Slaver of the Space Lanes 

by Bjorn Tagens 

Originally published in Planet Comics #12 in 1941.

Vance Kelland steered his space schooner easily among the yellow-green sky-islands of the planetoid belt. He lolled in the bucket seat at the controls, but his keen eyes missed nothing. He circled one island completely then went on to the next. 

"If this keeps up." grumbled Joe Gannon, his one-man crew. "we'll run out of supplies without even getting a smell of that reward money. 

"We're in the right field," grunted Vance. "The Space Patrol and the Space-lines searching ships have covered every other likely spot. Besides, these planetoids are just the hideout pirate would pick." 

“You still think it's pirates?" scoffed Joe.

“What else? For months, cargo ships have been getting lost, and all within cruising range of this field. And then the liner. Maybe they were just plain lost. But don't forget there are some space flyers who'd rather steal than work." 

Joe grinned uncomfortably. He was the sole survivor of a gang of claim jumpers who had attempted to work Vance Kelland's helium claim, in the Orions. Vance had coolly blasted the others out of existence, sparing Joe as a handyman. Joe had worked cheerfully for the tough explorer-prospector. But of late pickings had been lean. The fifty thousand rewards for the lost liner would set them up. 

They circled a craggy spheroid, spotted with broad belts of the jungle. Then they saw a great crater where the lost liner gleamed in the sun. 

Joe Gannon breathed noisily. "There she is! Whee-e-e! Fifty thousand in our mitts!" 

"Take it easy," grunted Vance. "I don't like the look of things." 

"Aw, what's wrong? There she is, broke down. All we got to do—" 

The schooner heeled under a terrific impact. Vance moved fast but his craft was only half under control. Something had hit a directional vane. He cut speed, shot a glance at the wide expanse of level ground in the crater, and picked a landing spot.

Joe Gannon swore. "Two black ships on our tail," he reported. "No, three! And ready to shoot again. Boss, your hunch was good."

"Three, huh?" murmured Vance. "Well, they've got the drop on us. So here we go, into their parlor." He slid the schooner down toward the crater floor. 

The three black ships came down one by one, guns still covering him as he landed. He cut off his power, reflecting grimly that he could never lift the schooner out of this great depression without long and extensive repairs.

Out of the black ships poured bearded men, heavily armed. Vance waved a hand in surrender. He emerged from the ground hatch, Joe following, and with hands-on-hips waited. 

Armed pirates faced him, but Vance had eyes only for a huge individual who swaggered forward, twirling a ray-pistol in one huge hand. A spreading black beard that covered the massive chest hid all the chief pirate's face but the small coldly twinkling black eyes, yet Vance recognized the space corsair. 

"Well, well!" he drawled. "So it's Blackie Ronn, the cheap killer who was run off the Earth." 

The beard twisted and the black eyes glittered with fury. "Same old Kelland." the pirate snarled. "The tough guy! You'll come in handy here. I'll get plenty of work out of you before you get too tired." 

"Tired?" drawled Vance. Calmly he sized up the pirate stronghold. A dozen thugs were grouped about Blackie Ronn. Farther away, in a cluster of palm buts. figures moved. And there was movement too on a trail that angled from the bed of the crater to the lip. 

His lip curled contemptuously. He shook his head, "You never were worth a damn, Ronn. In a week I'll be running this place myself." 

Joe Gannon laughed delightedly. Some of the pirates gaped. Ronn's eyes bugged wildly. "Take 'em away!" he roared. “Sling the two of em in the deep hole!" 

Several outlaws jumped to obey. Prodding Vance and Joe with ray-pistols, they headed them across the flat rocky floor. 

The little procession had to pass near the grounded space-liner. Prisoners under guard toiled about the airlocks. Vance saw a squat cannon being trundled out. 

The toilers moved feebly. One of the haggard men sighted Vance, and turned away from his work, deliberately defying the guards. 

"Vance Kelland!" shrieked the scarecrow. Then he laughed harshly. "So they got you!" he muttered, accusingly. "The great Kelland walked right into the pirate trap!" 

It was Carstairs. President of the mighty Space-lines—a prisoner of the pirates! Vance stopped, ignoring the prodding ray-pistol. 

“How's it feel to work, Carstairs?" he asked idly. 

Carstairs glared. He was in rags, his hair matted with sweat and dirt. But his spirit was not broken. "Work?" he croaked. "I never dodged work. But this—this is slavery. See these men? All of 'em will be buried within a month. Worked to death." 

Vance Kelland's lips tightened. But he said only. "Where's Ronn taking the guns?" 

