Astounding Stories of Super-Science, May, 1930 Read online

  "He will not dare advance," I said. "For one thing, he can't leave the treasure."

  "He knows we have unmasked his lure," Anita put in smilingly. "Haljan and I joining you—that silenced him. His light went out very promptly, didn't it?"

  She flashed me a side-gaze. Were we acting convincingly? But if Miko started up his signals again, they might so quickly betray us! Anita's thoughts were upon that, for she added:

  "Grantline will not dare show his light! If he does, Set Potan, we can blast him with a ray from here! Can't we?"

  "Yes," Potan agreed. "If he comes within ten miles, I have one powerful enough. We are assembling it now."

  "And we have thirty men?" Anita persisted. "When we sail down to attack him it should not be very difficult to kill all the Grantline party. Thirty of us—that's enough to share in this treasure. I'm glad Miko is dead."

  "By Heaven, Haljan, this girl of yours is small, but very blood-thirsty!"

  "That accursed Miko murdered her brother," I explained.

  * * *

  cting! And never once did we dare relax! If only Miko's signals would hold off and give us time!

  We may have talked for half an hour. We were in a small, steel-lined cubby, located in the forward deck-space of the ship. The dome was over it. I could see from where I sat at the table that there was a forward observatory tower under the dome quite near here. The ship was laid out in rather similar fashion to the Planetara, though considerably smaller.

  Potan had dismissed his men from his cubby so as to be alone with us. Out on the deck I could see them dragging apparatus about—bringing the mechanisms of giant projectors up from below, beginning to assemble them. Occasionally some of the men would come to our cubby windows to peer in at us curiously.

  My mind was roaming as I talked. For all my manner of casualness, I knew that haste was necessary. Whatever Anita and I were to do must be quickly done. But to win this fellow's utter confidence first was necessary, so that we might have the freedom of the ship, might move about unnoticed, unwatched.

  I was horribly tense inside. Through the dome windows across the deck from the cubby the rocks of the Lunar landscape were visible. I could see the brink of this ledge upon which the ship lay, the descending crags down the precipitous wall of Archimedes to the Earthlit plains far below. Miko, Moa, and a few of the Planetara's crew were down there somewhere.

  * * *

  nita and I had a fairly definite plan. We were now in Potan's confidence. With this interview at an end, I felt that our status among the brigands would be established. We would be free to move about the ship, join in its activities. It ought to be possible to locate the signal-room, get friendly with the operator there.

  Perhaps we would find a secret opportunity to flash a signal to Earth. This ship, I was confident, would have the power for a long-range signal, if not of too sustained a length. It was a desperate thing to attempt but our whole procedure was desperate! And I felt—if Anita perhaps could cajole the guard or the duty-man from the signal-room—I might send a single flash or two that would reach the Earth. Just a distress call, signed "Grantline." If I could do that and not get caught.

  Anita was engaging Potan in talking of his plans. The brigand leader was boasting of his well-equipped ship, the daring of his men, and questioning her about the size of the treasure. My thoughts were free to roam.

  A signal to Earth. And while we were making friends with these brigands, the longest range electronic projector was being assembled. Miko then could flash his signal and be damned to him! I would be on the deck with that projector. Its operator, and I would turn it upon Miko—one flash of it and he and his little band would be wiped out.

  But there was our escape to be thought of. We could not remain very long with these brigands. We could tell them that the Grantline camp was on the Mare Imbrium. It would delay them for a time, but our lie would soon be discovered. We must escape from them, get away and back to Grantline. With Miko dead—a distress signal to Earth—and Potan in ignorance of Grantline's location, the treasure would be safe until help arrived from Earth.

  It all fitted together so nicely! It seemed possible of success.

  Our futile plans! Star-crossed always, doomed, fated always to be upset by such unforeseen evil chances!

  "By the infernal, little Anita, you look like a dove, but you're a tigress! A comrade after my own heart—blood-thirsty as a fire-worshipper!"

