Tuesday's Serial: "Brigands of the Moon (The Book of Gregg Haljan)" by Ray Cummings (in English) XI

CHAPTER XXVI - At Bay

“Gregg, you're safe!"

                She had heard the camp corridors resounding with the shouts that Wilks and Haljan were fighting. She had come upon a suit and helmet by the manual emergency lock, had run out through the lock, confused, with her only idea to stop Wilks and me from fighting. Then she had seen one of us killed. Impulsive, barely knowing what she was doing, she mounted the stairs, frantic to find if I were alive.

                "Anita!"

                Miko was coming! She had not seen him: for she had no thought of brigands—only the belief that either Wilks or I had been killed.

                But now, as for an instant we stood together on the rocks near the observation platform, I could see the towering figure of Miko nearing the top of the stairs.

                "Anita, that's Miko! We must run."

                Then I saw my bullet projector. It lay in a bowl-like depression quite near us. I jumped for it. And as I tore loose from Anita, she leaped down after me. It was a broken bowl in the rocks, some six feet deep. It was open on the side facing the staircase—a narrow, ravinelike gully, full of gray, broken, tumbled rock-masses. The little gully was littered with crags and boulders. But I could see out through it.

                Miko had come to the head of the staircase. He stopped there, his great figure etched sharply by the Earthlight. I think he must have known that Coniston was the one who had fallen over the cliff, as my helmet and Coniston's were different enough for him to recognize which was which. He did not know who I was, but he did know me for an enemy.

He stood now at the summit, peering to see where we had gone. He was no more than fifty feet from us.

                "Anita, lie down."

                I pulled her down on the rocks. I took aim with the bullet projector. But I had forgotten our helmet-lights. Miko must have seen them just as I pulled the trigger. The flying bullet missed him as he jumped sidewise. He dropped, but I could see him moving in the shadows to where a jutting rock gave him shelter. I fired again.

                "Gregg."

                I had stood up to take aim. I saw the bullet chip a bit of rock. Anita pulled me sharply down beside her.

                "Gregg, he's armed!"

                It was his turn to fire. It came—the familiar vague flash of the paralyzing ray. It spat its tint of color on the rocks near us, but could not reach us.

                Miko rose a moment later and bounded to another rock. I scrambled up, and shot at him, but missed. Then he crouched and returned my fire from his new angle; but Anita and I had shifted.

                Time passed—only a few moments. I could not see Miko momentarily. Perhaps he was crouching; perhaps he had moved away again. He was, or had been, on slightly higher ground than the bottom of our bowl. It was dim down here where we were lying, but I feared that every moment Miko might appear and strike at us. His ray at any short range would penetrate our visor-panes, even though our suits might temporarily resist it.

                "Anita—it's too dangerous here."

                Had I been alone, I might perhaps have leaped up to lure Miko. But with Anita I did not dare chance it.

                "We've got to get back to the camp," I told her. The audiphone brought her comment:

                "Perhaps he has gone."

But he had not. We saw him again, out in a distant patch of Earthlight. He was further from us than before, but on still higher ground. We had extinguished our small helmet-lights. But he knew we were here, and possibly he could see us. His projector flashed again. But we had again shifted, and were untouched. He was a hundred feet or more away now. His weapon was of longer range than mine. I did not answer his fire, for I could not hope to hit him at such a distance, and the flash of my weapon would help him with his aim.

                I murmured to Anita, "We must get out of here."

                Yet how did I dare take Anita from these concealing shadows? Miko could reach us so easily as we bounded away, in plain view in the Earthlight of the open summit! We were caught, at bay in this little bowl.

                The camp from here was not visible. But out through the broken gully, beyond the staircase top, a white beam of light suddenly came up from below.

                "Haljan."

                It spelled the signal.

                "Haljan."

                It was coming from the Grantline instrument room, I knew.

                I could answer it with my helmetlight, but I did not dare. I hesitated.

                "Try it," urged Anita.

We crouched where we thought we might be safe from Miko's fire. My little light-beam shot up from the bowl. It was undoubtedly visible to the camp.

