Read Astounding Stories of Super-Science, March 1930 Page 2

  Brigands of the Moon

  (The Book of Gregg Haljan)BEGINNING A FOUR-PART NOVEL

  _By Ray Cummings_

  Black mutiny and brigandage stalk the Space-ship Planetara as she speeds to the Moon to pick up a fabulously rich cache of radium-ore.

  _I stood on the turret-balcony of the Planetara with Dr.Frank, watching the arriving passengers._]

  _Foreword by Ray Cummings_

  I have been thinking that if, during one of those long winter eveningsat Valley Forge, someone had placed in George Washington's hands one ofour present day best sellers, the illustrious Father of our Countrywould have read it with considerable emotion. I do not mean what we calla story of science, or fantasy--just a novel of action, adventure andromance. The sort of thing you and I like to read, but do not findamazing in any way at all.

  But I fancy that George Washington would have found it amazing. Don'tyou? It might picture, for instance, a factory girl at a sewing machine.George Washington would be amazed at a sewing machine. And the girl,journeying in the subway to and from her work! Stealing an opportunityto telephone her lover at the noon hour; going to the movies in theevening, or listening to a radio. And there might be a climax, perhaps,with the girl and the villain in a transcontinental railway Pullman, andthe hero sending frantic telegrams, or telephoning the train, and thenchasing it in his airplane.

  George Washington would have found it amazing!

  And I am wondering how you and I would feel if someone were to give usnow a book of ordinary adventure of the sort which will be published ahundred and fifty years hence. I have been trying to imagine such a bookand the nature of its contents.

  Let us imagine it together. Suppose we walk down Fifth Avenue, apleasant spring morning of May, 2080. Fifth Avenue, no doubt, will bethere. I don't know whether the New York Public Library will be there ornot. We'll assume that it is, and that it has some sort of books,printed, or in whatever fashion you care to imagine.

  The young man library attendant is surprised at our curiously antiquatedaspect. We look as though we were dressed for some historical costumeball. We talk old-fashioned English, like actors in an historical playof the 1930 period.

  But we get the book. The attendant assures us it is a good average storyof action and adventure. Nothing remarkable, but he read it himself, andfound it interesting.

  We thank him and take the book. But we find that the language in whichit is written is too strange for comfortable reading. And it names somany extraordinary things so casually! As though we knew all about them,which we certainly do not!

  So we take it to the kind-hearted librarian in the language division. Hemodifies it to old-fashioned English of 1930, and he puts occasionalfootnotes to help explain some of the things we might not understand.Why he should bother to do this for us I don't know; but let us assumethat he does.

  And now we take the book home--in the pneumatic tube, or aerial movingsidewalk, or airship, or whatever it is we take to get home.

  And now that we are home, let's read the book. It ought to beinteresting.

  CHAPTER I

  _Tells of the Grantline Moon Expedition and of the Mysterious Martian Who Followed Us in the City Corridor_

  One may write about oneself and still not be an egoist. Or so, at least,they tell me. My narrative went broadcast with a fair success. It waspantomimed and the public flashed me a reasonable approval. And so mydisc publishers have suggested that I record it in more permanent form.

  I introduce myself, begging grace that I intrude upon your busy minutes,with my only excuse that perhaps I may amuse you. For what thecommercial sellers of my pictured version were pleased to blare as myhandsome face, I ask your indulgence. My feminine audience of thepantomimes was undoubtedly graciously pleased at my personality andphysical aspect. That I am "tall as a Viking of old"--and "handsome as ayoung Norse God"--is very pretty talk in the selling of my product. ButI deplore its intrusion into the personality of this, my recordednarrative. And so now, for preface, to all my audience I do give earnestassurance that Gregg Haljan is no conceited zebra, handsomely striped bynature, and proud of it. Not so. I am, I do beg you to believe, a veryhumble fellow, striving for your approval, hoping only to entertainyou.

  My introduction: My name, Gregg Haljan. My age, twenty-five years. Iwas, at the time my narrative begins, Third Officer on the Space-ShipPlanetara. Our line was newly established; in 2070, to be exact,following the modern improvements of the Martel Magnetic Levitation.[1]

  * * * * *

  Our ship, whose home port was Great-New York, carried mail and passengertraffic to and from both Venus and Mars. Of astronomical necessity, ourflights were irregular. This spring, with the two other planets bothclose to the earth, we were making two complete round trips. We had justarrived in Great-New York, this May evening, from Grebhar, Venus FreeState. With only five hours in port here, we were departing the samenight at the zero hour for Ferrok-Shahn, capital of the Martian Union.

  We were no sooner at the landing stage than I found a code-flashsummoning Dan Dean and me to Divisional Detective Headquarters. Dan"Snap" Dean was one of my closest friends. He was radio-helio operatorof the Planetara. A small, wiry, red-headed chap, with a quick, readylaugh and a wit that made everyone like him.

  The summons to Detective-Colonel Halsey's office surprised us. Snap eyedme.

  "You haven't been opening any treasury vaults, have you, Gregg?"

  "He wants you, also," I retorted.

  He laughed. "Well, he can roar at me like a traffic switchman and myprivate life will remain my own."

  We could not think why we should be wanted. It was the darkness ofmid-evening when we left the Planetara for Halsey's office. It was not along trip. We went direct in the upper monorail, descending into thesubterranean city at Park-Circle 30.

  * * * * *

  We had never been to Halsey's office before. We found it to be a gloomy,vaultlike place in one of the deepest corridors. The door lifted.

  "Gregg Haljan and Daniel Dean."

  The guard stood aside. "Come in."

  I own that my heart was unduly thumping as we entered. The door droppedbehind us. It was a small blue-lit apartment--a steel-lined room like avault.

  Colonel Halsey sat at his desk. And the big, heavy-set, florid CaptainCarter--our commander of the Planetara--was here. That surprised us: wehad not seen him leave the ship.

  Halsey smiled at us gravely. Captain Carter said, "Sit down, lads."

  We took the seats. There was an alarming solemnity about this. If I hadbeen guilty of anything that I could think of, it would have beenfrightening. But Halsey's first words reassured me.

  "It's about the Grantline Moon Expedition. In spite of our secrecy, thenews has gotten out. We want to know how. Can you tell us?"

  Captain Carter's huge bulk--he was about as tall as I am--towered overus as we sat before Halsey's desk. "If you lads have told anyone--saidanything--let slip the slightest hint about it--"

  Snap smiled with relief; but he turned solemn at once. "I haven't. Not aword!"

  "Nor have I," I declared.

  * * * * *

  The Grantline Moon Expedition! We had not thought of that as a reasonfor this summons. Johnny Grantline was a close friend to us both. He hadorganized an exploring expedition to the Moon. Uninhabited, with itsbleak, forbidding, airless, waterless surface, the Moon--even though soclose to the Earth--was seldom visited. No regular ship ever stoppedthere. A few exploring parties of recent years had come to grief.

  But there was a persistent rumor that upon the Moon, mineral riches offabulous wealth were awaiting discovery. The thing had already causedsome interplanetary complications. The aggressive Martians would be onlytoo glad to explore the Moon. But the U.S.W.[2] definitely warned themaway. The Moon was World Territory, we announced, and we would protectit as such.

  The threatened conflict between the Eart
h and Mars had come to nothing.There was, this year of 2079, a thorough amity between all three of theinhabited planets. It still holds, and I pray that it may always hold.

  There was, nevertheless, a realization by our government, that whateverriches might be upon the Moon should be seized at once and held by somereputable Earth Company. And when Johnny Grantline applied, with hisfather's wealth and his own scientific record of attainment, thegovernment was only too glad to grant him its writ.

  * * * * *

  The Grantline Expedition had started six months ago. The Martiangovernment had acquiesced in our ultimatum, yet brigands have been knownto be financed under cover of a governmental disavowal. And so theexpedition was kept secret.

  My words need give no offense to any Martian who comes upon them. Irefer to the history of our earth only. The Grantline Expedition was onthe Moon now. No word had come from it. One could not flash helios evenin code without letting all the universe know that explorers were on theMoon. And why they were there, anyone could easily guess.

  And now Colonel Halsey was telling us that the news was abroad! CaptainCarter eyed us closely; his flashing eyes under the white bushy browswould pry a secret from anyone.

  "You're sure? A girl of Venus, perhaps, with her cursed, seductive lure!A chance word, with you lads befuddled by alcolite?"

  We assured him we had been careful. By the heavens, I know that I hadbeen. Not a whisper, even to Snap, of the name Grantline in six monthsor more.

  Captain Carter added abruptly, "We're insulated here, Halsey?"

  "Yes, talk as freely as you like. An eavesdropping ray will never getinto these walls."

  * * * * *

  They questioned us. They were satisfied at last that, though the secrethad escaped, we had not done it. Hearing it discussed, it occurred to meto wonder why Carter was concerned. I was not aware that he knew ofGrantline's venture. I learned now the reason why the Planetara, uponeach of her voyages, had managed to pass fairly close to the Moon. Ithad been arranged with Grantline that if he wanted help or had anyimportant message, he was to flash it locally to our passing ship. Andthis Snap knew, and had never mentioned it, even to me.

  Halsey was saying, "Well, we can't blame you, but the secret is out."

  Snap and I regarded each other. What could anyone do? What would anyonedare do?

  Captain Carter said abruptly, "Look here, lads, this is my chance now totalk plainly to you. Outside, anywhere outside these walls, aneavesdropping ray may be upon us. You know that? One may never even darewhisper since that accursed ray was developed."

  Snap opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. My heart waspounding.

  Captain Carter went on, "I know I can trust you two more than anyoneelse under me on the Planetara--"

  "What do you mean by that?" I demanded. "What--"

  He interrupted me. "Nothing at all but what I say."

  * * * * *

  Halsey smiled grimly. "What he means, Haljan, is that things are notalways what they seem these days. One cannot always tell a friend froman enemy. The Planetara is a public vessel. You have--how many is it,Carter?--thirty or forty passengers this trip to-night?"

  "Thirty-eight," said Carter.

  "There are thirty-eight people listed for the flight to Ferrok-Shahnto-night," Halsey said slowly. "And some may not be what they seem." Heraised his thin dark hand. "We have information--" He paused. "Iconfess, we know almost nothing--hardly more than enough to alarm us."

  Captain Carter interjected, "I want you and Dean to be on your guard.Once on the Planetara it is difficult for us to talk openly, but bewatchful. I will arrange for us to be doubly armed."

  Vague, perturbing words! Halsey said, "They tell me George Prince islisted for the voyage. I am suggesting, Haljan, that you keep youreye especially upon him. Your duties on the Planetara leave youcomparatively free, don't they?"

  "Yes," I agreed. With the first and second officers on duty, and thecaptain aboard, my routine was more or less that of an understudy.

  I said, "George Prince! Who is he?"

  "A mechanical engineer," said Halsey. "An under-official of theEarth Federated Radium Corporation. But he associates with badcompanions--particularly Martians."

  I had never heard of this George Prince, though I was familiar with theFederated Radium Corporation, of course. A semi-government trust, whichcontrolled virtually the entire Earth supply of radium.

  "He was in the Automotive Department," Carter put in. "You've heard ofthe Federated Radium Motor?"

  * * * * *

  We had, of course. A recent Earth invention which promised torevolutionize the automotive industry. An engine of a new type, usingradium as its fuel.

  Snap demanded, "What in the stars has this got to do with JohnnyGrantline?"

  "Much," said Halsey quietly, "or perhaps nothing. But George Prince someyears ago mixed in rather unethical transactions. We had him in custodyonce. He is known now as unusually friendly with several Martians in NewYork of bad reputation."

  "Well--" began Snap.

  "What you don't know," Halsey went on quietly, "is that Grantlineexpects to find radium on the Moon."

  We gasped.

  "Exactly," said Halsey. "The ill-fated Ballon Expedition thought theyhad found it on the Moon some years ago. A new type of ore, as rich inradium as our gold-bearing sands are rich in gold. Ballon's firstsamples gave uranium atoms with a fair representation of ionium andthorium. A richly radio-active ore. A lode of the pure radium is theresomewhere, without doubt."

  * * * * *

  He added vehemently, "Do you understand now why we should be suspiciousof this George Prince? He has a criminal record. He has a thoroughtechnical knowledge of radium ores. He associates with Martians of badreputation. A large Martian Company has recently developed a radiumengine to compete with our Earth motor. You know that? You know thatthere is very little radium available on Mars, and our government willnot allow our own radium supply to be exported. That Martian Companyneeds radium. It will do anything to get radium. What do you suppose itwould pay for a few tons of really rich radio-active ore--such asGrantline may have found on the Moon?"

  "But," I objected, "that is a reputable Martian company. It's backed bythe government of the Martian Union. The government of Mars would notdare--"

  "Of course not!" Captain Carter exclaimed sardonically. "Not openly! Butif Martian brigands had a supply of radium--I don't imagine where itcame from would make much difference. That Martian Company would buyit."

  Halsey added, "And George Prince, my agents inform me, seems to knowthat Grantline is on the Moon. Put it all together, lads. Little sparksshow the hidden current.

  "More than that: George Prince knows that we have arranged to have thePlanetara stop at the Moon and bring back Grantline's radium-ore. Thisis your last voyage this year. You'll hear from Grantline this time,we're convinced. He'll probably give you the signal as you pass the Moonon your way out. Coming back, you'll stop at the Moon and transportwhatever radium-ore Grantline has ready. The Grantline Flyer is toosmall for ore transportation."

  * * * * *

  Halsey's voice turned grimly sarcastic. "Doesn't it seem queer thatGeorge Prince and a few of his Martian friends happen to be listed aspassengers for this voyage?"

  In the silence that followed, Snap and I regarded each other. Halseyadded abruptly,

  "We had George Prince typed that time we arrested him four years ago.I'll show him to you."

  He snapped open an alcove, and said to his waiting attendant, "Get methe type of George Prince."

  The disc in a moment came through the pneumatic. Halsey, smiling wryly,adjusted it.

  "A nice looking fellow. Nicely spoken. Though at the time we made thishe was somewhat annoyed, naturally. He is older now. Twenty-nine, to beexact. Here he is."

  The im
age glowed on the grids before us. His name, George Prince, inletters illumined upon his forehead, showed for a moment and then faded.He stood smiling sourly before us as he repeated the official formula:

  "My name is George Prince. I was born in Great-New York City twenty-fiveyears ago."

  * * * * *

  I gazed at this life-size, moving image of George Prince. He stoodsomber in the black detention uniform. A dark, almost a girlishlyhandsome fellow, well below medium height--the rod beside him showedfive feet four inches. Slim and slight. Long, wavy black hair, fallingabout his ears. A pale, clean-cut, really handsome face, almostbeardless. I regarded it closely. A face that would have been femininelybeautiful without its masculine touch of heavy black brows and firmlyset jaw. His voice as he spoke was low and soft; but at the end, withthe concluding words, "I am innocent!" it flashed into strongmasculinity. His eyes, shaded with long, girlish black lashes, by chancemet mine. "I am innocent." His curving sensuous lips drew down into agrim sneer....

  The type faded at its end. Halsey replaced the disc in its box and wavedthe attendant away. "Thank you."

  He turned back to Snap and me. "Well, there he is. We have nothingtangible against him now. But I'll say this: he's a clever fellow, oneto be afraid of. I would not blare it from the newscasters' microphone,but if he is hatching any plot, he has been too clever for my agents."

  We talked for another half-hour, and then Captain Carter dismissed us.We left Halsey's office with Carter's final words ringing in our ears."Whatever comes, lads, remember I trust you...."

  * * * * *

  Snap and I decided to walk a portion of the way back to the ship. It wasbarely more than a mile through this subterranean corridor to where wecould get the vertical lift direct to the landing stage.

  We started off on the lower level. Once outside the insulation ofHalsey's office we did not dare talk of this thing. Not only electricalears, but every possible eavesdropping device might be upon us. Thecorridor was two hundred feet or more below the ground level. At thishour of the night this business section was comparatively deserted. Thethrough tube sounded over our heads with the passing of its occasionaltrains. The ventilators buzzed and whirred. At the cross intersections,the traffic directors dozed at their posts. It was hot and sticky downhere, and gloomy with the daylight globes extinguished, and only thenight lights to give a dim illumination. The stores and office arcadeswere all closed and deserted; only an occasional night-light burningbehind their windows.

