CHAPTER VI

"_Six to Four_"

Perhaps to every person in that control room there came, as Chet's

quiet, emotionless tones died away, the same mental picture; for there

was the same dazed look on the countenances of all.

They were seeing an ocean of space, an endless void of empty black. And

across that etheric sea was a whirling globe. They had seen it from

afar; they had seen its diminutive continents and its snow-clad

poles.... They would never see it again....

Earth!--their own world!--home! And now for them it was only a moon, a

tremendous, glorious moon, whose apparent nearness would be taunting and

calling them each day and night of their lives....

It was Diane Delacouer who dared to break the hard silence that bound

them all. From wide eyes she stared at Walt Harkness; then her lips

formed a trembling smile in which Chet, too, was included.

"You saved us," she whispered; "you saved us, Chet ... but now it looks

as if we all were exiles."

She crossed slowly, walking like one in a dream, to stand close to Walt

Harkness. And Chet Bullard also roused himself; but it was toward the

stupefied, hulking figure of Schwartzmann that he moved.

He reached for the detonite pistol, and this man who had been their

captor was too stunned to make any resistance. Chet jammed the weapon

under his belt.

"Close that port!" he ordered the two men who had half-opened it at

Schwartzmann's command. "Keep that poison gas out."

* * * * *

There was a flash of color that swept by the open port--some flying

creature of vivid crimson: Chet had no time to see what manner of bird

or beast it was. But it was alive! He crossed to examine the

spectro-analyzer, and the two men disregarded his order and slipped into

the rear cabin.

"Seems all clear to me, Walt," he said; and Harkness confirmed his

findings with a quick glance.

"O.K.!" he assured Chet; "that air is all right to breathe."

He glanced from a lookout port. "The air's moving now," he said. "That

gas--whatever it was--is gone; it must have settled down here in the

night. Some new vent that has opened since we were here before.

"But suppose we forget that and settle matters in here," he suggested;

and Chet nodded assent.

"Call your men!" Harkness ordered Schwartzmann.

The man had recovered his composure; again his heavy face was flushed

beneath a stubble of beard. He made no move to comply with Harkness'

demand.

But there was no need: from the cabin at the rear came the scientist,

Kreiss. His face was pale and drawn, and he stared long and searchingly

at Chet Bullard. His breath still whistled in his throat; the poison gas

had nearly done for him.

At his heels were the two who had been working at the port. Two others,

who had held Harkness, were drawn off at one side, where they mumbled

one to another and shot ugly glances toward Chet.

This, Chet knew, accounted for all. Even the pilot, Max, had roused from

the sleep that a blow on the chin had induced and was again on his feet.

For him no explanation was needed; the shattered cage of the

ball-control told its own story.

Harkness seated Mademoiselle Delacouer on a bench at the pilot's post.

"You will want to be in on this," he told her, "but I'll put you here in

case they get rough. But don't worry," he added; "we'll be ready for

them now."

* * * * *

Then he turned to Schwartzmann: "Now, you! Oh, there are plenty of

things I could call you! And you would understand them perfectly, though

they are all words that no gentleman would use."

At Schwartzmann's outburst of profane rejoinder, Harkness broke in with

no uncertain tones.

"Shut up, Schwartzmann, and stay that way; I'm giving the orders now.

And we'll just cut out all the pleasantries; they won't get us anywhere.

We must face the situation, all of us; see what we're up against and

make some plans."

But Herr Schwartzmann was not to be put down so easily. He crossed over

to where Chet stood. Chet's hand dropped to the pistol that was hooked

in his own belt, but Schwartzmann made no move toward it. Instead he

planted himself before the pilot and jammed his fists into his hips

while he tried to draw his stocky form to equal Chet's slim height.

"Fool!" he said. "Dolt! For a minute I believed you; I thought you had

cut us off from the Earth. Now I know better. Max, he understands ships;

and the Herr Doktor Kreiss iss a man of science: together they the

repairs will make."

The Master Pilot smiled grimly. "Try to do it," he said, and turned

toward the two whom Schwartzmann had named. "You, Max, and you, too,

Doctor Kreiss--do you want to take on the job? If you do, I will help

you."

But the two looked at the shattered controls and shook their heads at

their employer.

"Impossible!" the pilot exclaimed. "Without new parts it can never be

done."

Schwartzmann seemed about to vent his fury upon the man who dared give

such a report, but Doctor Kreiss raised a restraining hand.

"Check!" he said. "I check that report. Repairs are out of the

question."

* * * * *

Chet caught Harkness' eye upon him. "I'll be back," Harkness told him

and went quickly toward the rear of the ship. Their stores were back

there; would Walt think to get a detonite pistol? He came back into the

room while the thought was still in Chet's mind. A gun was in each hand;

he passed one of the weapons to Diane.

Unconsciously, Schwartzmann felt for his own gun that was in Chet's

belt. He laughed mirthlessly. "Two men," he said scornfully; "two men

and a girl!"

