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                          Revenge of the Vera

                            By HENRY HASSE

            The unarmed freighter Vera was plowing through
               space to meet the deadliest pirate of the
            Void--rocketing into battle against a fighting
            ship even the Space Patrol could not vanquish.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Planet Stories Fall 1943.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The man seemed too big for the single, cushioned seat of the tiny space
cruiser. But he did not remain in the seat long, and when he moved
it was with a swift surety that belied his bulk. He stepped over to
the visipanel, peered into it and saw only a few pinpoints of stars.
His eyes, as icy as those stars, narrowed until they, too, were but
pinpoints. He grasped the directional finder and swung it in eccentric
parabolas across all the heavens before him. The star pinpoints swung
to and fro, in and out of the visipanel ... and then he saw it.

A vague, darker shape against the blackness, blotting out a few of the
stars. Lucky! he thought, as he leaped back to the controls to change
direction. Lucky to find it before the Earth Patrol got there. The news
had already gone out. But he did not exult; his lips tightened into a
thin hard line, and his throat tightened too, with the foreboding that
crowded out all hope.

As he drew swiftly nearer, he could see the huge luxury liner
helplessly drifting. He could see the black ragged hole in the hull. He
could see the name on the prow, _Martian Princess_. He could see other
things which he didn't want to see, which he didn't want to approach
but knew he must. Numerous tiny white-faced things, staring and bloated
and reflecting the leprous sunlight....

The tiny cruiser clanged against the larger bulk, and her magniplates
held. The man was already in space-suit. With a trembling hand he
brushed back his blonde hair, then pulled down the _Crystyte_-fronted
helmet. He stepped out into space.

He did not immediately board the liner. Instead he moved among the
scores of drifting corpses, using a propulsion pistol. He pulled each
corpse to him, stared searchingly into its face, then thrust it away
with a shudder. Before he had half finished he was sick; but he felt
hope surging in him again, for he had not yet found what he was looking
for. Perhaps, after all ... somehow ... _she_ had not taken this
liner....

He boarded it, moved along the corridors and into the staterooms. But
all was a shambles. The pirates had struck as usual: sudden, ruthlessly
ramming; had smashed completely through this liner like an eggshell!
He saw corpses half encased in spacesuits, but it had been a futile
effort. Many of the passengers had holes blasted through them, tiny
pencil-thin holes of concentrated atom-blasts at close range, mute
evidence of the pirates' deadly work. The once gorgeous salons were
stripped of the silks and fineries. Staterooms thoroughly looted. Even
the corpses stripped of all personal jewelry and other finery.

The grim-faced young man, the only moving and living thing aboard,
noticed all this but secondarily. His heart was pounding with a newly
rising hope. For in none of the staterooms had he found _her_.

He moved through the ragged gap and out the other side of the ship.
More drifting corpses, hugging the hull because of the slight gravity.
Methodically he moved among them, pulling them around, thrusting them
away.

And then--one he did not thrust away. His face beneath the helmet
stared, and became suddenly anguished. He hugged the body tightly to
him. Using the pistol, he propelled his way back through the hull.
He carried the girl back along the main deck, and there laid her
gently down away from the others. He stared down, his face twisting
helplessly, his fists clenching and unclenching.

She had been young, lovely. Her face was somehow still beautiful, as he
remembered it. She had died quickly, he saw, and was glad of that. He
would leave her here on the deck, for he knew the Patrol men would tow
this liner back to Earth, where she would wish to be.

He looked long, so that the vision of her would remain in his mind
always; then he turned and strode firmly back to his cruiser. His face
as he looked out to the stars was wet beneath the glass--but there was
no one there to see. There was no one there to hear--but his lips moved
in a grim and terrible oath.

       *       *       *       *       *

George Marnay, of Tri-Planet News Service, tugged at the big guy's arm.

"Come on, now, what do you say? Let's get out of here. You've had
enough of that stuff, and you're talking too much. You're heading for
more trouble than you've ever seen in one night!"

The big man peered at the smaller one through a tangle of blonde hair
which fell over blue and bleary eyes. Then he slammed his glass down on
the bar and jerked his arm away, staggering a little. Marnay caught him
and steadied him.

"Quit pushin' me, dammit," the big man said thickly. "Lemme 'lone. Go
'way, go 'way!"