  Our footfalls echoed on the metal grids as we hurried along.

  "Nice evening," said Snap awkwardly.

  "Yes," I said, "isn't it?"

  I felt oppressed. As though prying eyes and ears were here. We walkedfor a time in silence, each of us busy with memory of what hadtranspired in Halsey's office.

  Suddenly Snap gripped me. "What's that?"

  "Where?" I whispered.

  * * * * *

  We stopped at a corner. An entryway was here. Snap pulled me into it. Icould feel him quivering with excitement.

  "What is it?" I demanded in a whisper.

  "We're being followed. Did you hear anything?"

  "No!" Yet I thought now I could hear something. Vague footfalls. Arustling. And a microscopic electrical whine, as though some device werenear us.

  Snap was fumbling in his pocket. "Wait, I've got a pair of low-scalephones."

  He put the little grids against his ears. I could hear the sharp intakeof his breath. Then he seized me, pulled me down to the metal floor ofthe entryway.

  "Back, Gregg! Get back!" I could barely hear his whisper. We crouched asfar back into the doorway as we could get. I was armed. My officialpermit for the carrying of the pencil heat-ray allowed me to have italways with me. I drew it now. But there was nothing to shoot at. I feltSnap clamping the grids on my ears. And now I heard something! Anintensification of the vague footsteps I had thought I heard before.

  There was something following us! Something out in the corridor therenow! A street light was nearby. The corridor was dim, but plainlyvisible; and to my sight it was empty. But there was something there.Something invisible! I could hear it moving. Creeping towards us. Ipulled the grids off my ears.

  Snap murmured, "You've got a local phone."

  "Yes! I'll get them to give us the street glare!"

  * * * * *

  I pressed the danger signal, giving our location to the nearestoperator. In a second or two we got the light. The street in all thisneighborhood burst into a brilliant actinic glare. The thing menacingus was revealed! A figure in a black cloak, crouching thirty feet awayacross the corridor.

  Snap was on his feet. His voice rang shrilly, "There it is! Give it ashot, Gregg!"

  Snap was unarmed, but he flung his hands out menacingly. The figure,which may perhaps not have been aware of our city safeguard, was takenwholly by surprise. A human figure. Seven feet tall, at the least, andtherefore, I judged, doubtless a Martian man. The black cloak coveredhis head. He took a step toward us, hesitated, and then turned inconfusion.

  Snap's shrill voice was bringing help. The whine of a street guard'salarm whistle nearby sounded. The figure was making off! My pencil-raywas in my hand and I pressed its switch. The tiny heat-ray stabbedthrough the glare, but I missed. The figure stumbled, but did not fall.I saw a bare gray arm come from the cloak, flung up to maintain itsbalance. Or perhaps my pencil-ray of heat had seared the arm. Thegray-skinned arm of a Martian.

  Snap was shouting, "Give him another!" But the figure passed beyond theactinic glare and vanished.

  We were detained in the turmoil of the corridor for ten minutes or morewith official explanations. Then a message from Halsey released us. TheMartian who had been following us in his invisible cloak was nevercaught.

  We escaped from the crowd at last and made our way back to thePlanetara, where the passengers were already assembling for the outwardMartian voyage.

  CHAPTER II

  "_A Fleeting Glance_--"

  I stood on the turret-balcony of the Planetara with Captain Carter andDr. Frank, the ship surgeon, watching the arriving passengers. It wasclose to the zero hour: the level of the stage was a turmoil ofconfusion. The escalators, with the last of the freight aboard, werefolded back. But the stage was jammed with the incoming passengerbaggage: the interplanetary customs and tax officials with their X-rayand Zed-ray paraphernalia and the passengers themselves, lined up forthe export inspection.

  At this height, the city lights lay spread in a glare of blue and yellowbeneath us. The individual local planes came dropping like birds to ourstage. Thirty-eight passengers for this flight to Mars, but thataccursed desire of every friend and relative to speed the departingvoyager brought a hundred or more extra people to crowd our girders andbring added difficulty to everybody.

  Carter was too absorbed in his duties to stay with us long. But here inthe turret Dr. Frank and I found ourselves at the moment with nothingmuch to do but watch.

  "Think we'll get away on time, Gregg?"

  "No," I said. "And this of all voyages--"

  I checked myself, with thumping heart. My thoughts were so full of whatHalsey and Carter had told us that it was difficult to rein my tongue.Yet here in the turret, unguarded by insulation, I could say nothing.Nor would I have dared mention the Grantline Moon Expedition to Dr.Frank. I wondered what he knew of this affair. Perhaps as much asI--perhaps nothing.

  * * * * *

  He was a thin, dark, rather smallish man of fifty, this ship's surgeon,trim in his blue and white uniform. I knew him well: we had made severalflights together. An American--I fancy of Jewish ancestry. A likableman, and a skillful doctor and surgeon. He and I had always been goodfriends.

  "Crowded," he said. "Johnson says thirty-eight. I hope they'reexperienced travelers. This pressure sickness is a rotten nuisance--keepsme dashing around all night assu
ring frightened women they're notgoing to die. Last voyage, coming out of the Venus atmosphere--"

  He plunged into a lugubrious account of his troubles with space-sickvoyagers. But I was in no mood to listen. My gaze was down on the spiderincline, up which, over the bend of the ship's sleek, silvery body, thepassengers and their friends were coming in little groups. The upperdeck was already jammed with them.

  The Planetara, as flyers go, was not a large vessel. Cylindrical ofbody, forty feet maximum beam, and two hundred and seventy-five feet inoverall length. The passenger superstructure--no more than a hundredfeet long--was set amidships. A narrow deck, metallic-enclosed, and withlarge bulls-eye windows, encircled the superstructure. Some of thecabins opened directly onto the deck. Others had doors to the interiorcorridors. There were half a dozen small but luxurious public rooms.

  * * * * *

  The rest of the vessel was given to freight storage and the mechanismand control compartments. Forward of the passenger structure thedeck level continued under the cylindrical dome-roof to the bow. Theforward watch-tower observatory was here; officers' cabins; CaptainCarter's navigating rooms and Dr. Frank's office. Similarly, underthe stern-dome, was the stern watch-tower and a series of powercompartments.

  Above the superstructure a confusion of spider bridges, ladders andbalconies were laced like a metal network. The turret in which Dr. Frankand I now stood was perched here. Fifty feet away, like a bird's nest,Snap's instrument room stood clinging to the metal bridge. Thedome-roof, with the glassite windows rolled back now, rose in amound-peak to cover this highest middle portion of the vessel.

  Below, in the main hull, blue-lit metal corridors ran the entire lengthof the ship. Freight storage compartments; gravity control rooms; theair renewal systems; heater and ventilators and pressure mechanisms--allwere located there. And the kitchens, stewards' compartments, and theliving quarters of the crew. We carried a crew of sixteen, this voyage,exclusive of the navigating officers, and the purser, Snap Dean, and Dr.Frank.

  * * * * *

  The passengers coming aboard seemed a fair representation of what weusually had for the outward voyage to Ferrok-Shahn. Most were Earthpeople--and returning Martians. Dr. Frank pointed out one. A hugeMartian in a gray cloak. A seven-foot fellow.

  "His name is Set Miko," Dr. Frank remarked. "Ever heard of him?"

  "No," I said. "Should I?"

  "Well--" The doctor suddenly checked himself, as though he were sorry hehad spoken.

  "I never heard of him," I repeated slowly.

  An awkward silence fell suddenly between us.

  There were a few Venus passengers. I saw one of them presently coming upthe incline, and recognized her. A girl traveling alone. We had broughther from Grebhar, last voyage but one. I remembered her. An alluringsort of girl, as most of them are. Her name was Venza. She spoke Englishwell. A singer and dancer who had been imported to Great-New York tofill some theatrical engagement. She'd made quite a hit on the GreatWhite Way.

  She came up the incline, with the carrier ahead of her. Gazing up, shesaw Dr. Frank and me at the turret window and waved her white arm ingreeting. And flashed us a smile.

  Dr. Frank laughed. "By the gods of the airways, there's Alta Venza! Yousaw that look, Gregg? That was for me, not you."

  "Reasonable enough," I retorted. "But I doubt it--the Venza was nothingif not impartial."

  * * * * *

  I wondered what could be taking Venza now to Mars. I was glad to seeher. She was diverting. Educated. Well-traveled. Spoke English with acolloquial, theatrical manner more characteristic of Great-New York thanof Venus. And for all her light banter, I would rather put my trust inher than any Venus girl I had ever met.

  The hum of the departing siren was sounding. Friends and relatives ofthe passengers were crowding the exit incline. The deck was clearing. Ihad not seen George Prince come aboard. And then I thought I saw himdown on the landing stage, just arrived from a private tube-car. Asmall, slight figure. The customs men were around him: I could only seehis head and shoulders. Pale, girlishly handsome face; long, black hairto the base of his neck. He was bareheaded, with the hood of histraveling-cloak pushed back.

  I stared, and I saw that Dr. Frank was also gazing down. But neither ofus spoke.

  Then I said upon impulse, "Suppose we go down to the deck, Doctor?"

  He acquiesced. We descended to the lower room of the turret andclambered down the spider ladder to the upper deck-level. The head ofthe arriving incline was near us. Preceded by two carriers who werelittered with hand-baggage, George Prince was coming up the incline. Hewas closer now. I recognized him from the type we had seen in Halsey'soffice.

  * * * * *

  And then, with a shock, I saw it was not so. This was a girl comingaboard. An arch-light over the incline showed her clearly when she washalf way up. A girl with her hood pushed back; her face framed in thickblack hair. I saw now it was not a man's cut of hair; but long braidscoiled up under the dangling hood.

  Dr. Frank must have remarked my amazed expression.

  "Little beauty, isn't she?"

  "Who is she?"

  We were standing back against the wall of the superstructure. Apassenger was near us--the Martian whom Dr. Frank had called Miko. Hewas loitering here, quite evidently watching this girl come aboard. Butas I glanced at him he looked away and casually sauntered off.

  The girl came up and reached the deck. "I am in A 22," she told thecarrier. "My brother came aboard two hours ago."

  Dr. Frank answered my whisper. "That's Anita Prince."

  She was passing quite close to us on the deck, following the carrier,when she stumbled and very nearly fell. I was nearest to her. I leapedforward and caught her as she went down.

  "Oh!" she cried.

  With my arm about her, I raised her up and set her upon her feet again.She had twisted her ankle. She balanced herself upon it. The pain of iteased up in a moment.

  "I'm--all right--thank you!"

  * * * * *

  In the dimness of the blue-lit deck, I met her eyes. I was holding herwith my encircling arm. She was small and soft against me. Her face,framed in the thick, black hair, smiled up at me. Small, ovalface--beautiful--yet firm of chin, and stamped with the mark of its ownindividuality. No empty-headed beauty, this.

  "I'm all right, thank you very much--"

  I became conscious that I had not released her. I felt her hands pushingat me. And then it seemed that for an instant she yielded and wasclinging. And I met her startled, upflung gaze. Eyes like a purple nightwith the sheen of misty starlight in them.

  I heard myself murmuring, "I beg your pardon. Yes, of course!" Ireleased her.

  She thanked me again and followed the carrier along the deck. She waslimping slightly from the twisted ankle.

  An instant, while she had clung to me--and I had held her. A brief flashof something, from her eyes to mine--from mine back to hers. The poetswrite that love can be born of such a glance. The first meeting, acrossall the barriers of which love springs unsought, unbidden--defiant,sometimes. And the troubadours of old would sing: "A fleeting glance; atouch; two wildly beating hearts--and love was born."

  I think, with Anita and me, it must have been like that....

  I stood gazing after her, unconscious of Dr. Frank, who was watching mewith his humorous smile. And presently, no more than a quarter beyondthe zero hour, the Planetara got away. With the dome-windows battenedtightly, we lifted from the landing stage and soared over the glowingcity. The phosphorescence of the electronic tubes was like a comet'stail behind us as we slid upward.

  At the trinight hour the heat of our atmospheric passage was over. Thepassengers had all retired. The ship was quiet, with empty decks anddim, silent corridors. Vibrationless, with the electronic engines cutoff and only the hum of the Martel magnetizers to break the unnaturalstillness. We
were well beyond the earth's atmosphere, heading out inthe cone-path of the earth's shadow, in the direction of the moon.

  CHAPTER III

  _In the Helio-room_

  At six A. M., earth Eastern time, which we were still carrying, SnapDean and I were alone in his instrument room, perched in the networkover the Planetara's deck. The bulge of the dome enclosed us; it roundedlike a great observatory window some twenty feet above the ceiling ofthis little metal cubby-hole.

  The Planetara was still in the earth's shadow. The firmament--blackinterstellar space with its blazing white, red and yellow stars--layspread around us. The moon, with nearly all its disc illumined, hung, agreat silver ball, over our bow quarter. Behind it, to one side, Marsfloated like the red tip of a smoldering cigarillo in the blackness. Theearth, behind our stern, was dimly, redly visible--a giant sphere,etched with the configurations of its oceans and continents. Upon onelimb a touch of the sunlight hung on the mountain-tops with a crescentred-yellow sheen.

  And then we plunged from the cone-shadow. The sun, with the leapingCorona, burst through the blackness behind us. The earth lighted into ahuge, thin crescent with hooked cusps.

  To Snap and me, the glories of the heavens were too familiar to beremarked. And upon this voyage particularly we were in no mood toconsider them. I had been in the helio-room several hours. When thePlanetara started, and my few routine duties were over, I could think ofnothing save Halsey's and Carter's admonition: "Be on your guard. Andparticularly--watch George Prince."

  I had not seen George Prince. But I had seen his sister, whom Carter andHalsey had not bothered to mention. My heart was still pounding with thememory....

  * * * * *

  When the passengers had retired and the ship quieted, I prowled throughthe passenger corridors. This was about the trinight hour.[3] Hot as thecorridors of hell, with our hull and the glassite dome seething with thefriction of our atmospheric flight. But the refrigerators mitigatedthat; the ventilators blasted cold air from the renewers into everycorner of the vessel. Within an hour or two, with the cold of spacestriking us, it was hot air that was needed.

  Dr. Frank evidently was having little trouble with pressure-sickpassengers[4]--the Planetara's equalizers were fairly efficient. I didnot encounter Dr. Frank. I prowled through the silent metal lounges andpassages. I went to the door of A 22. It was on the deck-level, in atiny transverse passage just off the main lounging room. Its name-gridglowed with the letters: "_Anita Prince._" I stood in my short whitetrousers and white silk shirt, like a cabin steward gawping. AnitaPrince! I had never heard the name until this night. But there was magicmusic in it now, as I murmured it to myself. Anita Prince....

  She was here, doubtless asleep, behind this small metal door. It seemedas though that little oval grid were the gateway to a fairyland of mydreams.

  I turned away. And thought of the Grantline Moon Expedition stabbed atme. George Prince--Anita's brother--he whom I had been told to watch.This renegade--associate of dubious Martians, plotting God knows what.

  * * * * *

  I saw, upon the adjoining door, "A 20, _George Prince_." I listened. Inthe humming stillness of the ship's interior there was no sound fromthese cabins. A 20 was without windows, I knew. But Anita's room had awindow and a door which gave upon the deck. I went through the lounge,out its arch, and walked the deck length. The deck door and window ofA 22 were closed and dark.

  The ten-foot-wide deck was dim with white starlight from the side ports.Chairs were here, but they were all empty. From the bow windows of thearching dome a flood of moonlight threw long, slanting shadows down thedeck. At the corner where the superstructure ended, I thought I saw afigure lurking as though watching me. I went that way, but it vanished.

  I turned the corner, went the width of the ship to the other side. Therewas no one in sight save the observer on his spider bridge, high in thebow network, and the second officer, on duty on the turret balconyalmost directly over me.