                "Yes? I am Haljan."

                And I added:

                "Help! Send us help."

                I did not mention Anita. Miko could doubtless read these signals. And in the camp they must have missed Anita by now. They answered:

                "Cannot—"

                I lost the rest of it. There came a flash from Miko's weapon. But it gave us confidence. He could not reach us at the moment.

                The Grantline beam repeated:

                "Cannot come out. Portes broken. You cannot get in. Stay where you are—an hour or two. We may be able to repair portes."

                The portes were broken! Stay here an hour or two! But I could not hold this position against Miko that long! Sooner or later he would find a place from where he could sweep this bowl beyond possibility of our hiding. I saw him running now, well beyond my range, to ferret out another point of vantage.

                I extinguished my light. What use was it to tell Grantline anything further? Besides, my light was dangerous.

                But the Grantline beam spelled another message:

                "The brigand ship is coming! It will be here before we can get out to you! No lights! We will try and hide our location."

                And the signal-beam brought a last appeal to me:

                "Miko and his men will divulge where we are. Unless you can stop them—"

                The beam vanished. The lights of the Grantline camp made a faint glow that showed above the crater-edge. The glow died, as the camp now was plunged into darkness.

CHAPTER XXVII - Anita's Plan

We crouched in the shadows, the Earthlight filtering down to us. The skulking figure of Miko had vanished; but he was out there somewhere on the crags I was sure, lurking, maneuvering to where he could strike us with his ray. Anita's metal-gloved hand was on my arm; in my ear diaphragm her voice sounded eager and unmistakable:

                "What was the signal, Gregg?"

                She could not read the semaphore lights. I told her.

                "Oh Gregg, the Martian ship coming!"

                Her mind clung to that as the most important thing. But not so myself. To me there was only the realization that Anita was caught out here, almost at the mercy of Miko's ray. Grantline's men could not get out to help us, nor could I get Anita into the camp.

                She added, "Where do you suppose the ship is? In telescopic view?"

                "Yes—twenty or thirty thousand miles up, probably."

                The stars and the Earth were visible over us. Somewhere up there disclosed by Grantline's instrument but not yet discernible to the naked eye, Miko's reinforcements were hovering.

                I stood up cautiously to try and locate Miko. Immediately I saw him. He jumped as though fearing my coming bullet, and I dropped back, barely avoiding his flash, which swept across the top of our bowl.

                "Gregg—Gregg, don't take such a chance!"

                We lay for a moment in silence. It was horribly nerve-straining. Miko could be creeping up on us. Would he dare chance my sudden fire? Creeping—or would he make a swift, unexpected rush?

                The feeling that he was upon us abruptly swept me. I jumped to my feet, against Anita's effort to hold me. But again Miko had vanished. Where was he now?

I  sank back. "That ship will be here in a few hours."

                I told her what Grantline's signal had suggested: the ship was hovering overhead. It must be fairly close; for Grantline's telescope had revealed its identity as a bandit flyer, unmarked by any of the standard code-identification lights. It was doubtless too far away as yet to have located the whereabouts of Grantline's camp. The Martian brigands knew that we were in the vicinity of Archimedes, but no more than that. Searching this glowing Moon surface, our little lights, the tiny local semaphore beams we had momentarily been using, could easily pass unnoticed.

                But as the brigand ship approached now—dropping close to Archimedes as it probably would—our danger was that Miko and his men would then signal it, join it, and reveal the camp's location, and the brigand attack would be upon us.

                I told this now to Anita. "The signal said, 'Unless you can stop them.'"

                It was an appeal to me. But how could I respond to it? What could I do, alone out here with Anita, to cope with this enemy?

                Anita made no comment.

                I added, "That ship will land near Archimedes I imagine, within an hour or two! If Grantline can repair his portes, and I can get you inside—"

                Again she made no comment. Then suddenly she gripped me. "Gregg, look there!"

                Out through the gully break in our bowl the figure of Miko showed! He was running. But not at us. Circling the summit, leaping to keep himself behind the upstanding crags. He passed the head of the staircase; he did not descend it, but headed off along the summit of the curving crater-rim.

