Asteroid of Fear Read online

landing on hard metalshaped for the interplanetary regions.

  So far, fine. John Endlich felt prouder of himself--he'd expected acertain fierceness and lack of manners. But knowing all he did know, heshould have taken time to visualize the inevitable chain-reaction.

  "Thanks, pal.... You're a prince...."

  Sure--but the thanks were more of a mockery than a formality.

  "Hey! None for me? Whatsa idea?..."

  "Shuddup, Mic.... Who's dis guy?... Say, Friend--you wouldn't be thatpun'kin-head we been hearin' about, would you?... Well--my gracious--betyou are! Dis'll be nice to watch!..."

  "Where's Alf Neely, Cranston? What we need is excitement."

  "Seen him out by the slot-machines. The bar is still out of bounds forhim. He can't come in here."

  "Says who? Boss Man Mahoney? For dis much sport Neely can go straight tohell! And take Boss Man with him on a pitchfork.... Hey-y-y!...Ne-e-e-e-l-y-y-y!..."

  The big man whose name was called lumbered to the window at the entranceto the bar, and peered inside. During the last couple of months he'dbeen in a perpetual grouch over his deprivation of liberty, which hadrankled him more as an affront to his dignity.

  When he saw the husband of the authoress of his woes--the little bum,who, being unable to guard his own, had allowed his woman to holler"Cop!"--Neely let out a yell of sheer glee. His huge shoulders hunched,his pendulous nose wobbled, his squinty eyes gleamed and he charged intothe bar.

  John Endlich's first reaction was curiously similar to Neely's. He felta flash of savage triumph under the stimulus of the thought of immediatebattle with the cause of most of his troubles. Temper blazed in him.

  Belatedly, however, the awareness came into his mind that he had startedan emotional avalanche that went far beyond the weight and fury of oneman like Neely. Lord, wouldn't he ever learn? It was tough as hell tocrawl, but how could a man put his wife and kids in awful jeopardy atthe hands of a flock of guys whom space had turned into gorillas?

  Endlich tried for peace. It was to his credit that he did so quitecoolly. He turned toward his charging adversary and grinned.

  "Hi, Neely," he said. "Have a drink--on me."

  The big man stopped short, almost in unbelief that anyone could stoop solow as to offer appeasement. Then he laughed uproariously.

  "Why, I'd be delighted, Mr. Pun'kins," he said in a poisonous-sweettone. "Let bygones be bygones. Hey, Charlie! Hear what Pun'kins says?The drinks are all on him! And how is the Little Lady, Mrs. Pun'kins?Lonesome, I bet. Glad to hear it. I'm gonna fix that!"

  With a sudden lunge Neely gripped Endlich's hand, and gave it a savageif momentary twist that sent needles of pain shooting up thehomesteader's arm. It was a goading invitation to battle, which grimknowledge of the sequel now compelled Endlich to pass up.

  "Don't call him Pun'kins, Neely!" somebody yelled. "It ain't polite tomispronounce a name. It's Mr. Tomatoes. I just saw. Bet he's got amillion of 'em, out there on the farm!"

  * * * * *

  The whole crowd in the bar broke into coarse shouts and laughs andcomments. "... We ain't good neighbors--neglecting our social duties.Let's pay 'em a visit.... Pun'kins! What else you got besides tamadas?Let's go on a picnic!... Hell with the Boss Man!... Yah-h-h--We needsome diversion.... I'm not goin' on shift.... Come on, everybody!There's gonna be a fight--a moider!... Hell with the Boss Man...."

  Like the flicker of flame flashing through dry gunpowder, you could feelthe excitement spread. Out of the bar. Out of the rec-dome. It wouldsoon ignite the whole tense camp.

  John Endlich's heart was in his mouth, as his mind pictured the part ofall this that would affect him and his. A bunch of men gone wild,kicking over the traces, arcing around Vesta, sacking and destroying insheer exuberance, like brats on Hallowe'en. They would stop at nothing.And Rose and the kids....

  This was it. What he'd been so scared of all along. It was at leastpartly his own fault. And there was no way to stop it now.

  "I love tomatoes, Mr. Pun'kins," Neely rumbled at Endlich's side,reaching for the drink that had been set before him. "But first I'mgonna smear you all over the camp.... Take my time--do a good job....Because y'didn't give me any tomatoes...."