  As I stood and listened, I suddenly heard footsteps. From the directionof the bow a figure came. Purser Johnson.

  He greeted me. "Cooling off, Gregg?"

  "Yes," I said.

  He went past me and turned into the smoking room door nearby.

  I stood a moment at one of the deck windows, gazing at the stars; andfor no reason at all I realized I was tense. Johnson was a great one forhis regular sleep--it was wholly unlike him to be roaming about the shipat such an hour. Had he been watching me? I told myself it was nonsense.I was suspicious of everyone, everything, this voyage.

  * * * * *

  I heard another step. Captain Carter appeared from his chart-room whichstood in the center of the narrowing open deck space near the bow. Ijoined him at once.

  "Who was that?" he half-whispered.

  "Johnson."

  "Oh, yes." He fumbled in his uniform; his gaze swept the moonlit deck."Gregg--take this." He handed me a small metal box. I stuffed it at onceinto my shirt.

  "An insulator," he added, swiftly. "Snap is in his office. Take it tohim, Gregg. Stay with him--you'll have a measure of security--and youcan help him to make the photographs." He was barely whispering. "Iwon't be with you--no use making it look as though we were doinganything unusual. If your graphs show anything--or if Snap picks up anymessage--bring it to me." He added aloud, "Well, it will be cool enoughpresently, Gregg."

  He sauntered away toward his chart-room.

  "By heavens, what a relief!" Snap murmured as the current went on. Wehad wired his cubby with the insulator; within its barrage we could atlast talk with a degree of freedom.

  "You've seen George Prince, Gregg?"

  "No. He's assigned A 20. But I saw his sister. Snap, no one evermentioned--"

  Snap had heard of her, but he hadn't known that she was listed for thisvoyage. "A real beauty, so I've heard. Accursed shame for a decent girlto have a brother like that."

  I could agree with him there, but I made no comment.

  * * * * *

  It was now 6 A. M. Snap had been busy all night with routine cosmo-radiosfrom the earth, following our departure. He had a pile of them besidehim. Many were for the passengers; but anything that savored of a codewas barred.

  "Nothing queer looking?" I suggested.

  "No. Not a thing."

  We were at this time no more than some sixty-five thousand miles fromthe moon's surface. The Planetara presently would swing upon her directcourse for Mars. There was nothing which could cause passenger commentin this close passing of the moon; normally we used the satellite'sattraction to give us additional starting speed.

  It was now or never that a message would come from Grantline. He wassupposed to be upon this earthward side of the moon. While Snap hadrushed through with his routine, I had searched the moon surface withour glass, as I knew Carter was searching it--and also the observer inhis tower, very possibly.

  But there was nothing. Copernicus and Kepler lay in full sunlight. Theheights of the lunar mountains, the depths of the barren, empty seaswere etched black and white, clear and clean. Grim, forbiddingdesolation, this unchanging moon! In romance, moonlight may shimmer andsparkle to light a lover's smile; but the reality of the moon is coldand bleak. There was nothing to show my prying eyes where the intrepidGrantline might be.

  "Nothing at all, Snap."

  And Snap's helio mirrors, attuned for an hour now to pick up thefaintest signal, were motionless.

  "If he has concentrated any appreciable amount of radio-active ore,"said Snap, "we should get an impulse from its Gamma rays."

  * * * * *

  But our receiving shield was dark, untouched. We tried taking hydrogenphotographic impressions of the visible moon surface. A sequence ofthem, with stereoscopic lenses, forty-eight to the second. Ourmirror-grid gave the magnified images; the spectro-heliograph, with itswave-length selection, pictured the moun
tain-levels, and slowlydescended into the deepest seas.

  There was nothing.

  Yet in those moon caverns--a million million recesses amid the crags ofthat tumbled, barren surface--the pin-point of movement which might havebeen Grantline's expedition could so easily be hiding! Could he have theore insulated, fearing its Gamma rays would betray its presence tohostile watchers?

  Or might disaster have come to him? Or he might not be upon thishemisphere of the moon at all....

  My imagination, sharpened by fancy of a lurking menace which seemedeverywhere about the Planetara this voyage, ran rife with fears forJohnny Grantline. He had promised to communicate this voyage. It wasnow, or perhaps never.

  Six-thirty came and passed. We were well beyond the earth's shadow now.The firmament blazed with its vivid glories; the sun behind us was aball of yellow-red leaping flames. The earth hung, opened to a huge,dull-red half-sphere.

  * * * * *

  We were within some forty thousand miles of the moon. Giant whiteball--all of its disc visible to the naked eye. It poised over the bow,and presently, as the Planetara swung upon her course for Mars, itshifted sidewise. The light of it glared white and dazzling in our tinyside windows.

  Snap, with his habitual red celluloid eyeshade shoved high on hisforehead, worked over our instruments.

  "Gregg!"

  The receiving shield was glowing a trifle! Gamma rays were bombardingit! It glowed, gleamed phosphorescent, and the audible recorder begansounding its tiny tinkling murmurs.

  Gamma rays! Snap sprang to the dials. The direction and strength weresoon obvious. A richly radio-active ore body, of considerable size, wasconcentrated upon this hemisphere of the moon! It was unmistakable.

  "He's got it, Gregg! He's--"

  The tiny helio mirrors began quivering. Snap exclaimed triumphantly,"Here he comes! By God, the message at last! Bar off that light!"

  * * * * *

  I flung on the absorbers. The moonlight bathing the little room wentinto them and darkness sprang around us. Snap fumbled at his instrumentboard. Actinic light showed dimly in the quivering, thumbnail mirrors.Two of them. They hung poised on their cobweb wires, infinitelysensitive to the infra-red light-rays Grantline was sending from themoon. The mirrors in a moment began swinging. On the scale across theroom the actinic beams from them were magnified into sweeps of light.

  The message!

  Snap spelled it out, decoded it.

  "_Success! Stop for ore on your return voyage. Will give you ourlocation later. Success beyond wildest hopes--_"

  The mirrors hung motionless. The shield, where the Gamma rays werebombarding, went suddenly dark.

  Snap murmured, "That's all. He's got the ore! 'Success beyond wildesthopes.' That must mean an enormous quantity of it available!"

  We were sitting in darkness, and abruptly I became aware that across ouropen window, where the insulation barrage was flung, the air was faintlyhissing. An interference there! I saw a tiny swirl of purple sparks.Someone--some hostile ray from the deck beneath us, or from the spiderbridge that led to our little room--someone out there trying to pryin!

  Snap impulsively reached for the absorbers to let in the outsidelight--it was all darkness to us outside. But I checked him.

  "Wait!" I cut off our barrage, opened our door and stepped to the narrowmetal bridge.

  "Wait, Snap! You stay there." I added aloud, "Well, Snap, I'm going tobed. Glad you've cleaned up that batch of work."

  * * * * *

  I banged the door upon him. The lacework of metal bridges and laddersseemed empty. I gazed up to the dome, and forward and aft. Twenty feetbeneath me was the metal roof of the cabin superstructure. Below it,both sides of the deck showed. All patched with moonlight.

  No one visible down there. I descended a ladder. The deck was empty. Butin the silence something was moving! Footsteps moving away from me downthe deck! I followed; and suddenly I was running. Chasing something Icould hear, but could not see. It turned into the smoking room.

  I burst in. And a real sound smothered the phantom. Johnson the purserwas sitting here alone in the dimness. He was smoking. I noticed thathis cigar held a long, frail ash. It could not have been him I waschasing. He was sitting there quite calmly. A thick-necked, heavyfellow, easily out of breath. But he was breathing calmly now.

  He sat up with amazement at my wild-eyed appearance, and the ash jarredfrom his cigar.

  "Gregg! What in the devil--"

  I tried to grin. "I'm on my way to bed--worked all night helping Snapwith those damn Earth messages."

  I went past him, out the door into the main interior corridor. It wasthe only way the invisible prowler could have gone. But I was too latenow--I could hear nothing. I dashed forward into the main lounge. Itwas empty, dim and silent, a silence broken presently by a faintclick--a stateroom door hastily closing. I swung and found myself in atiny transverse passage. The twin doors of A 22 and A 20 were beforeme.

  The invisible eavesdropper had gone into one of these rooms! I listenedat each of the panels, but there was only silence within.

  The interior of the ship was suddenly singing with the steward'ssiren--the call to awaken the passengers. It startled me. I movedswiftly away. But as the siren shut off, in the silence I heard a soft,musical voice:

  "Wake up, Anita--I think that's the breakfast call."

  And her answer: "All right, George. I hear it."

  CHAPTER IV

  _A Burn on a Martian Arm_

  I did not appear at that morning meal. I was exhausted and drugged withlack of sleep. I had a moment with Snap, to tell him what had occurred.Then I sought out Carter. He had his little chart-room insulated. And wewere cautious. I told him what Snap and I had learned: the Gamma raysfrom the moon, proving that Grantline had concentrated a considerableore-body. I also told him the message from Grantline.

  "We'll stop on the way back, as he directs, Gregg." He bent closer tome. "At Ferrok-Shahn I'm going to bring back a cordon of InterplanetaryPolice. The secret will be out, of course, when once we stop at themoon. We have no right, even now, to be flying this vessel as unguardedas it is."

  He was very solemn. And he was grim when I told him of the invisibleeavesdropper.

  "You think he overheard Grantline's message?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "Who was it? You seem to feel it was George Prince?"

  "Yes."

  I was convinced that the prowler had gone into A 20. When I mentionedthe purser, who seemed to have been watching me earlier in the night,and again was sitting in the smoking room when the eavesdropper fledpast, Carter looked startled.

  "Johnson is all right, Gregg."

  "Is he? Does he know anything about this Grantline affair?"

  "No--no," said the captain hastily. "You haven't mentioned it, haveyou?"

  "Of course I haven't. I've been wondering why Johnson didn't hear thateavesdropper. I could hear him when I was chasing him. But Johnson satperfectly unmoved and let him go by. What was he sitting there for,anyway, at that hour of the morning?"

  "You're too suspicious, Gregg. Overwrought. But you're right--we can'tbe too careful. I'm going to have that Prince suite searched when Icatch it unoccupied. Passengers don't ordinarily travel with invisiblecloaks. Go to bed, Gregg--you need a rest."

  * * * * *

  I went to my cabin. It was located aft, on the stern deck-space, nearthe stern watch-tower. A small metal room, with a desk, a chair andbunk. I made sure no one was in it. I sealed the lattice grill and thedoor, set the alarm trigger against any opening of them, and went tobed.

  The siren for the mid-day meal awakened me. I had slept heavily. I feltrefreshed. And hungry.

  I found the passengers already assembled at my table when I arrived inthe dining salon. It was a low-vaulted metal room of blue and yellowtube-lights. At the sides its oval windows showed the deck, with its
ports of the dome-side, through which a vista of the starry firmamentwas visible. We were well on our course to Mars. The moon had dwindledto a pin-point of light beside the crescent earth. And behind them oursun blazed, visually the largest orb in the heavens. It was somesixty-eight million miles from the earth to Mars, this voyage. A flight,under ordinary circumstances, of some ten days.

  There were five tables in the dining salon, each with eight seats. Snapand I had one of the tables. We sat at the ends, with three passengerson each of the sides.

  Snap was in his seat when I arrived. He eyed me down the length of thetable.

  "Good morning, Gregg. We missed you at breakfast. Not pressure-sick, Ihope?"

  There were three passengers already seated at our table--all men. Snap,in a gay mood, introduced me.

  "This is our third officer, Gregg Haljan. Big, handsome fellow, isn'the? And as pleasant as he is good-looking. Gregg, this is Sero ObHahn."

  * * * * *

  I met the keen, dark-eyed somber gaze of a Venus man of middle age. Asmall, slim, graceful man, with sleek black hair. His pointed face,accentuated by the pointed beard, was pallid. He wore a white and purplerobe; upon his breast was a huge platinum ornament, a device like a starand cross entwined.

  "I am happy to meet you, sir." His voice was soft and sleek.

  "Ob Hahn," I repeated. "I should have heard of you, no doubt. But--"

  A smile plucked at his thin, gray lips. "That is the error of mine, notyours. My mission is that all the universe shall hear of me."

  "He's preaching the religion of the Venus Mystics," Snap explained.

  "And this enlightened gentleman," said Ob Hahn ironically, "has justtermed it fetishism. The ignorance--"

  "Oh, I say!" protested the man at Ob Hahn's side. "I mean, you seem tothink I intended something opprobrious. As a matter of fact--"

  "We've an argument, Gregg," laughed Snap. "This is Sir Arthur Coniston,an English gentleman, lecturer and sky-trotter--that is, he will be asky-trotter; he tells us he plans a number of voyages."

  The tall Englishman in his white linen suit bowed acknowledgment."My compliments, Mr. Haljan. I hope you have no strong religiousconvictions, else we will make your table here very miserable!"

  * * * * *

  The third passenger had evidently kept out of the argument. Snapintroduced him as Rance Rankin. An American--a quiet, blond fellow ofthirty-five or forty.

  I ordered my breakfast and let the argument go on.

  "Won't make me miserable," said Snap. "I love an argument. You said, SirArthur?...

  "I mean to say, I think I said too much. Mr. Rankin, you are morediplomatic."

  Rankin laughed. "I am a magician," he said to me. "A theatricalentertainer. I deal in tricks--how to fool an audience--" His keen,amused gaze was on Ob Hahn. "This gentleman from Venus and I have toomuch in common to argue."

  "A nasty one!" the Englishman exclaimed. "By Jove! Really, Mr. Rankin,you're a bit too cruel!"

  I could see we were doomed to have turbulent meals this voyage. I liketo eat in quiet; arguing passengers always annoy me. There were stillthree seats vacant at our table; I wondered who would occupy them. Isoon learned the answer--for one seat at least. Rankin said calmly:

  "Where is the little Venus girl this meal?" His glance went to the emptyseat at my right hand. "The Venza--wasn't that her name? She and I aredestined for the same theater in Ferrok-Shahn."

  So Venza was to sit beside me. It was good news. Ten days of a religiousargument three times a day would be intolerable. But the cheerful Venzawould help.

  "She never eats the mid-day meal," said Snap. "She's on the deck, havingorange juice. I guess it's the old gag about diet, eh?"

  * * * * *

  My attention wandered about the salon. Most of the seats were occupied.At the captain's table I saw the objects of my search. George Prince andhis sister sat one on each side of the captain. I saw George Prince inthe life now as a man who looked hardly twenty-five. He was at thismoment evidently in a gay mood. His clean-cut, handsome profile, withits poetic dark curls, was turned toward me. There seemed little of thevillain about him.

  And I saw Anita Prince now as a dark-haired, black eyed little beauty,in feature resembling her brother very strongly. She presently finishedher meal. She rose, with him after her. She was dressed in Earthfashion--white blouse and dark jacket, wide, knee-length trousers ofgray, with a red sash her only touch of color. She went past me, flashedme her smile and nod.

  My heart was pounding. I answered her greeting, and met George Prince'scasual gaze. He, too, smiled, as though to signify that his sister hadtold him of the service I had done her. Or was his smile an ironicalmemory of how he had eluded me this morning when I chased him?

  I gazed after his small, white-suited figure as he followed Anita fromthe salon. And thinking of her, I prayed that Carter and Halsey might bewrong. Whatever plotting against the Grantline Expedition might be goingon, I hoped that George Prince was innocent of it. Yet I knew in myheart it was a futile hope. Prince had been that eavesdropper outsidethe helio-room. I could not really doubt it. But that his sister must beignorant of what he was doing, I was sure.

  * * * * *

  My attention was brought suddenly back to the reality of our table. Iheard Ob Hahn's silky voice:

  "We passed quite close to the moon last night, Mr. Dean."

  "Yes," said Snap. "We did, didn't we? Always do--it's a technicalproblem of the exigencies of interstellar navigation. Explain it tothem, Gregg--you're an expert."