I stood up to watch him. He was making off. Abandoning us!

                "He's going!"

                I let her stand up beside me; cautiously, at first, for it occurred to me that this might be a ruse to cover some other of Miko's men who might be lurking up here.

                But the summit seemed clear. The figure of Miko was a thousand feet away now. We could see the tiny blob of it bobbing over the rocks. Then it plunged down—not into the crater-valley, but out toward the open Moon surface.

                Miko had abandoned his attack on us. The reason seemed plain. He had come here from his encampment with Coniston, had sent Coniston ahead to lure and kill Wilks. When this was done, Coniston had flashed his brief signal to Miko, who was hiding nearby.

                It was not like the brigand leader to remain in the background. Miko was no coward. But Coniston could impersonate Wilks, whereas Miko's giant stature at once would reveal his identity. Miko had been engaged in smashing the portes. He had looked up and seen me kill Coniston. He had come up to assail me. And then he had read Grantline's signal to me. It was his first knowledge that his ship was at hand. With the camp exits inoperative, Grantline and his men were imprisoned. Miko made an effort to kill me. He did not know my companion was Anita. The effort was taking too long: with the Grantline camp imprisoned and his ship at hand, it was Miko's best move to return to his own camp, rejoin his men, and await their opportunity to signal the ship.

                At least, so I reasoned it. Anita and I stood alone. What could we do?

We went to the brink of the cliff. The unlighted Grantline buildings showed vaguely in the Earthlight.

                I said, "We'll go down, I'll leave you there. You can wait at the porte. They'll repair it soon, perhaps, and let you in."

                "And what will you do?" she demanded.

                I was hurrying her down the stairs. But suddenly she stopped. "What are you going to do, Gregg?"

                I had not intended to tell her. "Hurry, Anita!"

                "Why?" She stood stock still. Through the visors I could see her white face gazing at me rebelliously.

                "Why should I hurry, Gregg?"

                "Because I want to leave you at the porte. I'm going after Miko—try and locate where he and his men are camping."

                I had indeed no specific plan as yet. But it seemed useless for me to sit at the porte waiting to be let in.

                "But he's gone, Gregg."

                She was right on that. Miko was already a mile or more away, down on the outer surface, making off. He would soon be out of sight. It would be impossible to follow him.

                "Gregg, let me go with you."

                She jerked away from me and bounded back up the staircase. I caught her on the summit.

                "Anita!"

                "I'm going with you."

                "You're going to stay here."

                "I'm not!"

                This exasperating controversy! And time was so precious!

                "Anita, please."

                "I'll be safer with you than waiting here, Gregg."

It almost decided me. Perhaps she would. It was only my intention to follow Miko at a distance. And with much more of this delay here, he would be lost to me.

                And she added, "Besides, I won't stay, and you can't make me."

                We ran along the crater-top. At its distant edge the lower plain spread before us. Far down, and far away on the distant broken surface, the leaping figure of Miko showed.

                We plunged down the broken outer slope, reached the level. Soon, as we ran, the little Grantline crater faded behind us.

                Anita ran more skillfully than I. Ten minutes or so passed. We had seen Miko, and the direction he was taking, but down here on the plain we could no longer see him. It struck me that this was purposeless—and dangerous. Suppose Miko were to see us following? Suppose he stopped and lay in ambush to fire at us as we came leaping heedlessly by?

                "Anita, wait," I said, checking her.

                I drew her down amid a group of tumbled boulders. And then abruptly she clung to me.

                "Gregg, I know what we can do! Gregg, don't tell me you won't let me try it!"

I listened to her plan. Incredible! Incredibly dangerous! Yet, as I pondered it, the very daring of the thing seemed the measure of its possible success. The brigands would never imagine we could be so rash!

                "But Anita—"

                "Gregg, you're stupid!" It was her turn to be exasperated. In truth, I was indeed in no mood for daring, for my mind was obsessed with Anita's safety. I had been planning that we might see the glow of Miko's encampment, and then return to Grantline and hope that he would have the portes repaired.

