CHAPTER XXX - Desperate Plans
The deck glowed lurid in the queer blue-greenish
glare of Martian electro-fuse lights. It was in a bustle of ordered activity.
Some twenty of the crew were scattered about, working in little groups.
Apparatus was being brought up from below to be assembled. There was a pile of
Erentz suits and helmets, of Martian pattern, but still very similar to those
with which Grantline's expedition was equipped. There were giant projectors of
several kinds, some familiar to me, others of a fashion I had never seen
before. It seemed there were six or eight of them, still dismantled, with a
litter of their attendant batteries and coils and tube-amplifiers. They were to
be mounted here on the deck, I surmised; I saw in the dome-side one or two of
them already rolled into position at the necessary pressure portes.
Anita and I stood
outside Potan's cubby, gazing around us curiously. The men looked at us, but
none of them spoke.
"Let's watch
from here a moment," I whispered. She nodded, standing with her hand on my
arm. I felt that we were very small, here in the midst of these seven-foot
Martian men. I was all in white, the costume used in the warm interior of the
Grantline camp. Bareheaded, white silk Planetara uniform jacket, broad belt and
tight-laced trousers. Anita was a slim black figure beside me, somber as
Hamlet, with her pale boyish face and wavy black hair.
The gravity being
maintained here on the ship we had found to be stronger than that of the
Moon—rather more like Mars.
"There are
the heat-rays, Gregg."
A pile of them was visible down the deck-length.
And I saw caskets of fragile glass globes, bombs of different styles;
hand-projectors of the paralyzing ray; search-beams of several varieties; the
Benson curve-light, and a few side-arms of ancient Earth-design—swords and
dirks, and small bullet projectors.
There seemed to
be some mining equipment also. Far along the deck, beyond the central cabin in
the open space of the stern, steel rails were stacked; half a dozen
small-wheeled ore-carts; a tiny motor engine for hauling them—and what looked
as though it might be the dismembered sections of an ore-shute.
The whole deck
was presently strewn with this mass of equipment.
Potan moved
about, directing the different groups of workers. The news had spread that we
knew the location of the treasure. The brigands were jubilant. In a few hours
the ship's armament would be ready, and it would advance to attack Grantline.
I saw many
glances being cast out the dome side-windows toward the distant, far-down
plains of the Mare Imbrium. The brigands believed that the Grantline camp lay
in that direction.
Anita whispered,
"Which is their giant electronic projector, Gregg?"
I could see it
amidships of the deck. It was already in place. Potan was there now,
superintending the men who were connecting it. The most powerful weapon on the
ship, it had, Potan said, an effective range of some ten miles. I wondered what
it would do to a Grantline building! The Erentz double walls would withstand it
for a time, I was sure. But it would blast an Erentz fabric-suit, no doubt of
that. Like a lightning bolt, it would kill—its flashing free-stream of
electrons shocking the heart, bringing instant death.
I whispered,
"We must smash that before we leave! But first turn it on Miko, if he signals
now."
I was
tensely watchful for that signal. The electronic projector obviously was not
yet ready. But when it was connected, I must be near it, to persuade its
duty-man to fire it on Miko. With this done we would have more time to plan our
other tasks. I did not think Potan would be ready for his attack before another
time of sleep here in the ship's routine. Things would be quieter then—I would
watch my chance to send a signal to Earth, and then we would escape.
With my thoughts
roving, we had been standing quietly at the cubby door-oval for perhaps fifteen
minutes. My hand in my side pouch clutched the little bullet projector. The
brigands had taken it from me and given it to Potan. He had placed it on the
settle with my Erentz suit; and when we gained his confidence he had forgotten
it and left it there. I had it now, and the feel of its cool sleek handle gave
me a measure of comfort. Things could go wrong so easily—but if they did, I was
determined to sell my life as dearly as possible. And a vague thought was in my
mind: I must not use the last bullet. That would be for Anita.
I shook myself
free from such sinister fancy.
"That
electronic projector is remote-controlled. Look, Anita—that's the signal room
over us. The giant projector will be aimed and fired from up there."