Harkness paid no attention. "Now we will get right down to cases," he

remarked. "Two men and a girl is right--plus what is left of one ship.

And please don't forget that the ship is ours and all the supplies that

are in it. Now, you listen to me; I've a few things to tell you."

He faced squarely toward Schwartzmann, and Chet had to repress a grin at

the steely glint in his companion's eyes. Nice chap, Harkness--nice,

easy-going sort--up to a certain point. Chet had seen him in action

before.

"First of all," Harkness was saying, "don't think that we have any

illusions about you. You're a killer, and, like all such, you're a

coward. If you had the upper hand, you would never give us a chance for

our lives. In fact you were ready to throw us out to be gassed when Chet

raised your little bet.

"But it looks as if Chet and Mademoiselle Delacouer and I will have to

be living on this world for some time. We don't want to start that life

by killing off even such as you--not in cold blood. We will give you a

chance; we will split our provisions with you--give you half of what we

have; you will have to shift for yourselves when that is gone. We will

all have to learn to do that."

* * * * *

Again the heavy, glowering face of Schwartzmann broke into a laugh that

was half sneer.

"You're damned kind," he told Harkness, "and, as usual, a fool. Two men

and a girl!" He half turned to count his own forces.

"There are seven of us," he challenged; "seven! And all of them

armed--all but me!"

He spoke a curt order in his own tongue, and each man whipped a pistol

from his clothes.

"Seven to two," he said, and laughed again; "maybe it iss that Herr

Harkness would like to count them.

"_Your_ ship and _your_ supplies!" he exclaimed scornfully. "And you

would be so kind as to giff us food.

"_Gott im Himmel!_" he shouted; "I show you! I am talking now! We stay

here--_ja_--because this _Dummkopf_ has the controls _gebrochen_! But it

iss we who stay; und you? You go, because I say so. It iss I who rule,

und I prove it--seven to two!"

"Three!" a firm voice spoke from between Chet and Harkness; "seven to

three! Our odds are improving, Herr Schwartzmann."

And Chet saw from the corner of his eye that the gun in the small hand

of Mademoiselle Diane was entirely unwavering. But he spoke to her

sharply, and his voice merged with that of Harkness who was saying

somewhat the same words:

"Back--go back, Diane! We can handle this. For God's sake, keep out; we

don't want any shooting."

Neither of the men had drawn his gun. Their hands were ready, but each

had hoped to end this weird conference without firing a shot. Here was

no place for gun-play and for wounded men.

* * * * *

Their attention was on Diane for the moment. A growled word from their

enemy brought their minds back to him; they turned to find black pistol

muzzles staring each of them in the eyes. Herr Schwartzmann, in the

language of an earlier day, had got the drop.

"Seven to three," Schwartzmann said; "let it go that way; no difference

does it make. If I say one word, you die."

Chet's arm ached to snap his hand toward his gun. It would be his last

move, he well knew. He was sick with chagrin to see how easily they had

been trapped; Walt had tried to play fair with a man who had not an atom

of fairness in his character. And now--

"Seven to three!" Schwartzmann was gloating--till another voice broke

in.

"I don't check your figures." The whistling tones were coming from a

tortured throat, but the words were clear and distinct. "I don't check

you; I make it six to four--and if one of your men makes a move, Herr

Schwartzmann, I shall blow you to a pulp!"

And Herr Doktor Kreiss held a gun in a steady hand as he moved a pace

nearer to Chet--a gun whose slender barrel made a glinting line of light

toward Schwartzmann's eyes.

"If the gentlemen and Mademoiselle will permit," he offered almost

diffidently, "I would prefer to be aligned with them. We are citizens of

another world now; my former allegiance to Herr Schwartzmann is ended.

This is--what is it you say?--a new deal. I would like to see it; and I

use another of your American aphorisms: I would like to see it a square

deal."

* * * * *

The voice of a scholar, thought Chet; one more used to the precision of

laboratory phrases than to wild talk like this; but no man to be trifled

with, nevertheless. Chet did not hesitate to turn despite the pistols

that were still aimed at him.

But Herr Kreiss was not looking in his direction; his eyes were trained

steadily in the same line as his gun. This little experiment he was

conducting seemed to require his undivided attention until the end. To

Schwartzmann he said sharply:

"Your men--order them to drop their weapons. Quick!"

As they clattered upon the floor the scientist turned and extended his

hand to Chet.

"And still speaking not too technically," he continued, "this is one

hell of a fix that you have got us into. Even in desperate straits it

took nerve to do that." He pointed to the shattered remains of the

multiple bars that had been the control mechanism, and added:

"I admire that kind of nerve. And, if you don't mind, since we are

exiles together--" His throat seemed choking him again.

There were weapons in the hands of Chet and Harkness; they were not

making the same mistake twice. Chet shifted his gun to his left hand

that he might reach toward the scientist with his right.

"I knew you were white all the time," Chet told him; "I'll say you

belong!"