                "But Gregg—the safety of the treasure—of all the Grantline men..."

                "To the infernal with that! It's you—your safety."

                "My safety, then! If you put me in the camp and the brigands attack it and I am killed—what then? But this plan of mine, if we can do it, Gregg ... safety, in the end, for all of us."

                And it seemed possible. We crouched, discussing it. So daring a thing!

                The brigand ship would come down near Archimedes. That was fifty miles from Grantline. The brigands from Mars would not have seen the dark Grantline buildings hidden in the little crater-pit. They would wait for Miko and his men to make their whereabouts known.

Miko's encampment was ahead of us now, undoubtedly. We had been following him toward the Mare Imbrium; we were at its borders now. Archimedes from here was also about fifty miles.

                And Anita proposed that we go to Archimedes, climb in slope and await the coming of the brigand ship. Miko would be off in the Mare Imbrium. Or at least, we hoped so. He would signal his ship. But Anita and I, closer to it, would also signal it—and, posing as brigands, could join it!

                "Remember, Gregg, I am Anita Prince, George's sister." Her voice trembled as, she mentioned her dead brother. "They know that George was in Miko's pay, and I am his sister... It will help convince them."

                This daring scheme! If we could join the ship, we might be able to persuade its leader that Miko's distant signals were merely a ruse of Grantline to lure the brigands in that direction. A long-range projector from the ship would kill Miko and his men as they came forward to join it! And then we could falsely direct the brigands, lead them away from Grantline and the treasure.

                "Gregg, we must try it."

                Heaven help me, I yielded to her persuasion!

                We turned at right angles and ran toward where the distant frowning walls of Archimedes loomed against the starlit sky.

CHAPTER XXVIII - The Ascent of Archimedes

The broken shaggy ramparts of the giant crater rose above us. We toiled upward, out of the foothills, clinging now to the crags and pitted terraces of the main ascent. An hour had passed since we turned from the borders of the Mare Imbrium. Or was it two hours? I could not tell. I only know that we ran with desperate frantic haste.

                Anita would not admit that she was tired. She was more skilful than I in this leaping over the broken rock masses. Yet I felt that her slight strength must give out. It seemed miles up the undulating slopes of the foothills with the black and white ramparts of the massive crater close before us.

                And then the main ascent. There were places where, like smooth black frozen ice, the walls rose sheer. We avoided them, toiling aside, plunging into gullies, crossing pits where sometimes we perforce went downwards, and then up again; or sometimes we stood, hot and breathless, upon ledges, recovering our strength, selecting the best route upward.

                This tumbled mass of rock! Honeycombed everywhere with caves and passages leading into darkness impenetrable. There were pits into which we might so easily have fallen; ravines to span, sometimes with a leap, sometimes by a long and arduous detour.

                Endless climb! We came to a ledge, with the plains of the Mare Imbrium stretching out beneath us. We might have been upon this main ascent for an hour; the plains were far down, the broken surface down there smoothed now by the perspective of our height. And yet still above us the brooding circular wall went up into the sky. Ten thousand feet still above us—I think it was at least that, or more.

                "You're tired, Anita. We'd better stay here."

                "No! If we could only get to the top—the ship may land on the other side—they would see us if we were at the top."

There was as yet no sign of the brigand ship. With every stop for rest we searched the starry vault. The Earth hung over us, flattened beyond the full. The stars blazed to mingle with the Earthlight and illumine these massive crags of the Archimedes walls. But no speck appeared to tell us that the ship was up there.

                We were on the curving side of the Archimedes wall which fronted the Mare Imbrium to the North. The plains lay like a great frozen sea, congealed ripples shining in the light of the Earth, with dark patches to mark the hollows. Somewhere down there—six or eight thousand feet below us now, or even more than that, for all I could tell—Miko's encampment lay concealed. We searched for lights of it, but could see none.

                Or had Miko rejoined his party, left his camp and come here like ourselves to climb Archimedes? Or was our assumption wholly wrong—perhaps the brigand ship would not land near here at all?

