Tuesday's Serial: "Brigands of the Moon (The Book of Gregg Haljan)" by Ray Cummings (in English) VI

CHAPTER XIV - The Brigand Leader

                The giant Miko stood confronting me. He slid my cubby door closed behind him. He stood with his head towering close against my ceiling. His cloak was discarded. In his leather clothes, and with his clanking sword-ornament, his aspect carried the swagger of a brigand of old. He was bareheaded; the light from one of my tubes fell upon his grinning, leering gray face.

                "So, Gregg Haljan? You have come to your senses at last. You do not wish me to write my name upon your chest? I would not have done that to Dean; he forced me. Sit back."

                I had been on my bunk. I sank back at the gesture of his huge hairy arm. His forearm was bare now; the sear of a burn on it was plain to be seen. He remarked my gaze.

                "True. You did that, Haljan, in Great-New York. But I bear you no malice. I want to talk to you now."

                He cast about for a seat, and took the little stool which stood by my desk. His hand held a small cylinder of the Martian paralyzing ray; he rested it beside him on the desk.

                "Now we can talk."

                I remained silent. Alert. Yet my thoughts were whirling. Anita was alive. Masquerading now as her brother. And, with the joy of it, came a shudder. Above everything, Miko must not know.

                "A great adventure we are upon, Haljan."

                My thoughts came back. Miko was talking with an assumption of friendly comradeship. "All is well—and we need you, as I have said before. I am no fool. I have been aware of everything that went on aboard this ship. You, of all the officers, are most clever at the routine mathematics. Is that so?"

                "Perhaps," I said.

"You are modest." He fumbled at a pocket of his jacket, produced a scroll-sheaf. I recognized it: Blackstone's figures; the calculation Blackstone roughly made of the elements of the asteroid we had passed.

                "I am interested in these," Miko went on. "I want you to verify them. And this." He held up another scroll. "This is the calculation of our present position. And our course. Hahn claims he is a navigator. We have set the ship's gravity plates—see, like this—"

                He handed me the scrolls; he watched me keenly as I glanced over them.

                "Well?" I said.

                "You are sparing of words, Haljan. By the devils of the airways, I could make you talk! But I want to be friendly."

                I handed him back the scrolls. I stood up; I was almost within reach of his weapon, but with a sweep of his great arm he abruptly knocked me back to my bunk.

                "You dare?" Then he smiled. "Let us not come to blows!"

                "No," I said. I returned his smile. In truth, physical violence could get me nothing in dealing with this fellow. I would have to try guile. And I saw now that his face was flushed and his eyes unnaturally bright. He had been drinking alcolite; not enough to befuddle him—but enough to make him triumphantly talkative.

                "Hahn may not be much of a mathematician," I suggested. "But there is your Sir Arthur Coniston." I managed a sarcastic grin. "Is that his name?"

                "Almost. Haljan, will you verify these figures?"

                "Yes. But why? Where are we going?"

                He laughed. "You are afraid I will not tell you! Why should I not? This great adventure of mine is progressing perfectly. A tremendous stake, Haljan. A hundred millions of dollars in gold-leaf; there will be fabulous riches for us all, when that radium ore is sold for a hundred million in gold-leaf."

                "But where are we going?"

                "To that asteroid," he said abruptly. "I must get rid of these passengers. I am no murderer."

                With half a dozen killings in the recent fight this was hardly convincing. But he was obviously wholly serious. He seemed to read my thoughts.

                "I kill only when necessary. We will land upon the asteroid. A perfect place to maroon the passengers. Is it not so? I will give them the necessities of life. They will be able to signal. And in a month or so, when we are safely finished with our adventure, a police ship no doubt will rescue them."

                "And then, from the asteroid," I suggested, "we are going—"

                "To the Moon, Haljan. What a clever guesser you are! Coniston and Hahn are calculating our course. But I have no great confidence in them. And so I want you."

"You have me."

                "Yes. I have you. I would have killed you long ago—I am an impulsive fellow—but my sister restrained me."

                He gazed at me slyly. "Moa seems strangely to like you, Haljan."

                "Thanks," I said. "I'm flattered."

                "She still hopes I may really win you to join us," he went on. "Gold-leaf is a wonderful thing; there would be plenty for you in this affair. And to be rich, and have the love of a woman like Moa..."