"All right, mister, it's your funeral," Marnay shrugged. But as the
other man moved away, threading unsteadily among the tables, Marnay
turned and continued to watch him worriedly. And he listened even more
worriedly.

The fellow's voice was thick, but it was still loud over the din in the
room. He had become increasingly voluble as the potent _tsith_ took
effect. Obviously this was his first trip to Mars, and he didn't know
the _Red Halo_ was named sardonically: it was the rendezvous for the
worst cut-throats of three planets!

       *       *       *       *       *

Marnay frowned. He hated men who became voluble under liquor, but
there was something about this big, blonde guy he liked in spite of
it! Something beyond the fact that he was an Earthman and an American.
Now Marnay wished for the fellow's own sake that he'd shut up. But it
was probably too late. Every outlaw in the place must have known by
this time that the blonde Earthman was from the freighter, _Vera_--and
that the _Vera_ was leaving tomorrow on a sneak trip, with ten million
dollars in supplies and mining equipment for the Callisto colonies!

One of the richest shipments ever to go out from Mars, and now, due
to a few drinks and one bragging tongue it was a secret no longer.
Marnay knew this information would soon be spreading through the
criminal honeycombs of the Martian capital-city. He also knew if any of
Prather's men were here--almost a certainty--the _Vera_ would never get
beyond the asteroids, much less to Callisto.

Through the haze of smoke he watched the motley little groups that
filled the room. Tall, frail Venusians, pallid and dreamy-eyed and
apparently docile, but who wouldn't hesitate to slit a throat on the
slightest provocation. Leathery, heavy-lidded Martians, eternally
sullen and quarrelsome. Earthmen, with that swaggering superiority and
egotism which they'll probably retain to the end of time, making them
the most hated men in the system. Marnay wondered how many in this room
were Prather's men; probably a few of each race, but who could ever
pick 'em out? Marnay had tried. That's what he was here for.

Suddenly he became tense. This was what he had feared. He saw the big
Earthman stagger heavily against a table.

A mean looking Martian jumped up and shoved him violently away; the
Martian's hand flew to his heat-gun, obviously awaiting an excuse to
use it. But the Earthman only stared at him stupidly for a moment,
swayed, and then bowed low, almost losing his balance. He mumbled
a thick apology and moved away. The Martian glowered, called him
something not very nice. Other Martians at the table laughed.

Marnay sighed in relief. The bartender, grinning, touched him on the
elbow. "If he's a friend of yours," he said, "better get him out of
here."

"He's no friend of mine," Marnay snapped. "But I think you're right,
anyway." He moved across the room. Already he could see many of the
spacemen listening to the words "_Vera_" and "cargo," a little too
attentively.

Marnay grasped the fellow's arm firmly, said "Come on." He steered him
back to the bar, easily. Then past it toward the door. But the fellow
smelled the fresh air and rebelled.

"You damn fool," Marnay said, struggling with the Earthman's two
hundred pounds, "I'm gonna keep you out of trouble in spite of
yourself!"

"Aw-w, we're all friends here," the other said very loud, peering
around happily. A couple of Venusians at the bar snickered at the naive
words.

"Mister, if you only knew!" Marnay said. "Come on, now, I know a better
place than this." He added: "I'll buy you a drink there."

"M-m-m ... nope. _You_ gotta buy _me_ a drink."

"That's what I said," Marnay sighed.

"Oh-h. Then whyn't you say so?" Leaning on Marnay affectionately, he
allowed himself to be steered outside.

Marnay sighed with relief and quickened his pace, pulling the other
along after him. His only thought now was to get him away from the
dives of this spacerfront street.

"Mister, you sure spilled the beans," Marnay muttered, more to himself
than to his friend. "I know I wouldn't want to be riding the _Vera_
this trip. You've endangered the life of every man aboard! Why didn't
you just send Prather an engraved invitation to come help himself to
that cargo?"

"I would have, but didn't know where to reach him; besides that
wouldn't have been very subtle, would it now?" The fellow's speech was
no longer thick. He suddenly quit leaning on Marnay, straightened up
and pulled him around a corner into a dim side street. He stood there
grinning in Marnay's face.

       *       *       *       *       *

Marnay's face was something to grin at. His mouth was hanging open as
though on hinges.

"You can close it now," the other said, as he reached out and closed it
for him.

