trust those two for five minutes, let alone a month.” He paused. “Under the circumstances, professor, I guess you realize I’ve got full power to enforce my request that you take us back to Mars. The primary concern of the government in a case like this would be placing these two in custody. I suggest if we get under way now, you can devote more time to your project.”

Overland said helplessly, “Of course. But it cuts off my chances of getting to the Christmas banquet at the university.” Disappointment showed in his weak eyes. “There’s a good chance they’ll give me Amos, I guess, but it’s already December third. Well, anyway, we’ll miss the snow.”

Laurette Overland said bitterly, “I wish we hadn’t landed on 1007. You’d have got along without us then, all right.”

Tony held her eyes gravely. “Perfectly, Miss Overland. Except that we would have been inhabitants. And, shortly, very, very dead ones.”

“So?” She glared.

Erle Masters grabbed the girl’s arm with a muttered word and led her out of the room.

Overland grasped Tony’s arm in a friendly squeeze, eyes twinkling. “Don’t mind them, son. If you or your charges need anything, you can use my cabin. But we’ll make Mars in forty-eight hours, seven or eight of it skimming through the Belt.”

Tony shook his head dazedly. “Forty-eight hours?”

Overland grinned. His teeth were slightly tobacco-stained. “That’s it. This is one of the new ships — the H-H drive. They zip along.”

“Oh! The Fitz-Gerald Contraction?”

Overland nodded absently and left. Tony stared after him. He was remembering something now — the skeleton.

Braker said indulgently, “What a laugh.”

Tony turned.

“What,” he asked patiently, “is a laugh?”

Braker thrust out long, heavy legs. He was playing idly with a gold ring on the third finger of his right hand.

“Oh,” he said carelessly, “a theory goes the rounds the asteroids used to be a planet. They’re not sure the theory is right, so they send a few bearded long faces out to trace down faults and strata and striations on one asteroid and link them up with others. The girl’s old man was just about to nail down 1007 and 70 and Ceres. Good for him. But what the hell! They prove the theory and the asteroids still play ring around the rosy and what have they got for their money?”

He absently played with his ring.

Tony as absently watched him turning it round and round on his finger. Something peculiar about—He jumped. His eyes bulged.

That ring! He leaped to his feet, away from it.

Braker and Yates looked at him strangely.

Braker came to his feet, brows contracting. “Say, copper, what ails you? You gone crazy? You look like a ghost.”

Tony’s heart began a fast, insistent pounding. Blood drummed against his temple. So he looked like a ghost? He laughed hoarsely. Was it imagination that suddenly stripped the flesh from Braker’s head and left nothing but — a skull?

“I’m not a ghost.” He chattered senselessly, still staring at the ring.

He closed his eyes tight, clenched his fists.

“He’s gone bats!” said Yates, incredulously.

“Bats! Absolutely bats!”

Tony opened his eyes, looked carefully at Braker, at Yates, at the tapestried walls of the lounge. Slowly, the tensity left him. Now, no matter what developed he would have to keep a hold on himself.

“I’m all right, Braker. Let me see that ring.” His voice was low, controlled, ominous.

“You take a fit?” Braker snapped suspiciously.

“I’m all right.” Tony deliberately took Braker’s cuffed hands into his own, looked at the gold band inset with the flawed emerald. Revulsion crawled in his stomach, yet he kept his eyes on the ring.

“Where’d you get the ring, Braker?” He kept his glance down.

“Why — ’29, I think it was; or ’28.” Braker’s tone was suddenly angry, resentful. He drew away. “What is this, anyway? I got it legal, and so what?”

“What I really wanted to know,” said Tony, “was if there was another ring like this one — ever. I hope not… I don’t know if I do. Damn it!”

“And I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snarled Braker. “I still think you’re bats. Hell, flawed emeralds are like fingerprints, never two alike. You know that yourself.”

Tony slowly nodded and stepped back. Then he lighted a cigarette, and let the smoke inclose him.

“You fellows stay here,” he said, and backed out and bolted the door behind him. He went heavily down the corridor, down a short flight of stairs, then down another short corridor.

He chose one of two doors, jerked it open. A half dozen packages slid from the shelves of what was evidently a closet. Then the other door opened. Tony staggered backward, losing his balance under the flood of packages. He bumped into Laurette Overland. She gasped and started to fall. Tony managed to twist around in time to grab her. They both fell anyway. Tony drew her to him on impulse and kissed her.

She twisted away from him, her face scarlet. Her palm came around, smashed into his face with all her considerable strength. She jumped to her feet, then the fury in her eyes died. Tony came erect, smarting under the blow.

“Sportsmanlike,” he snapped angrily.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she said unsteadily. Her eyes went past him. “You clumsy fool. Help me get these packages back on the shelves before daddy or Erle come along. They’re Christmas presents, and if you broke any of the wrappings—Come on, can’t you help?”

Tony slowly hoisted a large carton labeled with a “Do Not Open Before Christmas” sticker, and shoved it onto the lower rickety shelf, where it stuck out, practically ready to fall again. She put the smaller packages on top to balance it.

She turned, seeming to meet his eyes with difficulty.

Finally she got out, “I’m sorry I hit you like that, lieutenant. I guess it was natural — your kissing me I mean.” She smiled faintly at Tony, who was ruefully rubbing his cheek. Then her composure abruptly returned. She straightened.

“If you’re looking for the door to the control room, that’s it.”

“I wanted to see your father,” Tony explained.