Art whistled. "He thinks we'll be caught by surprise!"
"And we would have been. But we won't be now." He put down his load of groceries. "Come along."
"Where?"
"I just remembered something." In digging through the officers' quarters he had come across many documents, books, manuals, records, and papers of many sorts. He had scanned them very briefly, making certain only that no one of them contained anything which would give a clue to the operation of the Wotan.
One of them was the day book or journal of the task-force commander. Among other things it had given the location of the Nazi base on earth; Cargraves had marked it as something he wanted to study later. Now he decided to do it at once.
It was long. It covered a period of nearly three months with Teutonic thoroughness. He read rapidly, with Art reading over his shoulder. Morrie stood around impatiently and finally pointed out that the time was approaching when they had promised Ross to return.
"Go ahead," Cargraves said absently. "Take a load of food. Get a meal started." He read on.
There was a roster of the party. He found von Hartwick listed as executive officer. He noted that as an indication that the Nazi was lying when he claimed not to understand the piloting of the Wotan. Not proof, but a strong indication. But falsehood was all that he expected of the creature.
He was beginning to find what he was looking for. Supply trips had been made each month. If the schedule was maintained- and the state of supplies certainly indicated it -the next ship should be along in six or seven days.
But the most important fact he was not sure of until he had finished the journaclass="underline" there was more than one big rocket in their possession; the Wotan was not about to leave to get supplies; she would not leave, if the schedule had been followed, until the supply ship landed. Then she would be taken back empty and the other ship would be unloaded. By such an arrangement the party on the moon was never left without a means of escape—or, at least, that was the reason he read into the account.
There were just two and only two Nazi moon rockets—the Wotan and the Thor. The Thor was due in a week, as nearly as he could make out, which meant that she would leave her home base in about five days. The transit times for each trip had been logged in; forty-six hours plus for the earthmoon jump was the way the record read.
Fast time! he thought.
If the Thor ever took off, it might be too late for good intentions, too late for warnings. The Nazis were certainly aware that the techniques of space flight were now an open secret; there was reference after reference to the Galileo including a last entry noting that she had been located. They would certainly strike at the earliest possible moment.
He could see in his mind's eye the row upon row of A-bomb guided-missiles in a near-by cavern. He could see them striking the defenseless cities of earth.
No time to rig a powerful transmitter. No time for anything but drastic measures.
Not time enough, he was afraid!
Chapter 19 - SQUEEZE PLAY
"SOUP'S ON!" MORRIE GREETED him as he came hurrying into the Wotan. Cargraves started shucking off his suit as he answered.
"No time for that—no, gimme a couple of those sandwiches."
Morrie complied.
Ross inquired, "What's the rush?"
"Got to see the prisoner." He turned away, then stopped. "No—wait. Come here, guys." He motioned them into a football huddle. "I'm going to try something." He whispered urgently for a few minutes. "Now play up. I'll leave the door open."
He went into the hold and prodded von Hartwick with his boot. "Wake up, you." He took a bite of sandwich.
"I am awake." Von Hartwick turned his head with some difficulty as he was trussed up with his ankles pulled up toward his wrists, which were tied behind him. "Ah, food," he said cheerfully. "I was wondering when you would remember the amenities in dealing with prisoners."
"It's not for you," Cargraves informed him. "The other sandwich is for me. You won't need one."
Von Hartwick looked interest but not frightened. "So?"
"Nope," said Cargraves, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "you won't. I had intended to take you to earth for trial, but I find I won't have time for that. I'll try you myself—now."
Von Hartwick shrugged under his bonds. "You are able to do as you like. I've no doubt you intend to kill me, but don't dignify it with the name of a trial. Call it a lynching. Be honest with yourself. In the first place my conduct has been entirely correct. True, I was forced to shoot one of my own men, but it was a necessary emergency military measure-"
"Murder," put in Cargraves.
"-in defense of the security of the Reich," von Hartwick went on unhurriedly, "and no concern of yours in any case. It was in my own ship, entirely out of jurisdiction of any silly laws of the corrupt democracies. As for the bombing of your ship, I have explained to you-"
"Shut up," Cargraves said. "You'll get a chance to say a few words later. Court's in session. Just to get it straight in your head, this entire planet is subject to the laws of the United Nations. We took formal possession and have established a permanent base. Therefore-"
"Too late, Judge Lynch. The New Reich claimed this planet three months ago."
"I told you to keep quiet. You're in contempt of court. One more peep and we'll think up a way to keep you quiet. Therefore, as the master of a vessel registered under the laws of the United Nations it is my duty to see that those laws are obeyed. Your so-called claim doesn't hold water. There isn't any New Reich, so it can't claim anything. You and your fellow thugs aren't a nation; you are merely gangsters. We aren't bound to recognize any fictions you have thought up and we don't. Morrie! Bring me another sandwich."
"Coming up, Captain!"
"Now as master of the Galileo," Cargraves went on, "I have to act for the government when I'm off by myself, as I am now. Since I haven't time to take you back to earth for trial, I'm trying you now. Two charges: murder in the first degree and piracy."
"Piracy? My dear fellow!"
"Piracy. You attacked a vessel of UN register. On your own admission you took part in it, whether you gave the orders or not. All members of a pirate crew are equally guilty, and it's a capital offense. Murder in the first degree is another one. Thanks for the sandwich, Morrie. Where did you find fresh bread?"
"It was canned."
"Clever, these Nazis. There was some doubt in my mind as to whether to charge you with first or second degree. But you had to grab the gun away from me first, before you could shoot your pal. That's premeditation. So you're charged—piracy and first-degree murder. How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?"
Von Hartwick hesitated a bit before replying. "Since I do not admit the jurisdiction of this so-called court, I refuse to enter a plea. Even if I concede- which I don't -that you honestly believe this to be United Nations territory, you still are not a court."
"A ship's master has very broad powers in an emergency. Look it up some time. Get a ouija board and look it up."
Von Hartwick raised his eyebrows. "From the nature of that supposedly humorous remark I can see that I am convicted before the trial starts."
Cargraves chewed reflectively. "In a manner of speaking, yes," he conceded. "I'd like to give you a jury, but we don't really need one. You see, there aren't any facts to be established because there aren't any facts in doubt. We were all there. The only question is: What do those facts constitute under the law? This is your chance to speak your piece if you intend to."
"Why should I bother? You mongrel nations prate of justice and equality under law. But you don't practice it. You stand there with your hands dripping with the blood of my comrades, whom you killed in cold blood, without giving them a chance—yet you speak to me of piracy and murder!"