{"id":1746,"date":"2025-01-27T01:22:40","date_gmt":"2025-01-27T01:22:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1746"},"modified":"2025-01-27T01:22:40","modified_gmt":"2025-01-27T01:22:40","slug":"conspiracy-on-callisto-by-frederik-pohl","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1746","title":{"rendered":"Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Originally published under his pseudonym James MacCreigh, Conspiracy on Callisto by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/a-hitch-in-time-by-frederik-pohl\">Frederik Pohl<\/a> appeared in Planet Stories Winter 1943 edition<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl<\/h3>\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\"><em>Revolt was flaring on Callisto, and Peter Duane<br \/>held the secret that would make the uprising a<br \/>success or failure. Yet he could make no move,<br \/>could favor no side\u2014his memory was gone\u2014he<br \/>didn\u2019t know for whom he fought.<\/em><\/p>\n\n<p>Duane\u2019s hand flicked to his waist and hung there, poised. His dis-gun remained undrawn.<\/p>\n<p>The tall, white-haired man\u2014Stevens\u2014smiled.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re right, Duane,\u201d he said. \u201cI could blast you, too. Nobody would win that way, so let\u2019s leave the guns where they are.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The muscles twitched in Peter Duane\u2019s cheeks, but his voice, when it came, was controlled. \u201cDon\u2019t think we\u2019re going to let this go,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019ll take it up with Andrias tonight. We\u2019ll see whether you can cut me out!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The white-haired man\u2019s smile faded. He stepped forward, one hand bracing him against the thrust of the rocket engines underneath, holding to the guide rail at the side of the ship\u2019s corridor.<\/p>\n<p>He said, \u201cDuane, Andrias is your boss, not mine. I\u2019m a free lance; I work for myself. When we land on Callisto tonight I\u2019ll be with you when you turn our\u2014shall I say, our cargo?\u2014over to him. And I\u2019ll collect my fair share of the proceeds. That\u2019s as far as it goes. I take no orders from him.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A heavy-set man in blue appeared at the end of the connecting corridor. He was moving fast, but stopped short when he saw the two men.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHey!\u201d he said. \u201cChange of course\u2014get to your cabins.\u201d He seemed about to walk up to them, then reconsidered and hurried off. Neither man paid any attention.<\/p>\n<p>Duane said, \u201cDo I have to kill you?\u201d It was only a question as he asked it, without threatening.<\/p>\n<p>A muted alarm bell sounded through the P.A. speakers, signaling a one-minute warning. The white-haired man cocked his eyebrow.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot at all,\u201d he said. He took the measure of his slim, red-headed opponent. Taller, heavier, older, he was still no more uncompromisingly belligerent than Duane, standing there. \u201cNot at all,\u201d he repeated. \u201cJust take your ten thousand and let it go at that. Don\u2019t make trouble. Leave Andrias out of our private argument.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDamn you!\u201d Duane flared. \u201cI was promised fifty thousand. I need that money. Do you think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cForget what I think,\u201d Stevens said, his voice clipped and angry. \u201cI don\u2019t care about fairness, Duane, except to myself. I\u2019ve done all the work on this\u2014I\u2019ve supplied the goods. My price is set, a hundred thousand Earth dollars. What Andrias promised you is no concern of mine. The fact is that, after I\u2019ve taken my share, there\u2019s only ten thousand left. That\u2019s all you get!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane stared at him a long second, then nodded abruptly. \u201cI was right the first time,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll have to kill you!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Already his hand was streaking toward the grip of his dis-gun, touching it, drawing it forth. But the white-haired man was faster. His arms swept up and pinioned Duane, holding him impotent.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t be a fool,\u201d he grated. \u201cDuane\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The P.A. speaker rattled, blared something unintelligible. Neither man heard it. Duane lunged forward into the taller man\u2019s grip, sliding down to the floor. The white-haired man grappled furiously to keep his hold on Peter\u2019s gun arm, but Peter was slipping away. Belatedly, Stevens went for his own gun.<\/p>\n<p>He was too late. Duane\u2019s was out and leveled at him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNow will you listen to reason?\u201d Duane panted. But he halted, and the muzzle of his weapon wavered. The floor swooped and surged beneath him as the thrust of the mighty jets was cut off. Suddenly there was no gravity. The two men, locked together, floated weightlessly out to the center of the corridor.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCourse change!\u201d gasped white-haired Stevens. \u201cGood God!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The ship had reached the midpoint of its flight. The bells had sounded, warning every soul on it to take shelter, to strap themselves in their pressure bunks against the deadly stress of acceleration as the ship reversed itself and began to slow its headlong plunge into Callisto. But the two men had not heeded.<\/p>\n<p>The small steering rockets flashed briefly. The men were thrust bruisingly against the side of the corridor as the rocket spun lazily on its axis. The side jets flared once more to halt the spin, when the one-eighty turn was completed, and the men were battered against the opposite wall, still weightless, still clinging to each other, still struggling.<\/p>\n<p>Then the main-drive bellowed into life again, and the ship began to battle against its own built-up acceleration. The corridor floor rose up with blinking speed to smite them\u2014<\/p>\n<p>And the lights went out in a burst of crashing pain for Peter Duane.<\/p>\n<p>Someone was talking to him. Duane tried to force an eye open to see who it was, and failed. Something damp and clinging was all about his face, obscuring his vision. But the voice filtered in.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOpen your mouth,\u201d it said. \u201cPlease, Peter, open your mouth. You\u2019re all right. Just swallow this.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>It was a girl\u2019s voice. Duane was suddenly conscious that a girl\u2019s light hand was on his shoulder. He shook his head feebly.<\/p>\n<p>The voice became more insistent. \u201cSwallow this,\u201d it said. \u201cIt\u2019s only a stimulant, to help you throw off the shock of your\u2014accident. You\u2019re all right, otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Obediently he opened his mouth, and choked on a warm, tingly liquid. He managed to swallow it, and lay quiet as deft feminine hands did something to his face. Suddenly light filtered through his closed eyelids, and cool air stirred against his damp face.