  * * *

  er laugh rang out to mingle with his. "Oh no, Set Potan! I am treasure-thirsty."

  "We'll get the treasure, never fear, little Anita."

  "With you to lead us, Potan, I'm sure we will."

  A man entered the cubby. Potan looked frowningly around. "What is it, Argle?"

  The fellow answered in Martian, leered at Anita and withdrew.

  Potan stood up. I noticed that he was unsteady with the drink.

  "They want me with the work at the projectors."

  "Go ahead," I said.

  He nodded. We were comrades now.

  "Amuse yourself, Haljan. Or come out on deck if you wish. I will tell my men you are one of us."

  "And tell them to keep their hands off Miss Prince."

  He stared at me. "I had not thought of that—a woman among so many men."

  His own gaze at Anita was as leeringly offensive as any of his men could have given. He said, "Have no fear, little tigress."

  Anita laughed. "I am afraid of nothing."

  But when he had lurched from the cabin she touched me. Smiled with her mannish swagger, for fear we were still observed, and murmured:

  "Oh, Gregg, I am afraid!"

  We stayed in the cubby a few moments, whispering—trying to plan.

  "You think the signal room is in the tower, Gregg? This tower outside our window here?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Shall we go out and see?"

  "Yes. Keep near me always."

  "Oh, Gregg. I will!"

  We deposited our Erentz suits carefully in a corner of the cubby. We might need them so suddenly! Then we swaggered out to join the brigands working on the deck.

  CHAPTER XXX

  Desperate Plans

  he deck glowed lurid in the queer blue-greenish glare of Martian electro-fuse lights. It was in a bustle of ordered activity. Some twenty of the crew were scattered about, working in little groups. Apparatus was being brought up from below to be assembled. There was a pile of Erentz suits and helmets, of Martian pattern, but still very similar to those with which Grantline's expedition was equipped. There were giant projectors of several kinds, some familiar to me, others of a fashion I had never seen before. It seemed there were six or eight of them, still dismantled, with a litter of their attendant batteries and coils and tube-amplifiers. They were to be mounted here on the deck, I surmised; I saw in the dome-side one or two of them already rolled into position at the necessary pressure portes.

  Anita and I stood outside Potan's cubby, gazing around us curiously. The men looked at us, but none of them spoke.

  "Let's watch from here a moment," I whispered. She nodded, standing with her hand on my arm. I felt that we were very small, here in the midst of these seven-foot Martian men. I was all in white, the costume used in the warm interior of the Grantline camp. Bareheaded, white silk Planetara uniform jacket, broad belt and tight-laced trousers. Anita was a slim black figure beside me, somber as Hamlet, with her pale boyish face and wavy black hair.

  The gravity being maintained here on the ship we had found to be stronger than that of the Moon—rather more like Mars.

  "There are the heat-rays, Gregg."

  * * *

  pile of them was visible down the deck-length. And I saw caskets of fragile glass globes, bombs of different styles; hand-projectors of the paralyzing ray; search-beams of several varieties; the Benson curve-light, and a few side-arms of ancient Earth-design—swords and dirks, and small bullet projectors.

  There seemed to be some mining equipment al
so. Far along the deck, beyond the central cabin in the open space of the stern, steel rails were stacked; half a dozen small-wheeled ore-carts; a tiny motor engine for hauling them—and what looked as though it might be the dismembered sections of an ore-shute.

  The whole deck was presently strewn with this mass of equipment.

  Potan moved about, directing the different groups of workers. The news had spread that we knew the location of the treasure. The brigands were jubilant. In a few hours the ship's armament would be ready, and it would advance to attack Grantline.

  I saw many glances being cast out the dome side-windows toward the distant, far-down plains of the Mare Imbrium. The brigands believed that the Grantline camp lay in that direction.

  Anita whispered, "Which is their giant electronic projector, Gregg?"