                He paused. I was trying cautiously to gauge him, to get from him all the information I could. I said, with another smile, "That is premature, to talk of Moa. I will help you chart your course. But this venture, as you call it, is dangerous. A police-ship—"

                "There are not many," he declared. "The chances of us encountering one is very slim." He grinned at me. "You know that as well as I do. And we now have those code pass-words—I forced Dean to tell me where he had hidden them. If we should be challenged, our pass-word answer will relieve suspicion."

                "The Planetara," I objected, "being overdue at Ferrok-Shahn, will cause alarm. You'll have a covey of patrol-ships after you."

                "That will be two weeks from now," he smiled. "I have a ship of my own in Ferrok-Shahn. It lies there waiting now, manned and armed. I am hoping that, with Dean's help, we may be able to flash it a signal. It will join us on the Moon. Fear not for the danger, Haljan. I have great interests allied with me in this thing. Plenty of money. We have planned carefully."

                He was idly fingering his cylinder; his gaze roved me as I sat docile on my bunk. "Did you think George Prince was a leader of this? A mere boy. I engaged him a year ago—his knowledge of ores is valuable."

                My heart was pounding, but I strove not to show it. He went on calmly.

                "I told you I am impulsive. Half a dozen times I have nearly killed George Prince, and he knows it." He frowned. "I wish I had killed him, instead of his sister. That was an error."

                There was a note of real concern in his voice. Did he love Anita Prince? It seemed so.

                He added, "That is done—nothing can change it. George Prince is helpful to me. Your friend Dean is another. I had trouble with him, but he is docile now."

                I said abruptly, "I don't know whether your promise means anything or not, Miko. But George Prince said you would use no more torture."

                "I won't. Not if you and Dean obey me."

                "You tell Dean I have agreed to that. You say he gave you the code-words we took from Johnson?"

                "Yes. There was a fool! That Johnson! You blame me, Haljan, for the killing of Captain Carter? You need not. Johnson offered to try and capture you. Take you alive. He killed Carter because he was angry at him. A stupid, vengeful fool! He is dead, and I am glad of it."

                My mind was on Miko's plans. I ventured. "This treasure on the Moon—did you say it was on the Moon?"

                "Don't be an idiot," he retorted. "I know as much about Grantline as you do."

                "That's very little."

                "Perhaps."

                "Perhaps you know more, Miko. The Moon is a big place. Where, for instance, is Grantline located?"

                I held my breath. Would he tell me that? A score of questions—vague plans—were in my mind. How skilled at mathematics were these brigands? Miko, Hahn, Coniston—could I fool them? If I could learn Grantline's location on the Moon, and keep the Planetara away from it. A pretended error of charting. Time lost—and perhaps Snap could find an opportunity to signal Earth, get help.

                Miko answered my question as bluntly as I asked it. "I don't know where Grantline is located. But we will find out. He will not suspect the Planetara. When we get close to the Moon, we will signal and ask him. We can trick him into telling us. You think I do not know what is on your mind, Haljan? There is a secret code of signals arranged between Dean and Grantline. I have forced Dean to confess it. Without torture! Prince helped me in that. He persuaded Dean not to defy me. A very persuasive fellow, George Prince. More diplomatic than I am, I give him credit."

                I strove to hold my voice calm. "If I should join you, Miko—my word, if I ever gave it, you would find dependable—I would say George Prince is very valuable to us. You should rein your temper. He is half your size—you might some time, without intention do him injury."

                He laughed. "Moa says so. But have no fear—"

                "I was thinking," I persisted, "I'd like to have a talk with George Prince."

                Ah, my pounding, tumultuous heart! But I was smiling calmly. And I tried to put into my voice a shrewd note of cupidity. "I really know very little about this treasure, Miko. If there were a million or two of gold-leaf in it for me—"

                "Perhaps there would be."

                "I was thinking. Suppose you let me have a talk with Prince? I have some knowledge of radium ores. His skill and mine—a calculation of what Grantline's treasure may really be. You don't know; you are only assuming."

                I paused. Whatever may have been in Miko's mind I cannot say. But abruptly he stood up. I had left my bunk, but he waved me back.

                "Sit down. I am not like Moa. I would not trust you just because you protested you would be loyal." He picked up his cylinder. "We will talk again." He gestured to the scrolls he had left upon my desk. "Work on those. I will judge you by the results."

                He was no fool, this brigand leader.

