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Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December 1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
THE WORLD WITH A THOUSAND MOONS
The forest was a hell of vicious brutes]
by EDMOND HAMILTON
Grim death was the only romance to be found on this world that boasted a thousand moons
* * * * *
CHAPTER 1
Thrill Cruise
Lance Kenniston felt the cold realization of failure as he came out ofthe building into the sharp chill of the Martian night. He stood for amoment, his lean, drawn face haggard in the light of the two hurtlingmoons.
He looked hopelessly across the dark spaceport. It was a large one,for this ancient town of Syrtis was the main port of Mars. The forkedlight of the flying moons showed many ships docked on the tarmac--abig liner, several freighters, a small, shining cruiser and othersmall craft. And for lack of one of those ships, his hopes wereruined!
A squat, brawny figure in shapeless space-jacket came to Kenniston'sside. It was Holk Or, the Jovian who had been waiting for him.
"What luck?" asked the Jovian in a rumbling whisper.
"It's hopeless," Kenniston answered heavily. "There isn't a smallcruiser to be had at any price. The meteor-miners buy up all smallships here."
"The devil!" muttered Holk Or, dismayed. "What are we going to do? Goon to Earth and get a cruiser there?"
"We can't do that," Kenniston answered. "You know we've got to getback to that asteroid within two weeks. We've got to get a ship here."
Desperation made Kenniston's voice taut. His lean, hard face was bleakwith knowledge of disastrous failure.
The big Jovian scratched his head. In the shifting moonslight hisbattered green face expressed ignorant perplexity as he stared acrossthe busy spaceport.
"That shiny little cruiser there would be just the thing," Holk Ormuttered, looking at the gleaming, torpedo-shaped craft nearby. "Itwould hold all the stuff we've got to take; and with robot controls wetwo could run it."
"We haven't a chance to get that craft," Kenniston told him. "I foundout that it's under charter to a bunch of rich Earth youngsters whocame out here in it for a pleasure cruise. A girl named Loring,heiress to Loring Radium, is the head of the party."
The Jovian swore. "Just the ship we need, and a lot of spoiled kidsare using it for thrill-hunting!"
Kenniston had an idea. "It might be," he said slowly, "that they'retired of the cruise by this time and would sell us the craft. I thinkI'll go up to the Terra Hotel and see this Loring girl."
"Sure, let's try it anyway," Holk Or agreed.
The Earthman looked at him anxiously. "Oughtn't you to keep undercover, Holk? The Planet Patrol has had your record on file for a longtime. If you happened to be recognized--"
"Bah, they think I'm dead, don't they?" scoffed the Jovian. "There'sno danger of us getting picked up."
Kenniston was not so sure, but he was too driven by urgent need towaste time in argument. With the Jovian clumping along beside him, hemade his way from the spaceport across the ancient Martian city.
The dark streets of old Syrtis were not crowded. Martians are not anocturnal people and only a few were abroad in the chill darkness,even they being wrapped in heavy synthewool cloaks from which onlytheir bald red heads and solemn, cadaverous faces protruded.
Earthmen were fairly numerous in this main port of the planet.Swaggering space-sailors, prosperous-looking traders and roughmeteor-miners made up the most of them. There were a few touristsgaping at the grotesque old black stone buildings, and under akrypton-bulb at a corner, two men in the drab uniform of the Patrolstood eyeing passersby sharply. Kenniston breathed more easily when heand the Jovian had passed the two officers without challenge.
* * * * *
The Terra Hotel stood in a garden at the edge of town, fronting themoonlit immensity of the desert. This glittering glass block,especially built to cater to the tourist trade from Earth, wasEarth-conditioned inside. Its gravitation, air pressure and humiditywere ingeniously maintained at Earth standards for the greater comfortof its patrons.
Kenniston felt oddly oppressed by the warm, soft air inside theresplendent lobby. He had spent so much of his time away from Earththat he had become more or less adapted to thinner, colderatmospheres.
"Miss Gloria Loring?" repeated the immaculate young Earthman behindthe information desk. His eyes appraised Kenniston's shabbyspace-jacket and the hulking green Jovian. "I am afraid--"
"I'm here to see her on important business, by appointment," Kennistonsnapped.
The clerk melted at once. "Oh, I see! I believe that Miss Loring'sparty is now in The Bridge. That's our cocktail room--top floor."
Kenniston felt badly out of place, riding up in the magnetic lift withHolk Or. The other people in the car, Earthmen and women in theshimmering synthesilks of the latest formal dress, stared at him andthe Jovian as though wondering how they had ever gained admittance.
The lights, silks and perfumes made Kenniston feel even shabbier thanhe was. All this luxury was a far cry from the hard, dangerous life hehad led for so long amid the wild asteroids and moons of the outerplanets.
It was worse up in the glittering cocktail room atop the hotel. The placehad glassite walls and ceiling, and was designed to give an impression ofthe navigating bridge of a space-ship. The orchestra played behind a phonycontrol-board of instruments and rocket-controls. Meaningless space-chartshung on the walls for decoration. It was just the sort of pretentioussham, Kenniston thought contemptuously, to appeal to tourists.
"Some crowd!" muttered Holk Or, looking over the tables of richlydressed and jewelled people. His small eyes gleamed. "What a place toloot!"
"Shut up!" Kenniston muttered hastily. He asked a waiter for theLoring party, and was conducted to a table in a corner.
There were a half dozen people at the table, most of them youngEarthmen and girls. They were drinking pink Martian desert-wine,except for one sulky-looking youngster who had stuck to Earth whisky.
One of the girls turned and looked at Kenniston with cool, insolentlyuninterested gaze when the waiter whispered to her politely.
"I'm Gloria Loring," she drawled. "What did you want to see me about?"
She was dark and slim, and surprisingly young. There were almostchildish lines to the bare shoulders revealed by her low golden gown.Her thoroughbred grace and beauty were spoiled for Kenniston by thebored look in her clear dark eyes and the faintly disdainful droop ofher mouth.
The chubby, rosy youth beside her goggled in simulated amazement andterror at the battered green Jovian behind Kenniston. He set down hisglass with a theatrical gesture of horror.
"This Martian liquor has got me!" he exclaimed. "I can see a littlegreen man!"
Holk Or started wrathfully forward. "Why, that young pup--"
Kenniston hastily restrained him with a gesture. He turned back to thetable. Some of the girls were giggling.
"Be quiet, Robbie," Gloria Loring was telling the chubby youngcomedian. She turned her cool gaze back to Kenniston. "Well?"
"Miss Loring, I heard down at the spaceport that you are the chartererof that small cruiser, the _Sunsprite_," Kenniston explained. "I needa craft like that very badly. If you would part with her, I'd be gladto pay almost any price for your charter."
* * * * *
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The girl looked at him in astonishment. "Why in the world should I letyou have our cruiser?"
Kenniston said earnestly, "Your party could travel just as well and alot more comfortably by liner. And getting a cruiser like that is alife-or-death business for me right now."
"I'm not interested in your business, Mr. Kenniston," drawled GloriaLoring. "And I certainly don't propose to alter our plans just to helpa stranger out of his difficulties."
Kenniston flushed from the cool rebuke. He stood there, suddenlyfeeling a savage dislike for the whole pampered group of them.
"Beside that," the girl continued, "we chose the cruiser for this tripbecause we wanted to get off the beaten track of liner routes, and seesomething new. We're going