"Say! You--you were just putting on an act back there!" Marnay finally
managed to exclaim, inanely.

"A good one, I hope."

"No, I'm wrong." Marnay shook his head slowly. "Couldn't have been an
act, I stood right there and watched you drink at least eight _tsiths_.
My own record's four--and then they carried me out."

"You just thought you saw me drink 'em. Good trick, if you know how."

Marnay nodded. Then he looked at the man narrowly, grasped his arm
and said, "Come on, let's get away from here. And listen! Whatever
it is you've got up your sleeve, I want in on it! I'm George Marnay.
Tri-Planet News Service."

"Bob Kennett," the other said simply, sticking out his hand. "And you
are in on it. That wasn't an accident when I bumped into you there
at the bar. I thought I'd like to know you, because I heard you were
making a few undercover inquiries about Prather! Mind telling me just
what your interest is in that pirate?"

Marnay replied, his voice suddenly gloomy. "Guess I should have said
I'm _formerly_ of Tri-Planet News. You see, it's an old, familiar
story. I was on an assignment back on Earth, and I happened to uncover
a huge spacer-contract graft ... you know, millions being side-tracked
into private pockets...."

"Well?"

"Well," Marnay wailed, "how was I to know that one of the big-shots
implicated was my boss's brother-in-law? So to shut me up I was given
this assignment. Sent out here to get a line on Prather, _or else_.
It's a cute side-track, often used; what we newsmen call the graveyard
assignment."

Kennett was interested. "Uh-huh," he nodded. "And just how much of a
line have you got on Prather so far?"

"I'll give you one guess! Precisely nothing. Oh, of course I know all
the stories. In the past few years the Patrol has destroyed his base of
operations on Io, and again on Mercury, and twice on Ceres. But that
pirate's as elusive as the last pea on the plate! Always he's one jump
ahead of them, because of his spy system." Marnay shrugged hopelessly.
"I suppose some of his men were in the _Halo_ tonight, but how would
I know 'em? I hear they drift in and out like ghosts. And that, by
the way, is why I was trying to shut you up with that story you were
broadcasting."

"And that," Kennett said very grimly, "is exactly what I wanted to do,
broadcast it. Subtly, of course."

"Yes, I gather that, now. And I think I see your idea. You deliberately
want Prather to go after the _Vera_! But--what then?"

Kennett stopped and looked straight at Marnay. When he replied his
voice was suddenly ice: "What then? Then I'll accomplish what the
entire Patrol has been trying for five years. I'll get that pirate."

Marnay, looking at him, saw a sudden bitter look in his eyes, and
grim lines around his mouth. He knew that the other men had said what
Kennett just said--but Prather was still free in the spaceways.

"Mighty big order," Marnay ventured.

"I realize that! But it's taken me three years to evolve this plan, and
I think it'll work." He looked steadily at Marnay. "Are you in with me?"

"Try and keep me out!"

"Good. But I want to make it plain it's more than a newsstory we're
after. This will be all or nothing, Prather's life or ours, and if my
plan misses there can't be a second chance. And remember Prather's
clever, he can smell a trap a light-year away. Just now, everything
depends on how good my acting was tonight."

"Then I'd say you've nothing to worry about," Marnay replied, "for you
sure fooled me."

Kennett nodded. "We'll see. We'll know for sure tomorrow. Whether we
go pirate-hunting or not...."

       *       *       *       *       *

They obtained cheap lodging on one of the dark, rear streets bordering
the spaceport. Marnay slept, but not Kennett. He paced the narrow room,
nervously, smoking vile Venusian cigarettes and awaiting the dawn.

The Martian dawn was breaking when there came a knock at the door.
Kennett muttered, "At last!" and sprang to the door to admit someone. A
Martian.

Marnay, suddenly awake, saw that he was the same mean looking Martian
whom Kennett had nearly had trouble with the night before!

"V'Norghi, of the Martian Secret Police," Kennett said, presenting him.

The fellow only nodded sullenly, addressed himself to Kennett: "It
would seem it is working, your plan. Shortly after you left the _Halo_
last night ... I made certain inquiries ... learned that the news of
the _Vera's_ secret trip had spread into the ... uh ... the proper
channels...." The Martian seemed a little reluctant.

"All right, all right, V'Norghi," Kennett said impatiently. "What else?
You know what I want to know!"