                "Yes," I agreed. "You want a true course now to the asteroid?"

                "Yes. I will get rid of these passengers. Then we will plan further. Do your best, Haljan—no error! By the Gods, I warn you I can check up on you!"

                I said meekly, "Very well. But you ask Prince if he wants my calculations of Grantline's ore-body."

                I shot Miko a foxy look as he stood by my door. I added, "You think you are clever. There is plenty you don't know. Our first night out from the Earth—Grantline's signals—didn't it ever occur to you that I might have some figures on his treasure?"

                It startled him. "Where are they?"

                I tapped my forehead. "You don't suppose I was foolish enough to record them. You ask Prince if he wants to talk to me. A high thorium content in ore—you ask Prince. A hundred millions, or two hundred. It would make a big difference, Miko."

                "I will think about it." He backed out and sealed the door upon me once again

                But Anita did not come. I verified Hahn's figures, which were very nearly correct. I charted a course for the asteroid; it was almost the one which had been set.

                Coniston came for my results. "I say, we are not so bad as navigators, are we? I think we're jolly good, considering our inexperience. Not bad at all, eh?"

                "No."

                I did not think it wise to ask him about Prince.

                "Are you hungry, Haljan?" he demanded.

                "Yes."

                A steward came with a meal. The saturnine Hahn stood at my door with a weapon upon me while I ate. They were taking no chances—and they were wise not to.

                The day passed. Day and night, all the same of aspect here in the starry vault of Space. But with the ship's routine it was day.

                And then another time of sleep. I slept, fitfully, worrying, trying to plan. Within a few hours we would be nearing the asteroid.

                The time of sleep was nearly passed. My chronometer marked five A. M. of our original Earth starting time. The seal of my cubby door hissed. The door slowly, opened.

                Anita!

                She stood there with her cloak around her. A distance away on the shadowed deck-space Coniston was loitering.

                "Anita!" I whispered it.

                "Gregg, dear!"

                She turned and gestured to the watching brigand. "I will not be long, Coniston."

                She came in and half closed the door upon us, leaving it open enough so that we could make sure that Coniston did not advance.

                I stepped back where he could not see us.

                "Anita!"

                She flung herself into my opened arms.

               

CHAPTER XV - The Masquerader

                A moment when beyond all thought of the nearby brigand—or the possibility of an eavesdropping ray trained now upon my little cubby—a moment while Anita and I held each other; and whispered those things which could mean nothing to the world, but which were all the world to us.

                Then it was she whose wits brought us back from the shining fairyland of our love, into the sinister reality of the Planetara.

                "Gregg, if they are listening—"

                I pushed her away. This brave little masquerader! Not for my life, or for all the lives on the ship, would I consciously have endangered her.

                "But the ore," I said aloud. "There was, in Grantline's message—See here, Prince."

                Coniston was too far away on the deck to hear us. Anita went to my door again and waved at him reassuringly. I put my ear to the door opening, and listened at the space across the grid of the ventilator over my bunk. The hum of a vibration would have been audible at those two points. But there was nothing.

                "It's all right," I whispered. "Anita—not you who was killed! I can hardly realize it now. Not you whom they buried yesterday morning."

                We stood and whispered, and she clung to me—so small beside me. With the black robe thrown aside, it seemed that I could not miss the curves of her woman's figure. A dangerous game she was playing. Her hair had been cut short to the base of her neck, in the fashion of her dead brother. Her eyelashes had been clipped; the line of her brows altered. And now, in the light of my ray tube as it shone upon her earnest face, I could remark other changes. Glutz, the little beauty specialist, was in this secret. With plastic skill he had altered the set of her jaw with his wax—put masculinity there.

                She was whispering: "It was—was poor George whom Miko shot."

                I had now the true version of what had occurred. Miko had been forcing his wooing upon Anita. George Prince was a weakling whose only good quality was a love for his sister. Some years ago he had fallen into evil ways. Been arrested, and then discharged from his position with the Federated Radium Corporation. He had taken up with evil companions in Great-New York. Mostly Martians. And Miko had met him. His technical knowledge, his training with the Federated Corporation, made him valuable to Miko's enterprise. And so Prince had joined the brigands.

                Of all this, Anita had been unaware. She had never liked Miko. Feared him. And it seemed that the Martian had some hold upon her brother, which puzzled and frightened Anita.

