The Eagles Gather Page #2

Continues the story of the Bouchard family begun in "Dynasty of death."

• Fiction

								


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Little Shafer mouthed his food wolfishly, now and then drawing the back of his hand across his mouth and the tip of his long pointed nose. "What makes you think we won't find any more uranium?" he asked slyly.

Duane looked at him. The little man's fingers were trembling.

"Oh, we might find it," Duane said, "but there's no organization any more. It's been blown to hell. If we do find uranium, we'll lose it again. We're all washed up--for the time being, anyway. We'll have to dig in here on old Terra and start from scratch. Personally, I'm glad."

Captain snorted. "Nurts."

"There's uranium aplenty left," little Shafer said stubbornly.

Captain's eyes narrowed. "Know where it is, punk?"

Shafer avoided that steely glance. "Maybe I do and maybe I don't," he evaded.

Belton scraped the last bit of grease from his plate and belched contentedly. "I was rich once," he told the fire.

Captain sneered. "You ain't ever had the price of an extra drink in your pocket."

"I was rich once, just the same." Bill Belton looked from face to face pleadingly. A coal sputtered into the flame and lit the high color on his bulby nose and swollen cheeks. "I was rich once, richer than dirt."

"O. K.," Duane told him. "Maybe you were. Go ahead and tell your tale and get it off your mind. I'm not sleeping tonight, anyway."

"It'll be a rum-soaked, mangy lie that he dreamed up between panhandling and fightin' pink lizards." Captain yawned.

Belton looked hurt and lowered his eyes to the fire.

"I was rich once. I was runnin' a one-man mining boat out of Achilles. It wasn't much of a boat, but it was mine. An' all of a sudden I came across a freighter, a drifter. A meteor had torn about a fourth of her away, and she was driftin' and spinnin' alone out there in space with all the stars a-twinklin' down at her like diamonds sparklin' on black velvet.

"So I boarded her, and every bit of oxygen had been ripped from her, and there was all the poor boys there, dead and frozen in Old Father Time's icebox. Well, that ship was loaded with furs. She had been outward bound from Pallas, I reckon. An' those furs were all mine by rights of salvage. A king's ransom. I packed my boat with 'em until I hardly had room to move about it.

"An' then, just off Mars, a damned bunch of hellhounds boarded me and cleaned me out and set me adrift in one of those dinky little emergency boats. I've thought of it and thought of it. Those furs were mine. I was rich. They robbed me. But I got the name of that boat. I saw the name. Some day I'll catch some of those fellows. Or even one--"

While Belton was talking, little Shafer slowly slumped over the fire and held his hands over the coals. His fingers were shaking as though he had a chill. His dull, close-set eyes glanced this way and that furtively.

And two pairs of eyes were upon him, Captain's and Duane's. Captain reached into an inner pocket of his leather jacket and produced a flask. Slowly he uncorked it and held it toward the little man, then drew it back temptingly. Shafer's clutching, trembling fingers followed the flask.

"You seem like a good little guy," Captain said. "An' you look sick. Take it all. It's all I've got, but--" He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled his cold smile.

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Duane watched the little play before him. In his deep eyes was pity for this little derelict and contempt for the man who was leading him on.

"He thinks you know where some uranium is buried," he said mockingly. "He'll trade you a drink for a ton of uranium."

"Go to hell," Captain told him. And then to Shafer, "Go ahead. Drink her down. Don't mind this space lawyer."

The little man obliged. Belton watched, fascinated.

"Hell, don't I get a nip?" he objected.

"Not a drop," Captain's cold eyes were murderous. "Can't you see, this little fellow's a gentleman? I bet he's seen better days--"

"Haven't we all?" Duane interrupted.

"Leave the little guy alone." Captain thumped Shafer on the back lustily. The little man smiled timidly and tilted the flask again.

"Thanks." He drew the back of his hand across his mouth and held out the flask to Captain.

Captain waved it away airily.

"Nix, I can tell when a guy needs a drink better than I do. I bet you've seen better days. Bet you were richer than this mug who yaps about findin' a load of furs--like he was a damned scavenger."

Belton flushed. "Listen." One hand stole within his tattered jacket.

"Easy," Duane said, and patted the worn butt of his gun. Belton slumped back over the fire and began to mutter to himself.

Shafer had taken another pull at the flask. A feverish light was coming into his dull eyes.

"Furs," he snorted contemptuously. "Dirty, stinkin' furs! Who gives a damn about furs? Why, I got a corner on all the wealth in the world. The overlords will be beggin' after me some day. I'm richer than all the stars 'cause I got what everybody wants."

"I knew a guy who talked like that once," put in Duane softly. "He was singin' a tune just like that in a two-bit bar. But he didn't have money enough to pay for his last drink and they threw him out into the street."

"Shut up." Captain smiled, confident that Duane had played into his hand. "Never mind this cynic."

Shafer looked at Duane and tried to sneer. "Think I'm lyin', eh? Well, you'll see. I used to own my own boat, I did. An' I found a mine, a nice, floatin' mine. I didn't have to stake it, 'cause I'm the only one who knows where it is."

"Sure," said Captain.

"Tons and tons of uranium." Shafer turned the words over in his mouth as though they were bon-bons.

"Sure," said Captain softly. "Enough for all. We'll live like kings."

Shafer straightened and looked about him, frightened. His eyes dulled again. "You're trying to get me to talk. No, it's mine. All mine. I found it. Nobody else knows where it is."

Again Captain patted Shafer's thin shoulders. "We were just interested in your story, weren't we, men?"

Duane grunted his contempt.

       *       *       *       *       *

Little Shafer took another pull at the flask. "Yes, sir," he said dreamily. "I was cruisin' out there in space, 'way off the space lanes, when I bumped into it. A little asteroid not over half a mile across. And solid uranium. I chartered it. I figgered out its orbit to an inch. I used to could do that. An' it's mine. Over an' over I keep repeatin' those figures to myself.

"I may forget other things but I won't forget that orbit. An' I'll write it down when someone puts the cold cash in my hand."

He was silent for a moment. Then he took another drink and began to talk to himself. "Yes, sir, I found an asteroid that's solid uranium. There I was, down on my luck, an' cruisin' around in my own ship, the Billikins--"

His thin hand went to his mouth as though to stop the words. His eyes were filled with fear. A scream slipped between his bony fingers.

Bill Belton was on his feet, a groping hand within his coat.
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