Lunar Vengeance: A Collection of Science Fiction Stories by Fearn John Russell

Author:Fearn, John Russell [Fearn, John Russell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2017-09-11T22:00:00+00:00

THE MENTAL GANGSTER

Zero hour. Blackie Melrose had been banking on it for three months, either plotting silently in his cell or else giving signals to his fellow convicts in the mineral-sorting room. Four of them were ready to make the break any minute now—

Blackie’s cold eyes scowled at the electric clock on the metal wall as the second-hand crept round. His fingers played with the minerals on the conveyor-belt. His gaze shifted to his fellow-conspirators and from their appointed positions they responded with taut nods. All four of them were the toughest bunch that had ever decided to try and escape the prison walls of this asteroid penitentiary way out beyond Pluto— Lonely. Damned.

Sixtieth second!

“Right!” Blackie snapped; then a whirlwind of action exploded into the fear-quiet silence.

The guards up on their balcony were taken by surprise: that was the crux of the thing. Doors opened for conveyor trucks remained open, mysteriously jammed. Four men slammed and hammered their way to them. Knives glittered, ray-guns flashed, tables and small machines were overturned.

Blackie, six feet of iron-hard muscle, used only his fists—but with devastating effect. The two guards who jumped to seize him fell away, one slugged on the top of the head and the other with a broken jaw.

Sirens started to scream as the four pelted down the corridor outside. ‘Knife’ Halligan whipped out his trusty blade and drove it mercilessly to the heart of the solitary sentry at the external valve. He dropped.

“Here!” ‘Knife’ panted, whisking suits from a concealed trap in the metal wall. “Spacesuits. We’ll make it. Those guards are all messed up in the machine-room— You locked the doors on them, Pen?”

Pen Anderson nodded quick confirmation.

The four struggled into their suits and slammed the visor-helmets in position. Then, Blackie leading, they opened the valve and emerged onto the starlit plain outside. There, as arranged, a spaceship was waiting for them

At top speed they raced to it, blundering through the air-lock even as the hail of ray-gun charges seared after them, to flash back harmlessly from the slammed barrier. The ship took off immediately, leaving the barren little asteroid far below—climbing slowly but inevitably towards the stars.

Blackie took off his spacesuit slowly, then slid big hands comfortably down his overalled thighs.

“Well, boys, we made it!” His voice was hoarse with satisfaction. “All the sweat an’ plannin’ wasn’t for nothin’, was it? Y’can always trust Blackie to get you in the clear—” He rubbed his close-cropped black head, then lighted a half cigarette and relaxed in a wall chair.

“And the screws can never get us now,” he finished. “It’s space—and freedom.”

‘Knife’ Halligan gave a slow nod, then he switched his ratty eyes to the man at the control board.

“You did a nice job, Conroy,” he said.

“So I think.”

Conroy slipped the automatic pilot in position and turned to face the quartet. The men looked at each other. Conroy was a go-between—not the first time had he assisted in a get-away with a pirated ship—but it was the first time he had looked so white about the gills about it.

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