<\/p>\n<p>He opened his eyes. A slight red-headed girl in white nurse\u2019s uniform was standing there. She stepped back a pace, a web of wet gauze bandage in her hands, looking at him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHello,\u201d he whispered. \u201cYou\u2014where am I?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn the sick bay,\u201d she said. \u201cYou got caught out when the ship changed course. Lucky you weren\u2019t hurt, Peter. The man you were with\u2014the old, white-haired one, Stevens\u2014wasn\u2019t so lucky. He was underneath when the jets went on. Three ribs broken\u2014his lung was punctured. He died in the other room an hour ago.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane screwed his eyes tight together and grimaced. When he opened them again there was alertness and clarity in them\u2014but there was also bafflement.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGirl,\u201d he said, \u201cwho are you? Where am I?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPeter!\u201d There was shock and hurt in the tone of her voice. \u201cI\u2019m\u2014don\u2019t you know me, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane shook his head confusedly. \u201cI don\u2019t know anything,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t even know my own name.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDuane, Duane,\u201d a man\u2019s heavy voice said. \u201cThat won\u2019t wash. Don\u2019t play dumb on me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDuane?\u201d he said. \u201cDuane\u2026.\u201d He swiveled his head and saw a dark, squat man frowning at him. \u201cWho are you?\u201d Peter asked.<\/p>\n<p>The dark man laughed. \u201cTake your time, Duane,\u201d he said easily. \u201cYou\u2019ll remember me. My name\u2019s Andrias. I\u2019ve been waiting here for you to wake up. We have some business matters to discuss.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The nurse, still eyeing Duane with an odd bewilderment, said: \u201cI\u2019ll leave you alone for a moment. Don\u2019t talk too much to him, Mr. Andrias. He\u2019s still suffering from shock.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d Andrias promised, grinning. Then, as the girl left the room, the smile dropped from his face.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou play rough, Duane,\u201d he observed. \u201cI thought you\u2019d have trouble with Stevens. I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d find it necessary to put him out of the way so permanently. Well, no matter. If you had to kill him, it\u2019s no skin off my nose. Give me a release on the merchandise. I\u2019ve got your money here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane waved a hand and pushed himself dizzily erect, swinging his legs over the side of the high cot. A sheet had been thrown over him, but he was fully dressed. He examined his clothing with interest\u2014gray tunic, gray leather spaceman\u2019s boots. It was unfamiliar.<\/p>\n<p>He shook his head in further confusion, and the motion burst within his skull, throbbing hotly. He closed his eyes until it subsided, trying to force his brain to operate, to explain to him where and what he was.<\/p>\n<p>He looked at the man named Andrias.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNobody seems to believe me,\u201d he said, \u201cbut I really don\u2019t know what\u2019s going on. Things are moving too fast for me. Really, I\u2014why, I don\u2019t even know my own name! My head\u2014it hurts. I can\u2019t think clearly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Andrias straightened, turned a darkly-suspicious look on Duane. \u201cDon\u2019t play tricks on me,\u201d he said savagely. \u201cI haven\u2019t time for them. I won\u2019t mince words with you. Give me a release on the cargo now, before I have to get rough. This is a lot more important to me than your life is.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo to hell,\u201d Duane said shortly. \u201cI\u2019m playing no tricks.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>There was an instant\u2019s doubt in Andrias\u2019 eyes, then it flashed away. He bent closer, peered at Duane. \u201cI almost think\u2014\u201d he began.<\/p>\n<p>Then he shook his head. \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re lying all right. You killed Stevens to get his share\u2014and now you\u2019re trying to hold me up. That\u2019s your last chance that just went by, Duane. From now on, I\u2019m running this show!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He spun around and strode to the door, thrust it open. \u201cDakin!\u201d he bellowed. \u201cReed!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Two large, ugly men in field-gray uniforms, emblazoned with the shooting-star insignia of Callisto\u2019s League police, came in, looking to Andrias for instructions.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDuane here is resisting arrest,\u201d Andrias said. \u201cTake him along. We\u2019ll fix up the charges later.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou can\u2019t do that,\u201d Duane said wearily. \u201cI\u2019m sick. If you\u2019ve got something against me, save it. Wait till my head clears. I\u2019m sure I can explain\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cExplain, hell.\u201d The dark man laughed. \u201cIf I wait, this ship will be blasting off for Ganymede within two hours. I\u2019ll wait\u2014but so will the ship. It\u2019s not going anywhere till I give it clearance. I run Callisto; I\u2019ll give the orders here!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>II<\/p>\n<p>Whoever this man Andrias was, thought Duane, he was certainly a man of importance on Callisto. As he had said, he gave the orders.<\/p>\n<p>The crew of the rocket made no objection when Andrias and his men took Duane off without a word. Duane had thought the nurse, who seemed a good enough sort, might have said something on his behalf. But she was out of sight as they left. A curt sentence to a gray-clad official on the blast field where the rocket lay, and the man nodded and hurried off, to tell the rocket\u2019s captain that the ship was being refused clearance indefinitely.<\/p>\n<p>A long, powerful ground car slid up before them. Andrias got in front, while the two uniformed men shoved Duane into the back of the car, climbed in beside him. Andrias gave a curt order, and the car shot forward.<\/p>\n<p>The driver, sitting beside Andrias, leaned forward and readied a hand under the dashboard. The high wail of a siren came instantly from the car\u2019s roof, and what traffic was on the broad, straight highway into which they had turned pulled aside to let them race through.<\/p>\n<p>Ahead lay the tall spires of a city. Graceful, hundreds of feet high, they seemed dreamlike yet somehow oddly familiar to Duane. Somewhere he had seen them before. He dragged deep into his mind, plumbing the cloudy, impenetrable haze that had settled on it, trying to bring forth the memories that he should have had. Amnesia, they called it; complete forgetting of the happenings of a lifetime. He\u2019d heard of it\u2014but never dreamed it could happen to him!