                Then Miko had fallen in love with her. George had not liked it. And that night on the Planetara, Miko had come and knocked upon Anita's door. Incautiously she opened it; he forced himself in. And when she repulsed him, struggled with him, George had been awakened.

                She was whispering to me now. "My room was dark. We were all three struggling. George was holding me—the shot came—and I screamed."

                And Miko had fled, not knowing whom his shot had hit in the darkness.

                "And when George died, Captain Carter wanted me to impersonate him. We planned it with Dr. Frank, to try and learn what Miko and the others were doing. Because I never knew that poor George had fallen into such evil things."

                I could only hold her thankfully in my arms. The lost what-might-have-been seemed coming back to us.

                "And they cut my hair, Gregg, and Glutz altered my face a little, and I did my best. But there was no time—it came upon us so quickly."

                And she whispered, "But I love you, Gregg. I want to be the first to say it: I love you—I love you."

                But we had the sanity to try and plan.

               

"Anita, when you go back, tell Miko we discussed radium ores. You'll have to be careful, clever. Don't say too much. Tell him we estimate the treasure at a hundred and thirty millions."

                I told her what Miko had vouchsafed me of his plans. She knew all that. And Snap knew it. She had had a few moments alone with Snap. Gave me now a message from him:

                "We'll pull out of this, Gregg."

                With Snap she had worked out a plan. There were Snap and I; and Shac and Dud Ardley, upon whom we could doubtless depend. And Dr. Frank. Against us were Miko and his sister; and Coniston and Hahn. Of course there were the members of the crew. But we were numerically the stronger when it came to true leadership. Unarmed and guarded now. But if we could break loose—recapture the ship...

                I sat listening to Anita's eager whispers. It seemed feasible. Miko did not altogether trust George Prince; Anita was now unarmed.

                "But I can make opportunity! I can get one of their ray cylinders, and an invisible cloak equipment."

                That cloak—it had been hidden in Miko's room when Carter searched for it in A20—was now in the chart-room by Johnson's body. It had been repaired now; Anita thought she could get possession of it.

                We worked out the details of the plan. Anita would arm herself, and come and release me. Together, with a paralyzing ray, we could creep aboard the ship, overcome these brigands one by one. There were so few of the leaders. With them felled, and with us in control of the turret and the helio-room we could force the crew to stay at their posts. There were, Anita said, no navigators among Miko's crew. They would not dare oppose us.

                "But it should be done at once, Anita. In a few hours we will be at the asteroid."

                "Yes. I will go now—try and get the weapons."

                "Where is Snap?"

                "Still in the helio-room. One of the crew guards him."

                Coniston was roaming the ship; he was still loitering on the deck, watching our door. Hahn was in the turret. The morning watch of the crew were at their posts in the hull-corridors; the stewards were preparing a morning meal. There were nine members of subordinates altogether, Anita had calculated. Six of them were in Miko's pay; the other three—our own men who had not been killed in the fighting—had joined the brigands.

                "And Dr. Frank, Anita?"

                He was in the lounge. All the passengers were herded there, with Miko and Moa alternating on guard.

                "I will arrange it with Venza," Anita whispered swiftly. "She will tell the others. Dr. Frank knows about it now. He thinks it can be done."

                The possibility of it swept me anew. The brigands were of necessity scattered singly about the ship. One by one, creeping under cover of an invisible cloak, I could fell them, and replace them without alarming the others. My thoughts leaped to it. We would strike down the guard in the helio-room. Release Snap. At the turret we could assail Hahn, and replace him with Snap.

                Coniston's voice outside broke in upon us. "Prince."

                He was coming forward. Anita stood in the doorway. "I have the figures, Coniston. By God, this Haljan is with us! And clever! We think it will total a hundred and thirty millions. What a stake!"

                She whispered, "Gregg, dear—I'll be back soon. We can do it—be ready."

                "Anita—be careful of yourself! If they should suspect you..."

                "I'll be careful. In an hour, Gregg, or less, I'll come back. All right, Coniston. Where is Miko? I want to see him. Stay where you are, Haljan! All in good time Miko will trust you with your liberty. You'll be rich like us all, never fear."

                She swaggered out upon the deck, waved at the brigand, and banged my cubby door in my face.

                I sat upon my bunk. Waiting. Would she come back? Would she be successful?