  I waved it away with a laugh. There was a brief silence. I could nothelp noticing Sir Arthur Coniston's queer look, and I think I have neverseen so keen a glance as Rance Rankin shot at me. Were all these peopleaware of Grantline's treasure on the moon? It suddenly seemed so. Iwished fervently at that instant that the ten days of this voyage wereover and we were safely at Ferrok-Shahn. Captain Carter was absolutelyright. Coming back we would have a cordon of interplanetary policeaboard.

  Sir Arthur broke the awkward silence. "Magnificent sight, the moon, fromso close a viewpoint--though I was too much afraid of pressure-sicknessto be up to see it."

  * * * * *

  I had nearly finished my hasty meal when another incident shocked me.The two other passengers at our table came in and took their seats. AMartian girl and man. The girl had the seat at my left, with the manbeside her. All Martians are tall. This girl was about my ownheight--that is, six feet, two inches. The man was seven feet or more.Both wore the Martian outer robe. The girl flung hers back. Her limbswere encased in pseudo-mail. She looked, as all Martians like to look, avery warlike Amazon. But she was a pretty girl. She smiled at me with akeen-eyed, direct gaze.

  "Mr. Dean said at breakfast that you were big and handsome. You are."

  They were brother and sister, these Martians. Snap introduced them asSet Miko and Setta Moa.[5]

  This Miko was, from our Earth standards, a tremendous, brawny giant. Notspindly, like most Martians, this fellow, for all his seven feet ofheight, was almost heavy-set. He wore a plaited leather jerkin beneathhis robe, and knee pants of leather out of which his lower legs showedas gray, hairy pillars of strength. He had come into the salon with aswagger, his sword-ornament clanking.

  "A pleasant voyage so far," he said to me as he started his meal. Hisvoice had the heavy, throaty rasp characteristic of the Martian. Hespoke perfect English--both Martians and Venus people are by heritageextraordinary linguists. Miko and his sister Moa had a touch of Martianaccent, worn almost away by living for some years in Great-New York.

  The shock to me came within a few minutes. Miko, absorbed in attackinghis meal, inadvertently pushed back his robe to bare his forearm. Aninstant only, then it dropped again to his wrist. But in that instant Ihad seen, upon the gray flesh, a thin sear turned red. A very recentburn--as though a pencil-ray of heat had caught
his arm.

  My mind flung back. Only last night in the City Corridor, Snap and I hadbeen followed by a Martian. I had shot at him with the heat-ray; Ithought I had hit him on the arm. Was this the mysterious Martian whohad followed us from Halsey's office?

  CHAPTER V

  _Venza the Venus Girl_

  It was shortly after that mid-day meal when I encountered Venza sittingon the starlit deck. I had been in the bow observatory; taken my routinecastings of our position and worked them out. I was, I think, of thePlanetara's officers the most expert handler of the mathematicalmechanical calculators. The locating of our position and charting thetrajectory of our course was, under ordinary circumstances, about all Ihad to do. And it took only a few minutes each twelve hours.

  I had a moment with Carter in the isolation of his chart-room.

  "This voyage! Gregg, I'm getting like you--too fanciful. We've a normalgroup of passengers, apparently; but I don't like the look of any ofthem. That Ob Hahn, at your table--"

  "Snaky-looking fellow," I commented. "He and the Englishman are great onarguments. Did you have Prince's cabin searched?"

  My breath hung on his answer.

  "Yes. Nothing unusual among his things. We searched both his room andhis sister's."

  I did not follow that up. Instead I told him about the burn on Miko'sthick gray arm.

  * * * * *

  He stared. "I wish to the Almighty we were at Ferrok-Shahn. Gregg,to-night when the passengers are asleep, come here to me. Snap will behere, and Dr. Frank. We can trust him."

  "He knows about--about the Grantline treasure?"

  "Yes. And so do Balch and Blackstone."

  Balch and Blackstone were our first and second officers.

  "We'll all meet here, Gregg--say about the zero hour. We must take someprecautions."

  He suddenly felt he should say no more now. He dismissed me.

  I found Venza seated alone in a secluded corner of the starlit deck. Aporthole, with the black heavens and the blazing stars, was before her.There was an empty seat nearby.

  "Hola-lo,[6] Gregg! Sit here with me. I have been wondering when youwould come after me."

  I sat down beside her. "What are you doing--going to Mars, Venza? I'mglad to see you."

  "Many thanks. But I am glad to see you, Gregg. So handsome a man.... Doyou know, from Venus to the earth and I have no doubt on all of Mars, noman will please me more."

  "Glib tongue," I laughed. "Born to flatter the male--every girl of yourworld." And I added seriously, "You don't answer my question? Whattakes you to Mars?"

  "Contract. By the stars, what else? Of course, a chance to make a voyagewith you--"

  "Don't be silly, Venza."

  * * * * *

  I enjoyed her. I gazed at her small, slim figure gracefully reclining inthe deck chair. Her long, gray robe parted--by design, I have nodoubt--to display her shapely, satin-sheathed legs. Her black hair wascoiled in a heavy knot at the back of her neck; her carmined lips wereparted with a mocking, alluring smile. The exotic perfume of herenveloped me.

  She glanced at me sidewise from beneath her sweeping black lashes.

  "Be serious," I added.

  "I am serious. Sober. Intoxicated by you, but sober."

  I said, "What sort of a contract?"

  "A theater in Ferrok-Shahn. Good money, Gregg. I'm to be there a year."She sat up to face me. "There's a fellow here on the Planetara, RanceRankin, he calls himself. At our table--a big, good-looking blondAmerican. He says he is a magician. Ever hear of him?"

  "That's what he told me. No, I never heard of him."

  "Nor did I. And I thought I had heard of everyone of any importance. Heis listed for the same theater where I'm going. Nice sort of fellow."She paused, and added suddenly, "If he's a professional entertainer, I'ma motor-oiler."

  * * * * *

  It startled me. "Why do you say that?"

  Instinctively my gaze swept the deck. An Earth woman and child and asmall Venus man were in sight, but not within earshot.

  "Why do you look so furtive?" she retorted. "Gregg, there's somethingstrange about this voyage. I'm no fool, nor you, and you know it as wellas I do."

  "Rance Rankin--" I prompted.

  She leaned closer toward me. "He could fool you. But not me--I've knowntoo many real magicians." She grinned. "I challenged him to trick me.You should have seen him trying to evade!"

  "Do you know Ob Hahn?" I interrupted.

  She shook her head. "Never heard of him. But he told me plenty atbreakfast. By Satan, what a flow of words that devil-driver can muster!He and the Englishman don't mesh very well, do they?"

  She stared at me. I had not answered her grin; my mind was too busy withqueer fancies. Halsey's words: "Things are not always what they seem--"Were these passengers masqueraders? Put here by George Prince? And thenI thought of Miko the Martian, and the burn upon his arm.

  "Come back, Gregg! Don't go wandering off like that!" She dropped hervoice to a whisper. "I'll be serious. I want to know what in the hell isgoing on aboard this ship. I'm a woman, and I'm curious. You tell me."

  * * * * *

  "What do you mean?" I parried.

  "I mean a lot of things. What we've just been talking about. And whatwas the excitement you were in just before breakfast this morning?"

  "Excitement?"

  "Gregg, you may trust me." For the first time she was wholly serious.Her gaze made sure no one was within hearing. She put her hand on myarm. I could barely hear her whisper: "I know they might have a ray uponus--I'll be careful."

  "They?"

  "Anyone. Something's going on. You know it--you are in it. I saw youthis morning, Gregg. Wild-eyed, chasing a phantom--"

  "You?"

  "And I heard the phantom! A man's footsteps. A magnetic reflectinginvisible cloak. You couldn't fool an audience with that--it's toocommonplace. If Rance Rankin tried--"

  I gripped her. "Don't ramble, Venza! You saw me?"

  "Yes. My stateroom door was open. I was sitting with a cigarillo. I sawthe purser in the smoking room. He was visible from--"

  "Wait! Venza, that prowler went through the smoking room!"

  "I know he did. I could hear him."

  "Did the purser hear him?"

  "Of course. The purser looked up, followed the sound with his gaze. Ithought that was queer. He never made a move. And then you came alongand he acted innocent. Why? What's going on, that's what I want toknow!"

  * * * * *

  I held my breath. "Venza, where did the prowler run to? Can you--"

  She whispered calmly, "Into A 20. I saw the door open and close--I eventhink I could see the blurred outline of him. Those magnetic cloaks!"She added, "Why should George Prince be sneaking around with you afterhim? And the purser acting innocent? And who is this George Prince,anyway?"

  The huge Martian, Miko, with his sister Moa came strolling along thedeck. They nodded as they passed us.

  I whispered, "I can't explain anything now. But you're right, Venza:there is something going on. Listen! Whatever you learn--anything youencounter which looks unusual--will you tell me? I--well, I do trustyou--really I do!--but the thing isn't mine to tell."

  The somber pools of her eyes were shining. "You are very lovable, Gregg.I won't question you." She was trembling with excitement. "Whatever itis, I want to be in it. Here's something I can tell you now. We've twohigh-class gold-leaf gamblers aboard. Did you know that?"

  "No. Who are--"

  "Shac and Dud Ardley. Let me state every detective in Great-New Yorkknows them. They had a wonderful game with that Englishman, Sir ArthurConiston, this morning. Stripped him of half a pound of eight-inchleaves--a neat little stack. A crooked game, of course. Those fellowsare more nimble-fingered than Rance Rankin ever dared to be!"

  * * * * *

  I sat starin
g at her. She was a mine of information, this girl.

  "And Gregg, I tried my charms on Shac and Dud. Nice men, but dumb.Whatever's going on, they're not in it. They wanted to know what kind ofa ship this was. Why? Because Shac has a cute little eavesdroppingmicrophone of his own. He had it working in the night last night. Heoverheard George Prince and that big giant Miko arguing about themoon!"

  I gasped. "Venza, softer!"

  Against all propriety of this public deck she pretended to drape herselfupon me. Her hair smothered my face as her lips almost touched my ear.

  "Something about treasure on the moon--Shac couldn't understand what.And they mentioned you. He didn't hear what they said because the purserjoined them." Her whispered words tumbled over one another. "A hundredpounds of gold leaf--that's the purser's price. He's with them, whateverit is. He promised to do something for them."

  She stopped. "Well?" I prompted.

  "That's all. Shac's current was interrupted."

  "Tell him to try it again, Venza! I'll talk with him. No! I'd better lethim alone. Can you get him to keep his mouth shut?"

  "I think he might do anything I told him. He's a man."

  "Find out what you can."

  She sat away from me suddenly. "There's Anita and George Prince."

  * * * * *

  They came to the corner of the deck, but turned back. Venza caught mylook. And understood it.

  "So you love Anita Prince so much as that, Gregg?" Venza was smiling. "Iwish you--I wish some man handsome as you would gaze after me likethat."

  She turned solemn. "You may be interested to know that she loves you. Icould see it. I knew it when I mentioned you to her this morning."

  "Me? Why, we've hardly spoken!"

  "Is it necessary? I never heard that it was."

  I could not see Venza's face; she stood up suddenly. And when I rosebeside her, she whispered,

  "We should not be seen talking so long. I'll find out what I can."

  I stared after her slight robed figure as she turned into the loungearchway and vanished.

  CHAPTER VI

  _A Traitor, and a Passing Asteroid_

  Captain Carter was grim. "So they've bought him off, have they? Go bringhim in here, Gregg. We'll have it out with him now."

  Snap, Dr. Frank, Balch, our first officer, and I were in the captain'schart-room. It was 4 P. M.--our Earth starting time. We were sixteenhours upon our voyage.

  I found Johnson in his office in the lounge. "Captain wants to see you.Close up."

  He closed his window upon an American woman passenger who was demandingdetails of Martian currency, and followed me forward. "What is it,Gregg?"

  "I don't know."

  Captain Carter banged the slide upon us. The chart-room was insulated.The hum of the current was obvious. Johnson noticed it. He started atthe hostile faces of the surgeon and Balch. And he tried to bluster.

  "What is this? Something wrong?"

  Carter wasted no words. "We have information, Johnson--there's someunder cover plot here aboard. I want to know what it is. Suppose youtell us frankly."

  * * * * *

  The purser looked blank. "What do you mean? We've gamblers aboard, ifthat's--"

  "To hell with that," growled Balch. "You had a secret interview withthat Martian, Set Miko, and with George Prince!"

  Johnson scowled from under his heavy brows, and then raised them insurprise.

  "Did I? You mean changing their money? I don't like your tone, Balch.I'm not your under-officer!"

  "But you're under me," roared the captain. "By God, I'm master here!"

  "Well, I'm not disputing that," said the purser mildly. "This fellowBalch--"

  "We're in no mood for argument," Dr. Frank cut in. "Clouding theissue."

  "I won't let it be clouded," the captain exclaimed. I had never seenCarter so choleric. He was evidently under a tremendous strain. Headded,

  "Johnson, you've been acting suspiciously. I don't give a damn whetherI've proof of it or not--I say it. Did you, or did you not meet GeorgePrince and that Martian last night?"

  "No, I did not. And I don't mind telling you, Captain Carter, that yourtone also is offensive!"

  "Is it?" Carter suddenly seized him. They were both big men. Johnson'sheavy face went purplish red.

  "Take your hands!--" They were struggling. Carter's hands were fumblingat the purser's pockets. I leaped, flung an arm around Johnson's neck,pinning him.

  "Easy there! We've got you, Johnson!"

  * * * * *

  Snap tried to help me. "Go on, bang him on the head, Gregg. Now's yourchance!"

  We searched him. A heat-ray cylinder--that was legitimate. But we founda small battery and eavesdropping microphone similar to the one Venzahad mentioned that Shac the gambler was carrying.

  "What are you doing with that?" the captain demanded.

  "None of your business! Is it criminal? Carter, I'll have the Lineofficials dismiss you for this! Take your hands off me, all of you!"

  "Look at this!" exclaimed Dr. Frank.

  From Johnson's breast pocket the surgeon drew a folded document. It wasthe scale drawing of the Planetara's interior corridors, the lowercontrol rooms and mechanisms. It was always kept in Johnson's safe. Andwith it, another document: the ship's clearance papers--the secret codepass-words for this voyage, to be used if we should be challenged by anyinterplanetary police ship.

  Snap gasped. "My God, that was in my helio-room strong box! I'm the onlyone on this vessel except the captain who's entitled to know thosepass-words!"

  Out of the silence, Balch demanded, "Well, what about it, Johnson?"

  The purser was still defiant. "I won't answer your questions, Balch. Atthe proper time, I'll explain--Gregg Haljan, you're choking me!"

  * * * * *

  I eased up. But I shook him. "You'd better talk."

  He was exasperatingly silent.

  "Enough!" exploded Carter. "He can explain when we get to port.Meanwhile I'll put him where he'll do no more damage. Gregg, lock him inthe cage."

  We ignored his violent protestations. The cage--in the old days ofsea-vessels on Earth, they called it the brig--was the ship's jail. Asteel-lined, windowless room located under the deck in the peak of thebow. I dragged the struggling Johnson there, with the amazed watcherlooking down from the observatory window at our lunging, starlit forms.

  "Shut up, Johnson! If you know what's good for you--"

  He was making a fearful commotion. Behind us, where the deck narrowed atthe superstructure, half a dozen passengers were gazing in surprise.

  "I'll have you thrown out of the Service, Gregg Haljan!"

  I shut him up finally. And flung him down the ladder into the cage andsealed the deck trap-door upon him. I was headed back for the chart-roomwhen from the observatory came the lookout's voice.

  "An asteroid, Haljan! Officer Blackstone wants you."

  I hurried to the turret bridge. An asteroid was in sight. We hadattained nearly our maximum speed now. An asteroid was approaching, sodangerously close that our trajectory would have to be altered. I heardBlackstone's signals ringing in the control rooms; and met Carter as heran to the bridge with me.

  "That scoundrel! We'll get more out of him, Gregg. By God, I'll put thechemicals on him--torture him, illegal or not!"

  * * * * *

  We had no time for further discussion. The asteroid was rapidlyapproaching. Already, under the glass, it was a magnificent sight. I hadnever seen this tiny world before--asteroids are not numerous betweenthe Earth and Mars, or in toward Venus. I never expected to see this oneagain. How little of the future can we humans fathom, for all ourscience! If I could only have looked into the future, even for a fewshort hours! How different then would have been the outcome of thistragic voyage!