<\/p>\n<p>My name, it seems, is Peter Duane, he thought. And they tell me that I killed a man!<\/p>\n<p>The thought was starkly incredible to him. A white-haired man, it had been; someone named Stevens. He tried to remember.<\/p>\n<p>Yes, there had been a white-haired man. And there had been an argument. Something to do with money, with a shipment of goods that Stevens had supplied to Duane. There has even been talk of killing\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>But\u2014murder! Duane looked at his hands helplessly.<\/p>\n<p>Andrias, up ahead, was turning around. He looked sharply at Duane, for a long second. An uncertainty clouded his eyes, and abruptly he looked forward again without speaking.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWho\u2019s this man Andrias?\u201d Duane whispered to the nearest guard.<\/p>\n<p>The man stared at him. \u201cGovernor Andrias,\u201d he said, \u201cis the League\u2019s deputy on Callisto. You know\u2014the Earth-Mars League. They put Governor Andrias here to\u2014well, to govern for them.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLeague?\u201d Duane asked, wrinkling his brow. He had heard something about a League once, yes. But it was all so nebulous\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>The other guard stirred, leaned over. \u201cShut up,\u201d he said heavily. \u201cYou\u2019ll have plenty of chance for talking later.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But the chance was a long time in coming. Duane found himself, an hour later, still in the barred room into which he\u2019d been thrust. The guards had brought him there, at Andrias\u2019 order, and left him. That had been all.<\/p>\n<p>This was not a regular jail, Duane realized. It was more like a palace, something out of Earth\u2019s Roman-empire days, all white stone and frescoed walls. Duane wished for human companionship\u2014particularly that of the nurse. Of all the people he\u2019d met since awakening in that hospital bed, only she seemed warm and human. The others were\u2014brutal, deadly. It was too bad, Duane reflected, that he\u2019d failed to remember her. She\u2019d seemed hurt, and she had certainly known him by first name. But perhaps she would understand.<\/p>\n<p>Duane sat down on a lumpy, sagging bed and buried his head in his hands. Dim ghosts of memory were wandering in his mind. He tried to conjure them into stronger relief, or to exorcise them entirely.<\/p>\n<p>Somewhere, some time, a man had said to him, \u201cAndrias is secretly arming the Callistan cutthroats for revolt against the League. He wants personal power\u2014he\u2019s prepared to pay any price for it. He needs guns, Earth guns smuggled in through the League patrol. If he can wipe out the League police garrison\u2014those who are loyal to the League, still, instead of to Andrias\u2014he can sit back and laugh at any fleet Earth and Mars can send. Rockets are clumsy in an atmosphere. They\u2019re helpless. And if he can arm enough of Callisto\u2019s rabble, he can\u2019t be stopped. That\u2019s why he\u2019ll pay for electron rifles with their weight in gold.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane could remember the scene clearly. Could almost see the sharp, aquiline face of the man who had spoken to him. But there memory stopped.<\/p>\n<p>A fugitive recollection raced through his mind. He halted it, dragged it back, pinned it down\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>They had stopped in Darkside, the spaceport on the side of Luna that keeps perpetually averted from Earth, as if the moon knows shame and wants to hide the rough and roaring dome city that nestles in one of the great craters. Duane remembered sitting in a low-ceilinged, smoke-heavy room, across the table from a tall man with white hair. Stevens!<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFour thousand electron rifles,\u201d the man had said. \u201cLatest government issue. Never mind how I got them; they\u2019re perfect. You know my price. Take it or leave it. And it\u2019s payable the minute we touch ground on Callisto.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>There had been a few minutes of haggling over terms, then a handshake and a drink from a thin-necked flagon of pale-yellow liquid fire.<\/p>\n<p>He and the white-haired man had gone out then, made their way by unfrequented side streets to a great windowless building. Duane remembered the white-hot stars overhead, shining piercingly through the great transparent dome that kept the air in the sealed city of Darkside, as they stood at the entrance of the warehouse and spoke in low tones to the man who answered their summons.<\/p>\n<p>Then, inside. And they were looking at a huge chamber full of stacked fiber boxes\u2014containing nothing but dehydrated dairy products and mining tools, by the stencils they bore. Duane had turned to the white-haired man with a puzzled question\u2014and the man had laughed aloud.<\/p>\n<p>He dragged one of the boxes down, ripped it open with the sharp point of a handling hook. Short-barreled, flare-mouthed guns rolled out, tumbling over the floor. Eight of them were in that one box, and hundreds of boxes all about. Duane picked one up, broke it, peered into the chamber where the tiny capsule of U-235 would explode with infinite violence when the trigger was pulled, spraying radiant death three thousand yards in the direction the gun was aimed\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>And that memory ended.<\/p>\n<p>Duane got up, stared at his haggard face in the cracked mirror over the bed. \u201cThey say I\u2019m a killer,\u201d he thought. \u201cApparently I\u2019m a gun-runner as well. Good lord\u2014what am I not?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His reflection\u2014white, drawn face made all the more pallid by the red hair that blazed over it\u2014stared back at him. There was no answer there. If only he could remember\u2014<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll right, Duane.\u201d The deep voice of a guard came to him as the door swung open. \u201cStop making eyes at yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane looked around. The guard beckoned. \u201cGovernor Andrias wants to speak to you\u2014now. Let\u2019s not keep the governor waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A long, narrow room, with a long carpet leading from the entrance up to a great heavy desk\u2014that was Andrias\u2019 office. Duane felt a click in his memory as he entered. One of the ancient Earth dictators had employed just such a psychological trick to overawe those who came to beg favors of him. Muslini, or some such name.<\/p>\n<p>The trick failed to work. Duane had other things on his mind; he walked the thirty-foot length of the room, designed to imbue him with a sense of his own unimportance, as steadily as he\u2019d ever walked in the open air of his home planet.<\/p>\n<p>Whichever planet that was.<\/p>\n<p>The guard had remained just inside the door, at attention. Andrias waved him out.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHere I am,\u201d said Duane. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Andrias said, \u201cI\u2019ve had the ship inspected and what I want is on it. That saves your life, for now. But the cargo is in your name. I could take it by force, if I had to. I prefer not to.\u201d He picked up a paper, handed it to Duane. \u201cIn spite of your behavior, you can keep alive. You can even collect the money for the guns\u2014Stevens\u2019 share as well as your own. This is a release form, authorizing my men to take four hundred and twenty cases of dehydrated foods and drilling supplies from the hold of the Cameroon\u2014the ship you came on. Sign it, and we\u2019ll forget our argument. Only, sign it now and get it over with. I\u2019m losing patience, Duane.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane said, without expression, \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Dark red flooded into Andrias\u2019 sallow face. His jaws bunched angrily and there was a ragged thread of incomplete control to his voice as he spoke.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll have your neck for this, Duane,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n<p>Duane looked at the man\u2019s eyes. Death was behind them, peeping out. Mentally he shrugged. What difference did it make?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGive me the pen,\u201d he said shortly.<\/p>\n<p>Andrias exhaled a deep breath. You could see the tension leave him, the mottled anger fade from his face and leave it without expression. He handed the paper to Duane without a word. He gave him a pen, watched him scrawl his name.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat,\u201d he said, \u201cis better.\u201d He paused a moment ruminatively. \u201cIt would have been better still if you\u2019d not stalled me so long. I find that hard to forgive in my associates.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe money,\u201d Peter said. If he were playing a part\u2014pretending he knew what he was doing\u2014he might as well play it to the hilt. \u201cWhen do I get it?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Andrias picked up the paper and looked carefully at the signature. He creased it thoughtfully, stowed it in a pocket before answering.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNaturally,\u201d he said, \u201cthere will have to be a revision of terms. I offered a hundred and ten thousand Earth-dollars. I would have paid it\u2014but you made me angry. You\u2019ll have to pay for that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane said, \u201cI\u2019ve paid already. I\u2019ve been dragged from pillar to post by you. That\u2019s enough. Pay me what you owe me, if you want any more of the same goods!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>That was a shot in the dark\u2014and it missed the mark.<\/p>\n<p>Andrias\u2019 eyes widened. \u201cYou amaze me, Duane,\u201d he said. He rose and stepped around the desk, confronting Duane. \u201cI almost think you really have lost your memory, Duane,\u201d he said. \u201cOtherwise, surely you would know that this is all the rifles I need. With them I\u2019ll take whatever else I want!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane said, \u201cYou\u2019re ready, then\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He took time to think it over, but he knew that no thought was required. Already the hands that he had locked behind him were clenched, taut. Already the muscles of his legs were tensing.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re ready,\u201d he repeated. \u201cYou\u2019ve armed the Callistan exiles\u2014the worst gutter scum on nine planets. You\u2019re set to betray the League that gave you power here\u2026. Well, that changes things. I can\u2019t let you do it!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He hurled himself at Andrias, hands sweeping around to grapple for the dark man\u2019s throat. Andrias, off-balance, staggered backward. But his own hands were diving for the twin heat guns that hung at his waist.<\/p>\n<p>Duane saw his danger, and reacted. His foot twisted around Andrias\u2019 ankle; his hands at the other\u2019s throat gripped tighter. He lunged forward, slamming the hard top of his head into the other\u2019s face, feeling flesh and cartilage give as Andrias\u2019 nose mashed flat. His own head pin-wheeled dizzily, agonizingly, as the jar revived the pain of his earlier accident.<\/p>\n<p>But Andrias, unconscious already, tumbled back with Duane on top of him. His head made an audible, spine-chilling thud as it hit the carpeted floor.<\/p>\n<p>Duane got up, retrieving the two heat guns, and stared at him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThey tell me I killed Stevens the same way,\u201d he thought. \u201cI\u2019m getting in a rut!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But Andrias was not dead, though he was out as cold as the void beyond Pluto. The thick carpeting had saved him from a broken head.<\/p>\n<p>Duane stepped over the unconscious man and looked around the room. It was furnished severely, to the point of barrenness. Two chairs before Andrias\u2019 ornate, bare-topped desk and one luxurious chair behind it; a tasseled bell cord within easy reach of Andrias\u2019 chair; the long carpet. That was all it contained.<\/p>\n<p>The problem of getting out was serious, he saw. How could one\u2014<\/p>\n<p>III<\/p>\n<p>Methodically he ransacked the drawers of Andrias\u2019 desk. Papers, a whole arsenal of hand guns, Callistan money by the bale, ominously black-covered notebooks with cryptic figures littering their pages\u2014those were the contents. A coldly impersonal desk, without the familiar trivia most men accumulate. There was nothing, certainly, that would get him out of a building that so closely resembled a fortress.<\/p>\n<p>He tumbled the things back into the drawers helter-skelter, turned Andrias over and searched his pockets. More money\u2014the man must have had a fortune within reach at all times\u2014and a few meaningless papers. Duane took the release he had signed and tore it to shreds. But that was only a gesture. When Andrias came to, unless Duane had managed to get away and accomplish something, the mere lack of written permission would not keep him from the rocket\u2019s lethal cargo!<\/p>\n<p>When Andrias came to\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>An idea bloomed in Duane\u2019s brain. He looked, then, at unconscious Andrias\u2014and the idea withered again.<\/p>\n<p>He had thought of forcing Andrias himself to front for him, at gun\u2019s point, in the conventional manner of escaping prisoners. But fist fights, fiction to the contrary notwithstanding, leave marks on the men who lose them. Andrias\u2019 throat was speckled with the livid marks of Duane\u2019s fingers; Duane\u2019s head, butting Andrias in the face, had drawn a thick stream of crimson from his nostrils, turned his sharp nose askew.<\/p>\n<p>No guard of Andrias\u2019 would have been deceived for an instant, looking at that face\u2014even assuming that Andrias could have been forced to cooperate by the threat of a gun. Which, considering the stake Andrias had in this play, was doubtful\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>He stood up and looked around. He had to act quickly. Already Andrias\u2019 breath was audible; he saw the man grimace and an arm flopped spasmodically on the floor. Consciousness was on its way back.