"Well ... yes, a small, fast cruiser did leave here. About an hour
after midnight ... quite hurriedly it would seem. Now understand,
Kennett, I couldn't say--"

"No, you couldn't say it was some of Prather's men. Like hell you
can't! What destination? Where is Prather's new base? Mercury? Venus?"

V'Norghi started to shake his head negatively, but didn't. He looked
distressed. Kennett paced up and down the room. He turned suddenly on
the Martian and laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh, you don't need to answer! I know as well as you do where he is!
Out on one of the Jupiter satellites somewhere--probably Io, his old
base."

The Martian looked even more distressed, and Kennett nodded, satisfied.
"Sure, I knew it all the time. That's why I let it be known the _Vera_
was going out to Callisto." He clapped the Martian on the shoulder.
"It's all right, V'Norghi, you've done me a mighty big favor as it is.
Thanks, thanks a lot."

They shook hands solemnly. Kennett said, smiling a little: "Don't
worry, V'Norghi; when you see me again there won't be any more Prather."

"Goodbye, Kennett. I wish you good luck." But the Martian's voice was
sad, as though he thought Kennett wouldn't have it.

Kennett turned to Marnay when the Martian had gone. "The Martian Secret
Police!" he said contemptuously. "They're very little above the outlaw
scum of this city, themselves. I'm sure Prather buys them off, and I
think V'Norghi almost hopes I won't succeed! But you see, I happened
to save his life once; and whatever else you say of the Martians, you
can't say they aren't conscientious toward their obligations."

"I see," Marnay nodded. "But what about that cruiser he says left here?
You really think that was some of Prather's men, hurrying to tell him
the _Vera's_ on the way out there with a rich cargo?"

"I'm sure of it. That's the way Prather's always worked."

"But they're going where? Out around Jupiter you said. You can't be
sure that's where Prather is!"

"Oho, but that's exactly what I can be sure of! You see, I've not only
kept abreast of Prather's activities currently, but I've studied every
available past record on him. His methods, his escapes, his shiftings.
Not even the Patrol has kept tabs on him as I have. Admittedly, he's as
clever as he is ruthless. But I know his system now."

"All right," Marnay conceded. "Your calculations tell you he's out
around Jupiter now. Won't that be about like looking for the proverbial
needle in the haystack?"

"I guess so. That's why we're not going to look for him at all. He's
coming right out into space after the _Vera_--I hope."

So he was coming out after the _Vera_! Marnay suddenly remembered
the time when Prather had smashed through a cordon of Patrol ships,
demolishing four and outrunning the rest. Marnay grimaced, but he
merely said: "All right, when do we leave?"

"About noon, if I can wait that long! That cruiser that left here
last night is probably very fast, and the _Vera_ is just a slow old
freighter; so if we give them about twelve hours' start, and Prather
acts at once, he ought to meet us somewhere just the other side of the
asteroids."

"Oh," Marnay said, pretty feebly. So the _Vera_ was just a slow old
freighter. And with it they were going to capture the most ruthless
pirate of the century! That was certainly a bright picture. Marnay
began to wonder, wryly, how the hell he had ever gotten into this, and
why!

       *       *       *       *       *

And his first sight of the _Vera_ was nothing to inspire confidence.
Shortly before noon they proceeded to the spaceport, past the
Commercial locks, the Patrol locks, and on to the opposite side of the
vast plaza.

There, in the farthest and most obscure lock, Marnay saw the
_Vera_--long, heavy, clumsy looking. He recognized it when they were
yet a hundred yards away, because the name _Vera_ was emblazoned across
the prow with a bold flourish that seemed somehow out of keeping with
the crude ship.

"It's just occurred to me," Marnay said. "_Vera_ is an unusual name for
a freighter! That's a girl's name. Sounds sentimental or something."

"Does it?" Kennett said. Marnay looked at him queerly, but Kennett said
nothing more.

They came nearer, and Marnay began to see the ship clearer, and it
suddenly seemed to him there was something wrong with the whole thing.
It was more than merely clumsy. It was grotesque.

Marnay stopped. "Say! I never saw a spacer quite like that before. It
looks kind of funny, yet I can't say exactly--"

"Come on, come on," Kennett said, taking his arm and hurrying him.
"Never mind that. Supplies are all aboard, all we have to do is leave."