  The asteroid came rushing at us. Its orbital velocity, I later computed,wa
s some twenty-two miles a second. Our own, at the present maximum, wasa fraction over seventy-seven. The asteroid had for some time been underobservation by the lookout. He gave his warning only when it seemed thatour trajectory should be altered to avoid a dangerously close passing.

  At the combined speeds of nearly a hundred miles a second the asteroidswept into view. With the naked eye, at first it was a tiny speck ofstar-dust, unnoticed in the gem-strewn black velvet of Space. A speck.Then a gleaming dot, silver white, with the light of our Sun upon it.

  Five minutes. The dot grew to a disc. Expanding. A full moon,silver-white. Brightest world in the firmament--the light from it bathedthe Planetara, illumined the deck, painting everything with silver.

  I stood with Carter and Blackstone on the turret bridge. It was obviousthat unless we altered our course, the asteroid would pass too close forsafety. Already we were feeling its attraction; from the control roomscame the report that our trajectory was disturbed by this new mass sonear.

  "Better make your calculations now, Gregg," Blackstone suggested.

  * * * * *

  I cast up the rough elements from the observational instruments in theturret. It took me some ten or fifteen minutes. When I had us upon ournew course, with the attractive and repulsive plates in the Planetara'shull set in their altered combinations, I went out to the bridge again.

  The asteroid hung over our bow quarter. No more than twenty or thirtythousand miles away. A giant ball now, filling all that quadrant of theheavens. The configurations of its mountains--its land and waterareas--were plainly visible. Its axial rotation was apparent.

  "Perfectly habitable," Blackstone said. "But I've searched all over thishemisphere with the glass. No sign of human life--certainly nothingcivilized--nothing in the fashion of cities."

  A fair little world, by the look of it. A tiny globe: Blackstone hadfigured it at some eight hundred miles in diameter. There seemed anormal atmosphere. We could see areas where the surface was obscured byclouds. And oceans, and land masses. Polar icecaps. Lush vegetation atits equator.

  Blackstone had roughly cast its orbital elements. A narrow ellipse. Nowonder we had never encountered this fair little world before. It hadcome from the outer region beyond Neptune. At perihelion it would reachinside Mercury, round the Sun, and head outward again.

  * * * * *

  We swept past the asteroid at a distance of some six thousand miles.Close enough, in very truth--a minute of flight at our combined speedstotaling a hundred miles a second. I had descended to the passengerdeck, where I stood alone at a window, gazing.

  The passengers were all gathered to view the passing little world. Isaw, not far from me, Anita, standing with her brother; and the giantfigure of Miko with them.

  Half an hour since, first with the naked eye, this wandering littleworld had shown itself; it swam slowly past, began to dwindle behind us.A huge half moon. A thinner, smaller quadrant. A tiny crescent, like asilver bar-pin to adorn some lady's breast. And then it was a dot, apoint of light indistinguishable among the myriad others hovering inthis great black void.

  The incident of the passing of the asteroid was over. I turned from thedeck window. My heart leaped. The moment for which all day I had beensubconsciously longing was at hand. Anita was sitting in a deck chair,momentarily alone. Her gaze was on me as I looked her way, and shesmiled an invitation for me to join her.

  CHAPTER VII

  _Unspoken Love_

  Unspoken love! I think if I had yielded to the impulse of my heart, Iwould have poured out all those protestations of a lover's ecstasy,incongruous here upon this starlit public deck, to a girl I hardly knew.I think, too, she might have received them with a tender acquiescence.The starlight was mirrored in her dark eyes. Misty eyes, with greatreaches of unfathomable space in their depths. Yet I felt theirtenderness.

  Unfathomable strangeness of love! Who am I to write of it, with all thepoets of all the ages striving to express the unexpressible? A bond,strangely fashioned by nature, between me and this little dark-hairedEarth beauty. As though marked by the stars we were destined to belovers....

  Thus ran the romance of my unspoken thoughts. But I was sitting quietlyin the deck chair, striving to regard her gentle beauty impersonally.And saying:

  "But Miss Prince, why are you and your brother going to Ferrok-Shahn?His business--"

  Even as I voiced it, I hated myself for such a question. So nimble isthe human mind that mingled with my rhapsodies of love was my need forinformation of George Prince....

  "Oh," she said, "this is pleasure, not business, for George." It seemedto me that a shadow crossed her expressive face. But it was gone in aninstant, and she smiled. "We have always wanted to travel. We are alonein the world, you know--our parents died when we were children."

  * * * * *

  I filled in her pause. "You will like Mars--so many interesting thingsto see."

  She nodded. "Yes, I understand so. Our Earth is so much the same allover, cast all in one mould."

  "But a hundred or two hundred years ago it was not, Miss Prince. I haveread how the picturesque Orient, differing from--well, Great-New York,or London, for instance--"

  "Transportation did that," she interrupted eagerly. "Made everything thesame--the people all look alike--dress alike."

  We discussed it. She had an alert, eager mind, childlike with itscuriosity, yet strangely matured. And her manner was naively earnest.Yet this was no clinging vine, this little Anita Prince. There was afirmness, a hint of masculine strength in her chin, and in her manner.

  "If I were a man, what wonders I could achieve in this marvelous age!"Her sense of humor made her laugh at herself. "Easy for a girl to saythat," she added.

  "You have greater wonders to achieve, Miss Prince," I said impulsively.

  "Yes? What are they?" She had a very frank and level gaze, devoid ofcoquetry.

  My heart was pounding. "The wonders of the next generation. A littleson, cast in your own gentle image--"

  What madness, this clumsy brash talk! I choked it off.

  * * * * *

  But she took no offense. The dark rose-petals of her cheeks were mantleddeeper red, but she laughed.

  "That is true." She turned abruptly serious. "I should not laugh. Thewonders of the next generation--conquering humans marching on...." Hervoice trailed away. My hand went to her arm. Strange tingling somethingwhich poets call love! It burned and surged from my trembling fingersinto the flesh of her forearm.

  The starlight glowed in her eyes. She seemed to be gazing, not at thesilver-lit deck, but away into distant reaches of the future. And shemurmured:

  "A little son, cast in my own gentle image. But with the strength of hisfather...."

  Our moment. Just a breathless moment given us as we sat there with myhand burning her arm, as though we both might be seeing ourselves joinedin a new individual--a little son, cast in his mother's gentle image andwith the strength of his father. Our moment, and then it was over. Astep sounded. I sat back. The giant gray figure of Miko came past, hisgreat cloak swaying, with his clanking sword-ornament beneath it. Hisbullet head, with its close-clipped hair, was hatless. He gazed at us,swaggered past, and turned the deck corner.

  Our moment was gone. Anita said conventionally, "It has been pleasant totalk with you, Mr. Haljan."

  "But we'll have many more," I said. "Ten days--"

  "You think we'll reach Ferrok-Shahn on schedule?"

  "Yes. I think so.... As I was saying, Miss Prince, you'll enjoy Mars. Astrange, aggressively forward-looking people."

  * * * * *

  An oppression seemed on her. She stirred in her chair.

  "Yes, they are," she said vaguely. "My brother and I know many Martiansin Great-New York." She checked herself abruptly. Was she sorry she hadsaid that? It seemed so.

  Miko was coming back. He stopped this
time before us.

  "Your brother would see you, Anita. He sent me to bring you to hisroom."

  The glance he shot me had a touch of insolence. I stood up, and hetowered a head over me.

  Anita said, "Oh yes. I'll come."

  I bowed. "I will see you again, Miss Prince. I thank you for a pleasanthalf-hour."

  The Martian led her away. Her little figure was like a child with agiant. It seemed, as they passed the length of the deck with me staringafter them, that he took her arm roughly. And that she shrank from himin fear.

  And they did not go inside. As though to show me that he had merelytaken her from me, he stopped at a distant deck window and stood talkingto her. Once he picked her up as one would pick up a child to show itsome distant object through the window.

  "A little son with the strength of his father...." Her words echoed inmy mind. Was Anita afraid of this Martian's wooing? Yet held to him bysome power he might have over her brother? The vagrant thought struckme.

  Was it that?

  CHAPTER VIII

  _A Scream in the Night_

  We kept, on the Planetara, always the time and routine of our port ofdeparture. The rest of that afternoon and evening were a blank ofconfusion to me. Anita's words; the touch of my hand upon her arm; thatvast realm of what might be for us, like a glimpse of a magic land ofhappiness which I had seen in her eyes, and perhaps she had seen inmine--all this surged within me.

  I wandered about the vessel. I was not hungry. I did not go to thedining salon for dinner. I carried Johnson food and water to his cage;and sat, with my heat-cylinder upon him, listening to his threats ofwhat would happen when he could complain to the Line's higherofficials.

  But what was Johnson doing carrying a plan of the ship's control roomsin his pockets? And worse: How had he dared open Snap's box in thehelio-room and abstract the code pass-words for this voyage? Withoutthem we would be an outlawed vessel, subject to arrest if any patrolhailed us. Had Johnson been planning to sell those pass-words to Miko? Ithought so. I tried to get the confession out of him, but could not.

  I had a brief consultation with Captain Carter. He was genuinelyapprehensive now. The Planetara carried no long-range guns, and very fewside-arms. A half-dozen of the heat-ray hand projectors; a fewold-fashioned weapons of explosion-rifles and automatic revolvers. Andhand projectors with the new Benson curve-light. We had models of thisfor curved vision, so that one might see around a corner, so to speak.And with them, we could project the heat-ray in a curve as well.

  * * * * *

  The weapons were all in Carter's chart-room, save the few we officersalways carried. Carter was apprehensive, but of what he could not say.He had not thought that our plan to stop at the Moon for treasure couldaffect this outward voyage. Any danger would be upon the way back, whenthe Planetara would be adequately guarded with long-range electronicguns, and manned with police-soldiers.

  But now we were practically defenseless....

  I had a moment with Venza, but she had nothing new to communicate tome.

  And for half an hour I chatted with George Prince. He seemed a gay,pleasant young man. I could almost have fancied I liked him. Or was itbecause he was Anita's brother? He told me how he looked forward totraveling with her on Mars. No, he had never been there before, hesaid.

  He had a measure of Anita's earnest naive personality. Or was he a veryclever scoundrel, with irony lurking in his soft voice, and a chucklethat he could so befool me?

  "We'll talk again, Haljan. You interest me--I've enjoyed it."

  He sauntered away from me, joining the saturnine Ob Hahn, with whompresently I heard him discussing religion.

  The arrest of Johnson had caused considerable comment among thepassengers. A few had seen me drag him forward to the cage. The incidenthad been the subject of passenger discussion all afternoon. CaptainCarter had posted a notice to the effect that Johnson's accounts hadbeen found in serious error, and that Dr. Frank for this voyage wouldact in his stead.

  * * * * *

  It was near midnight when Snap and I closed and sealed the helio-roomand started for the chart-room, where we were to meet with CaptainCarter and the other officers. The passengers had nearly all retired. Agame was in progress in the smoking room, but the deck was almostdeserted.

  Snap and I were passing along one of the interior corridors. Thestateroom doors, with the illumined names of the passengers, were allclosed. The metal grid of the floor echoed our footsteps. Snap was inadvance of me. His body suddenly rose in the air. He went like a balloonto the ceiling, struck it gently, and all in a heap came floating downand landed on the floor!

  "What in the infernal!--"

  He was laughing as he picked himself up. But it was a brief laugh. Weknew what had happened: the artificial gravity-controls in the base ofthe ship, which by magnetic force gave us normality aboard, were beingtampered with! For just this instant, this particular small section ofthis corridor had been cut off. The slight bulk of the Planetara,floating in space, had no appreciable gravity pull on Snap's body, andthe impulse of his step as he came to the unmagnetized area of thecorridor had thrown him to the ceiling. The area was normal now. Snapand I tested it gingerly.

  He gripped me. "That never went wrong by accident, Gregg! Someone downthere--"

  * * * * *

  We rushed to the nearest descending ladder. In the deserted lower roomthe bank of dials stood neglected. A score of dials and switches werehere, governing the magnetism of different areas of the ship. Thereshould have been a night operator, but he was gone.

  Then we saw him lying nearby, sprawled face down on the floor! In thesilence and dim lurid glow of the fluorescent tubes, we stood holdingour breaths, peering and listening. No one here.

  The guard was not dead. He lay unconscious from a blow on the head. Abrawny fellow. We had him revived in a few moments. A broadcast flash ofthe call-buzz brought Dr. Frank in haste from the chart-room.

  "What's the matter?"

  We pointed at the unconscious man. "Someone was here," I said hastily."Experimenting with the magnetic switches. Evidently unfamiliar withthem--pulling one or another to test their workings and so see thereactions on the dials."

  We told him what had happened to Snap in the upper corridor.

  Dr. Frank revived the guard in a moment. He was no worse off for theepisode, save a lump on his head, and a nasty headache.

  But he had little to tell us. He had heard a step. Saw nothing--andthen had been struck on the head, by some invisible assailant.

  * * * * *

  We left him nursing his head, sitting belligerent at his post. Armed nowwith my heat-ray cylinder which I loaned him.

  "Strange doings this voyage," he told us. "All the crew knows it--allbeen talkin' about it. I stick it out now, but when we get back home I'mdone with this star travelin'. I belong on the sea anyway. A good oldfreighter is all right for me."

  We hurried back to the upper level. We would indeed have to plansomething at this chart-room conference. This was the first tangibleattack our adversaries had made.

  We were on the passenger deck headed for the chart-room when all threeof us stopped short, frozen with horror. Through the silent passengerquarters a scream rang out! A girl's shuddering, gasping scream. Terrorin it. Horror. Or a scream of agony. In the silence of the dullyvibrating ship it was utterly horrible. It lasted an instant--a singlelong scream; then was abruptly stilled.

  And with blood pounding my temples and rushing like ice through myveins, I recognized it.

  Anita!

  CHAPTER IX

  _The Murder in A 22_

  "Good God, what was that?" Dr. Frank's face had gone white in thestarlight. Snap stood like a statue of horror.

  The deck here was patched as always, silver radiance from the deckports. The empty deck chairs stood about. The scream was stilled, butnow we heard a commotion inside--the rasp
of opening cabin doors;questions from frightened passengers; the scurry of feet.

  I found my voice. "Anita! Anita Prince!"

  "Come on!" shouted Snap. "Was it the Prince girl? I thought so too! Inher stateroom, A 22!" He was dashing for the lounge archway.

  Dr. Frank and I followed. I realized that we passed the deck door andwindow of A 22. But they were dark, and evidently sealed on the inside.The dim lounge was in a turmoil; passengers standing at their cabindoors. I heard Sir Arthur Coniston:

  "I say, what was that?"

  "Over there," said another man. "Come back inside, Martha." He shovedhis wife back. "Mr. Haljan!" He plucked at me as I went past.

  I shouted, "Go back to your rooms! We want order here--keep back!"

  We came to the twin doors of A 22 and A 20. Both were closed. Dr. Frankwas in advance of Snap and me. He paused at the sound of CaptainCarter's voice behind us.

  "Was it from in there? Wait a moment!"

  Carter dashed up; he had a large heat-ray projector in his hand. Heshoved us aside. "Let me in first. Is the door sealed? Gregg, keep thosepassengers back!"

  * * * * *

  The door was not sealed. Carter burst into the room. I heard him gasp,"Good God!"

  Snap and I shoved back three or four crowding passengers, and in thatinstant Dr. Frank had been in the room and out again.

  "There's been an accident! Get back, Gregg! Snap, help him keep thecrowd away." He shoved me forcibly.

  From within, Carter was shouting, "Keep them out! Where are you, Frank?Come back here! Send a flash for Balch--I want Balch!"

  Dr. Frank went back into the room and banged the cabin door upon Snapand me. I was unarmed--I had loaned my cylinder to the guard in thelower corridor. Weapon in hand, Snap forced the panic-strickenpassengers back to their rooms.