CHAPTER XVI - In the Blue-lit Corridor

                She came. I suppose it was no more than an hour: it seemed an eternity of apprehension. There was the slight hissing of the seal of my door. The panel slid. I had leaped from my bunk where in the darkness I was lying tense.

                "Prince?" I did not dare say, "Anita."

                "Gregg."

                Her voice. My gaze swept the deck as the panel opened. Neither Coniston nor anyone else was in sight, save Anita's dark-robed figure which came into my room.

                "You got it?" I asked her in a low whisper.

                I held her for an instant, kissed her. But she pushed me away with quick hands.

                "Gregg, dear—"

                She was breathless. My kisses, and the tenseness of what lay before us were to blame.

                "Gregg, see, I have it. Give us a little light—we must hurry!"

                In the blue dimness I saw that she was holding one of the Martian cylinders. The smallest size; it would paralyze, but not kill.

                "Only one, Anita?"

                "Yes. I had it before, but Miko took it from me. It was in his room. And this—"

                The invisible cloak. We laid it on my grid, and I adjusted its mechanism.A cloak of the reflecting-absorbing variety.[A]

                I donned it, and drew its hood, and threw on its current.

                "All right, Anita?"

                "Yes."

                "Can you see me?"

                "No." She stepped back a foot or two further. "Not from here. But you must let no one approach too close."

                Then she came forward, put out her hand, fumbled until she found me.

                It was our plan to have me follow her out. Anyone observing us would see only the robed figure of the supposed George Prince, and I would escape notice.

                The situation about the ship was almost unchanged. Anita had secured the weapon and the cloak and slipped away to my cubby without being observed.

                "You're sure of that?"

                "I think so, Gregg. I was careful."

                Moa was now in the lounge, guarding the passengers. Hahn was asleep in the chart-room; Coniston was in the turret. Coniston would be off duty presently, Anita said, with Hahn taking his place. There were look-outs in the forward and stern watch-towers, and a guard upon Snap in the helio-room.

                "Is he inside the room, Anita?"

                "Snap? Yes."

                "No—the guard."

                "No. He was sitting upon the spider bridge at the door."

                This was unfortunate. That guard could see all the deck clearly. He might be suspicious of George Prince wandering around; it would be difficult to get near enough to assail him. This cylinder, I knew, had an effective range of only some twenty feet.

                Anita and I were swiftly whispering. It was necessary now to decide exactly what we were to do; once under observation outside, there must be no hesitation, no fumbling.

                "Coniston is sharpest, Gregg. He will be the hardest to get near."

                The languid-spoken Englishman was the one Anita most feared. His alert eyes seemed to miss nothing. Perhaps he was suspicious of this George Prince—Anita thought so.

                "But where is Miko?" I whispered.

                The brigand leader had gone below a few moments ago, down into the hull-corridor. Anita had seized the opportunity to come to me.

                "We can attack Hahn in the chart-room first," I suggested. "And get the other weapons. Are they still there?"

                "Yes. But Gregg, the forward deck is very bright."

                We were approaching the asteroid. Already its light like a brilliant moon was brightening the forward deck-space. It made me realize how much haste was necessary.

                We decided to go down into the hull-corridors. Locate Miko. Fell him, and hide him. His non-appearance back on deck would very soon throw the others into confusion, especially now with our impending landing upon the asteroid. And under cover of this confusion we would try and release Snap.

                We had been arguing no more than a minute or two. We were ready. Anita slid my door wide. She stepped through, with me soundlessly scurrying after her. The empty, silent deck was alternately dark with shadow-patches and bright with blobs of starlight. A sheen of the Sun's corona was mingled with it; and from forward came the radiance of the asteroid's mellow silver glow.

                Anita turned to seal my door; within my faintly humming cloak I stood beside her. Was I invisible in this light? Almost directly over us, close under the dome, the look-out sat in his little tower. He gazed down at Anita.

                Amidships, high over the cabin superstructure, the helio-room hung dark and silent. The guard on its bridge was visible. He, too, looked down.

                A tense instant. Then I breathed again. There was no alarm. The two guards answered Anita's gesture.

                Anita said aloud into my empty cubby: "Miko will come for you presently, Haljan. He told me to tell you that he wants you at the turret controls to land us on the asteroid."

                She finished sealing my door and turned away; started forward along the deck. I followed. My steps were soundless in my elastic-bottomed shoes. Anita swaggered with a noisy tread. Near the door of the smoking room a small incline passage led downward. We went into it.