                Sweeping around from the Mare Imbrium, the plains were less smooth—the shattered, crag-littered, crater-scarred region beyond which the distant Apennines raised their terraced walls. The little crater which concealed the Grantline camp was off that way. There was nothing to mark it from here.

                "Gregg, do you see anything up there? There seems to be a blur."

Her sight, sharper than mine, had picked it out. The descending brigand ship! A faintest tiny blur against the stars, a few of them occulted as though strangely an invisible shadow were upon them. A growing shadow, materializing into a blur—a blob, a shape faintly defined. Then sharper until we were sure of what we saw. It was the brigand ship. It came dropping slowly, silently down.

                We crouched on the little ledge. A cave-mouth was behind us. A gully was beside us, a break in the ledge; and at our feet the wall dropped sheer.

                We had extinguished our little lights. We crouched, silently gazing up into the stars.

                The ship, when first we distinguished it was central over Archimedes. We thought for a while that it might descend into the crater. But it did not; it came sailing forward.

                I whispered into the audiphone—whispering by instinct, as though out here in all this airless desolation someone might overhear us!

                "It's coming over the crater."

                Her hand pressed my arm in answer.

                I recalled that when, from the Planetara, Miko had forced Snap to signal this brigand band on Mars, Miko's only information as to the whereabouts of the Grantline camp was that it lay between Archimedes and the Apennines. That was Grantline's first message to us, and Miko had relayed it to his men. The brigands from Mars now were following that information.

                A tense interval passed. We could see the ship plainly above us now, a gray-black shape among the stars up beyond the shaggy, towering crater-rim. The vessel came upon a level keel, hull-down, slowly circling, looking for Miko's signal, no doubt, or for possible lights of Grantline. They were also picking a landing place.

We saw it soon as a cylindrical, cigarlike shape, rather smaller than the Planetara, but similar of design. It bore lights now. The ports of its hull were tiny rows of illumination, and the glow of light under its rounding upper dome was faintly visible.

                A bandit ship, no doubt of that. Its identification keel-plate was empty of official pass-code lights. These brigands had not attempted to secure official sailing lights when leaving Ferrok-Shahn. It was an outlawed ship, unmistakably. And here upon the deserted Moon there was no need for secrecy. Its lights were openly displayed, that Miko might see it and join it.

                It went slowly past us, only a few thousand feet higher than our level. We could see the whole outline of its pointed cylinder-hull, with the rounded dome on top. And under the dome was its open deck-space, with a little cabin superstructure in the center.

                I thought for a moment that by some fortunate chance it might land quite near us. There was a wide ledge a quarter of a mile away.

                "Anita, look."

                But it went past. And then I saw that it was heading for a level, plateau-like surface a few miles further on. It dropped, cautiously floating down.

                There was still no sign of Miko. But I realized that haste was necessary. We must be the first to join the brigand ship.

                I lifted Anita to her feet. "I don't think we should signal from here."

                "No. Miko might see it."

                We could not tell where he was. Down on the plains, perhaps? Or up here, somewhere in these miles of towering rocks?

                "Are you ready, Anita?"

                "Yes, Gregg."

I  stared through the visors at her white, solemn face.

                "Yes, I'm ready," she repeated.

                Her hand-pressure seemed to me suddenly like a farewell. Were we plunging rashly into what was destined to mean our death? Was this a farewell?

                An instinct swept me not to do this thing. Why, in an hour or two I could have Anita back to the comparative safety of the Grantline buildings. The exit portes would doubtless be repaired by now. I could get her inside.

                She had bounded away from me, leaped down some thirty feet into the broken gully, to cross it and then up on the other side. I stood for an instant watching her fantastic shape, with the great rounded, goggled, trunked helmet and the lump on her shoulders which held the little Erentz motors. Then I made after her.

                It did not take us long—two or three miles of circling along the giant wall. The ship lay only a few hundred feet above our level.

                We stood at last on a buttelike pinnacle. The hull-porte lights of the ship were close over us. And there were moving lights up there, tiny moving spots on the adjacent rocks. The brigands had come out, prowling around to investigate their location.

                No signal yet from Miko. But it might come at any moment.

