Ala Veg realised that her husband was going to die. When she made the mutual suicide pact with Toni Fae, she prepared for the forthcoming electromagnetic communications session by stealing from Mrak Luton a pistol loaded with a poisoned bullet.
Tycho Veg was fading away. Completely bald, without even eyebrows and beard, he was lying on the bed in the Vegs' common cabin and was staring intently at his wife as if from somewhere far way. Ala Veg could not stand that anguished stare and fled into the observatory.
She went over to the electromagnetic communications apparatus and looked for a long time at the bullet with the brown prickles which she had hidden on the control panel among the instruments.
She was afraid that she might not be able to squeeze it in her fist, although somewhere out there, on faraway Terr, young Toni Fae, who loved her, must depart this life at the same time. She was afraid of inflicting this last blow on her dying husband. Ala Veg was torn by contradictory feelings. She could not recover from the knowledge that her children had perished. The starry distance that separated her from them, however, was dulling her despair. And yet the starry distance to Terr, which brought her the young man's voice after a long delay, had not prevented her from turning his head and even persuading him to commit suicide with her. But Tycho Veg was here, close to her, was suffering, and was looking at her out of non-existence with huge sad eyes. Ala Veg wept a great deal and stopped observing the stars altogether. What was the point of all that now?
Engineer Tycho Veg died at dinner-time as quietly as he had lived. His wife remained at his side, unable to do anything to help. His naked head with the shadows of the sunken eyes, the taut skin of the face and the grin of the sagging lower jaw were indeed reminiscent of a skull.
When Ala Veg realised that her husband was no more, she was seized by a fit of rage.
Flinging the door wide open, she burst noisily into the common cabin where the Lutons and Brat Lua were having their dinner. Lada Lua was waiting on them at table.
Mrak Luton, flabby, pot-bellied and pompous, was presiding at the table.
"I accuse you, Mrak Luton!" screamed Ala Veg from the threshold. "You murdered my husband Tycho Veg! You made him charge a torpedo with a warhead that wasn't even screened against radiation!"
Mrak Luton went purple in the face. His pendulous cheeks bulged, his small eyes darted about frantically.
"Is this mutiny?" he wheezed. "I won't stand for it! Silence! Who incited you, a longhead, to this insubordination?"
"My husband Tycho Veg is dead. Stand up, all of you. Honour his memory and curse his murderer, who is sitting at the head of this table."
Brat Lua and Lada rose to their feet. Nega Luton played for time, pretending that she had difficulty in rising from the table, but she stood up nevertheless. Mrak Luton remained seated, frenziedly rolling his eyes and fingering the pistol which he was holding in his hand under the table.
"There is no insubordination here, deep-thinking Mrak Luton," said Brat Lua in a conciliatory tone of voice. "There is only the grief and despair of a Faetess, and that cannot but be respected. We all share your grief. Ala Veg. Engineer Tycho Veg was a good Faetian and of his own accord he would never have begun sending torpedoes to Station Phobo."
"What? Is this treachery? Have you forgotten that all the power in space belongs to me, the heir of Dictator Yar Jupi? Don't forget that the ship Quest is also subordinate to me. Only I, in the name of the Blood Council, can command it to return here in order to deliver us all to Terr, where we can enjoy a life of ease."
"You are mistaken, deep-thinking Mrak Luton," objected Brat Lua. "There isn't enough fuel on board the ship to ferry us all to Terr. There isn't enough on the station either. And there is even less fuel on Phobo."
"What happened to all the fuel? You and engineer Tycho Veg were answerable for it with your lives!"
"Deep-thinking Mrak Luton has forgotten that on his orders Engineer Tycho Veg fuelled the two torpedo-ships sent to Phobo. A similar madness was also committed on Station Phobo."
"Madness? Silence! How dare you, as a roundhead, condemn the Dictator's successor? I, a Supreme Officer of the Blood Guard, remain so in space! You are under arrest! I am going to shoot you like a crazed lizard!"
"Wise husband, I implore you," intervened Nega Luton. "Why use a pistol? After the death of our beloved engineer, the roundhead will be the only one left on the station who can handle the machinery. It's his duty to provide us with the facilities."
"You are right, Nega! Thank the gentle lady, roundhead! You will simply get away with imprisonment in my office. Quick march!"
Brat Lua meekly went ahead of the station chief, who kept prodding him in the back with his pistol.
When both Faetians had left the common cabin, Ala Veg turned to the remaining Faetesses.
"Isn't it enough that Faena has perished? Why must its satellite go the same fatal way? Power, dictatorship, murder?"
"What d'you want, you poor wretch? To rise up against my husband?" demanded Nega Luton angrily.
"You stopped him yourself. If he kills Brat Lua, then we won't have anyone left who can understand the station's machinery, and Lada Lua might well refuse to feed us. Then we'll all perish because of that crazy old man of yours."