  Whereat, John Endlich took the only slender advantage at hand forhim--surprise. With all the strength of his muscular body, backed up bydread and pent-up fury, he sent a gloved fist crashing straight intoNeely's open face-window. Even the pang in his well-protected knuckleswas a satisfaction--for he knew that the damage to Neely's ugly featuresmust be many times greater.

  The blow, occurring under the conditions of Vesta's tiny gravity, had anentirely un-Earthly effect. Neely, eyes glazing, floated gently up andaway. And Endlich, since he had at the last instant clutched Neely'sarm, was drawn along with the miner in a graceful, arcing flight throughthe smoky air of the bar. Both armored bodies, lacking nothing ininertia, tore through the tough plastic window, and they bounced lightlyon the pavement of the main section of the rec-dome.

  Neely was as limp as a wet rag, sleeping peacefully, blood all over hiscrushed face. But that he was out of action signified no peace, when somany of his buddies were nearby, and beginning to seethe, like a swarmof hornets.

  So there was an element of despair in Endlich's quick actions as heslammed Neely's face-window and his own shut, picked up his enemy, andused his jets to propel him in the long leap to the airlock of the dome.He had no real plan. He just had the ragged and all but hopeless thoughtof using Neely as a hostage--as a weapon in the bitter and desperateattempt to defend his wife and children from the mob that would befollowing close behind him....

  Tumbling end over end with his light but bulky burden, he sprawled atthe threshold of the airlock, where the guard, posted there, had steppedhastily out of his way. Again, capricious luck, surprise, and swiftaction were on his side. He pressed the control-button of the lock, andsquirmed through its double valves before the startled guard could stophim.

  Then he slammed his jets wide, and aimed for the horizon.

  * * * * *

  It was a wild journey--for, to fly straight in a frictionless vacuum,any missile must be very well balanced; and the inertia and the slightbut unwieldy weight of Neely's bulk disturbed such balance in his ownjet-equipped space suit. The journey was made, then, not in a smootharc, but in a series of erratic waverings. But what Endlich lacked inprecise direction, he made up in sheer reckless, dread-driven speed.

  From the very start of that wild flight, he heard voices in his helmetphones:

  "Damn pun'kin-head greenhorn! Did you see how he hit Neely, Schmidt?Yeah--by surprise.... Yeah--Kuzak. I saw. He hit without warning....Damn yella yokel.... Who's comin' along to get him?..."

  Sure--there was another side to it--other voices:

  "Shucks--Neely had it coming to him. I hope the farmer really murdersthat big lunkhead.... You ain't kiddin', Muir. I was glad to see hisface splatter like a rotten tamata...."

  Okay--fine. It was good to know you had some sensible guys on your side.But what good was it, when the camp as a whole was boiling over from itsinternal troubles? There were more than enough roughnecks to do a mightymessy job--fast.

  Panting with tension, Endlich swooped down before his greenhouse, anddragged Neely inside through the airlock. For a fleeting instant thesights and sounds and smells that impinged on his senses, as he openedhis face-window once more, brought him a regret. The rustle of corn, theodor of greenery, the chicken voices--there was home in all of this.Something pastoral and beautiful and orderly--gained with hard work. Andsomething brought back--restored--from the remote past. The buzzing ofthe tay-tay bug was even a real echo from that smashed yet undoubtedlyonce beautiful world of antiquity.

  But these were fragile concerns, beside the desperate question of theimmediate safety of Rose and the kids.... Already cries and shouts andcomments were coming faintly through his helmet phones again:

  "Get the yokel! Get the bum!... We'll fix his
wagon good...."

  The pack was on the way--getting closer with every heartbeat. Never inhis life had Endlich experienced so harrowing a time as this; never, ifby some miracle he lived, could he expect another equal to it.

  To stand and fight, as he would have done if he were alone, would meansimply that he would be cut down. To try the peacemaking of appeasement,would have probably the same result--plus, for himself, the dishonor ofcontempt.

  So, where was there to turn, with grim, unanswering blankness on everyside?

  * * * * *

  John Endlich felt mightily an old yearning--that of a fundamentallypeaceful man for a way to oppose and win against brutal, overpoweringodds without