Clare's hand fluttered to her throat. I stood there stupidly, gaping. My whole life seemed to be whirling like a pin-wheel. This cold killer, my Uncle John! My Uncle John whom I had trusted, who had been a father to me these eleven years! I felt that I should say something, do something heroic, but I could only stare. The six space-rats, their guns ready.... Clare's pallid face ... Taon, standing there like a colossal robot. All at once my father's voice broke the brittle silence.
"Come, come, John!" he said dryly. "You're being melodramatic now. Such slaughter is useless."
I watched him as he spoke. He was standing near the safe, hands behind his back, outwardly very calm, but I could see his eyes darting about the room in search of some means of escape. Uncle John must have noticed his eyes, too, for he waved the men forward.
"No chance for any of your tricks, Vance," he said harshly. "You four stand in my way and you're going to be removed! Take them out!"
Still stunned, I stumbled from the room between two of the space-rats. One of them, a half-breed with Venusian blood predominant, walked behind Clare, gun in hand. Despite her pallor she kept her chin high. Taon was stolid, emotionless as always, while my father was jaunty, careless, as though merely going for a stroll. As we passed through the door, I glanced back. Uncle John was busy picking up the ingots of palladium; he seemed to have forgotten us already. His eyes were bright with avarice, triumph, and he seemed to caress each bar of the precious stuff as he touched it. The sight filled me with sudden rage.
"You're mad!" I cried. "Mad! You can't hope to get away with this!"
He glanced up impatiently. "Hurry up with it!" he snapped, and slammed the door behind us.
Like four automatons, we crossed the icy plain. Near a jagged pinnacle of rock, on the edge of the landing field, the half-breed paused.
"As good a place as any," he grunted. "Line them up over there!"
They placed us with our backs to the rock, retreated several paces, flame-guns ready. I shot a furious look at my father. Was he going to see us all butchered by the energy blasts without so much as a struggle? Better to go down fighting than this. And Clare ... so young, lovely.... I was just flexing my muscles for a desperate leap when my father spoke.