It seemed so. A
thirty-foot skeleton tower stood on the deck near us, with a spiral ladder
leading up to a small square steel cubby at the top. Through the cubby
window-ovals I could see instrument panels. A single Martian was up there; he
had called down to Potan concerning the electronic projector.
The roof of this little tower room was close under
the dome—a space of no more than four feet. A pressure lock-exit in the dome
was up there, with a few steps leading up to it from the roof of the tower
signal-room. We could escape that way, perhaps. In the event of dire necessity
it might be possible. But only as a desperate resort, for it would put us on
the top of the glassite dome, with a sheer hundred feet or more down its sleek
bulging exterior side, and down the outside bulge of the ship's hull, to the
rocks below. There might be a spider ladder outside leading downward, but I saw
no evidence of it. If Anita and I were forced to escape that way, I wondered
how we could manage a hundred foot jump to the rocks and land safely. Even with
the slight gravity of the Moon it would be a dangerous fall.
"You are
Gregg Haljan?"
I started as one
of the brigands, coming up behind us, addressed me.
"Yes."
"Commander
Potan tells me you were chief navigator of the Planetara?"
"Yes."
"You shall
pilot us when we advance upon the Grantline camp. I am control-commander
here—Brotow, my name."
He smiled. A
giant fellow, but spindly. He spoke good English. He seemed anxious to be friendly.
"We are glad
to have you and George Prince's sister with us." He shot Anita an admiring
glance. "I will show you our controls, Haljan."
"All
right," I said. "Whatever I can do to help..."
"But not
now. It will be some hours before we are ready."
I nodded, and he
wandered away. Anita whispered:
"Did he mean
that signal room up here in the tower? Oh, Gregg, maybe it's only the ship's
control room!"
"I don't
know. But the projector range-finders are up there, and I think it's the signal
room."
"Suppose we
go up and see? Gregg, Miko's signals might start any minute."
And the electronic projector now seemed about
ready. It was time for me to act. But a reluctant instinct was upon me. Our
Erentz suits were here close behind us in Potan's cubby. I hated to leave them:
if anything happened and we had to make a sudden dash, there would be no time
to garb ourselves in the suits. To adjust the helmets was bad enough.
I whispered
swiftly, "We must get into our suits—find some pretext." I drew her
back through the cubby doorway where we would be more secluded.
"Anita,
listen: I've been a fool not to plan our escape more carefully! We're in too
great a danger here."
It seemed to me
suddenly that we were in desperate plight. Was it premonition?
"Anita, listen:
if anything happens and we have to make a dash—"
"Up through
that dome-lock, Gregg? It's a manual control; you can see the levers."
"Yes. It's a
manual. But up there—how would we get down?"
She was far
calmer than I. "There may be an outside ladder, Gregg."
"I don't
think so. I haven't seen it."
"Then we can
get out the way they brought us in. The hull-porte—it's a manual, too."
"Yes, I
think I can find our way down through the hull corridors. I mean, for a quick
run. If we have to run, you stay close behind me. I've this bullet projector,
and evidently there aren't many men in the lower corridors."
"There are
guards outside on the rocks."
We had seen them
through the dome windows. But there were not many—only two or three. A surprise
rush at them would turn the trick.
We donned our Erentz suits.
"What will
we do with the helmets?" Anita demanded. "Leave them here?"
"No—take
them with us. I'm not going to get separated from them; it's too
dangerous."
"We'll look
strange going up to that signal room equipped like this," she commented.
"I can't
help it. We'll figure out something to explain it."
She stood before
me, a queer-looking little figure in the now deflated, bagging suit with her
slim neck and head protruding above the metal circle of its collar.
"Carry your
helmet, Anita. I'll take mine."
We could adjust
the helmets and start the Erentz motors all within a few seconds.
"I'm ready,
Gregg."
"Come on,
then. Let me go first."
I had the bullet
projector in an outer pouch of the suit where I could instantly reach it. This
was more rational: we had a fighting chance now. The fear which had swept me so
suddenly began to recede. I was calm.
"We'll climb
the tower to the signal room," I whispered. "Do it boldly."
We stepped from the
cubby. Potan was not in sight; he was on the further deck beyond the central
cabin structure perhaps, or had gone below.
