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Venus Has Green Eyes

He stood there, helpless and dumb. Captain Vixen lit a cigarette, her gun still ready. She looked at him a long moment. "Well," she said, green eyes never leaving his, "what are we waiting for?" She motioned to the man with the scar. "Take the end of the rope, Voss. Our Earthian friend hasn't tasted the mud yet, you know." Charlie hadn't said anything. A gun at his back, his white mustache ruffled by the wind, he stood silently watching Flip, holding his broken arm. The choice was up to Flip. "Look at the mud, Flip Miller," said the woman. "There is not even a ripple where Thorg went down. He went quickly. You shall dip slowly, that the conceit of your tongue and the rashness of your mind may be reflected upon with regret." Flip glanced over the rock's edge. There was only the quiet, waiting mire; no trace of Thorg's body. "Vixen—" he began. He never finished for Voss pushed him over with both hands. The black surface of the mud rushed up at him. Arms flailing off balance, he hit on his side with a heavy splash. He heard Charlie's yell from above. He raised his head from the mud, tried to brush the stuff from his eyes. A soft and clinging pressure was warm against his legs, his waist. Through the mud in his eyes, he saw the dark flat plain of the swamp stretching away into the mist. Turning, he saw the perpendicular rock wall of the island rising above him. The hot ooze crawled up to his chest and in his nostrils was the fetid smell of the swamp, dank with the warm breath of ancient decay. The mud crawled higher. He struck out with his hands against it, struggled to pull himself upward but a grim suction tugged at his feet and legs, slowly drew his body downward. Then his wrists were caught in the irresistible pull. He couldn't move his arms. Looking down, he saw the black mire high on his chest. As he watched, fascinated, the mire rose higher. It was at his shoulders. Keen and swift, panic struck like a knife in his belly and his arms strained, every muscle in his body trembled with mad flight. But he couldn't move and the mud climbed to his throat. This is it, he thought, and pictures paraded through his mind, irrelevant flashes. He saw faces, dim in the mist above him, blurred with water and the mud in his eyes. He shook his head violently, the faces cleared. There was choking pain in his throat. The faces were of three men, and a woman. It was Vixen, looking down from the rock above. His head was strained back and upward against the rope, tight on his throat. He had stopped sinking. "Have you found your tongue?" It was the woman's voice. "Where is the mine? Speak! Tell me or you sink!" Flip stared at her and could say nothing. He was smothered with the noose on his neck. His eyes burned with the pain, with red hatred of the woman. "Let him down slowly." Her voice again. Flip stared up at her with mute passion. The mud caressed his chin, repulsive and warm. Slowly, he felt it creep higher, moist against the back of his head. "Speak, fool! Where is the mine?" He stared up at her with bulging eyes, couldn't speak. Her words were meaningless. He felt only the pain in his throat, the pressure of the mire against his body. He knew only that he hated the voice that spoke and that his body was weak with that hatred. The mud crawled into his ears and the voice stopped. The mud rose to his lips. He could taste the thick salty warmth of it. He closed his mouth tightly but the taste remained. The mud bubbled at his nostrils. He couldn't breathe. He saw the vast flat plain of black become level with his eyes. The mud covered his eyes. <hr class="tb" /> The air was good and he gulped at it. He was lying on the rock. He felt his throat, wiped his face and saw somebody standing over him in the rain. The man had a scar across his cheek. "Try the other one." It was the woman's voice. "Perhaps the muddy Earthian will talk to save his friend if not himself." Flip sat up and stared at them, gathering his wits. Charlie had a rope about his neck. The man Voss held a pistol at his back. Charlie grinned at him. "Proud of you, boy," he said. His right arm dangled at his side. Failing the first time, Flip's scene was to be repeated with a new performer. "No," said Flip. "No! Charlie doesn't know where the mine is—he had nothing to do with this." "No matter," said the woman. "Perhaps seeing him in the mud will affect your obstinacy." "That mine's worthless," Flip said. "It's no good any more. Since I.M.C.—" "I know," she replied. "Hush, Flip," said Charlie. "There's more going on than we know about. Don't tell her. I'm an old man and—" "Throw him in," said the woman impatiently. Flip got to his feet, ignoring the gun in his face. Voss picked up the end of the rope around Charlie's neck. "Stop," said Flip. "I'll tell you." He couldn't let Charlie go through with this. It wasn't his problem and he had a broken wrist already. "Be quiet," said Charlie. "I don't—" "Talk," the woman told Flip. The mine must mean a lot to her, Flip thought. Why? He was positive about the present market price. Could the radio report have been wrong? No. Not in a quotation affecting five planets. "What do you want with that mine?" Flip stalled. "You know the market price." "Your questions are unhealthy, Earthman. Tell me the mine's location or your friend goes in the swamp—without a rope." Flip told her. He didn't lie. He gave the exact Venusio-magnetic direction he'd taken to find it. But he was sure of one thing—that there was more here than he