Robert Silverberg: Planet of Death

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 ship: “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?”