ORDEAL IN SPACE
By RALPH SLOAN
This was Lieutenant Mike Logan's chance—alone
in space with the man he ached to kill. A man,
bound and helpless, who taunted him, dared him,
goaded him—knowing Mike had to bring him in alive!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1949.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
A needle gun pointed through the cell bars at the hulking form ofEdward Snyder, his blue-furred Moon mimic squirming on his lap. Behindit were the cold hands, cropped black hair, and bloodless face of Lt.Mike Logan. It had taken him three hours to slide past the guards ofthe transient prison. He would leave with the same efficient caution.But first he had to kill!
Snyder looked up and saw him. The flabby face twisted cynically."Something personal, Lieutenant, or does the gun make it official?"
"Ask your questions in hell," Logan grated. His angular length wasbent; gray eyes bloodshot and he fought to keep them open. After twomonths of tramping over Pluto's ice cliffs, he had returned to Jupiterto find the odor of death and no rest.
A savage desire for revenge had driven him on until now he stoodstaring almost unseeingly at the killer. The needle gun would be silentand untraceable. "You killed Johnny. This is for him."
Snyder shrugged beefy shoulders. "I've killed many and life is cheap. Ican't remember them all."
"He was the last one," Logan choked. "He was my brother—" Somethingcaught his arm in a vice from behind. A stab of pain shot from hiswrist to his neck.
"Sorry, Lieutenant, but I got to keep 'im alive," the voice of theprison guard broke in his ear. He felt the gun drop from his fingersand tried to break free. Through the bars he could dimly see Snyder'smocking smile. Then something struck him on the head and he slid a longways down.
An hour later he stood at attention before the command desk of thePatrol's Jupiter division. His knees were weak, chills of exhaustiontracing his back muscles. He was washed up and he knew it.
"I used to think I could count on you," Commander Bates stormed. "Well,I was wrong. You're nothing but a damned gutless jellyfish. If itweren't for your record I'd have you cashiered here and now."
Logan flinched and tightened his lips.
"There's no room in the Patrol for a man who cracks," Bates ragedon. "I'm sorry about Johnny. He had an easy way of getting under theskin and belonging to all of us. Even the natives liked him. You'redifferent, Logan. You live for yourself."
Sand had crawled up under Logan's eyelids. He listened, too tired to beangered by the truth.
The Commander's eyes shifted to a sheaf of papers. "General Winkhamsent me your requests for Transportation and Exploration licenses. I'msupposed to endorse them." He swept the papers away and glared. "Snyderdies on an Earth rope in three days and no self-appointed god has theright to make it a minute sooner."
"If you want my resignation—" Those papers had been his future. Hisand Johnny's ... tattered remnants of a star dream.
"Damned your resignation," Bates roared. "You're going to be taught alesson. You want Snyder—well, I'm giving him to you."
The room rocked. "You're what—?"
"You heard me." The older man snapped a piece of paper across his desk."You're taking him to Earth for execution."
"I'll kill—" Mike Logan forgot about sleep.
"Go ahead," Bates challenged him. "He'll die anyway. If it happenswhile he's your charge, you'll be hanged in his place or psychoed outat the next exam. Johnny deserves a better tombstone. But maybe youhaven't