It was quiet around the spacer. No activity. They entered the bow lock.
Marnay looked down a long, empty, silent corridor.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed. "Ain't there any crew?"

Kennett said: "Yes. You and me are the crew."

"Uh huh. But we _are_ taking this misshapen piece of junk clear out to
Jupiter? I got that part of it right?"

"That's right. I decided it would be a long grind all by myself. There
are minor annoyances, such as having to sleep sometimes."

"Where's that ten million dollar cargo," Marnay grinned, staring around.

Kennett said very seriously: "Oh, we're carrying quite a cargo all
right. And it's all for Prather if he wants it. But it's hardly the
cargo he thinks he's going to get."

"The generosity of your information overwhelms me." Marnay stared
around some more. Everything was stark and bare, save for the necessary
controls. "Wish we had a couple of long range atom-blasts like the
Patrol ships carry. Any aboard?"

"No weapons at all aboard," Kennett stated.

"How comforting! You sure make a fellow feel right at home."

"You don't sound very confident in me and the _Vera_," Kennett said.
"Don't you believe we can get Prather?"

"Oh sure! I believe in fairies, and Santa Claus, and the Easter rabbit,
and you and the _Vera_. Hell, don't get me wrong, Kennett. You can't
shake me now, you've picked yourself a crew!"

Kennett permitted himself a smile as he moved swiftly to the controls.
"Good! I knew you'd think that way."

Marnay said: "Don't flatter me, I _never_ think. There's always been
idiocy in my family and this proves it."

       *       *       *       *       *

They'd been about twelve hours out when Kennett handed over the
controls. He moved down the corridor into the middle part of the ship.
Marnay heard him pounding and moving around back there for hours, but
couldn't imagine what he was doing.

When he returned, Kennett pulled a lever and a heavy double door slid
across, isolating the control room and part of the corridor from the
rest of the ship. He volunteered no explanation, however.

On Marnay's off-duty he moved back toward those doors, experimentally.
Kennett stopped him with: "Sorry, but this will have to be our quarters
from now on."

Marnay nodded to himself. He was a newsman, a good one, and he knew
people. He could see that Kennett was restless and impatient for action
despite the fact that he was deliberately holding the _Vera's_ speed
down.

But Marnay said nothing, and on the second day out, Kennett seemed a
little more talkative. He said: "I guess you've been wondering why I
want so much to get Prather."

Marnay shrugged, but looked at his companion shrewdly. "Wondering? No,
I'm not wondering. Only last month Tri-Planet Metals boosted the reward
up to a half million."

"That so? I didn't know that. But then, I haven't thought much about
the reward angle." Kennett sounded as though he meant it. He went on:
"You know how Prather works, I suppose."

"Ramming?" Marnay said. "Yes, I know. His ship is supposed to be built
of some tough new metal he found on Mercury. I've heard that even his
tubes are made of it, and are slightly expansive under pressure, giving
him greater speed than any tubes yet known."

"That's probably true," Kennett said. "But the important thing is, he
can ram completely through any ordinary spacer. And usually does."

Marnay nodded. "I've heard such stories."

"You've heard such stories," Kennett repeated with a startling
bitterness. "But I saw one--just one. Three years ago when I was a
rookie on the Earth Patrol. We received a flash that Prather had rammed
and looted a passenger liner enroute from Mars to Earth. The Salvage
men were sent out to rescue any possible survivors. What headquarters
really meant was that they were to do the mopping up--they knew there
wouldn't be any survivors. I wasn't on Salvage duty then, but I grabbed
a swift Patrol boat and got out there first, anyway...."

Kennett paused, and for a moment Marnay saw horror in the other's eyes.
Then Kennett continued:

"You know, Marnay, when a Patrol man applies for leave after a job like
that, and stays drunk for a week, nothing is thought of it. I didn't
even apply for leave. I simply left duty, and I stayed drunk for a
month, not a week. After which, headquarters told me I was relieved
from duty permanently. I didn't care. Not any more."

Marnay waited. He knew Kennett hadn't finished. For a single instant,
the space of a memory, Kennett caught his breath in his throat; then:

"You see," he said, turning away, "the girl I loved was on that liner;
and I found her. She was returning to Earth and we were to be married.
Her name was Vera, too."

       *       *       *       *       *

The _Vera_ lumbered along at about half speed. The fourth day they
passed beyond the asteroid belt.