  I could see it amidships of the deck. It was already in place. Potan was there now, superintending the men who were connecting it. The most powerful weapon on the ship, it had, Potan said, an effective range of some ten miles. I wondered what it would do to a Grantline building! The Erentz double walls would withstand it for a time, I was sure. But it would blast an Erentz fabric-suit, no doubt of that. Like a lightning bolt, it would kill—its flashing free-stream of electrons shocking the heart, bringing instant death.

  I whispered, "We must smash that before we leave! But first turn it on Miko, if he signals now."

  * * *

  was tensely watchful for that signal. The electronic projector obviously was not yet ready. But when it was connected, I must be near it, to persuade its duty-man to fire it on Miko. With this done we would have more time to plan our other tasks. I did not think Potan would be ready for his attack before another time of sleep here in the ship's routine. Things would be quieter then—I would watch my chance to send a signal to Earth, and then we would escape.

  With my thoughts roving, we had been standing quietly at the cubby door-oval for perhaps fifteen minutes. My hand in my side pouch clutched the little bullet projector. The brigands had taken it from me and given it to Potan. He had placed it on the settle with my Erentz suit; and when we gained his confidence he had forgotten it and left it there. I had it now, and the feel of its cool sleek handle gave me a measure of comfort. Things could go wrong so easily—but if they did, I was determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. And a vague thought was in my mind: I must not use the last bullet. That would be for Anita.

  I shook myself free from such sinister fancy.

  "That electronic projector is remote-controlled. Look, Anita—that's the signal room over us. The giant projector will be aimed and fired from up there."

  It seemed so. A thirty-foot skeleton tower stood on the deck near us, with a spiral ladder leading up to a small square steel cubby at the top. Through the cubby window-ovals I could see instrument panels. A single Martian was up there; he had called down to Potan concerning the electronic projector.

  * * *

  he roof of this little tower room was close under the dome—a space of no more than four feet. A pressure lock-exit in the dome was up there, with a few steps leading up to it from the roof of the tower signal-room. We could escape that way, perhaps. In the event of dire necessity it might be possible. But only as a desperate resort, for it would put us on the top of the glassite dome, with a sheer hundred feet or more down its sleek bulging exterior side, and down the outside bulge of the ship's hull, to the rocks below. There might be a spider ladder outside leading downward, but I saw no evidence of it. If Anita and I were forced to escape that way, I wondered how we could manage a hundred foot jump to the rocks and land safely. Even with the slight gravity of the Moon it would be a dangerous fall.

  "You are Gregg Haljan?"

  I started as one of the brigands, coming up behind us, addressed me.

  "Yes."

  "Commander Potan tells me you were chief navigator of the Planetara?"

  "Yes."

  "You shall pilot us when we advance upon the Grantline camp. I am control-commander here—Brotow, my name."

  He smiled. A giant fellow, but spindly. He spoke good English. He seemed anxious to be friendly.

  "We are glad to have you and George Prince's sister with us." He shot Anita an admiring glance. "I will show you our controls, Haljan."

  "All right," I said. "Whatever I can do to help...."

  "But not now. It will be some hours before we are ready."

  I nodded, and he wandered away. Anita whispered:

  "Did he mean that signal room up here in the tower? Oh, Gregg, maybe it's only the ship's control room!"

  "I don't know. But the projector range-finders are up there, and I think it's the signal room."

  "Suppose we go up and see? Gregg, Miko's signals might start any minute."

  * * *

  nd the electronic projector now seemed about ready. It was time for me to act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me. Our Erentz suits were here close behind us in Potan's cubby. I hated to leave them: if anything happened and we had to make a sudden dash, there would be no time to garb ourselves in the suits. To adjust the helmets was bad enough.

  I whispered swiftly, "We must get into our suits—find some pretext." I drew her back through the cubby doorway where we would be more secluded.

  "Anita, listen: I've been a fool not to plan our escape more carefully! We're in too great a danger here."

  It seemed to me suddenly that we were in desperate plight. Was it premonition?

  "Anita, listen: if anything happens and we have to make a dash—"

  "Up through that dome-lock, Gregg? It's a manual control; you can see the levers."