<\/p>\n<p>Duane touched the heat gun he\u2019d thrust into his belt; drew it and held it poised, while he sought to discover what was in his own mind. He\u2019d killed a man already, they said. Was he then a killer\u2014could he shoot Andrias now, in cold blood, with so much to gain and nothing to lose?<\/p>\n<p>He stood there a moment. Then, abruptly, he reversed the weapon and chopped it down on Andrias\u2019 skull.<\/p>\n<p>There was a sharp grunt from the still unconscious man, but no other sign. Only\u2014the first tremors of movement that had shown on him halted, and did not reappear.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d Duane thought. \u201cWhatever they say, I\u2019m not a killer!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But still he had to get out. How?<\/p>\n<p>Once more he stared around the room, catalogued its contents. The guard would be getting impatient. Perhaps any minute he would tap the door, first timorously, then with heavier strokes.<\/p>\n<p>The guard! There was a way!<\/p>\n<p>Duane eyed the length of the room. Thirty feet\u2014it would take him a couple of seconds to run it at full speed. Was that fast enough?<\/p>\n<p>There was only one way to find out.<\/p>\n<p>He walked around the desk to the bell cord. He took a deep breath, tugged it savagely, and at once was in speedy motion, racing toward the door, his footsteps muffled in the deep, springy carpet. Almost as he reached it, he saw it begin to open. He quickly sidestepped and was out of the guard\u2019s sight, behind the door, as the man looked in.<\/p>\n<p>Quick suspicion flared in his eyes, then certainty as he saw Andrias huddled on the floor. He opened his mouth to cry out\u2014<\/p>\n<p>But Duane\u2019s arm was around his throat, and he had no breath to spare. Duane\u2019s foot lashed out and the door slammed shut; Duane\u2019s balled left fist came up and connected with the guard\u2019s chin. Abruptly the man slumped.<\/p>\n<p>Duane took a deep breath and let the man drop to the floor. But he paused only a second; now he had two unconscious men on his hands and he dared let neither revive until he was prepared.<\/p>\n<p>He grasped the guard\u2019s arm and dragged him roughly the length of the room. He leaped on top of the desk, brutally scarring its gleaming top with the hard spikes of his boots. His agile fingers unfastened the long bell cord without causing it to ring and, bearing it, he dropped again to the floor.<\/p>\n<p>Tugging and straining, he got the limp form of Andrias into his own chair, bound him with the bell cord, gagged him with the priceless Venus-wool scarf Andrias wore knotted about his throat. He tested his bindings with full strength, and smiled. Those would hold, let Andrias struggle as he would.<\/p>\n<p>The guard he stripped of clothing, bound and gagged with his own belt and spaceman\u2019s kerchief. He dragged him around behind the desk, thrust him under it out of sight. Andrias\u2019 chair he turned so that the unconscious face was averted from the door. Should anyone look in, then, the fact of Andrias\u2019 unconsciousness might not be noticed.<\/p>\n<p>Then he took off his own clothes, quickly assumed the field-gray uniform of the guard. It fit like the skin of a fruit. He felt himself bulging out of it in a dozen places. The long cape the guard wore would conceal that, perhaps. In any case, there was nothing better.<\/p>\n<p>Trying to make his stride as martial as possible, he walked down the long carpet to the door, opened it and stepped outside.<\/p>\n<p>His luck couldn\u2019t hold out forever. It was next to miraculous that he got as far as he did\u2014out of the anteroom before Andrias\u2019 office, past the two guards there, who eyed him absently but said nothing, down the great entrance hall, straight out the front door.<\/p>\n<p>Going through the city had been easier, of course. There were many men in uniforms like his. Duane thought, then, that Andrias\u2019 power could not have been too strong, even over the League police whom he nominally commanded. The police could not all have been corrupt. There were too many of them; had they been turncoats, aiding Andrias in his revolt against the League, there would have been no need to smuggle rifles in for an unruly mass of civilians.<\/p>\n<p>Duane cursed the lack of foresight of the early Earth governments. They\u2019d made a prison planet of Callisto; had filled it with the worst scum of Earth. Then, when the damage had been done\u2014when Callisto had become a pest-hole among the planets; its iniquities a stench that rose to the stars\u2014they had belatedly found that they had created a problem worse than the one they\u2019d tried to solve. One like a hydra-beast.<\/p>\n<p>Criminality was not a thing of heredity. The children of the transported convicts, most of them, were honest and wanted to be respectable. And they could not be.<\/p>\n<p>Earth\u2019s crime rate, too, had not been lowered materially by exiling its gangsters and murderers to Callisto. When it was long past time, the League had stepped in, and set a governor of its own over Callisto.<\/p>\n<p>If the governor had been an honest man a satisfactory solution might have been worked out. The first governor had been honest. Under him great strides had been made. The bribe-proof, gun-handy League police had stamped out the wide-open plague spots of the planet; public works had been begun on a large scale. The beginnings of representative government had been established.<\/p>\n<p>But the first governor had died. And the second governor had been\u2014Andrias.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou can see the results!\u201d Duane thought grimly as he swung into the airfield in his rented ground car. Foreboding was stamped on the faces of half the Callistans he\u2019d seen\u2014and dark treachery on the others. Some of those men had been among the actual exiled criminals\u2014the last convict ship had landed only a dozen years before. All of those whom Andrias planned to arm were either of the original transportation-men, or their weaker descendants.<\/p>\n<p>What was holding Andrias back? Why the need for smuggling guns in?<\/p>\n<p>The answer to that, Duane thought, was encouraging but not conclusive. Clearly, then, Andrias did not have complete control over the League police. But how much control he did have, what officers he had won over to treachery, Duane could not begin to guess.<\/p>\n<p>Duane slid the car into a parking slot, switched off the ignition and left it. It was night, but the short Callistan dark period was nearly over. A pearly glow at the horizon showed where the sun would come bulging over in a few minutes; while at the opposite rim of the planet he could still see the blood-red disc of mighty Jupiter lingering for a moment, casting a crimson hue over the landscape, before it made the final plunge. The field was not flood-lighted. Traffic was scarce on Callisto.<\/p>\n<p>Duane, almost invisible in the uncertain light, stepped boldly out across the jet-blasted tarmac toward the huge bulk of the Cameroon, the rocket transport which had brought him. Two other ships lay on the same seared pavement, but they were smaller. They were fighting ships, small, speedy ones, in Callisto for refueling before returning to the League\u2019s ceaseless patrol of the System\u2019s starlanes.