"Aren't you trying to talk me into mutiny?" sneered Nega Luton.
"Let it be mutiny, then!" confirmed Ala Veg hysterically. "If mutiny will save us, we'll go that far."
"How can there be any talk of salvation if there aren't any spare ships at the stations?" insisted Nega.
"There's Quest. It could fly here."
"Why? To add to our starving mouths? Or because there happens to be a certain young man among the astronauts who has finally taken widow Veg's fancy?"
"Shut up, you viper! Get it into your tiny lizard's brain that Brat Lua planned an underground settlement on the surface of Mar. In such a shelter, on Mar, the Faetian survivors could go on living."
"That's not living, that's vegetating."
"I've been wanting to say for some time," interposed Lada Lua, "that there aren't enough fruits in the greenhouse. But my husband wanted to grow a great many nutritive greens on the surface of Mar. There would be enough not only for us, but for our children."
"What children do you mean?" asked Nega Luton, stamping her foot. "Have you forgotten, you pug-nosed fattie, about the law forbidding you to have children in space?"
"My husband said the old laws are invalid now. We're going to have a child!"
"Criminals!" hissed Nega Luton. "They want to ruin us! There's food and oxygen for only six here, and no more!"
"Tycho Veg is dead," said Ala Veg sadly. "Even if a tiny Lua is born to follow him, the station will survive. But we have to think about the future. We shall have to go down onto the surface of Mar."
"Well, of course, you'll be given a ship the way a big proprietor gets a steamcar," jeered Nega Luton.
"I'll take the responsibility for that," announced Ala Veg. "But first we must strip Mrak Luton of his powers."
"What?" Nega Luton nearly choked with fury.
"You must understand yourself, as a one-time lady of importance, that you won't survive without the Luas, even if your husband starts firing poisoned bullets in all directions. The two of you know nothing about technology or astronavigation. We Faetesses are the ones who have got to decide."
"Decide what?"
"Who's going to be in charge of the station."
"I will not betray my husband."
"Then you will betray yourself."
"But he won't give up his power, not for anything. And he's armed."
"The Faetesses can do anything if they act together."
"I fully support the gentle Ala Veg," declared Lada.
"Make up your mind, Nega Luton. You will be fed and looked after as before only if you take our side."
"But I..." Nega Luton was still vacillating, glaring inimically at the inflexible Ala Veg.
The door was flung wide open and Mrak Luton burst in like a conqueror. He pushed out his huge belly and puffed up his cheeks to hide their flabbiness.
"Mrak Luton!" announced Ala Veg. "You have been removed by us from your post as chief of the station!"
Mrak Luton collapsed into an armchair, his little sunken eyes goggling at Ala Veg.
"What did you say, madwoman?"
"I am speaking for all the Faetesses on the station. You have got to submit to us and go into your office until your fate has been decided. Brat Lua will run the station machinery, since we have to breathe and use up energy. If you kill any of us now, then you will thereby bring about your own destruction."
Nega Luton nodded in agreement.
"What? You too, Nega?" was all that Mrak Luton could manage to say, his eyes riveted on his hook-nosed wife.
"Mrak, I'm concerned solely for the two of us. I have obtained their agreement to take care of us and supply us with everything necessary. We shall be in the position of proprietors."
"I refuse!" roared Mrak Luton, drawing his pistol.
However, he didn't go so far as to use it.
Ala Veg and Lada Lua advanced on him, whereas Nega held back.
Mrak Luton rose reluctantly to his feet and, still brandishing his pistol, began backing away.
In this manner, they all went out into the corridor.
Enraged and distraught, Mrak Luton was backing towards his office door, and the two Faetesses were crowding him. Nega Luton timidly brought up the rear.
"I'll still settle the score with you! I'm giving way out of mercy. I'll release that mangy roundhead purely so that he can do the dirty jobs. But I'm not relinquishing my power! You'll never get me to do that!"
"We'll talk to you, Mrak Luton, tomorrow. But today, just think it all over carefully in your office."
"But I didn't get all my dinner. Let them bring the other courses here."
"We'll postpone your dinner until tomorrow. Thinking works better on an empty stomach. We may also cut down on the oxygen supply to your office. But not immediately, because FOR THE TIME BEING your brain cells must work normally so that you can become reconciled."
"You're not a Faetess, Ala Veg, you're a monster."
"My husband, whom you murdered, wouldn't agree with you, Mrak Luton."
"I have never committed murder. I served the Dictator faithfully and honestly, and I carried out his instructions. I had a secret order from him in the event of a disintegration war. I am in no way to blame. I can show you the inscribed tablet."
"You can do that when we put you on trial. Meanwhile, you are simply relieved of your post."
Ala Veg opened the chief's office and let out the bewildered Brat Lua. With a businesslike air, as if nothing had happened, Mrak Luton went inside and sat down at his desk with dignity, pretending that he had urgent matters to deal with.