  "It's all right! An accident! Miss Prince is hurt."

  Snap reassured them glibly; but he knew no more about it than I. Moa,with a night-robe drawn tight around her thin, tall figure, edged up tome.

  "What has happened, Set Haljan?"

  I gazed around for her brother Miko, but did not see him.

  "An accident," I said shortly. "Go back to your room. Captain'sorders."

  She eyed me and then retreated. Snap was threatening everybody with hiscylinder. Balch dashed up. "What in the hell? Where's Carter?"

  "In there." I pounded on A 22. It opened cautiously. I could see onlyCarter, but I heard the murmuring voice of Dr. Frank through theinterior connecting door to A 20.

  * * * * *

  The captain rasped, "Get out, Haljan! Oh, is that you, Balch? Come in."He admitted the older officer and slammed the door again upon me. Andimmediately reopened it.

  "Gregg, keep the passengers quiet. Tell them everything's all right.Miss Prince got frightened, that's all. Then go up to the turret. TellBlackstone what's happened."

  "But I don't know what's happened," I protested miserably.

  Carter was grim and white. He whispered, "I think it may turn out to bemurder, Gregg! No, not dead yet--Dr. Frank is trying--Don't stand therelike an ass, man! Get to the turret! Verify our trajectory--no--wait--"

  The captain was almost incoherent. "Wait a minute, I don't mean that!Tell Snap to watch his helio-room. Gregg, you and Blackstone stay in thechart-room. Arm yourselves and guard our weapons. By God, this murderer,whoever he is--"

  I stammered, "If--if she dies--will you flash us word?"

  He stared at me strangely. "I'll be there presently, Gregg."

  He slammed the door upon me.

  I followed his orders, but it was like a dream of horror. The turmoil ofthe ship gradually quieted. Snap went to the helio-room; Blackstone andI sat in the tiny steel chart-room. How much time passed, I do notknow. I was confused. Anita hurt! She might die.... Murdered.... Butwhy? By whom? Had George Prince been in his own room when the attackcame? I thought now I recalled hearing the low murmur of his voice inthere with Dr. Frank and Carter.

  Where was Miko? It stabbed at me. I had not seen him among thepassengers in the lounge.

  * * * * *

  Carter came into the chart-room. "Gregg, you get to bed--you look like aghost!"

  "But--"

  "She's not dead--she may live. Dr. Frank and her brother are with her.They're doing all they can." He told us what had happened. Anita andGeorge Prince had both been asleep, each in their respective rooms.Someone unknown had opened Anita's corridor door.

  "Wasn't it sealed?" I demanded.

  "Yes. But the intruder opened it."

  "Burst it? I didn't think it was broken."

  "It wasn't broken. The assailant opened it somehow, and assaulted MissPrince--shot her in the chest with a heat-ray. Her left lung."

  "She is conscious?" Balch demanded.

  "Yes. But she did not see who did it. Nor did Prince. Her screamawakened him, but the intruder evidently fled out the corridor door ofA 22, the way he entered."

  I stood weak and shaken at the chart-room entrance. "A little son, castin the gentle image of his mother. But with the strength of hisfather...." But Anita--dying, perhaps; and all my dreams were fadinginto a memory of what might have been.

  "You go to bed, Gregg--we don't need you."

  I was glad enough to get away. I would lie down for an hour, and then goto Anita's stateroom. I'd demand that Dr. Frank let me see her, if onlyfor a moment.

  * * * * *

  I went to the stern deck-space where my cubby was located. My mind wasconfused, but some instinct within me made me verify the seals of mydoor and window. They were intact. I entered cautiously, switched on thedimmer of the tube-lights, and searched the room. It had only a bunk, mytiny desk, a chair and clothes robe.

  There was no evidence of any intruder here. I set my door and windowalarm. Then I audiphoned to the helio-room.

  "Snap?"

  "Yes."

  I told him about Anita. Carter cut in on us from the chart-room. "Stopthat, you fools!"

  We cut off. Fully dressed, I flung myself on my bed. Anita mightdie....

  I must have fallen into a tortured sleep. I was awakened by the sound ofmy alarm buzzer. Someone was tampering with my door! Then the buzzerceased; the marauder outside must have found a way of silencing it. Butit had done its work--awakened me.

  I had switched off the light; my cubby was Stygian dark. A heat-cylinderwas in the bunk-bracket over my head; I searched for it, pried it loosesoftly.

  I was fully awake. Alert. I could hear a faint sizzling--someone outsidetrying to unseal the door. In the darkness, cylinder in hand, I creptfrom the bunk. Crouched at the door. This time I would capture or killthis night prowler.

  * * * * *

  The sizzling was faintly audible. My door-seal was breaking. Uponimpulse I reached for the door, jerked it open.

  No one there! The starlit segment of deck was empty. But I had leaped,and I struck a solid body, crouching in the doorway. A giant man. Miko!

  His electronized metallic robe burned my hands. I lunged against him--Iwas almost as surprised as he. I shot, but the stab of heat evidentlymissed him.

  The shock of my encounter close-circuited his robe; he materialized inthe starlight. A brief, savage encounter. He struck the weapon from myhand. He had dropped his hydrogen torch, and tried to grip me. But Itwisted away from his hold.

  "So it's you!"

  "Be quiet, Gregg Haljan! I only want to talk."

  Without warning, a stab of radiance shot from a weapon in his hand. Itcaught me. Ran like ice through my veins. Seized and numbed my limbs.

  I fell helpless to the deck. Nerves and muscles paralyzed. My tongue wasthick and inert. I could not speak, nor move. But I could see Mikobending over me. And hear him:

  "I don't want to kill you, Haljan. We need you."

  He gathered me up like a bundle in his huge arms; carried me swiftlyacross the deserte
d deck.

  Snap's helio-room in the network under the dome was diagonally overhead.A white actinic light shot from it--caught us, bathed us. Snap had beenawake; had heard the slight commotion of our encounter.

  His voice rang shrilly: "Stop! I'll shoot!" His warning siren rang outto arouse the ship. His spotlight clung to us.

  Miko ran with me a few steps. Then he cursed and dropped me, fled away.I fell like a sack of carbide to the deck. My senses faded intoblackness....

  * * * * *

  "He's all right now."

  I was in the chart-room, with Captain Carter, Snap and Dr. Frank bendingover me. The surgeon said,

  "Can you speak now, Gregg?"

  I tried it. My tongue was thick, but it would move. "Yes."

  I was soon revived. I sat up, with Dr. Frank vigorously rubbing me.

  "I'm all right." I told them what had happened.

  Captain Carter said abruptly, "Yes, we know that. And it was Miko alsowho killed Anita Prince. She told us before she died."

  "Died!..." I leaped to my feet. "She ... died...."

  "Yes, Gregg. An hour ago, Miko got into her stateroom and tried to forcehis love on her. She repulsed him--he killed her."

  It struck me blank. And then with a rush came the thought, "He says Mikokilled her...."

  I heard myself stammering, "Why--why we must get him!" I gathered mywits; a surge of hate swept me; a wild desire for vengeance.

  "Why, by God, where is he? Why don't you go get him? I'll get him--I'llkill him, I tell you!"

  "Easy, Gregg!" Dr. Frank gripped me.

  The captain said gently, "We know how you feel, Gregg. She told usbefore she died."

  "I'll bring him in here to you! But I'll kill him, I tell you!"

  "No you won't, lad. You're hysterical now. We don't want him killed, notattacked even. Not yet. We'll explain later."

  They sat me down, calming me.

  Anita dead. The door of the shining garden was closed. A brief glimpse,given to me and to her of what might have been. And now she wasdead....

  CHAPTER X

  _A Speck of Human Earth-dust, Falling Free...._

  I had not been able at first to understand why Captain Carter wantedMiko left at liberty. Within me there was that cry of vengeance, asthough to strike Miko down would somehow lessen my own grief atAnita's loss. Whatever Carter's purpose, Snap had not known it. ButBalch and Dr. Frank were in the captain's confidence--all three ofthem working on some plan of action. Snap and I argued it, and thoughtwe could fathom it; and in spite of my desire to kill Miko, the thinglooked reasonable.

  It was obvious that at least two of our passengers were plotting withMiko and George Prince; trying during this voyage to learn what theycould about Grantline's activities on the Moon; scheming doubtless toseize the treasure when the Planetara stopped at the Moon on the returnvoyage. I thought I could name those masquerading passengers. Ob Hahn,supposedly a Venus Mystic. And Rance Rankin, who called himself anAmerican magician. Those two, Snap and I agreed, seemed most suspicious.And there was the purser.

  With my hysteria still on me, I sat for a time on the deck outside thechart-room with Snap. Then Carter summoned us back, and we sat listeningwhile he, Balch and Dr. Frank went on with their conference. Listeningto them I could not but agree that our best plan was to secure evidencewhich would incriminate all who were concerned in the plot. Miko, wewere convinced, had been the Martian who followed Snap and me fromHalsey's office in Great-New York. George Prince had doubtless been theinvisible eavesdropper outside the helio-room. He knew, and had told theothers, that Grantline had found radium-ore on the Moon--that thePlanetara would stop there on the way home.

  * * * * *

  But we could not incarcerate George Prince for being an eavesdropper.Nor had we the faintest tangible evidence against Ob Hahn or RanceRankin. And even the purser would probably be released by theInterplanetary Court of Ferrok-Shahn when it heard our evidence.

  There was only Miko. We could arrest him for the murder of Anita. Butthe others would be put on their guard. It was Carter's idea to let Mikoremain at liberty for a time and see if we could not identify andincriminate his fellows. The murder of Anita obviously had nothing to dowith any plot against the Grantline Moon treasure.

  "Why," exclaimed Balch, "there might be--probably are--huge Martianinterests concerned in this thing. These men here aboard are onlyemissaries, making this voyage to learn what they can. When they get toFerrok-Shahn they'll make their report, and then we'll have a realdanger on our hands. Why, an outlaw ship could be launched fromFerrok-Shahn that would beat us back to the Moon--and Grantline isentirely without warning of any danger!"

  It seemed obvious. Unscrupulous, moneyed criminals in Ferrok-Shahn wouldbe dangerous indeed, once these details of Grantline were given them.And so now it was decided that in the remaining nine days of our outwardvoyage, we would attempt to secure enough evidence to arrest all theseplotters.

  "I'll have them all in the cage when we land," Carter declared grimly."They'll make no report to their principals. The thing will end, bestamped out!"

  Ah, the futile plans of men!

  * * * * *

  Yet we thought it practical. We were all doubly armed now. Explosivebullet-projectors and the heat-ray cylinders. And we had severaleavesdropping microphones which we planned to use whenever occasionoffered.

  It was now, Earth Eastern Time, A. M. Twenty-eight hours only of thiseventful voyage were passed. The Planetara was some six million milesfrom the Earth; it blazed behind us, a tremendous giant.

  The body of Anita was being made ready for burial. George Prince wasstill in his stateroom. Glutz, effeminate little hairdresser, who waxedrich acting as beauty doctor for the women passengers, and who in hisyouth had been an undertaker, had gone with Dr. Frank to prepare thebody.

  Gruesome details. I tried not to think of them. I sat, numbed, in thechart-room.

  An astronomical burial--there was little precedent for it. I draggedmyself to the stern deck-space where, at five A. M., the ceremony tookplace. Most of the passengers were asleep, unaware of all this--whichwas why Carter hastened it.

  We were a solemn little group, gathered there in the checkered starlightwith the great vault of the heavens around us. A dismantled electronicprojector--necessary when a long-range gun was mounted--had been riggedup in one of the deck ports.

  They brought out the body. I stood apart, gazing reluctantly at thesmall bundle, wrapped like a mummy in a dark metallic screen-cloth. Apatch of black silk rested over her face.

  * * * * *

  Four cabin stewards carried her. And beside her walked George Prince. Along black robe covered him, but his head was bare. And suddenly hereminded me of the ancient play-character of Hamlet. His black, wavyhair; his finely chiseled, pallid face, set now in a stern, patriciancast. And staring, I realized that however much of a villain this mannot yet thirty might be, at this instant, walking beside the body of hisdead sister, he was stricken with grief. He loved that sister with whomhe had lived since childhood; and to see him now, with his set whiteface, no one could doubt it.

  The little procession stopped in a patch of starlight by the port. Theyrested the body on a bank of chairs. The black-robed Chaplain, rousedfrom his bed and still trembling from excitement of this sudden,inexplicable death on board, said a brief, solemn little prayer. Anappeal: That the Almighty Ruler of all these blazing worlds might guardthe soul of this gentle girl whose mortal remains were now to bereturned to Him.

  Ah, if ever God seemed hovering close, it was now at this instant, onthis starlit deck floating in the black void of space.

  Then Carter for just a moment removed the black shroud from her face. Isaw her brother gaze silently; saw him stoop and implant a kiss--andturn away. I did not want to look, but I found myself moving slowlyforward.

  * * * * *


  She lay, so beautiful. Her face, white and calm and peaceful in death.My sight blurred. Words seemed to echo: "A little son, cast in thegentle image of his mother...."

  "Easy, Gregg!" Snap was whispering to me. He had his arm around me."Come on away!"

  They tied the shroud over her face. I did not see them as they put herbody in the tube, sent it through the exhaust-chamber, and dropped it.

  But a moment later I saw it--a small black oblong bundle--hoveringbeside us. It was perhaps a hundred feet away, circling us. Held by thePlanetara's bulk, it had momentarily become our satellite. It swungaround us like a moon. Gruesome satellite, by nature's laws forever tofollow us.

  Then from another tube at the bow, Blackstone operated a smallZed-co-ray projector. Its dull light caught the floating bundle,neutralizing its metallic wrappings.

  It swung off at a tangent. Speeding. Falling free in the dome of theheavens. A rotating black oblong. But in a moment distance dwindled itto a speck. A dull silver dot with the sunlight on it. A speck of humanEarth-dust, falling free....

  It vanished. Anita--gone. In my heart was an echo of the prayer that theAlmighty might watch over her and guard her always....

  CHAPTER XI

  _The Electrical Eavesdropper_

  I turned from the deck. Miko was near me! So he had dared to showhimself here among us! But I realized that he could not be aware we knewhe was the murderer. George Prince had been asleep, had not seen Mikowith Anita. Miko, with impulsive rage, had shot the girl and escaped. Nodoubt now he was cursing himself for having done it. And he could verywell assume that Anita had died without regaining consciousness to tellwho had killed her.

  He gazed at me now, here on the deck. I thought for an instant he wascoming over to talk to me. Though he probably considered he was notsuspected of the murder of Anita, he realized, of course, that hisattack on me was known; he must have wondered what action Captain Carterwould take.

  But he did not approach me; he moved away, and went inside. Moa had beennear him; and as though by pre-arrangement with him she now accostedme.

  "I want to speak to you, Set Haljan."

  "Go ahead."

  I felt an instinctive aversion for this Martian girl. Yet she was notunattractive. Over six feet tall, straight and slim. Sleek blond hair.Rather a handsome face. Not gray, like the burly Miko, but pink andwhite. Stern-lipped, yet feminine, too. She was smiling gravely now. Herblue eyes regarded me keenly. She said gently:

  "A sad occurrence, Gregg Haljan. And mysterious. I would not questionyou--"

  "Is that all you have to say?" I demanded, when she paused.

  "No. You are a handsome man, Gregg--attractive to women--to any Martianwoman."

  * * * * *

  She said it impulsively. Admiration for me was on her face, in hereyes--a man cannot miss it.

  "Thank you."

  "I mean, I would be your friend. My brother Miko is so sorry about whathappened between you and him this morning. He only wanted to talk toyou, and he came to your cubby door--"

  "With a torch to break its seal," I interjected.

  She waved that away. "He was afraid you would not admit him. He told youhe would not hurt you."

  "And so he struck me with one of your cursed Martian paralyzing rays!"

  "He is sorry...."

  She seemed gauging me, trying, no doubt, to find out what reprisal wouldbe taken against her brother. I felt sure that Moa was as active as aman in any plan that was under way to capture the Grantline treasure.Miko, with his ungovernable temper, was doing things that put theirplans in jeopardy.