On the deck, we
were immediately accosted. This was different—our appearance in the Erentz
suits!
"Where are
you going?"
This fellow spoke
in Martian. I answered in English.
"Up
there."
He stood before us, towering over me. I saw a group
of nearby workers stop to regard us. In a moment we would be causing a
commotion, and it was the last thing I desired.
I said in
Martian, "Commander Potan told me, what I wish I can do. From the dome we
look around—see where is the Grantline camp—I am pilot of this ship to go
there."
The man who had
called himself Brotow passed near us. I appealed to him.
"We put on
our suits. I thought we might go up on the dome for a minute and look around.
If I'm to pilot the ship..."
He hesitated, his
glance sweeping the deck as though to ask Potan. Someone said in Martian:
"The
commander is down in the stern storeroom."
It decided
Brotow. He waved away the Martian who had stopped me.
"Let them
alone."
Anita and I gave
him our most friendly smiles.
"Thanks."
He bowed to Anita
with a sweeping gesture. "I will show you over the control room
presently."
His gaze went to
the peak of the bow. The little hooded cubby there was the control room.
Satisfaction swept me. Then this, above us in the tower, must surely be the
signal room. Would Brotow follow us up? I hoped not. I wanted to be alone with
the duty-man up there, giving me a chance to get at the projector controls if
Miko's signal should come.
I drew Anita past
Brotow, who had stood aside. "Thanks," I repeated. "We won't be
long."
We mounted the
little ladder.
CHAPTER XXXI - In the Tower
Cubby
Hurry, Anita!"
I feared that
Potan might come up from the hull at any moment and stop us. The duty-man over
us gazed down, his huge head and shoulders blocking the small signal room
window. Brotow called up in Martian, telling him to let us come. He scowled,
but when we reached the trap in the room floor-grid, we found him standing
aside to admit us.
I flung a swift
glance around. It was a metallic cubby, not much over fifteen feet square, with
an eight-foot arched ceiling. There were instrument panels. The range-finder
for the giant projector was here; its little telescope with the trajectory
apparatus and the firing switch were unmistakable. And the signalling apparatus
was here! Not a Martian set, but a fully powerful Botz ultra-violet helio
sender with its attendant receiving mirrors. The Planetara had used the Botz
system, so I was thoroughly familiar with it. I saw, too, what seemed to be
weapons: a row of small fragile glass globes, hanging on clips along the
wall—bombs, each the size of a man's fist. And a broad belt with bombs in its
padded compartments.
My heart was
pounding as my first quick glance took in these details. I saw also that the
room had four small oval window openings. They were breast-high above the
floor; from the deck below I knew that the angle of vision was such that the
men down there could not see into this room except to glimpse its upper portion
near the ceiling. And the helio set was banked on a low table near the floor.
In a corner of
the room a small ladder led through a ceiling trap to the cubby roof. This
upper trap was open. Four feet above the room-roof was the arch of the dome,
with the entrance to the upper exit-lock directly above us. The weapons and the
belt of bombs were near this ascending ladder, evidently placed here as
equipment for use from the top of the dome.
I turned to the solitary duty-man. I must gain his
confidence at once. Anita had laid her helmet aside. She spoke first.
"We were
with Set Miko," she said smilingly, "in the wreck of the Planetara.
You heard of it? We know where the treasure is."
This duty-man was
a full seven feet tall, and the most heavy-set Martian I had ever seen. A
tremendous, beetling-browed, scowling fellow. He stood with hands on his hips,
his leather-garbed legs spread wide; and as I fronted him I felt like a child.
He was silent, glaring down at me as I drew his attention from Anita.
"You speak
English? We are not skilled with Martian."
I wondered if at
the next time of sleep this fellow would be on duty here. I hoped not; it would
not be easy to trick him and find an opportunity to flash a signal. But that
task was some hours away as yet; I would worry about it when the time came.
Just now I was concerned with Miko and his little band, who at any moment might
arrive in sight. If we could persuade this scowling duty-man to turn the
projector on them...
He answered me in
ready English:
"You are the
man Gregg Haljan? And this is the sister of George Prince—what do you want up
here?"
"I am a
navigator. Brotow wants me to pilot the ship when we advance to attack
Grantline."