Ala Veg locked the door from outside and invited Brat Lua into the common cabin.
"We have to elect a new station chief," she announced.
"Why?" protested Nega Luton. "I've helped you to release Brat Lua. I hope he will support me. I have risked losing my family happiness. You Faetesses ought to appreciate this."
"Your husband is the criminal who murdered my husband to violate the Agreement on Peace in Outer Space and unleash a disintegration war between the space stations of Mar."
"They sent torpedoes against us from Phobo too," said Mrak Luton's wife, in self-justification on her husband's behalf.
"We could have defended ourselves without attacking. And then Tycho Veg would still have been alive."
"You have been blinded by your grief. Ala Veg. I understand you with the heart of a Faetess. But can we talk about one death, when thousands of millions of Faetians have perished? Remember, we need Mrak Luton as chief of the station. We've got to survive. Smel Ven, as commander of the ship, will obey only his orders to fly to us."
"Have you forgotten Ton! Fae's message that Smel Ven had been killed? Besides, Um Sat was in charge of the expedition, not Smel Ven."
"The destruction of Faena has deprived me of memory and reason. What are you counting on, Ala Veg?"
"On Terr's Faetians. They won't abandon us. But first, Mrak Luton must be removed."
Brat Lua was listening to the women in dismay.
"Then let the gentle Ala Veg be chief of the station," proposed Lada Lua.
"On no account!" screamed Nega Luton.
"Calm yourself, once distinguished lady. I am not making any such claim. The chief of the station must be the one who shows the Faetians the way to a future existence."
"Who can do that except my husband?"
"The insignificant Mrak Luton is only capable of threats. He can't even bring himself to shoot anyone now because he's afraid for his fat belly. He's just a stinker, and certainly not the leader of the future Marians."
"Marians?"
"Yes, Marians, that is, the Faetians who will live on Mar in the underground cities planned by Brat Lua."
"Aren't you trying to say that the station chief should be a roundhead?" said Nega Luton, outraged.
"What good fortune that the Lutons can't leave any descendants on Mar," said Ala Veg with unconcealed contempt.
"You aren't thinking of leaving any descendants, are you, Ala Veg? And with whose help?"
"Shut up, you viper! I've lost three children and a husband; all you've lost is your conscience."
"I refuse to agree that Mrak Luton should have his post taken over by someone else."
"Then off you go, join your husband and think the matter over with him."
"I haven't finished my dinner."
"You can finish dining at table with him ... tomorrow. If you have both changed your minds."
"That is force!.."
"Brat Lua," said Ala Veg, turning to the released Faetian. "We elect you chief of the station. We will now get in touch with the people on Phobo and find out how they have been faring. We shall all beseech Quest to come and fetch us."
"Quest can only set us down on the surface of Mar," said Brat Lua. "I will shoulder all the worry and responsibility. The Faetian race and its civilization must be preserved. I've long had projects for installations that, given the efforts of all surviving Faetians, can be brought to fulfilment."
The little Faetian stood solemnly before the Faetesses as he undertook this new mission.
After a moment's thought, he added:
"However, everything will depend on whether the Faetians of Quest agree to abandon the bountiful and flourishing Terr and undergo fresh hardships and perils to rescue us."
"I shall implore them!" cried Ala Veg.
"No one will risk losing happiness," said Nega Luton. "There's no sense in Brat Lua being chief. No one will fly to the station, no one will ferry us to the surface of Mar."
"Not everybody there is as soft-hearted as the gentle Sister of Health," said Lada Lua.
Nega Luton bristled with indignation. How dare this insignificant roundhead talk about her like that? But she pulled herself up at once. Lada was now the wife of the new station chief, so Nega Luton controlled herself.
"It's just that I'm worried about us all," she muttered through her teeth in self-justification.
"It's nearly time for the electromagnetic communications session," announced Ala Veg.
She left the common cabin and made for the observatory.
When she sat down at the control panel, she saw in front of her the silvery bullet with the sharp brown prickles. She picked it up gingerly by the blunt end and threw it into the rubbish chute through which it would end up in space.
The signal lamp lit up, indicating a call.
"Poor Toni Fae! He thinks he's called Deimo for the last time," said Ala Veg aloud, although there was no one near her.
Brat Lua walked into the observatory and announced:
"Mrak Luton has just informed us over the intercom that he has agreed to relinquish his post as station chief in return for the dinner he didn't have time to finish."
"Even his own greedy stomach's against him," replied Ala Veg.
"As the new chief, I shall have to take part in the session with the Faetians of Quest on Terr."
"Allow me to open the session, Brat Lua. I'll try to put it as convincingly as possible."
"The first word is yours," agreed the new chief.
The signal lamp began winking on the control panel.
Ala Veg switched the apparatus on.