"Double duty now," Kennett pronounced grimly. "It may be only a matter
of hours until Prather sights us--but I want to be sure of sighting him
first!"

"Okay!" Marnay said.

From then on, one of the men stayed always by the visipanel,
manipulating the dial which magnified space for a thousand mile radius.
But all remained a vast swimming blackness. An occasional meteor
flashed across, but no sign of any spaceship.

Once Marnay, at the controls, gave a few experimental blasts with the
rocket speeds. The _Vera_ jerked a little. At once Kennett was leaping
to his side, spinning him around in the seat.

"What the hell!" he yelled, his face a little pale. "Do you want to--"

He didn't finish, but turned away, as the rockets purred smoothly
again. Marnay smiled to himself. Had Kennett been about to say, "blow
us up?" Was _that_ the secret of the _Vera_?

Maybe. Marnay grew serious as he pondered on it--the rest of the ship
back there which Kennett had shut off. Suppose the ship was full of
_Tynyte_ space-bombs? Marnay remembered the Patrol's encounters with
Prather. They'd tried atom-blasts at first, but before they could
take effect the tough pirate ship slid from beneath them like an eel
in oil. Then they had tried _Tynyte_ bombs. But the pirate ship was
reputedly so fast that not one of the bombs could reach its mark with
any effectiveness.

How could Kennett, then, in the plodding _Vera_, hope to succeed with
_Tynyte_ bombs?

A sudden fantastic thought flooded Marnay's brain--something about
super speed--but he immediately dispensed with _that_ idea. He was no
spaceman, but he knew enough about Spacer construction to know that
Kennett had no hidden speed here in the _Vera_. No, it was something
else he must have up his sleeve....

Kennett went back into the middle of the ship a few more times, as
though on trips of inspection, but didn't stay long.

At last Marnay said, in his impatience: "We'll be meeting up with
Prather any minute now! Hadn't you better give me my orders?"

"No orders," Kennett replied with amazing calmness.

"But--damn it, man! At least I want to know what to expect!"

"I'm sorry, Marnay. Bear with me just a little longer now. If I told
you any more you might become panicky at the last second and ruin
everything. That absolutely mustn't happen. I _will_ tell you just this
much: there's never been a Spacer like this before, it's something
utterly revolutionary in Spacer construction. I worked on it three
years, building it almost single-handed, just for the sole moment when
I'd meet up with Prather. It worked all right on a tiny model--but
if the real thing doesn't work we won't be alive to know it. If only
Prather would hurry!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Kennett turned the visipanel dial nervously, watching the swimming,
empty blackness. "Maybe he hasn't swallowed the bait!" he exclaimed.
"Maybe those weren't even his men that left Mars, and he doesn't know
we're out here at all! Say, if that dirty V'Norghi has double-crossed
me...." Kennett stopped, laughed shortly. "Well, nothing we can do now.
I feel it only fair to tell you, Marnay: we haven't enough fuel to take
us on to Callisto, or back to Mars either. I was depending on Prather
for our return fuel."

Marnay looked up with a wry grimace. "D'you know, Kennett, that's one
thing I like about you. You're always telling me such comforting things
at the most unexpected moments!"

But Prather showed up. It was hours later, and startlingly sudden.
Kennett called from the visipanel:

"There he is, I almost missed him! I told you he's clever, he's got his
ship painted solid black! Now listen, Marnay. I'm going to keep him in
the panel, you stay at the controls and obey my instructions."

"Okay, but how close is he?" Marnay asked nervously.

"Dial shows a thousand miles--off the starboard bow, and he's
approaching fast. Maintain your present speed."

Marnay did, but wished he was at the panel instead of Kennett.

"Click on the radio," Kennett called a minute later. "But don't answer
if he sends a message through. He doesn't seem to be suspicious of
anything yet, but I know he's sighted us."

Kennett continued to watch. He called: "Cut speed to one quarter. One
quarter, damn it!" as Marnay fumbled with the tube control. "There,
that's it, good. That'll show him we've sighted him, but he mustn't
suspect we're too anxious to meet up with him."

"_I'm_ not anxious to," Marnay replied. And then he jumped as a cold,
strange voice came through the open radio.

"The _Vera_? Hello! This is Prather. You will please go into a drift
while I board you. You have a cargo I should like to inspect." The
voice was mocking, but at the same time anticipatory.

