Read Online Lucky Starr and the Big Sun of Mercury by Isaac Asimov - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Isaac Asimov
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wall. The vibrations sharpened noticeably. The other was in that direction then.
He moved forward quietly in the pitch-dark, his hand keeping a light touch on the wall. The vibrations being set up by the other were too intense, too careless. Either the other believed himself alone in the mines (as Bigman himself had until a moment before) or, if he were following Bigman, he wasn't wise in the ways of the vacuum.
Bigman's own footsteps had died to a murmur as he advanced catlike, yet the other's vibrations showed no change. Again, if the other had been following Bigman by sound, the sudden change in Bigman's progress should have been reflected in a change in the other's. It wasn't. The same conclusion, then as before.
He turned right at the next side-tunnel entrance and continued. His hand on the wall at once kept him along the way and guided him toward the other.
And then there was the blinding flash of a suit-light far ahead in the darkness as the motion of another's body whipped the beam across him. Bigman froze against the wall.
The light vanished. The other had passed across the tunnel Bigman was on. He was not advancing along it. Bigman hurried forward lightly. He would find that cross tunnel and then he would be behind the other.
They would meet then. He, Bigman, representing Earth and the Council of Science, and the enemy representing-whom?
8. The Enemy in the Mines
Bigman's blaster was ready. He might have shot unerringly, but a blaster would not have left much behind. Dead men tell no tales and dead enemies explain no mysteries.
He pursued with catlike patience, cutting down the distance between them, following the light, trying to estimate the nature of the enemy.
His blaster always ready, Bigman moved to make first contact. First, radio! His fingers set the controls quickly for general local transmission. The enemy might have no equipment to receive that on the wave lengths Bigman could deliver. Unlikely, but possible! Very unlikely and barely possible!
Yet it didn't matter. There was always the alternative of a light blaster bolt against the wall. It would make his point clearly enough. A blaster carried authority and had a plain way of speaking that was understood in any language anywhere.
He said, his tenor voice carrying all the force it could muster, "Stop, you! Stop where you are and don't turn around! There's a blaster beaded in on you!"
Bigman flashed on his suit-light, and in its glare the enemy froze. Nor did he make any effort to turn around, which was proof enough for Bigman that he had received the message.
Bigman said, "Now turn around. Slowly!"
The figure turned. Bigman kept his right hand in the path of his suit-light. Its metal sheath was clamped tightly about the large-caliber blaster. In the glow of the light, its outline was comfortingly clear.
Bigman said, "This blaster is fully charged. I've killed men with it before, and I'm a dead shot."
The enemy obviously had radio. He was obviously receiving, for he glanced at the blaster and made a motion as though to raise a hand to block off the blaster's force.
Bigman studied what he could see of the enemy's suit. It looked quite conventional (did the Sirians use such familiar models?).
Bigman said curtly, "Are you keyed in for radio transmission?"
There was sudden sound in his ears and he jumped. The voice was a familiar one, even under the disguising distortion of the radio; it said, "It's Peewee, isn't it?"
Never in his life had Bigman needed greater self-control to keep from using his blaster.
As it was, the weapon leaped convulsively in his hand and the figure facing him leaned quickly to one side.
"Urteil!" yelled Bigman.
His surprise turned to disappointment. No Sirian! Only Urteil!
Then the sharp thought: What was Urteil doing here?
Urteil said, "It's Urteil all right. So put away the bean-shooter."
"That gets put away when I feel like it," said Big-man. "What are you doing here?"
"The mines of Mercury are not your
He moved forward quietly in the pitch-dark, his hand keeping a light touch on the wall. The vibrations being set up by the other were too intense, too careless. Either the other believed himself alone in the mines (as Bigman himself had until a moment before) or, if he were following Bigman, he wasn't wise in the ways of the vacuum.
Bigman's own footsteps had died to a murmur as he advanced catlike, yet the other's vibrations showed no change. Again, if the other had been following Bigman by sound, the sudden change in Bigman's progress should have been reflected in a change in the other's. It wasn't. The same conclusion, then as before.
He turned right at the next side-tunnel entrance and continued. His hand on the wall at once kept him along the way and guided him toward the other.
And then there was the blinding flash of a suit-light far ahead in the darkness as the motion of another's body whipped the beam across him. Bigman froze against the wall.
The light vanished. The other had passed across the tunnel Bigman was on. He was not advancing along it. Bigman hurried forward lightly. He would find that cross tunnel and then he would be behind the other.
They would meet then. He, Bigman, representing Earth and the Council of Science, and the enemy representing-whom?
8. The Enemy in the Mines
Bigman's blaster was ready. He might have shot unerringly, but a blaster would not have left much behind. Dead men tell no tales and dead enemies explain no mysteries.
He pursued with catlike patience, cutting down the distance between them, following the light, trying to estimate the nature of the enemy.
His blaster always ready, Bigman moved to make first contact. First, radio! His fingers set the controls quickly for general local transmission. The enemy might have no equipment to receive that on the wave lengths Bigman could deliver. Unlikely, but possible! Very unlikely and barely possible!
Yet it didn't matter. There was always the alternative of a light blaster bolt against the wall. It would make his point clearly enough. A blaster carried authority and had a plain way of speaking that was understood in any language anywhere.
He said, his tenor voice carrying all the force it could muster, "Stop, you! Stop where you are and don't turn around! There's a blaster beaded in on you!"
Bigman flashed on his suit-light, and in its glare the enemy froze. Nor did he make any effort to turn around, which was proof enough for Bigman that he had received the message.
Bigman said, "Now turn around. Slowly!"
The figure turned. Bigman kept his right hand in the path of his suit-light. Its metal sheath was clamped tightly about the large-caliber blaster. In the glow of the light, its outline was comfortingly clear.
Bigman said, "This blaster is fully charged. I've killed men with it before, and I'm a dead shot."
The enemy obviously had radio. He was obviously receiving, for he glanced at the blaster and made a motion as though to raise a hand to block off the blaster's force.
Bigman studied what he could see of the enemy's suit. It looked quite conventional (did the Sirians use such familiar models?).
Bigman said curtly, "Are you keyed in for radio transmission?"
There was sudden sound in his ears and he jumped. The voice was a familiar one, even under the disguising distortion of the radio; it said, "It's Peewee, isn't it?"
Never in his life had Bigman needed greater self-control to keep from using his blaster.
As it was, the weapon leaped convulsively in his hand and the figure facing him leaned quickly to one side.
"Urteil!" yelled Bigman.
His surprise turned to disappointment. No Sirian! Only Urteil!
Then the sharp thought: What was Urteil doing here?
Urteil said, "It's Urteil all right. So put away the bean-shooter."
"That gets put away when I feel like it," said Big-man. "What are you doing here?"
"The mines of Mercury are not your
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