  I demanded abruptly, "What did your brother want to talk to me about?"

  "Me," she said surprisingly. "I sent him. A Martian girl goes after whatshe wants. Did you know that?"

  She swung on her heel and left me. I puzzled over it. Was that why Mikohad struck me down, and was carrying me off? Was my accursed masculinebeauty so attractive to this Martian girl? I did not think so. I couldnot believe that all these incidents were so unrelated to what I knewwas the main undercurrent. They wanted me, had tried to capture me. Forsomething else than because Moa liked my looks....

  * * * * *

  Dr. Frank found me mooning alone.

  "Go to bed, Gregg! You look awful."

  "I don't want to go to bed."

  "Where's Snap?"

  "I don't know. He was here a while ago." I had not seen him since theburial of Anita.

  "The captain wants him." The surgeon left me.

  Within an hour the morning siren would arouse the passengers. I wasseated in a secluded corner of the deck, when George Prince came along.He went past me, a slight, somber, dark-robed figure. He had on high,thick boots. A hood was over his head, but as he saw me he pushed itback and dropped down beside me.

  But for a moment he did not speak. His face showed pallid in the pallidstar-gleams.

  "She said you loved her." His soft voice was throaty with emotion.

  "Yes." I said it almost against my will. There seemed a bond springingbetween this bereaved brother and me. He added, so softly I couldbarely hear him, "That makes you, I think, almost my friend. And youthought you were my enemy."

  I held my answer. An incautious tongue running under emotion is adangerous thing. And I was sure of nothing.

  * * * * *

  He went on, "Almost my friend. Because--we both loved her, and she lovedus both." He was hardly more than whispering. "And there is aboard--onewhom we both hate."

  "Miko!" It burst from me.

  "Yes. But do not say it."

  Another silence fell between us. He brushed back the black curls fromhis forehead. And his dark eyes searched mine.

  "Have you an eavesdropping microphone, Haljan?"

  I hesitated. "Yes."

  "I was thinking...." He leaned closer toward me. "If, in half an hour,you could use it upon Miko's cabin--I would rather tell you than thecaptain or anyone else. The cabin will be insulated, but I shall find away of cutting off that insulation so that you may hear."

  So George Prince had turned with us! The shock of his sister'sdeath--himself allied to her murderer!--had been too much for him. Hewas with us!

  Yet his help must be given secretly. Miko would kill him in an instantif it became known.

  He had been watchful of the deck. He stood up now.

  "I think that is all."

  As he turned away, I murmured, "But I do thank you...."

  * * * * *

  The name Set Miko glowed upon the small metal door. It was in atransverse corridor similar to A 22. The corridor was forward of thelounge: it opened off the small circular library.

  The library was unoccupied and unlighted, dim with only the reflectedlights from the nearby passages. I crouched behind a cylinder-case. Thedoor of Miko's room was in sight, being some thirty feet away from me.

  I waited perhaps five minutes. No one entered. Then I realizedthat doubtless the conspirators were already there. I set my tinyeavesdropper on the library floor beside me; connected its littlebattery; focused its projector. Was Miko's room insulated? I could nottell. There was a small ventilating grid above the door. Across itsopening, if the room were insulated, a blue sheen of radiancewould be showing. And there would be a faint hum. But from thisdistance I could not see or hear such details, and I was afraid toapproach closer. Once in the transverse corridor, I would have noplace to hide, no way of escape; if anyone approached Miko's door, Iwould be discovered.

  I threw the current into my little apparatus. I prayed, if it metinterference, that the slight sound would pass unnoticed. George Princehad said he would make opportunity to disconnect the room's insulation.He had evidently done so. I picked up the interior sounds at once; myheadphone vibrated with them. And with trembling fingers on the littledial between my knees as I crouched in the darkness behind thecylinder-case, I synchronized.

  "Johns
on is a fool." It was Miko's voice. "We must have the pass-words."

  "He got them from the helio-room." A man's voice; I puzzled over it atfirst, then recognized it. Rance Rankin.

  * * * * *

  Miko said, "He is a fool. Walking around this ship as though withletters blazoned on his forehead--'Watch me--I need watching--' Hah! Nowonder they apprehended him!"

  Was George Prince in there? Rankin's voice said: "He would have turnedthe papers over to us. I would not blame him too much. What harm--"

  "Oh, I'll release him," Miko declared. "What harm? That braying ass didus plenty of harm. He has lost the pass-words. Better he had left themin the helio-room."

  Moa was in the room. Her voice said: "We've got to have them. ThePlanetara, upon such an important voyage as this, may be watched. How dowe know--"

  "It is, no doubt," Rankin said quietly. "We ought to have thepass-words. When we are in control of this ship...."

  It sent a shiver through me. Were they planning to try and seize thePlanetara? Now? It seemed so.

  "Johnson undoubtedly memorized them," Moa was saying. "When we get himout--"

  "Hahn is to do that, at the signal." Miko added, "George could do itbetter, perhaps."

  And then I heard George Prince for the first time. He murmured, "I willtry."

  "No need," said Miko. "I praise where praise is deserved. And I havelittle praise for you now, George!"

  I could not see what happened. A look, perhaps, which Prince could notavoid giving this man he had come to hate. Miko doubtless saw it, andthe Martian's hot anger leaped.

  Rankin said hurriedly, "Stop that!"

  And Moa: "Let him alone! Sit down, you fool!"

  * * * * *

  I could hear the sound of a scuffle. A blow--a cry, half suppressed,from George Prince.

  Then Miko: "I will not hurt him. Craven coward! Look at him! Hatingme--frightened!"

  I could fancy George Prince sitting there with murder in his heart, andMiko taunting him:

  "Hates me now, because I shot his sister!"

  Moa: "Hush!"

  "I will not! Why should I not say it? I will tell you something else,George Prince. It was not Anita I shot at, but you! I meant nothing forher, but love. If you had not interfered--"

  This was different from what we had figured. George Prince had come infrom his own room, had tried to rescue his sister, and in the scuffle,Anita had taken the shot intended for George.

  "I did not even know I had hit her," Miko was saying. "Not until I heardshe was dead." He added sardonically, "I hoped it was you I had hit,George. And I will tell you this: You hate me no more than I hate you.If it were not for your knowledge of radium ores--"

  "Is this to be a personal wrangle?" Rankin interrupted. "I thought wewere here to plan--"

  "It is planned," Miko said shortly. "I give orders, I do not plan. I amwaiting now for the moment--"

  * * * * *

  He checked himself. Moa said, "Does Rankin understand that no harm is tocome to Gregg Haljan?"

  "Yes," said Rankin. "And Dean. We need them, of course. But you cannotmake Dean send messages if he refuses, nor make Haljan navigate."

  "I know enough to check on them," Miko said grimly. "They will not foolme. And they will obey me, have no fear. A little touch of sulphuric--"His laugh was gruesome. "It makes the most stubborn very willing."

  "I wish," said Moa, "we had Haljan safely hidden. If he is hurt--killed--"

  So that was why Miko had tried to capture me? To keep me safe so that Imight navigate the ship.

  It occurred to me that I should get Carter at once. A plot to seize thePlanetara? But when?

  I froze with startled horror.

  The diaphragms at my ears rang with Miko's words: "I have set the timefor now! In two minutes--"

  It seemed to startle both Rankin and George Prince almost as much as I.Both exclaimed:

  "No!"

  "No? Why not? Everyone is at his post!"

  Prince repeated: "No!"

  And Rankin: "But can we trust them? The stewards--the crew?"

  "Eight of them are our own men! You didn't know that, Rankin? They'vebeen aboard the Planetara for several voyages. Oh, this is noquickly-planned affair, even though we let you in on it so recently. Youand Johnson. By God!"

  * * * * *

  I crouched tense. There was a commotion in the stateroom. Miko haddiscovered that his insulation was cut off! He had evidently leaped tohis feet; I heard a chair overturn. And the Martian's roar: "It's off!Did you do that, Prince? By God, if I thought--"

  My apparatus went suddenly dead as Miko flung on his insulation. I lostmy wits in the confusion; I should have instantly taken off myvibrations. There was interference; it showed in the dark space of theventilator grid over Miko's doorway; a snapping in the air there, aswirl of sparks.

  I heard with my unaided ears Miko's roar over his insulation: "By God,they're listening!"

  The scream of a hand-siren sounded from his stateroom. It rang over theship. His signal! I heard it answered from some distant point. And thena shot; a commotion in the lower corridors....

  The attack upon the Planetara had started!

  I was on my feet. The shouts of startled passengers sounded, a turmoilbeginning everywhere.

  I stood momentarily transfixed. The door of Miko's stateroom burst open.He stood there, with Moa, Rankin and George Prince crowding behind him.

  He saw me. "You, Gregg Haljan!"

  He came leaping at me.

  CHAPTER XII

  _The Weightless Combat_

  I was taken wholly by surprise. There was an instant when I stoodnumbed, fumbling for a weapon at my belt, undecided whether to run orstand my ground. Miko was no more than twenty feet from me. He checkedhis forward rush. The light from an overhead tube was on him; I saw inhis hand the cylinder projector of his paralyzing ray.

  I plucked my heat-cylinder from my belt, and fired without taking aim.My tiny heat-beam flashed. I must have grazed Miko's hand. His roar ofanger and pain rang out over the turmoil. He dropped his weapon; thenstooped to pick it up. But Moa forestalled him. She leaped and seizedit.

  "Careful! Fool--you promised not to hurt him!"

  A confusion of swift action. Rankin had turned and darted away. I sawGeorge Prince stumbling half in front of the struggling Miko and Moa.And I heard footsteps beside me; a hand gripped me, jerked at me.

  Over the turmoil Prince's voice sounded: "Gregg--Haljan!"

  I recall I had the impression that Prince was frightened; he had halffallen in front of Miko. And there was Miko's voice:

  "Let go of me!"

  And Moa: "Come!"

  It was Balch gripping me. "Gregg! This way--run! Get out of here! He'llkill you with that ray--"

  Miko's ray flashed, but George Prince had knocked at his arm. I did notdare fire again. Prince was in the way. Balch, who was unarmed, shovedme violently back.

  "Gregg--the chart-room!"

  * * * * *

  I turned and ran, with Balch after me. Prince had fallen, or been felledby Miko. A flash followed me. Miko's weapon, but again it missed. He didnot pursue me; he ran the other way, through the port-side door of thelibrary.

  Balch and I found ourselves in the lounge. Shouting, frightenedpassengers were everywhere. The place was in wild confusion, the wholeship ringing now with shouts.

  "To the chart-room, Gregg!"

  I called to the passengers: "Get back to your rooms!"

  I followed Balch. We ran through the archway to the deck. In thestarlight I saw figures scurrying aft, but none were near us. The deckforward was dim with heavy shadows. The oval window and door of thechart-room were blue-yellow from the tube-lights inside. No one seemedon the deck there; and then, as we approached, I saw, further forward inthe bow, the trap-door to the cage standing open. Johnson had beenreleased.

 
From one of the chart-room windows a heat-ray sizzled. It barely missedus. Balch shouted, "Carter--don't!"

  The captain called, "Oh--you, Balch--and Haljan--"

  He came out on the deck as we rushed up. His left arm was danglinglimp.

  "God--this--" He got no further. From the turret overhead a tinysearch-beam came down and disclosed us. Blackstone was supposed to be onduty up there, with a course-master at the controls. But, glancing up, Isaw, illumined by the turret lights, the figures of Ob Hahn in hispurple-white robe, and Johnson the purser. And on the turret balcony,two fallen men--Blackstone and the course-master.

  * * * * *

  Johnson was training the spotlight on us. And Hahn fired a Martian ray.It struck Balch beside me. He dropped.

  Carter was shouting, "Inside! Gregg, get inside!"

  I stopped to raise up Balch. Another beam came down. A heat-ray thistime. It caught the fallen Balch full in the chest, piercing himthrough. The smell of his burning flesh rose to sicken me. He was dead.I dropped his body. Carter shoved me into the chart-room.

  In the small, steel-lined room, Carter and I slid the door closed. Wewere alone here. The thing had come so quickly it had taken CaptainCarter, like us all, wholly unawares. We had anticipated spyingeavesdroppers, but not this open brigandage. No more than a minute ortwo had passed since Miko's siren in his stateroom had given the signalfor the attack. Carter had been in the chart-room. Blackstone was in theturret. At the outbreak of confusion, Carter dashed out to see Hahnreleasing Johnson from the cage. From the forward chart-room window nowI could see where Hahn with a torch had broken the cage-seal. The torchlay on the deck. There had been an exchange of shots; Carter's arm wasparalyzed; Johnson and Hahn had escaped.

  Carter was as confused as I. There had simultaneously been an encounterup in the turret. Blackstone and the course-master were killed. Thelookout had been shot from his post in the forward observatory. His bodydangled now, twisted half in and half out of his window.

  * * * * *

  We could see several of Miko's men--erstwhile members of our crew andsteward-corps--scurrying from the turret along the upper bridges towardthe dark and silent helio-room. Snap was up there. But was he? Thehelio-room glowed suddenly with dim light, but there was no evidence ofa fight there. The fighting seemed mostly below the deck, down in thehull-corridors. A blended horror of sounds came up to us. Screams,shouts, and the hissing and snapping of ray weapons. Our crew--such ofthem as were loyal--were making a stand down below. But it was brief.Within a minute it died away. The passengers, amidships in thesuperstructure, were still shouting. Then above them Miko's roarsounded.

  "Be quiet! Go in your rooms--you will not be harmed."

  The brigands in these few minutes were in control of the ship. All butthis little chart-room, where, with most of the ship's weapons, Carterand I were intrenched.

  "God, Gregg, that this should come upon us!"

  Carter was fumbling with the chart-room weapons. "Here, Gregg, help me.What have you got? Heat-ray? That's all I had ready."

  It struck me then as I helped him make the connections that Carter inthis crisis was at best an inefficient commander. His red face had gonesplotchy purple; his hands were trembling. Skilled as captain of apeaceful liner, he was at a loss now. Nor could I blame him. It is easyto say we might have taken warning, done this or that, and cometriumphant through this attack. But only the fool looks backward andsays, "I would have done better."

  * * * * *

  I tried to summon my wits. The ship was lost to us, unless Carter and Icould do something. Our futile weapons! They were all here--four orfive heat-ray hand projectors that could send a pencil-ray a hundredfeet or so. I shot one diagonally up at the turret where Johnson wasleering down at our rear window, but he saw my gesture and dropped backout of sight. The heat-beam flashed harmlessly up and struck the turretroof. Then across the turret window came a sheen of radiance--anelectro-barrage. And behind it, Hahn's suave, evil face appeared. Heshouted down:

  "We have orders to spare you, Gregg Haljan--or you would have beenkilled long ago!"

  My answering shot hit his barrage with a shower of sparks, behind whichhe stood unmoved.

  Carter handed me another weapon. "Gregg, try this."

  I levelled the old explosive bullet projector; Carter crouched besideme. But before I could press the trigger, from somewhere down thestarlit deck an electro-beam hit me. The little rifle exploded, burstits breech. I sank back to the floor, tingling from the shock of thehostile current. My hands were blackened from the exploding powder.

  Carter seized me. "No use! Hurt?"

  "No."

  * * * * *

  The stars through the dome-windows were swinging. A long swing--theshadows and starlit patches on the deck were all shifting. The Planetarawas turning. The heavens revolved in a great round sweep of movement,then settled as we took our new course. Hahn at the turret controls hadswung us. The earth and the sun showed over our bow quarter. Thesunlight mingled red-yellow with the brilliant starlight. Hahn's signalswere sounding; I heard them answered from the mechanism rooms downbelow. Brigands there--in full control. The gravity plates were beingset to the new positions; we were on our new course. Headed a point ortwo off the Earth-line. Not headed for the moon? I wondered.

  Carter and I were planning nothing. What was there to plan? We wereunder observation. A Martian paralyzing ray--or electronic beam, farmore deadly than our own puny police weapons--would have struck us theinstant we tried to leave the chart-room.