knew. The radio report must have been wrong.... "You shouldn't of told her, Flip," said Charlie. "Your life will be short if he lied," said the woman. She glanced up at the fog. It was a shade darker than when they had come and the rain was stronger. The mist was thickening and it was much cooler, Flip noticed. "Come," said the woman, "we must prove his words while there is light." She turned, walked up the rock toward the ship. "Tie them in the cabin," she ordered over her shoulder. "If he lied, we shall return. If he spoke truth—they have only to free themselves before they starve...." <hr class="tb" /> When the men left, Flip immediately tried the rope. Pulling with all his strength, he couldn't slacken it and, with the pain in his arm, there was little Charlie could do. "Lordy!!" said Flip. "What now?" "We're lucky to be alive," said Charlie. "Captain Vixen must have taken a fancy to you." Flip strained at his ropes with the thought of her. Venusian women were the beauties of the Universe and this woman had surpassed them all, but in her dull beauty, thought Flip, there was nothing feminine. She had no heart. She had but one emotion—the pursuit of her goal. "It gets pretty chilly during the nights," said Charlie happily. "We'll get pneumonia before we starve." Flip looked helplessly about the room. They were bound to their chairs and the ropes looped through holes in the wall. There was no way Flip could get to Charlie and perhaps untie him. The house was of metal and through the rusty walls and the open door came the increasing chill of night. Captain Vixen's men had made them "comfortable," left them to the whistling wind. There was a draft on Flip's neck and he turned to see the rust had eaten away a small crack behind him. Just another thing, he thought. He was still caked with mud. Then he almost turned over his chair with excitement. He craned his neck, saw where the rope binding him was looped through the wall. They were two small holes, rusty as the rest. "Charlie," he said hoarsely, "these dumb Venusians! They've tied us to a knife blade!" "What?" "The holes they put the rope through! Look at the edges!" He began see-sawing back and forth with his chair. The rope rubbed against the rusty edges as he did so. "Maybe I can make it in time. It's been only a few minutes and they've got to warm up the ship." "You mean you're going to face them again. Saints o' Saturn! Leave well enough alone, boy!" Flip kept at his work. If he could get this part of the rope cut the rest would be simple. "And let 'em get that mine? Hell no! There's something about that xanite I don't understand and I'm going to find out what. I'd like a nice long chat with Miss Vixen too." Charlie gave up trying to dissuade him and Flip kept sawing. With the mufflers, he couldn't hear the ship leave but he was sure they hadn't gone yet. Those high-power planes took a lot of warming up, especially with Moxims. What to do when he got there? Flip Miller's mind never strayed far from the present. The rope broke. It was a matter of minutes before he was free. "Try the same thing, Charlie," Flip said at the door. "You wouldn't be much good out there with a busted wrist and I'll be back before long." "Maybe," said Charlie doubtfully as Flip streaked out into the rain. <hr class="tb" /> The ship loomed before him in the mist and Flip halted, some degree of sanity entering the elation of his escape. He couldn't see through the fogged windows, but there were three skillful guns inside and he was unarmed. They had taken all the guns from the shack when they left. Besides, the ship's door was closed and a strato-plane's hull is solid metal. Though he considered it, he couldn't just go up and knock. The rise-rockets were idling. A pink glow appeared at each blast but there was only a soft hissing with the mufflers. The power jets hadn't started; they were geared with a synchronized heat progression which ignited them only when the proper temperature was reached. A veedle scampered across Flip's foot and he jumped. If a veedle crawled into one of those muffler tubes it would explode, he remembered thinking when he first saw the ship. Flip snapped his fingers. If a veedle could cause it, why not he? With mud! He could fill a power jet and when the ignition started, it would burst like a clogged gun barrel. They couldn't leave. Perfect! Keeping well below the windows, he approached the ship. The power jets, as usual, were outside and forward of the glowing rise-rockets so he could work in safety. That is, unless the jets started while he was near them. But he would never know it if they did. Flip scooped up a handful of mud, stuffed it into the five-inch opening. It was like pouring water in a veedle hole but he kept at it, and heat from the smaller tubes blistering his hands. He could hear people moving about inside the plane. Finally he packed one more handful to make sure, grinning to himself. The door in the side of the ship suddenly opened. Flip dropped down beside the hull. It was the big fellow with the scarred cheek. He jumped down, walked toward the rear of the ship where Flip was. Making a take-off inspection, Flip decided. What should he do? He could make a break across the rocks, lose himself in the mist. No—they'd track him down, get Charlie again too. Well, there was one thing to do then. The man was silhouetted against the open door as he walked forward. In the heavy mist, he couldn't see Flip yet. Crouched on hands and toes, Flip sank lower. The muscles in his knees tensed. The man came on. Flip shot