<\/p>\n<p>Duane hesitated briefly, wondering whether he ought to go to one of those ships and tell his story to its League commander. He decided against it. There was too little certainty for him there; too much risk that the commander, even, might be a tool of Andrias\u2019.<\/p>\n<p>Duane shook his head angrily. If only his memory were clear\u2014if only he could be sure what he was doing!<\/p>\n<p>He reached the portal of the ship. A gray-clad League officer was there standing guard, to prevent the ship taking off.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOfficial business,\u201d Duane said curtly, and swept by the startled man before he could object. He hurried along the corridor toward the captain\u2019s office and control room. A purser he passed looked at him curiously, and Duane averted his face. If the man recognized him there might be questions.<\/p>\n<p>For the thousandth time he cursed the gray cloud that overhung his memory. He didn\u2019t know, even, who among the crew might know him and spread the alarm.<\/p>\n<p>Then he was at the door marked, Crew only\u2014do not enter! He tapped on it, then grasped the knob and swung it open.<\/p>\n<p>A squat, open-featured man in blue, the bronze eagles of the Mercantile Service resting lightly on his powerful shoulders, looked at him. Recognition flared in his eyes.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDuane!\u201d he whispered. \u201cPeter Duane, what\u2019re you doing in the clothes of Andrias\u2019 household guard?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane felt the tenseness ebb out of his throat. Here was a friend.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCaptain,\u201d he said, \u201cyou seem to be a friend of mine. If you are\u2014I need you. You see, I\u2019ve lost my memory.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLost your memory?\u201d the captain echoed. \u201cYou mean that blow on your head? The ship\u2019s surgeon said something \u2026 yes, that was it. I hardly believed him, though.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut were we friends?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy, yes, Peter.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThen help me now,\u201d said Duane. \u201cI have a cargo stowed in your hold, Captain. Do you know what it is?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy\u2014yes. The rifles, you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane blinked. He nodded, then looked dizzily for a chair. The captain was a friend of his, all right\u2014a fellow gun-runner!<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGood God,\u201d he said aloud. \u201cWhat a mess!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d the captain asked. \u201cI saw you in the corridor, arguing with Stevens. You looked like trouble, and I should have come up to you then. But the course was to be changed, and I had to be there\u2026. And the next I hear, Stevens is dead, and you\u2019ve maybe killed him. Then I heard you\u2019ve lost your memory, and are in a jam with Andrias.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He paused and speculation came into his eyes, almost hostility.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPeter Duane,\u201d he said softly, \u201cit strikes me that you may have lost more than your memory. Which side are you on. What happened between you and Andrias? Tell me now if you\u2019ve changed sides on me, man. For friendship\u2019s sake I won\u2019t be too hard on you. But there\u2019s too much at stake here\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, hell,\u201d said Peter, and the heat gun was suddenly in his hand, leveled at the squat man in blue. \u201cI wish you were on my side, but there\u2019s no way I can tell. I can trust myself, I think\u2014but that\u2019s all. Put up your hands!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And that was when his luck ran out.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPeter\u2014\u201d the captain began.<\/p>\n<p>IV<\/p>\n<p>But a sound from outside halted him. Together the two men stared at the viewplates. A siren had begun to shriek in the distance, the siren of a racing ground car. Through the gates it plunged, scattering the light wooden barrier. It spun crazily around on two wheels and came roaring for the ship.<\/p>\n<p>Andrias was in it.<\/p>\n<p>Peter turned on the captain, and the gun was rigidly outthrust in his hand.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cClose your ports!\u201d he snarled. \u201cUp rockets\u2014in a hurry!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cListen, Peter,\u201d the captain began.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI said, hurry!\u201d The car\u2019s brakes shrieked outside, and it disappeared from the view of the men. There was an abrupt babble of voices.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cClose your ports!\u201d Peter shouted savagely. \u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The captain opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He touched the stud of a communications set, said into it, \u201cClose ports. Snap to it. Engine room\u2014up rockets in ten seconds. All crew\u2014stand by for lift!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The ship\u2019s own take-off siren howled shrilly, drowning out the angry voices from below. Peter felt the whine of the electrics that dogged shut the heavy pressure doors. He stepped to the pilot\u2019s chair, slid into it, buckled the compression straps around him.<\/p>\n<p>The instruments\u2014he recognized them all, knew how to use them! Had he been a rocket pilot before his mind had blanked\u2014before embarking on the more lucrative profession of gun smuggler? He wondered\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>But it was the captain who took the ship off. \u201cTen seconds,\u201d Peter said. \u201cGet moving!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The captain hesitated the barest fraction, but his eyes were on the heat gun and he knew that Duane was capable of using it. \u201cThe men\u2014\u201d he said. \u201cIf they\u2019re underneath when the jets go, they\u2019ll burn!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s the chance they take,\u201d said Duane. \u201cThey heard the siren!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The captain turned his head quickly, and his fingers flashed out. He was in his own acceleration seat too, laced down by heavy canvas webbing. His hands reached out to the controls before him, and his fingers took on a life of their own as they wove dexterously across the keys, setting up fire-patterns, charting a course of take-off. Then the heel of his hand settled on the firing stop\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>The acceleration was worse than Peter\u2019s clouded mind had expected, but no more than he could stand. In his frame of mind, he could stand almost anything, he thought\u2014short of instant annihilation!