"This is not
the control room."
"No, I know
it isn't."
I put my helmet
carefully on the floor-grid beside Anita's. I straightened to find the brigand
gazing at her. He did not speak; he was still scowling. But in the dim blue
glow of the cubby I caught the look in his eyes.
I said hastily, "Grantline knows your ship has
landed here on Archimedes. His camp is off there on the Mare Imbrium. He sent
up a signal—you saw it, didn't you?—just before Miss Prince and I came aboard.
He was trying to pretend that he was your Earth-party, Miko and Coniston."
"Why?"
The fellow turned
his scowl on me, but Anita brought his gaze back to her. She put in quickly:
"Grantline,
as Brother always said, has no great cunning. I believe he's planning now to
creep up on us, catch us unaware by pretending that he is Miko."
"If he does
that," I said, "we will turn this electronic projector on him and
annihilate him. You have its firing mechanism here."
"Who told
you so?" he shot at me.
I gestured.
"I see it here. It's obvious. I'm skilled at trajectory-firing. If
Grantline appears down there now, I'll help you—"
"Is it
connected?" Anita demanded boldly.
"Yes,"
he said. "You have on your Erentz suits: are you going to the dome-roof?
Then go."
But that was what
we did not want to do. Anita's glance seemed to tell me to let her handle this.
I turned toward one of the cubby windows; she said sweetly:
"Are you in
charge of this room? Show me how that projector is operated; it will be
invincible against the Grantline camp."
"Yes."
I had my back to them for a moment. Through the
breast-high oval I could see down across the deck-space and out through the
side dome windows. And my heart suddenly leaped into my throat. It seemed that
down there in the Earthlit shadows, where the spreading base of the giant
crater joined the plains, a light was bobbing. I gazed, stricken. Miko's
lights? Was he advancing, preparing to signal? I tried to gauge the distance;
it was not over two miles from here.
Or was it not a
light at all? With the naked eye, I could not be sure. Perhaps there was a
telescopic finder here in the cubby...
I was
subconsciously aware of the voices of Anita and the duty-man behind me. Then
abruptly I heard Anita's low cry. I whirled around.
The giant Martian
had gathered her into his huge arms, his heavy-jowled gray face with a leering
grin close to hers!
He saw me coming.
He held her with one arm: his other flung at me, caught me, knocked me
backward. He rasped:
"Get out of
here! Go up to the dome, leave us."
Anita was
silently struggling with her little hands at his thick throat. His blow flung
me against a settle. But I held my feet. I was partly behind him. I leaped
again, and as he tried to disengage himself from Anita to front me, her
clutching fingers impeded him.
My bullet
projector was in my hand. But in that second as I leaped, I had the sense to
realize I should not fire it and with its noise alarm the ship. I grasped its
barrel, reached upward and struck with its heavy metal butt. The blow caught
the Martian on the skull, and simultaneously my body struck him.
We went down
together, falling partly upon Anita. But the giant had not cried out, and as I
gripped him now, I felt his body limp. I lay panting. Anita squirmed silently
from under us. Blood from the giant's head was welling out, hot and sticky
against my face as I lay sprawled on him.
I cast him off. He was dead, his fragile Martian skull
split open by my blow.
There had been no
alarm. The slight noise we made had not been heard down on the busy deck. Anita
and I crouched by the floor. From the deck all this part of the room could not
be seen.
"Dead!"
"Oh,
Gregg—"
It forced our
hand. I could not wait now for Miko to come. But I could flash the Earth signal
now, and then we would have to make our run to escape.
Abruptly I
remembered that light down at the crater-base! I kept Anita out of sight on the
floor and went cautiously to a window. The deck was in turmoil with brigands
moving about excitedly. Not because of what had happened in our tower signal
room; they were unaware of that.
Miko's signals
were showing! I could see them now plainly, down at the crater-base. A group of
hand-lights and a small waving helio-beam.
And they were
being answered from the ship! Potan was on the deck—a babble of voices, above
which his rose with roars of command. At one of the dome windows a brigand with
a hand search-beam was sending its answering light. And I saw that Potan was
working over a deck telescope-finder.