  "Yes. It's a manual. But up there—how would we get down?"

  She was far calmer than I. "There may be an outside ladder, Gregg."

  "I don't think so. I haven't seen it."

  "Then we can get out the way they brought us in. The hull-porte—it's a manual, too."

  "Yes, I think I can find our way down through the hull corridors. I mean, for a quick run. If we have to run, you stay close behind me. I've this bullet projector, and evidently there aren't many men in the lower corridors."

  "There are guards outside on the rocks."

  We had seen them through the dome windows. But there were not many—only two or three. A surprise rush at them would turn the trick.

  * * *

  e donned our Erentz suits.

  "What will we do with the helmets?" Anita demanded. "Leave them here?"

  "No—take them with us. I'm not going to get separated from them; it's too dangerous."

  "We'll look strange going up to that signal room equipped like this," she commented.

  "I can't help it. We'll figure out something to explain it."

  She stood before me, a queer-looking little figure in the now deflated, bagging suit with her slim neck and head protruding above the metal circle of its collar.

  "Carry your helmet, Anita. I'll take mine."

  We could adjust the helmets and start the Erentz motors all within a few seconds.

  "I'm ready, Gregg."

  "Come on, then. Let me go first."

  I had the bullet projector in an outer pouch of the suit where I could instantly reach it. This was more rational: we had a fighting chance now. The fear which had swept me so suddenly began to recede. I was calm.

  "We'll climb the tower to the signal room," I whispered. "Do it boldly."

  We stepped from the cubby. Potan was not in sight; he was on the further deck beyond the central cabin structure perhaps, or had gone below.

  On the deck, we were immediately accosted. This was different—our appearance in the Erentz suits!

  "Where are you going?"

  This fellow spoke in Martian. I answered in English.

  "Up there."

  * * *

  e stood before us, towering over me. I saw a group of nearby workers stop to regard us. In a moment we would be causing a commotion, and it was the last thing I desired.

  I said in
Martian, "Commander Potan told me, what I wish I can do. From the dome we look around—see where is the Grantline camp—I am pilot of this ship to go there."

  The man who had called himself Brotow passed near us. I appealed to him.

  "We put on our suits. I thought we might go up on the dome for a minute and look around. If I'm to pilot the ship...."

  He hesitated, his glance sweeping the deck as though to ask Potan. Someone said in Martian:

  "The commander is down in the stern storeroom."

  It decided Brotow. He waved away the Martian who had stopped me.

  "Let them alone."

  Anita and I gave him our most friendly smiles.

  "Thanks."

  He bowed to Anita with a sweeping gesture. "I will show you over the control room presently."

  His gaze went to the peak of the bow. The little hooded cubby there was the control room. Satisfaction swept me. Then this, above us in the tower, must surely be the signal room. Would Brotow follow us up? I hoped not. I wanted to be alone with the duty-man up there, giving me a chance to get at the projector controls if Miko's signal should come.

  I drew Anita past Brotow, who had stood aside. "Thanks," I repeated. "We won't be long."

  We mounted the little ladder.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  In the Tower Cubby

  urry, Anita!"

  I feared that Potan might come up from the hull at any moment and stop us. The duty-man over us gazed down, his huge head and shoulders blocking the small signal room window. Brotow called up in Martian, telling him to let us come. He scowled, but when we reached the trap in the room floor-grid, we found him standing aside to admit us.

  I flung a swift glance around. It was a metallic cubby, not much over fifteen feet square, with an eight-foot arched ceiling. There were instrument panels. The range-finder for the giant projector was here; its little telescope with the trajectory apparatus and the firing switch were unmistakable. And the signalling apparatus was here! Not a Martian set, but a fully powerful Botz ultra-violet helio sender with its attendant receiving mirrors. The Planetara had used the Botz system, so I was thoroughly familiar with it. I saw, too, what seemed to be weapons: a row of small fragile glass globes, hanging on clips along the wall—bombs, each the size of a man's fist. And a broad belt with bombs in its padded compartments.