So the bait had worked! Marnay reached automatically for the shut-off
control, but Kennett's voice stabbed at him: "Leave 'em alone! You will
maintain one-quarter speed. And leave our sender off, don't answer; let
him think we've got no radio at all, so he'll ram us."

So he'll ram us! That was a nice pleasant thought, Marnay thought,
wiping sweat from his brow. But he obeyed Kennett's orders.

Again came Prather's voice: "Attention _Vera_! You will go into a drift
immediately or take the consequences. Last warning."

Marnay had an overwhelming desire to shut off the tubes, but he didn't.
He maintained their one-quarter speed. Then through the speaker the two
men heard:

"They have no radio. We'll ram. It's just as well." Marnay could almost
imagine Prather's shrug.

       *       *       *       *       *

From the panel Kennett said "Okay! Fine! He's still coming at us. You
can lock the controls now, and come over here."

Marnay did that willingly. He peered into the panel. Then he gasped.
The huge, black pirate ship was looming up terrifyingly large, filling
half of space, speeding straight at them. It couldn't have been a
hundred miles away, Marnay thought, and in another minute it would
smash through the _Vera_ like an eggshell!

Marnay waited for Kennett to make some move. He made none.

Then, in a sudden flood of horror, Marnay realized the other's purpose.
Revenge, of course, he had known that! But he was going to sacrifice
both their lives for it!

Kennett shook him away angrily. "Keep cool! You'll see something in a
minute--get ready!"

Still they watched and waited. The detector dial registered the swiftly
diminishing distance--fifty miles, twenty miles, ten....

Then Kennett was on his feet, moving with swift surety to the wall,
opening a small iron locker. There Marnay glimpsed a complete set of
odd looking controls. Swiftly Kennett plugged in a bank of connections,
electric cables. He grasped a heavy lever. He stood there, looking over
at the detector dial. It showed three miles.

"All right," Kennett yelled, "hold tight!... Now!"

His hand came down on the lever.

       *       *       *       *       *

For a moment Marnay thought the pirate ship had rammed them, or that
they had exploded, or both. He and Kennett were suddenly hurtling
outward ... at terrific speed ... their tiny compartment away from the
rest of the ship!

He looked in the panel and his heart leaped. They had indeed
exploded--very systematically! He saw fully a score of miniature
_Veras_ speeding away from each other in a perfect, ever widening
circle! Each was a tiny spacer with its own motivating blast. He
recalled the puzzling construction of the _Vera_ as he'd first seen it,
and now suddenly he understood; it had been _segmented_!

Where the huge original _Vera_ had been was now only a huge steel
framework, from which the score of miniature _Veras_ were speeding
away in their widening circle. The pirate ship was blasting violently
with its forward rockets, but it was too late. It crashed into the
framework, crumpling and tangling it and carrying it forward on the
momentum.

"Now watch!" Kennett was yelling unnecessarily in Marnay's ear.
"Space-bombs such as you never saw before--each of those _Veras_, ten
tons of _Tynyte_!"

"But--they're going away...."

"They're equipped with magniplates! And only barely enough rocket power
to hurl them away from each other. Just watch!"

The mile-wide circle of miniature _Veras_ was slowing, as each of their
feeble rocket-blasts ceased. And then they came heading swiftly back to
their original source, the magniplates pulling them back.

As though endowed with some uncanny intelligence, they came; as though
aware of the revenge entrusted to them, and the significance of their
name.

The first one struck near the pirate ship's prow, letting loose its
death. The ship lifted like a proud black stallion rearing in the
air. The tough metal hull held--but only for a second. Another _Vera_
struck. The blast hurled the ship directly into a host of others which
exploded in a holocaust that ripped the black hull open like a sardine
can. The rest of the _Veras_ came speeding into the mass to let loose
their death, complete and final.

As Marnay turned from that scene in the panel he felt sick and a little
weak; Kennett was pale, but the grim little lines were gone from around
his mouth and a bitter look was no longer in his eyes.

"Well, it's all over," he said with startling calmness. "I've done what
I swore three years ago I'd do. I think I named my ship well."

He stared long and wistfully into space. "Yes, they're gone now--all
the _Veras_ are gone. Except one. _This_ one's left to take us back, so
we'd better start sifting through all that mess out there for enough
fuel."

Slowly they drifted in, to begin the grim task.