TEMPLIN whirled into action. The men in the room, abruptly conscious that something was wrong, were reaching for weapons. Templin made his decision and passed them up for the first shot—blasted, instead, the man at the atomic warhead control, most deadly to his plans. He saw the man’s body disappear in incandescent red mist as the rocket shell hit, then fired at a clump of three who had weapons drawn, fired again and again. Surprise was with him, and he got each of them with his potent shells. Yet—the odds were too much against him. As he downed the last pale-skinned underground man, Olcott was on him!
Templin reeled with the fury of his attack, grunted as Olcott landed vicious stabbing blows on his unprotected body. He lost control of the rocket-pistol in his hand, saw it spin away across the room as Olcott thudded against him with his steel-gauntleted hand. Templin dropped to the floor under the pressure-suited body, rolled and brought his knees up in a savage kick. The chunky man grunted but lashed out and a steel fist caught Templin at the base of the jaw. For a second the chamber reeled around him. Another like that, he knew, and he was done.
Olcott came down on him like a metal and fabric colossus. The gauntleted hands reached for Templin’s throat and found it, circled it and squeezed. Templin, battered and gasping in the thin air, found even that cut off under the remorseless pressure from the other’s hands. He struggled with every trick he knew to break the man’s grip…
Blindly his hands reached out, closed on something, heaved back. There was a sudden yielding, and Templin felt air reach his lungs once more. But it came too late.
Darkness overcame him…
SOMEONE WAS bending over him. Templin surged upward as soon as he opened his eyes. The figure leaped away and emitted a slight shriek. “Temp!” it said reprovingly.
Templin’s eyes swam into focus again; it was Ellen.
He was in bed, in a huge room with filtered sunlight coming in through a giant window. He was on the surface—by the look of it, back at Hadley Dome.
His head throbbed. He touched it inquiringly, and his finger encountered gauze bandage. He stared at the girl.
“We won,” she said simply. “The Loonies and I came in as soon as we could—soon as we heard the shooting. You did a terrific job, Temp. The only live ones in the room were you and Olcott. And, just as we came in—Olcott died.”
“Died? Died how?”
“You broke his neck, Temp. He was strangling you, and you were fighting back, and you caught him under the chin and pushed. The metal collar of his pressure suit snapped his spine. And then, since you had a skull that’s broken in three places, the surgeon says, you went off to sleep yourself.”
Templin shook his head incredulously. “And the Loonies?”
“They’re free. And very grateful to you, too. They—they massacred all the other Earthmen, down under there. They’d been waiting for the chance for years, you see. And—well, you’ve been unconscious for two days, and I’ve been busy. Things are under control now. The mine is back in operation—Culver’s outside, waiting to see you—and you’re free, too, Temp. You can go back to the Inner Planets whenever you like.”
Templin repeated, “The Inner Planets.” He looked at her and grinned. “It will be like a vacation,” he said. “By the way, how about my bonus?”
“Bonus?” Ellen looked puzzled. Then she laughed—but a little strainedly, Templin decided. “Oh, you mean the backing I promised you from Terralune? It’s yours, Temp. Ships, and money, and everything you need. Only—” She hesitated. “That is, I had an idea—”
He interrupted, “That’s not what I mean,” he objected. “My bonus was personnel. You promised me I could have help to settle Venus, if I took care of this mining affair for you. In fact, you said I could take my pick of anybody on the Terralune payroll.”
Ellen’s face clouded. “Yes,” she said. “But, Temp—”
“Don’t argue,” he commanded. “A promise is a promise. And—well, you’re on the payroll, Ellen. My advice to you is, start packing. We leave for Venus in the morning!”
The End.