"Top of the crater," muttered Carstairs. "Guns all around the lip. He'll have a cross-fire that will keep anything out of this hole. It'll be a fort that all the Earth fleets won't be able to crack. 

"Keep your shirt on," said Vance softly, and yielded to the prodding gun. At the crater wall, the guards shoved them into a dark cleft in the lava. 

Sudden transition from the sun-baked floor of the crater to the gloom of the cave blinded them both. They groped Instinctively, and Vance muttered softly to Joe. "Watch your step. Ronn said a hole, remember? A deep hole." 

"That's right," grunted Joe. "Well, I don't like holes. I stay right here." 

But the guards’ muse has overheard his complaint. "Move on!" one yelled. "Get in there, or we'll blast you!" 

The two prisoners inched forward at the threat, and the ground seemed to open at their feet. They twisted swiftly. clawing for hand-holds but to no avail. "Is the hole!" gasped Joe, his fear-laden voice rising above the cattle of rubble and dirt that accompanied their descent. 

Vance and Joe plunged down, down. Slipping and sliding on an almost sheer incline, they braced themselves for an Impact. They hit a rocky floor and rolled in the dark. 

Vance was up at once. In ten minutes he was chuckling. 

"What's funny?" growled Joe. 

"Soon as it's dark outside," said Vance. "we go upstairs and look around." 

"You're nuts." 

"Get up," ordered Vance. "We've got work to do." 

For hours they labored. On the floor of the gloomy cavern lay broken slabs of lava. These Vance and Joe dragged to the face of the cliff. Heaving until they staggered, they piled them one on another, with Vance carefully propping the larger slabs. 

And when the dim light above began to fade they had a staircase. It was clumsy and shaky. but it bore them as they climbed cautiously and at last lay flat on the floor of the crater, watching two guards at the entrance to a nearby cave. 

They waited, their strength returning. Then they stole upon the guards with lava clubs, knocked them out, bound and gagged them and took their ray-pistols, and walked into the cave. 

Carstairs and fifty other men stared incredulously. "How did you—" 

"No time for that,“ snapped Vance. "You want to leave this hole, don't you? Then tell off some good men to follow us. When we get the drop on the pirates, it's their job to grab guns. Got it?" 

"Got it, by Jupiter!" breathed Car stairs, and sprang up, listless no longer. All the prisoners stirred, exclaiming. 

It was quiet. that rush. Vance and Joe burst into the first pirate hut and had the inmates stunned before they could raise an outcry. Farther along a startled pirate yelled. He died at once as Joe's pistol flashed. 

"Where's Ronn?" Vance snapped at an outlaw. 

"L-liner." stammered the man. 

"Ah!" cried Vance. "Come on, Joe. Mop up, Carstairs!" 

He dashed toward the liner, where lights glowed. A burly figure appeared In the airlock. 

It was Ronn. His hand rose swiftly. Vance and Joe leaped side-wise to escape the deadly shot, and both cut loose with their own guns. 

But Ronn moved fast too. He disappeared behind piles of stones. Then Vance heard a rocket motor warming up. "He's getting away!" he yelled. He sprinted. Joe at his heels. 

The black pirate's ship was quivering under its power. Vance leaped into a second sleek craft, found the controls. "Make fast, Joe! We're on his tail!" The other ship left the ground with a lunge. Then he too was off. 

And he grinned grimly. It was as he had expected. Neither ship could lift quickly over the lip. Ronn was circling inside the crater, climbing slowly. Vance thought of the prisoners below and knew that the destruction of Ronn was their only hope. He gambled with a cool move that made Joe Gannon gasp. 

He slammed his craft into the black ship of the fugitive pirate. With a screaming of scraping metal, the plunging ships caromed. Ronn's ship dived into the unyielding lava wall, exploded with a deafening roar, and vanished in a sheet of flame. 

"You cah—cah—crazy fool!" wailed Joe. "We crash next—and how!" 

Vance laughed. "Get set for a bump, Joe!" he yelled, swiftly testing the heavy belt that strapped him into his seat at the controls. Joe with fumbling fingers was doing the same. The ship, knocked off its flying course by the terrific impact of the collision, was hurling downward at a breath-taking angle. 

But Vance had figured that angle. The slim craft struck hard, nose down and the two adventurers were jerked. cruelly, their senses reeling. But after one wild bounce, it righted and slid. 

Vance and Joe clung to their bucket seats as the crazily skidding ship, power shut off, came to a stop, and lurched into an upright position.

"Whew!" gasped Joe. "What next?" Vance pointed. "Nothing. That's all there is." The two sat to get their breath, as across the rocky floor of the pirate fort came a triumphant Carstair's and his mates, herding the survivors of Blackbeard's crew. 

END