<\/p>\n<p>The thin air of Callisto howled past them, forming a high obligato to the thunder of the jets. Then the air-howl faded sharply to silence, and the booming of the rockets became less a thing of sound than a rumble in the framework of the Cameroon. They were in space.<\/p>\n<p>The Cameroon blasted from its cradle, racing Andrias\u2019 ships for open space.<\/p>\n<p>The captain\u2019s foot kicked the pedal that shut off the over-drive jets, reducing the thrust to a mere one-gravity acceleration. He turned to Duane.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat now?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n<p>Duane, busy unstrapping himself from the restraining belts, shook his head without answering. What now? \u201cA damn good question!\u201d he thought.<\/p>\n<p>The captain, with the ease of long practice, was already out of his own pressure straps. He stood there by his chair, watching Duane closely. But the gun was still in Duane\u2019s hand, despite his preoccupation.<\/p>\n<p>Duane cocked an ear as he threw off the last strap. Did he hear voices in the corridor, a distance away but coming.<\/p>\n<p>The captain, looking out the port with considerable interest, interrupted his train of thought. \u201cWhat,\u201d he asked, \u201cfor instance, are you going to do about\u2014those?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His arm was outstretched, pointing outward and down. Duane looked in that direction\u2014<\/p>\n<p>The two patrol rockets were streaking up after his commandeered ship. Fairy-like in their pastel shades, with the delicate tracery of girders over their fighting noses, they nevertheless represented grim menace to Duane!<\/p>\n<p>He swore under his breath. The Cameroon, huge and lumbering, was helpless as a sitting bird before those lithe hawks of prey. If only he knew which side the ships were on. If only he knew\u2014anything!<\/p>\n<p>He couldn\u2019t afford to take a chance. \u201cStand back!\u201d he ordered the captain. The man in blue gave ground before him, staring wonderingly as Duane advanced. Duane took a quick look at the control set-up, tried to remember how to work it.<\/p>\n<p>It was so tantalizingly close to his memory! He cursed again; then stabbed down on a dozen keys at random, heeled the main control down, jumped back, even as the ship careened madly about in its flight, and blasted the delicate controls to shattered ashes with a bolt from his heat gun. Now the ship was crippled, for the time being at least. Short of a nigh-impossible boarding in space, the two patrol cruisers could do nothing with it till the controls were repaired. The Cameroon, and its cargo of political dynamite, would circle through space for hours or days.<\/p>\n<p>It wasn\u2019t much\u2014but it was the best he could do. At least it would give him time to think things over.<\/p>\n<p>No. He heard the voices of the men in the corridor again, tumbled about by the abrupt course change\u2014luckily, it had been only a mild thing compared to the one that had killed Stevens and caused his own present dilemma\u2014but regaining their feet and coming on. And one of the voices, loud and harsh, was Andrias! Somehow, before the ports closed, he\u2019d managed to board the Cameroon!<\/p>\n<p>Duane stood erect, whirled to face the door. The captain stood by it. Duane thrust his heat gun at him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe door!\u201d he commanded. \u201cLock it!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Urged by the menace of the heat gun, the captain hurriedly put out a hand to the lock of the door\u2014<\/p>\n<p>And jerked it back, nursing smashed knuckles, as Andrias and four men burst in, hurling the door open before them. They came to a sliding, tumbling halt, though, as they faced grim Duane and his ready heat pistol.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHold it!\u201d he ordered. \u201cThat\u2019s right\u2026. Stay that way while I figure things out. The first man that moves, dies for it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Dark blood flooded into Andrias\u2019 face, but he said no word, only stood there glaring hatred. The smear of crimson had been brushed from his face, but his nose was still awry and a huge purplish bruise was spreading over it and across one cheek. The three men with him were guards. All were armed\u2014the police with hand weapons as lethal as Duane\u2019s own, Andrias with an old-style projective-type weapon\u2014an ancient pistol, snatched from some bewildered spaceman as they burst into the Cameroon.<\/p>\n<p>Duane braced himself with one arm against the pilot\u2019s chair and stared at them. The crazy circular course the blasted controls had given the ship had a strong lateral component; around and around the ship went, in a screaming circle, chasing its own tail. There was a sudden change in the light from the port outside; Duane involuntarily looked up for a moment. Dulled and purplish was the gleam from the brilliant stars all about; the Cameroon, in its locked orbit, had completed a circle and was plunging through its own wake of expelled jet-gases. He saw the two patrol rockets streak past; then saw the flood of rocket-flares from their side jets as they spun and braked, trying to match course and speed with the crazy orbit of the Cameroon.<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019d looked away for only a second; abruptly he looked back.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cEasy!\u201d he snapped. Andrias\u2019 arm, which had begun to lift, straightened out, and the scowl on the governor\u2019s face darkened even more.<\/p>\n<p>Clackety-clack. There was the sound of a girl\u2019s high heels running along the corridor, followed by heavier thumps from the space boots of men. Duane jerked his gun at Andrias and his police.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOut of the way!\u201d he said. \u201cLet\u2019s see who\u2019s coming now.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>It was the girl. Red hair fluttering in the wake of her running, face alight with anxiety, she burst into the room.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPeter!\u201d she cried. \u201cAndrias and his men\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She stopped short and took in the tableau. Duane\u2019s eyes were on her, and he was about to speak. Then he became conscious of something in her own eyes, a sudden spark that flared even before her lips opened and a thin cry came from them; even before she leaped to one side, at Andrias.<\/p>\n<p>Peter cursed and tried to turn, to dodge; tried to bring his heat gun around. But a thunder louder than the bellowing jets outside filled the room, and a streak of livid fire crossed the fringe of Peter\u2019s brain. Sudden blackness closed in around him. He fell\u2014and his closing eyes saw new figures running into the room, saw the counterplay of lashing heat beams.<\/p>\n<p>This is it\u2014he thought grimly, and then thought no more.<\/p>\n<p>IV<\/p>\n<p>Duane was in the sickbay again, on the same bed. His head was spinning agonizedly. He forced his eyes open\u2014and the girl was there; the same girl. She was watching him. A cloud on her face lifted as she saw his lids flicker open; then it descended again. Her lips quivered.