toward him, hands outstretched. His fingers found the thick throat, squeezed with all their might as the force of his spring carried them both to the ground. Flip landed on top, kept his hold on the man's neck. The fellow brought up his hands, plucked frantically at Flip's wrists but he made only soft gurgling sounds and soon his hands fell away. Flip turned him loose. He wasn't dead; a little out of breath. Flip took his pistol from its holster. To keep him quiet a while longer, he slugged a finishing touch on his chin. With a grin at this aesthetic work, he got to his feet. He had a gun now. But it was still two against one—he'd learned to count the woman—and they were inside. It would be risky entering the ship. Better wait till somebody else came out. They'd be out looking for this fellow soon enough. The door was still open. Flip dragged the unconscious man under the rounded hull. Eyes on the door, he crouched down beside him to wait. Suddenly he remembered the mud he'd stuffed in the power jet. Wow! If that thing exploded with him near it—! He leaped up, stuck the gun in his belt. He reached down to drag the man away too. As he turned, something jabbed hard in his side. "So you haven't had enough, Earthman?" It was the other fellow, Voss. He must have come out the other side, circled around the back. The rockets were glowing cherry red now. The power jets would ignite any moment. <hr class="tb" /> "Get away!" cried Flip. "I clogged a tube! It'll explode—" "No more of your tricks, Earthman," said Voss. He yanked Flip's gun from his belt, stuck both of them in Flip's belly. "You fool, we'll be blown to bits." "Shut up," said Voss, eyeing his comrade lying beside the ship. He poked him with the toe of his boot. The man groaned, moved slightly. Flip saw bubbles ooze from the jet he'd stopped up. It was a matter of seconds. Ignoring the gun, Flip hit Voss in the face. The man staggered back. Flip whirled to run. As he turned, the mist exploded red. Something crashed into him. An ear-splitting roar. His head hit the rock and he was stunned for a moment. Something large and heavy lay across him. It was quiet in the mist and the rain was cool. It was a man's body across him. Something hot and sticky seeped through his clothes. Flip shoved the man aside, sat up. He looked at the man's face. It was Voss. The back of his head was gone. His shoulders were a crimson mass and his back and legs were shredded. Flip got to his feet. He was covered with blood too but could find only slight cuts. Voss had received the full force of the explosion and his body had protected him. "Are all Earthians so lucky?" said a voice. Flip looked up. The woman, Captain Vixen, was standing before him in the rain. One hand was on her hip. The other held a pistol. Flip stared at her a long time and neither spoke. "Lady," he said finally, "must this game go on forever?" "Not for you," she replied. <hr class="tb" /> "Earthman," said the woman, "in the hills, I am Queen. On the mainland, I am Terror. In the swamps, I am Death. Whatever defies me on this—my planet—dies. It needs be so, for the resources of Venus have been plunder to the Universe. Imperialism ruled until my father, king before me, died fighting it. You, Earthman, are a symbol of those that killed him, those that drove my people to poverty—until I came. I am a symbol of the Venus that was—and, as I live, shall be again. You understand now why you die...." Flip looked at the woman and the rain molded her hair into golden ringlets, the wind shaped her body in the sheer lines of an ancient goddess. The mist softened the chill beauty of her face and her green eyes were misty in the deepening twilight. The wind was keen and Flip shivered. "You are the coldest woman I ever knew," he said. "And you are the coolest man." "Since I am to die," said Flip, "you may tell me why you wanted that worthless mine." "The xanite is worthless—" She paused. "The asphalt mixed with it is pitchblende. It was a secret of my father's that the lost Swamp Mine holds enough radium to buy the Universe—to return Venus to her rightful place again." She raised the pistol, took aim at his chest. Her hand was without a tremor. "At the swamps," said Flip, "you said you'd never killed a man." "I spoke truth. Now I am alone—I must." Flip heard a splash. A veedle scurried across the woman's boots. She screamed. The mud-mouse streaked off into the mist. The woman's arms dropped to her sides. Her eyes were wide. For a fleeting second, the epitome of womankind was on her face. And the warmth of irrational helplessness. Then quickly it was gone, the mask returned. She jerked up her gun and fired. The shot went over Flip's head as he dived. His lunge knocked her down. He snatched the pistol from her hand, hurled it into the mist. <hr class="chap" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus.jpg" width-obs="426" height-obs="500" alt=""/></div> <hr class="chap" /> Pinning her arms to the ground, Flip sat upon her and laughed. "You're a woman," he gritted, "you're a woman—afraid of a mouse!" She struggled violently to free herself. "You're a woman, forced into a deadly legend—a persecution complex. You're beautiful...." He bent, kissed her full upon the lips. She freed one arm, slapped him across the face. He didn't feel it. There were tears in her emerald green eyes. Flip threw back his head, roared his laughter to the wind. He'd forgotten Captain Vixen carried two guns. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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