                The passage was dimly blue-lit. We descended its length, came to the main corridor, which ran the length of the hull. A vaulted metal passage, with doors to the control rooms opening from it. Dim lights showed at intervals.

                The humming of the ship was more apparent here. It drowned the slight humming of my cloak. I crept after Anita; my hand under the cloak clutched the ray weapon.

                A steward passed us. I shrank aside to avoid him.

                Anita spoke to him. "Where is Miko, Ellis?"

                "In the ventilator-room, Mr. Prince. There was difficulty with the air renewal."

                Anita nodded, and moved on. I could have felled that steward as he passed me. Oh, if I only had, how different things might have been!

                But it seemed needless. I let him go, and he turned into a nearby door which led to the galley.

                Anita moved forward. If we could come upon Miko alone. Abruptly she turned, and whispered, "Gregg, if other men are with him, I'll draw him away. You watch your chance."

                What little things may overthrow one's careful plans! Anita had not realized how close to her I was following. And her turning so unexpectedly caused me to collide with her sharply.

                "Oh!" She exclaimed it involuntarily. Her outflung hand had unwittingly gripped my wrist, caught the electrode there. The touch burned her, and close-circuited my robe. There was a hiss. My current burned out the tiny fuses.

                My invisibility was gone! I stood, a tall black-hooded figure, revealed to the gaze of anyone who might be near!

                The futile plans of humans! We had planned so carefully! Our calculations, our hopes of what we could do, came clattering now in a sudden wreckage around us.

                "Anita, run!"

                If I were seen with her, then her own disguise would probably be discovered. That above everything would be disaster!

                "Anita, get away from me! I must try it alone!"

                I could hide somewhere, repair the cloak perhaps. Or, since now I was armed, why could I not boldly start an assault?

                "Gregg, we must get you back to your cubby!" She was clinging to me in a panic.

                "No! You run! Get away from me! Don't you understand? George Prince has no business here with me! They'd kill you!"

                Or worse—- Miko would discover it was Anita, not George Prince.

                "Gregg, let's get back to the deck."

                I pushed at her. Both of us in sudden confusion.

                From behind me there came a shout. That accursed steward! He had returned, to investigate perhaps what George Prince was doing in this corridor. He heard our voices; his shout in the silence of the ship sounded horribly loud. The white-clothed shape of him was in the nearby doorway. He stood stricken in surprise at seeing me. And then turned to run.

                I fired my paralyzing cylinder through my cloak. Got him! He fell. I shoved Anita violently.

                "Run! Tell Miko to come—tell him you heard a shout! He won't suspect you!"

                "But Gregg—"

                "You mustn't be found out! You're our only hope, Anita! I'll hide, fix the cloak, or get back to my cubby. We'll try it again."

                It decided her. She scurried down the corridor. I whirled the other way. The steward's shout might not have been heard.

                Then realization flashed to me. That steward would be revived. He was one of Miko's men: for two voyages he had been a spy upon the Planetara. He would be revived and tell what he had seen and heard. Anita's disguise would be revealed.

                A cold-blooded killing I do protest went against me. But it was necessary. I flung myself upon him. I beat his skull with the metal of my cylinder.

                I stood up. My hood had fallen back from my head. I wiped my bloody hands on my useless cloak. I had smashed the cylinder.

                "Haljan!"

                Anita's voice! A sharp note of horror and warning. I became aware that in the corridor, forty feet down its dim length, Miko had appeared, with Anita behind him. His rifle-bullet-projector was leveled. It spat at me. But Anita had pulled at his arm.

                The explosive report was sharply deafening in the confined space of the corridor. With a spurt of flame the leaden pellet struck over my head against the vaulted ceiling.

                Miko was struggling with Anita. "Prince, you idiot!"

                "Miko, don't! It's Haljan! Don't kill him—"

                The turmoil brought members of the crew. From the shadowed oval near me they came running. I flung the useless cylinder at them. But I was trapped in the narrow passage.

                I might have fought my way out. Or Miko might have shot me. But there was the danger that, in her horror, Anita would betray herself.

                I backed against the wall. "Don't kill me! See, I will not fight!"

                I flung up my arms. And the crew, emboldened, and courageous under Miko's gaze, leaped on me and bore me down.

                The futile plans of humans! Anita and I had planned so carefully, and in a few brief minutes of action it had come only to this!