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDarn you, Peter,\u201d she whispered. \u201cWho are you now?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy\u2014why, I\u2019m Peter Duane, of course,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, thank God you know that!\u201d It was the captain. He\u2019d changed since the last time Peter had seen him. One arm was slung in bandages that bore the yellow seeping tint of burn salve.<\/p>\n<p>Peter shook his head to try to clear it. \u201cWhere\u2014where am I?\u201d he asked. \u201cAndrias\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAndrias is where he won\u2019t bother you,\u201d the captain said. \u201cLocked up below. So are two of his men. The other one\u2019s dead. How\u2019s your memory, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane touched it experimentally with a questing mental finger. It seemed all right, though he felt still dazed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cComing along,\u201d he said. \u201cBut where am I? The controls\u2014I blasted them.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The captain laughed. \u201cI know,\u201d he said briefly. \u201cWell\u2014I guess you had to, in a way. You didn\u2019t trust anyone; couldn\u2019t trust anyone. You had to make sure the rifles wouldn\u2019t get back to Callisto too soon. But they\u2019re working on installing duplicates now, Peter. In an hour we\u2019ll be back on Callisto. We shut the jets off already; we\u2019re in an orbit.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Duane sank back. \u201cListen,\u201d he said. \u201cI think\u2014I think my memory\u2019s clearing, somehow. But how\u2014I mean, were you on my side? All along?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The captain nodded soberly. \u201cOn your side, yes, Peter,\u201d he said. \u201cThe League\u2019s side, that is. You and I, you know, both work for the League. When they got word of Andrias\u2019 plans, they had to work fast. To move in by force would have meant bloodshed, would have forced his hand. That would have been utterly bad. It was too dangerous. Callisto is politically a powder-keg already. The whole thing might have exploded.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Peter\u2019s eyes flared with sudden hope and enlightment. \u201cAnd you and I\u2014\u201d he began.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou and I, and a couple of other undercover workers were put on the job,\u201d the captain nodded. \u201cWe had to find out who Andrias\u2019 supporters were\u2014and to keep him from getting more electron rifles while the commanders of the Callisto garrison were quietly checked, to see who was on which side. They\u2019ve found Andrias\u2019 Earth backers\u2014a group of wealthy malcontents who thought Callisto should be exploited for their gain, had made secret deals with him for concessions. You, of course, slowed down the delivery of the rifles as long as you could. They lay in the Lunar warehouses a precious extra week while you haggled over terms. That\u2019s what you were doing with Stevens, I think, when the course change caught you both.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ve had him long enough,\u201d the nurse broke in. \u201cI have a few words to say.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, wait\u2014\u201d Duane protested. But the captain was grinning broadly. He moved toward the door.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLater,\u201d he said over his shoulder. \u201cThere\u2019ll be plenty of time.\u201d The door closed behind him. Duane turned to the girl.<\/p>\n<p>He shook his head again. The cloud was lifting. He could almost remember everything again; things were beginning to come into focus. This girl, for instance\u2014<\/p>\n<p>She noticed his motion. \u201cHow\u2019s your head, Peter?\u201d she asked solicitously. \u201cAndrias hit you with that awful old bullet-gun. I tried to stop him, but all I could do was jar his arm. Oh, Peter, I was so afraid when I saw you fall!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou probably saved my life,\u201d Peter said soberly. \u201cAndrias struck me as a pretty good shot.\u201d He tried to grin.<\/p>\n<p>The girl frowned. \u201cPeter,\u201d she said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry if I seemed rude, before\u2014the last time you were here. It was just that I\u2026. Well, you didn\u2019t remember me. I couldn\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Peter stared at her. Yes\u2014he should remember her. He did, only\u2014<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPerhaps this will help you,\u201d the girl said. She rummaged in a pocket of her uniform, brought something out that was tiny and glittering. \u201cI don\u2019t wear it on duty, Peter. But I guess this is an exception\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Peter pushed himself up on one elbow, trying to make out what she was doing. She was slipping the small thing on a finger\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>A ring. An engagement ring!<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh\u2014\u201d said Peter. And suddenly everything clicked; he remembered; he could recall \u2026 everything. That second blow on his head had undone the harm of the first one.<\/p>\n<p>He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, reached out hungry arms for the girl.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOf course I remember,\u201d he said as she came into the circle of his arms. \u201cThe ring on your finger. I ought to remember\u2014I put it there!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And for a long time after there was no need for words.<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Frederik Pohl Books to Read <\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/45qcrtG\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/45vznI3\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3QkmT1K\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3FjeoO6\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to get a copy<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl, check out <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/a-hitch-in-time-by-frederik-pohl\">A Hitch in Time by Frederik Pohl<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Edward Bloxam, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Originally published under his pseudonym James MacCreigh, Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl appeared in Planet Stories Winter 1943 edition This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl Conspiracy on Callisto by Frederik Pohl Revolt was flaring on Callisto, and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":1747,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1746","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1746"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1746"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1746\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1747"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1746"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1746"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1746"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}