  My swift-running thoughts were interrupted by a shout from down thedeck. At a corner of the cabin superstructure some fifty feet from ourwindows the figure of Miko appeared. A barrage-radiance hung around himlike a shimmering mantle. His voice sounded:

  "Gregg Haljan, do you yield?"

  Carter leaped up from where he and I were crouching. Against all reasonof safety he leaned from the low window, waving his hamlike fist.

  "Yield? No! I am in command here, you pirate! Brigand--murderer!"

  * * * * *

  I pushed him back. "Careful!"

  He was spluttering, and over it Miko's sardonic laugh sounded. "Verywell--but you will talk? Shall we argue about it?"

  I stood up. "What do you want to say, Miko?"

  Behind him the tall, thin figure of his sister showed. She was pluckingat him. He turned violently.

  "I won't hurt him! Gregg Haljan--is this a truce? You will not shoot?"He was shielding Moa.

  "No," I called. "For a moment, no. A truce. What is it you want tosay?"

  I could hear the babble of passengers who were herded in the cabin withbrigands guarding them. George Prince, bareheaded, but shrouded in hiscloak, showed in a patch of light behind Moa. He looked my way and thenretreated into the lounge archway.

  Miko called, "You must yield. We want you, Haljan."

  "No doubt," I jeered.

  "Alive. It is easy to kill you."

  * * * * *

  I could not doubt that. Carter and I were little more than rats in atrap, here in the chart-room. But Miko wanted to take me alive: that wasnot so simple. He added persuasively:

  "We want you to help us navigate. Will you?"

  "No."

  "Will you help us, Captain Carter? Tell your cub, this Haljan, to yield.You are fools. We understand that Haljan has been handling the ship'smathematics. Him we need most."

  Carter roared: "Get back from there! This is no truce!"

  I shoved aside his levelled bullet-projector. "Wait a minute!" I calledto Miko. "Navigate--where?"

  "Oh," he retorted, "that is our business, not yours. When you lay downyour weapons and come out of there, I will give you the course."

  "Back to the earth?" I suggested.

  I could fancy him grinning behind the sheen of his barrage at myquestion.

&nbs
p; "The earth? Yes--shall we go there? Give me your orders, Gregg Haljan.Of course I will obey them."

  His sardonic words were interrupted. And I realized that all this parleywas a ruse of Miko's to take me alive. He had made a gesture. Hahn,watching from the turret window, doubtless flashed a signal down to thehull-corridors. The magnetizer control under the chart-room wasaltered, our artificial gravity cut off. I felt the sudden lightness; Igripped the window casement and clung. Carter was startled intoincautious movement. It flung him out into the center of the chart-room,his arms and legs grotesquely flailing.

  * * * * *

  And across the chart-room, in the opposite window, I felt rather thansaw the shape of something. A figure--almost invisible, but notquite--was trying to climb in! I flung the empty rifle I was holding. Ithit something solid in the window; in a flare of sparks a black-hoodedfigure materialized. A man climbing in! His weapon spat. There was atiny electronic flash, deadly silent. The intruder had shot at Carter;struck him. Carter gave one queer scream. He had floated to the floor;his convulsive movement when he was hit hurled him to the ceiling. Hisbody struck, twitched; bounced back and sank inert on the floor-gridalmost at my feet.

  I clung to the casement. Across the space of the weightless room thehooded intruder was also clinging. His hood fell back. It was Johnson.He leered at me.

  "Killed him, the bully! Well, he deserved it. Now for you, Mr. ThirdOfficer Haljan!"

  But he did not dare fire at me--Miko had forbidden it. I saw him reachunder his robe, doubtless for a low-powered paralyzing ray such as Mikoalready had used on me. But he never got it out. I had no weapon withinreach. I leaned into the room, still holding the casement, and doubledmy legs under me. I kicked out from the window.

  The force catapulted me across the space of the room like a volplane. Istruck the purser. We gripped. Our locked, struggling bodies bounced outinto the room. We struck the floor, surged up like balloons to theceiling, struck it with a flailing arm or a leg and floated back.

  * * * * *

  Grotesque, abnormal combat! Like fighting in weightless water. Johnsonclutched his weapon, but I twisted his wrist, held his arm outstretchedso that he could not aim it. I was aware of Miko's voice shouting on thedeck outside.

  Johnson's left hand was gouging at my face, his fingers plucking at myeyes. We lunged down to the floor, then up again, close to the ceiling.

  I twisted his wrists. He dropped the weapon and it sank away. I tried toreach it, but could not. Then I had him by the throat. I was strongerthan he, and more agile. I tried choking him, his thick bull-neck withinmy fingers. He kicked, scrambled, tore and gouged at me. Tried to shout,but it ended in a gurgle. And then, as he felt his breath stopped, hishands came up in an effort to tear mine loose.

  We sank again to the floor. We were momentarily upright. I felt my feettouch. I bent my knees. We sank further.

  And then I kicked violently upward. Our locked bodies shot to theceiling. Johnson's head was above me. It struck the steel roof of thechart-room. A violent blow. I felt him go suddenly limp. I cast him off,and, doubling my body, I kicked at the ceiling. It sent me diagonallydownward to the window, where I clung and regained stability.

  And I saw Miko standing on the deck with a weapon levelled at me!

  CHAPTER XIII

  _The Torture_

  "Haljan! Yield or I'll fire! Moa, give me the smaller one. Thiscursed--"

  He had in his hand too large a projector. Its ray would kill me. If hewanted to take me alive, he would not fire. I chanced it.

  "No!"

  I tried to draw myself beneath the window. An automatic bullet projectorwas on the floor where Carter had dropped it. I pulled myself down.Miko did not fire. I reached the revolver. The dead bodies of thecaptain and purser had drifted together on the floor in the center ofthe room.

  I hitched myself back to the window. With upraised weapon I gazedcautiously out. Miko had disappeared. The deck within my line of visionwas empty.

  But was it? Something told me to beware. I clung to the casement, readyupon the instant to shove myself down. There was a movement in a shadowalong the deck. Then a figure rose up.

  "Don't fire, Haljan!"

  The sharp command, half appeal, stopped the pressure of my finger on thetrigger of the automatic. It was the tall lanky Englishman, Sir ArthurConiston, as he called himself. So he too was one of Miko's band! Thelight through a dome-window fell full on him.

  "If you fire, Haljan, and kill me--Miko will kill you then, surely."

  From where he had been crouching he could not command my window. Butnow, upon the heels of his placating words, he abruptly shot. Thelow-powered ray, had it struck, would have felled me without killing.But it went over my head as I dropped. Its aura made my senses reel.

  Coniston shouted, "Haljan!"

  * * * * *

  I did not answer. I wondered if he would dare approach to see if I hadbeen hit. A minute passed. Then another. I thought I heard Miko's voiceon the deck outside. But it was an aerial, microscopic whisper closebeside me.

  "We see you, Haljan! You must yield!"

  Their eavesdropping vibrations, with audible projection, were upon me. Iretorted aloud.

  "Come and get me! You cannot take me alive."

  I do protest if this action of mine in the chart-room may seem bravado.I had no wish to die. There was within me a very healthy desire forlife. But I felt, by holding out, that some chance might come wherewithI might turn events against these brigands. Yet reason told me it washopeless. Our loyal members of the crew were killed, no doubt. CaptainCarter and Balch were killed. The lookouts and Course-masters also. AndBlackstone.

  There remained only Dr. Frank and Snap. Their fate I did not yet know.And there was George Prince. He, perhaps, would help me if he could.But, at best, he was a dubious ally.

  "You are very foolish, Haljan," murmured the projection of Miko's voice.And then I heard Coniston:

  "See here, why would not a hundred pounds of gold-leaf tempt you? Thecode-words which were taken from Johnson--I mean to say, why not tell uswhere they are?"

  So that was one of the brigands new difficulties! Snap had taken thecode-word sheet, that time we sealed the purser in the cage.

  I said, "You'll never find them. And when a police ship sights us, whatwill you do then?"

  The chances of a police ship were slim indeed, but the brigandsevidently did not know that. I wondered again what had become of Snap.Was he captured--or still holding them off?

  I was watching my windows; for at any moment, under cover of this talk,I might be assailed.

  * * * * *

  Gravity came suddenly to the room. Miko's voice said. "We mean well byyou, Haljan. There is your normality. Join us. We need you to chart ourcourse."

  "And a hundred pounds of gold-leaf," urged Coniston. "Or more. Why, thistreasure--"

  I could hear an oath from Miko. And then his ironic voice: "We will notbother you, Haljan. There is no hurry. You will be hungry in good time.And sleepy. Then we will come and get you. And a little acid will makeyou think differently about helping us...."

  His vibrations died away. The pull of gravity in the room was normal. Iwas alone in the dim silence, with the bodies of Carter and Johnsonlying huddled on the grid. I bent to examine them. Both were dead.

  My isolation was no ruse this time. The outlaws made no further attack.Half an hour passed. The deck outside, what I could see of it, wasvacant. Balch lay dead close outside the chart-room door. The bodies ofBlackstone and the Course-master had been removed from the turretwindow. A forward lookout--one of Miko's men--was on duty in the nearbytower. Hahn was at the turret controls. The ship was under orderlyhandling, heading back upon a new course. For the Earth? Or the Moon? Itdid not seem so.

  I found, in the chart-room, a Benson curve-light projector which poorCaptain Carter had very nearly assembled. I worked on i
t, trained itthrough my rear window, along the empty deck; bent it into the loungearchway. Upon my grid the image of the lounge interior presentlyfocused. The passengers in the lounge were huddled in a group.Disheveled, frightened, with Moa standing watching them. Stewards wereserving them with a meal.

  * * * * *

  Upon a bench, bodies were lying. Some were dead. I saw Rance Rankin.Others were evidently only injured. Dr. Frank was moving among them,attending them. Venza was there, unharmed. And I saw the gamblers, Shacand Dud, sitting white-faced, whispering together. And Glutz's littlebe-ribboned, be-curled figure on a stool.

  George Prince was there, standing against the walls shrouded in hismourning cloak, watching the scene with alert, roving eyes. And by theopposite doorway, the huge towering figure of Miko stood on guard. ButSnap was missing.

  A brief glimpse. Miko saw my Benson-light. I could have equipped aheat-ray, and fired along the curved Benson-light into that lounge. ButMiko gave me no time.

  He slid the lounge door closed, and Moa leaped to close the one on myside. My light was cut off; my grid showed only the blank deck anddoor.

  Another interval. I had made plans. Futile plans! I could get into theturret perhaps, and kill Hahn. I had the invisible cloak which Johnsonwas wearing. I took it from his body. Its mechanism could be repaired.Why, with it I could creep about the ship, kill these brigands one byone perhaps. George Prince would be with me. The brigands who had beenposing as the stewards and crew-members were unable to navigate; theywould obey my orders. There were only Miko, Coniston and Hahn to kill.

  Futile plans! From my window I could gaze up to the helio-room. And nowabruptly I heard Snap's voice:

  "No! I tell you--no!"

  And Miko: "Very well. We will try this."

  So Snap was captured, but not killed. Relief swept me. He was in thehelio-room, and Miko was with him. But my relief was short-lived.

  * * * * *

  After a brief interval there came a moan from Snap. It floated down fromthe silence overhead. It made me shudder.

  My Benson-beam shot into the helio window. It showed me Snap lying thereon the floor. He was bound with wire. His torso had been stripped. Hislivid face was ghastly plain in my light.

  Miko was bending over him. Miko with a heat-cylinder no longer than afinger. Its needle-beam played upon Snap's naked chest. I could see thegruesome little trail of smoke rising; and as Snap twisted and jerked,there on his flesh was the red and blistered trail of the violet-hotray.

  "Now will you tell?"

  "No!"

  Miko laughed. "No? Then I shall write my name a little deeper...."

  A black scar now--a trail etched in the quivering flesh.

  "Oh!--" Snap's face went white as chalk as he pressed his lipstogether.

  "Or a little acid? This fire-writing does not really hurt? Tell me whatyou did with those code-words!"

  "No!"

  In his absorption Miko did not notice my light. Nor did I have the witto try and fire along it. I was trembling. Snap under torture!

  As the beam went deeper, Snap suddenly screamed. But he ended, "No! Iwill send--no message for you--"

  It had been only a moment. In the chart-room window beside me again afigure appeared! No image. A solid, living person, undisguised by anycloak of invisibility. George Prince had chanced my fire and had creptup upon me.

  "Haljan! Don't attack me."

  * * * * *

  I dropped my light connections. As impulsively I stood up, I saw throughthe window the figure of Coniston on the deck watching the result ofPrince's venture.

  "Haljan--yield."

  Prince no more than whispered it. He stood outside on the deck; the lowwindow casement touched his waist. He leaned over it.

  "He's torturing Snap! Call out that you will yield."

  The thought had already been in my mind. Another scream from Snapchilled me with horror. I shouted,

  "Miko! Stop!"

  I rushed to the window and Prince gripped me.

  "Louder!"

  I called louder. "_Miko!_ Stop!" My upflung voice mingled with Snap'sagony of protest. Then Miko heard me. His head and shoulders showed upthere at the helio-room oval.

  "You, Haljan?"

  Prince shouted, "I have made him yield. He will obey you if you stopthat torture."

  I think that poor Snap must have fainted. He was silent. I called,"Stop! I will do what you command."

  Miko jeered, "That is good. A bargain, if you and Dean obey me. Disarmhim, Prince, and bring him out."

  * * * * *

  Miko moved back into the helio-room. On the deck Coniston was advancing,but cautiously, mistrustful of me.

  "Gregg."

  George Prince flung a leg over the casement and leaped lightly into thedim chart-room. His small slender figure stood beside me, clung to me.

  "Gregg."

  A moment, while we stood there together. No ray was upon us. Conistoncould not see us, nor could he hear our whispers.

  "Gregg."

  A different voice; its throaty, husky quality gone. A soft pleading."Gregg--

  "Gregg, don't you know me? Gregg, dear...."

  Why, what was this? Not George Prince? A masquerader, yet so like GeorgePrince.

  "Gregg, don't you know me?"

  Clinging to me. A soft touch upon my arm. Fingers, clinging. A surge ofwarm, tingling current was flowing between us.

  My sweep of instant thoughts. A speck of human Earth-dust, falling free.That was George Prince, who had been killed. George Prince's body,disguised by the scheming Carter and Dr. Frank, buried in the guise ofhis sister. And this black-robed figure who was trying to help us--

  "Anita! Dear God! Anita, darling! Anita!"

  "Gregg, dear one!"

  "Anita! Dear God!"

  * * * * *

  My arms went around her, my lips pressed hers, and felt her tremulous,eager answer.

  "Gregg, dear."

  "Anita, you!"

  The form of Coniston showed at our window. She cast me off. She said,with her throaty swagger of assumed masculinity:

  "I have him, Sir Arthur. He will obey us."

  I sensed her warning glance. She shoved me toward the window. She saidironically, "Have no fear, Haljan. You will not be tortured, you andDean, if you obey our commands."

  Coniston gripped me. "You fool! You caused us a lot of trouble, didn'tyou? Move along there!"

  He jerked me roughly through the window. Marched me the length of thedeck. Out to the stern-space; opened the door of my cubby; flung me inand sealed the door upon me.

  "Miko will come presently."

  I stood in the darkness of my tiny room, listening to his retreatingfootsteps. But my mind was not on him....

  All the Universe in that instant had changed for me. Anita was alive!

  (_To be continued_)

  FOOTNOTES:

  [1] As early as 1910 it was discovered that an object magnetized under certain conditions was subject to a loss of weight, its gravity partially nullified. The Martel discovery undoubtedly followed that method.

  [2] "United States of the World," which came into being in 2057 upon the centenary of the Yellow War.

  [3] Trinight Hour, i.e., 3 A. M.

  [4] Pressure sickness. Caused by the difficulty of maintaining a constantly normal air pressure within the vessel owing to the sudden, extreme changes from heat to cold.

  [5] "Set and Setta," the Martian equivalent of Mr. and Miss.

  [6] A Venus form of jocular, intimate greeting.

  * * * * *

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