                "I'll flash now," I whispered.

                "Yes."

                The brigands had probably not yet seen us. I took the lamp from my helmet. My hand was trembling. Suppose my signal were answered by a shot? A flash from some giant projector mounted on the ship?

                Anita crouched behind a rock, as she had promised. I stood with my torch, and flung its switch.

                My puny light-beam shot up. I waved it, touched the ship with its faint glowing circle of illumination.

                They saw me. There was a sudden movement among the lights up there.

I semaphored:

                "I am from Miko. Do not fire."

                I used the open Universal Code. In Martian first, and then in English.

                There was no answer, but no attack. I tried again.

                "This is Haljan, once of the Planetara. George Prince's sister is with me. There has been disaster to Miko."

                A small light-beam came down from the brink of the overhead cliff beside the ship.

                "We read you."

                I went steadily on: "Disaster—the Planetara is wrecked. All killed but me and George Prince's sister. We want to join you."

                I flashed off my light. The answer came: "Where is the Grantline camp?"

                "Near here. The Mare Imbrium."

                As though to answer my lie, from down on the Earthlit plains, ten miles or so from the crater-base, a tiny signal-light shot up. Anita saw it and gripped me.

                "There is Miko's light!"

                It spelled in Martian, "Come down. Land Mare Imbrium."

                Miko had seen the signalling up here and was joining it! He repeated, "Land Mare Imbrium."

I flashed a protest up to the ship: "Beware! That is Grantline! Trickery!"

                From the ship the summons came: "Come up."

                We had won this first encounter! Miko must have realized his disadvantage. His distant light went out.

                "Come, Anita."

                There was no retreat now. But again I seemed to feel in the pressure of her hand that vague farewell.

                Her voice whispered, "We must do our best, act our best to be convincing."

                In the white glow of a search-beam we climbed the crags, reached the broad upper ledge. Helmeted figures rushed at us, searched us for weapons, seized our helmet lights. The evil face of a giant Martian peered at me through the visors. Two other monstrous, towering figures seized Anita.

                We were shoved toward the port-locks at the base of the ship's hull. Above the hull bulge I could see the grids of projectors mounted in the dome-side, and the figures of men standing on the deck, peering down at us.

                We went through the admission locks into a hull corridor, up an incline passage, and reached the lighted deck. Our helmets were taken off. The Martian brigands crowded around us.

CHAPTER XXIX - On the Brigand Ship

Anita's words echoed in my memory: "We must act our best to be convincing." It was not her ability that I doubted as much as my own. She had played the part of George Prince cleverly, unmasked only by an evil chance.

                I steeled myself to face the searching glances of the brigands as they shoved around us. This was a desperate game into which we had plunged! For all our acting, how easy it would be for some small chance thing abruptly to undo us! I realized it, and now, as I gazed into the peering faces of these men from Mars, I cursed my witless rashness which had brought Anita into this!

                The brigands—some ten or fifteen of them here on the deck—stood in a ring around us. They were all big men, nearly of a seven-foot average, dressed in leather jerkins and short leather breeches, with bare knees and flaring leatherboots. Piratical swaggering fellows, knife-blades mingled with small hand-projectors fastened to their belts. Gray, heavy faces, some with scraggling, unshaved beard. They plucked at us, jabbering in Martian.

                One of them seemed the leader. I said sharply, "Are you the commander here? I speak not Ilton[4] well. You speak the Earth English?"

                Yes," he said readily, "I am Commander here." He spoke English with the same freedom and accent of Miko. "Is this George Prince's sister?"

                "Yes. Her name is Anita Prince. Tell your men to take their hands off her."

                He waved his men away. They all seemed more interested in Anita than in me. He added:

                "I am Set Potan." He addressed Anita. "George Prince's sister? You are called Anita? I have heard of you. I knew your brother—indeed, you look very much like him."

                He swept his plumed hat to the grid with a swaggering gesture of homage. A courtierlike fellow this, debonair as a Venus cavalier!

