Pirates of Venus

father, would have you destroyed upon our return to Vepaja—it would all depend upon whom I told first.'

I came a little closer to her and looked straight into her eyes. 'You would never tell,' I whispered.

'Why not? What makes you think that?' she demanded, but her voice quavered a little.

'Because you want me to love you,' I challenged her.

She stamped her foot angrily. 'You are beyond reason or forbearance or decency!' she exclaimed. 'Leave my cabin at once; I do not wish ever to see you again.'

Her bosom was heaving, her beautiful eyes were flashing, she was very close to me, and an impulse seized me to take her in my arms. I wanted to crush her body to mine, I wanted to cover her lips with kisses; but more than all else I wanted her love, and so I restrained myself, for fear that I might go too far and lose the chance to win the love that I felt was hovering just below the threshold of her consciousness. I do not know why I was so sure of that, but I was. I could not have brought myself to force my attentions upon a woman to whom they were repugnant, but from the first moment that I had seen this girl watching me from the garden in Vepaja, I had been impressed by an inner consciousness of her interest in me, her more than simple interest. It was just one of those things that are the children of old Chand Kabi's training, a training that has made me infinitely more intuitive than a woman. 'I am sorry that you are sending me away into virtual exile,' I said. 'I do not feel that I deserve that, but of course the standards of your world are not the standards of mine. There, a woman is not dishonored by the love of a man, or by its avowal, unless she is already married to another,' and then of a sudden a thought occurred to me that should have occurred before. 'Do you already belong to some man?' I demanded, chilled by the thought. 'Of course not!' she snapped. 'I am not yet nineteen.' I wondered that it had never before occurred to me that the girl in the garden of the jong might be already married.

I did not know what that had to do with it, but I was glad to learn that she was not seven hundred years old. I had often wondered about her age, though after all it could have made no difference, since on Venus, if anywhere in the universe, people are really no older than they look—I mean, as far as their attractiveness is concerned.

'Are you going?' she demanded, 'or shall I have to call one of the Vepajans and tell them that you have affronted me?'

'And have me killed?' I asked. 'No, you cannot make me believe that you would ever do that.'

'Then I shall leave,' she stated, 'and remember that you are never to see me or speak to me again.'

With that parting and far from cheering ultimatum she quit the room, going into another of her suite. That appeared to end the interview; I could not very well follow her, and so I turned and made my way disconsolately to the captain's cabin in the tower.

As I thought the matter over, it became obvious to me that I not only had not made much progress in my suit, but that there was little likelihood that I ever should. There seemed to be some insuperable barrier between us, though what it was I could not imagine. I could not believe that she was entirely indifferent to me; but perhaps that was just a reflection of my egotism, for I had to admit that she had certainly made it plain enough both by words and acts that she wished to have nothing to do with me. I was unquestionably persona non grata .

Notwithstanding all this, or maybe because of it, I realized that this second and longer interview had but served to raise my passion to still greater heat, leaving me in a fine state of despair. Her near presence on board the Sofal was constantly provocative, while her interdiction of any relations between us only tended to make me more anxious to be with her. I was most unhappy, and the monotony of the now uneventful voyage back toward Vepaja offered no means of distraction. I wished that we might sight another vessel, for any ship that we sighted would be an enemy ship. We were outlaws, we of the Sofal — pirates, buccaneers, privateers. I rather leaned toward the last and most polite definition of our status. Of course we had not as yet been commissioned by Mintep to raid shipping for Vepaja, but we were striking at Vepaja's enemies, and so I felt that we had some claim upon the dubious respectability of privateerism. However, either of the other two titles would not have greatly depressed me. Buccaneer has a devil-may-care ring to it that appeals to my fancy; it has a trifle more haut ton than pirate.

There is much in a name. I had liked the name of the Sofal from the first. Perhaps it was the psychology of that name that suggested the career upon which I was now launched. It means killer. The verb meaning kill is fal . The prefix so has the same value as the suffix er in English; so sofal means killer. Vong is the Amtorian word for defend; therefore, Sovong , the name of our first prize, means defender; but the Sovong had not lived up to her name.

I was still meditating on names in an effort to forget Duare, when Kamlot joined me, and I decided to take the opportunity to ask him some questions concerning certain Amtorian customs that regulated the social intercourse between men and maids. He opened a way to the subject by asking me if I had seen Duare since she sent for me.

'I saw her,' I replied, 'but I do not understand her attitude, which suggested that it was almost a crime for me to look at her.'

'It would be under ordinary circumstances,' he told me, 'but of course, as I explained to you before, what she and we have passed through has temporarily at least minimized the importance of certain time-honored Vepajan laws and customs.

'Vepajan girls attain their majority at the age of twenty; prior to that they may not form a union with a man. The custom, which has almost the force of a law, places even greater restrictions upon the daughters of a jong. They may not even see or speak to any man other than their blood relatives and a few well-chosen retainers until after they have reached their twentieth birthday. Should they transgress, it would mean disgrace for them and death for the man.'

'What a fool law!' I ejaculated, but I realized at last how heinous my transgression must have appeared in the eyes of Duare.

Kamlot shrugged. 'It may be a fool law,' he said, 'but it is still the law; and in the case of Duare its enforcement means much to Vepaja, for she is the hope of Vepaja.'

I had heard that title conferred upon her before, but it was meaningless to me. 'Just what do you mean by saying that she is the hope of Vepaja?' I asked.

'She is Mintep's only child. He has never had a son, though a hundred women have sought to bear him one. The life of the dynasty ends if Duare bears no son; and if she is to bear a son, then it is essential that the father of that son be one fitted to be the father of a jong.'

'Have they selected the father of her children yet?' I asked.

'Of course not,' replied Kamlot. 'The matter will not even be broached until after Duare has passed her twentieth birthday.'

'And she is not even nineteen yet,' I remarked with a sigh.

'No,' agreed Kamlot, eyeing me closely, 'but you act as though that fact were of importance to you.'

'It is,' I admitted.

'What do you mean?' he demanded.

'I intend to marry Duare!'

Kamlot leaped to his feet and whipped our his sword. It was the first time that I had ever seen him show marked excitement. I thought he was going to kill me on the spot.

'Defend yourself!' he cried. 'I cannot kill you until you draw.'

'Just why do you wish to kill me at all?' I demanded. 'Have you gone crazy?'

The point of Kamlot's sword dropped slowly toward the floor. 'I do not wish to kill you,' he said rather sadly, all the nervous excitement gone from his manner. 'You are my friend, you have saved my life—no, I would rather die myself than kill you, but the thing you have just said demands it.'

I shrugged my shoulders; the thing was inexplicable to me. 'What did I say that demands death?' I demanded.

'That you intend to marry Duare.'

'In my world,' I told him, 'men are killed for saying that they do not intend marrying some girl.' I had been sitting at the desk in my cabin at the time that Kamlot had threatened me, and I had not arisen; now I stood up and faced him. 'You had better kill me, Kamlot,' I said, 'for I spoke the truth.'

He hesitated for a moment, standing there looking at me; then he returned his sword to its scabbard. 'I