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Updated: August 20, 2024
Looking back to his first action against Rodan with a sharpened trowel that had pierced the wall of a stellene dome eventually leading up to Dutch's death, and very nearly precipitating his own demise and that of his other companions, he wondered if it wouldn't be regarded as criminal. Now he wasn't absolutely sure, himself, that it hadn't been criminal or Moonmad.
"Even I might. We'd better go see." Nelsen had bitter, vengeful thoughts of Rodan being set at liberty with himself the culprit. The official at the police building was an American a gruff one, but human. "I got the dope from the girl, Nelsen," he said. "And from Lester. You're lucky. Rodan confessed to a murder another employee just before he hired you.
The armor locker! Rodan had extra keys, and could tamper and make replacements, any time he considered it necessary. Lester had wandered afield, somewhere. When he showed up, Nelsen jarred him out of his studious preoccupations long enough for them both to examine his armor. Same, identical story. "Rodan made sure," Frank gruffed. "That S.O.B. put us on a real short tether!"
"So we've got a long walk," he said. "Toward the Tovie settlement. In Archers of mostly much-reduced range. Whose fault the situation is, can't change anything a bit. This is a life-or-death proposition, with lasting-time the most important factor. So let's get started. Has anybody got any suggestions to increase our chances?" Both Rodan and Dutch had come to. Rodan said nothing.
"Very well, boy," Rodan said at last. "A hundred dollars for a week's work period." Frank was glad that Lester had a place to go and furious that he would probably have to nursemaid him, after all. Gimp Hines kept riding the rim of his ring like a merry-go-round, his face trying to show casual humor and indifference over ruefulness and scare. "Nobody wants me," he said cheerfully.
Yet he didn't hate Xavier Rodan any less. "The S.O.B. might just get sent to a mental hospital at the worst," Gimp growled loyally. "Well, come on, Frank let's forget it, ditch our Archies at the Hostel, get a culture steak, and look around to see what you've missed..."
"First we'll find out what we've got left to work with." He investigated the rocket. That the blast had toppled it over, wasn't the worst. When he unlocked its servicing doors, he found that Rodan had removed a vital part from the nuclear exciters of the motors.
"I'll learn you to leave junk in my way, you greenhorn squirt!" Dutch shouted. Then he tossed Frank thirty feet. Frank came back, kicked him in his thinly armored stomach, knocked him down, and tried to get his gun. But Dutch grabbed him in those big arms. Helen was also pointing a small pistol at him. She was trembling. "Dad will handle this," she said. Rodan came over.
David Lester looked frightened for a minute. Then he seemed to ease. "Maybe it doesn't make any difference," he said. "Though I'd like to call my mother... But I'm doing things that I like. After a while, when the job is finished, he'll let us go." "Yeah?" Frank breathed. There was the big question. Nelsen figured that an old, corny pattern stuck out all over Rodan.
He knew that he was trapped by a dangerous tyrant, such as might spring up in any new, lawless country. "It was just a thought, sir," he said, being as placating as he dared, and controlling his rising fury. For there was something that hardened too quickly in Rodan. He had the fame-and-glory bug, and could be savage about it. If you wanted to get away, you had to scheme by yourself.
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