                He accepted us. I realized that Anita's presence was immensely valuable in making us convincing. Yet there was about this Potan—as with Miko—a disturbing suggestion of irony. I could not make him out. I decided that we had fooled him. Then I remarked the steely glitter of his eyes as he turned to me.

                "You were an officer of the Planetara?"

The insignia of my rank was visible on my white jacket-collar which showed beneath the Erentz suit, now that my helmet was off.

                "Yes, I was supposed to be. But a year ago I embarked upon this adventure with Miko."

                He was leading us to his cabin. "The Planetara wrecked? Miko dead?"

                "And Hahn and Coniston. George Prince, too—we are the only survivors."

                While we divested ourselves of our Erentz suits at his command, I told him briefly of the Planetara's fall. All had been killed on board save Anita and me. We had escaped, awaited his coming. The treasure was here; we had located the Grantline camp, and were ready to lead him to it.

                Did he believe me? He listened quietly. He seemed not shocked at the death of his comrades. Nor yet pleased: merely imperturbable.

                I added with a sly, sidelong glance, "There were too many of us on the Planetara. The purser had joined us, and many of the crew. And there was Miko's sister, the Setta Moa—too many. The treasure divides better among less."

                An amused smile played on his thin gray lips. But he nodded. The fear which had leaped in me was allayed by his next words.

                "True enough, Haljan. He was a domineering fellow, Miko. A third of it all was for him alone. But now..."

                The third would go to this sub-leader, Potan! The implication was obvious.

                I said, "Before we go any further—I can trust you for my share?"

                "Of course."

I figured that my very boldness in bargaining so prematurely would convince him. I insisted, "And Miss Prince? She will have her brother's share?"

                Clever Anita! She put in swiftly, "I give no information until you promise! We know the location of the Grantline camp, its weapons, its defense, the amount and location of the ore. I warn you, if you do not play us fair..."

                He laughed heartily. He seemed to like us. He spread his huge legs as he lounged in his settle, and drank of the bowl which one of his men set before him.

                "Little tigress! Fear me not—I play fair!" He pushed two of the bowls across the table. "Drink, Haljan. All is well with us, and I am glad to hear it. Miss Prince, drink my health as your leader."

                I waved it away from Anita. "We need all our wits; your strong Martian drinks are dangerous. Look here, I'll tell you just how the situation stands—"

                I plunged into a glib account of our supposed wanderings to find the Grantline camp; its location off in the Mare Imbrium—hidden in a cavern there. Potan, with the drink, and under the gaze of Anita's eyes, was in a high good humor. He laughed when I told him that we had dared to invade the Grantline camp, had smashed its exit portes, had even gotten up to have a look at where the ore was piled.

                "Well done, Haljan! You're a fellow to my liking!" But his gaze was on Anita. "You dress like a man, or a charming boy."

                She still wore the dark clothes of her brother. She said, "I am used to action—man's garb pleases me. You shall treat me like a man, give me my share of the gold-leaf."

He had already demanded of us the meaning of that signal from the Mare Imbrium. Miko's signal! It had not come again, though any moment I feared it. I told him that Grantline had doubtless repaired his damaged portes and sallied out to assail me in reprisal. And seeing the brigand ship landing on Archimedes, had tried to lure it.

                I wondered if my explanation were very convincing. It did not sound so. But he was flushed now with the drink. And Anita added:

                "Grantline knows the territory near his camp very well. He is equipped only for short-range fighting."

                I took it up. "It's like this, Potan: if he could get you to land unsuspectingly near the mouth of his cavern..."

                I pictured how Grantline might have figured on a sudden surprise attack upon the ship. It was his only chance to catch it unprepared.

                We were all three in friendly, intimate mood now. Potan said, "We'll land down there right enough! But I need a few hours for my assembling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                "Go ahead," I said.

                He nodded. We were comrades now.

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

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

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

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

                Anita laughed. "I am afraid of nothing."

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

                "Oh, Gregg, I am afraid!"

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

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

                "Yes, I think so."

                "Shall we go out and see?"

                "Yes. Keep near me always."

                "Oh, Gregg. I will!"

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

[4] Ilton, the ruling race and official language of the Martian Union.