It had all come
so suddenly that I was stunned. But I did not wait to read the signals. I swung
back at Anita.
"It's Miko!
And they are answering him! Get your helmet; I'll try firing the
projector."
Or would I
instead try to send a brief flash-signal to Earth? There would be no time to do
both: we must escape out of here. The route up through the dome was the only
feasible one now.
This range
mechanism of the projector was reasonably familiar, and I felt that I could
operate it. The range-finder and switch were on a ledge at one of the windows.
I rushed to it. As I swung the little telescope, training it down on Miko's
lights, I could see the huge projector on the deck swinging similarly. Its
movement surprised the men who were attending it. One of them called up to me,
but I ignored him.
Then Potan looked up and saw me. He shouted in
Martian at the duty-man, whom he doubtless thought was behind me: "Be
ready! We may fire on them, whoever they are. I'll give you the word."
The signals were
proceeding. It had only been a moment. I caught something like, "Haljan is
impostor."
I was aiming the
projector. I was aware of Anita at my elbow. I pushed her back.
"Put on your
helmet!"
I had the range.
I flung the firing switch.
At the deck
window the giant projector spat its deadly electronic stream. The men down
there leaped away from it with surprise. I heard Potan's voice, his shout of
protest and anger.
But down in the
Earthglow at the crater-base, Miko's lights had not vanished! I had missed! An
error in the range? Abruptly I knew it was not that. Miko's lights were still
there. His signals still coming. And I remarked now a faint distortion about
them, the glow of his little group of hand-lights faintly distorted and vaguely
shot with a greenish cast. Benson curve-lights! I realized it.
My thoughts
whirled in the few seconds while I stood there at the tower window. Miko had
feared he might summarily be fired upon. He had gone back to his camp, equipped
all his lights with the Benson curve. He was somewhere at the crater-base now.
But not where I thought I saw him! The Benson curve-light changed the path of
the light-rays traveling from him to me—I could not even approximate his true
position!
Anita was
plucking at me. "Gregg, come."
"I can't hit
him!" I gasped.
Should I try the
flash-signal to Earth? Did we dare linger here? I stood another few seconds
fascinated at the window. I saw Potan down in the confusion of the deck,
training a telescope. He had shouted up violently at his duty-man here not to
fire again.
And now he suddenly
let out a roar. "I can see them! It's Miko! By the Almighty—his giant
stature—Brotow, look! That's not an Earthman!"
He flung aside
his little telescope finder. "Disconnect that projector! It's Miko down
there! This Haljan is a trickster! Where is he? Braile—Braile, you accursed
fool! Are Haljan and the girl up there with you?"
But the duty-man
lay weltering in his blood at our feet.
I had dropped
back from the window. Anita and I crouched for an instant in confusion,
fumbling with our helmets.
The ship rang
with the alarm. And amid the turmoil we could hear the shouts of the infuriated
brigands swarming up the tower ladder after us!
CHAPTER XXXII - A Speck Amid
the Stars
I was only inactive a moment. I had thought Anita
would have on her helmet. But she was reluctant, or confused.
"Gregg."
"We've got
to get out of here! Up through the overhead locks to the dome."
"Yes—"
She fumbled with the helmet. Under the floor-grid the climbing men on the
ladder were audible. They were already nearing the top. The trap door was
closed: Anita and I were crouching on it. There was a thick metal bar set in a
depressed groove of the grid. I slid it in place—it would seal the trap for a
time, at any rate.
A degree of
confidence came to me. We had a few moments before there could be any
hand-to-hand conflict. That giant electronic projector would eventually be used
against Grantline: it was the brigands' most powerful weapon. Its controls were
here—by Heaven, I would smash them! That at least I could do!
I jumped for the
window. Miko's signals had stopped, but I caught a glimpse of his distant
moving curve-lights.
A flash came up
at me, as in the window I became visible to the brigands on the ship's deck. It
was a small hand-projector, hastily fired, for it went wide of the window. It
was followed by a rain of small beams, but I was warned and I dropped my head
beneath the high sill. The rays flashed diagonally upward through the oval
opening, hissed against our vaulted roof. The air snapped and tingled with a shower
of blue-red sparks, and the acrid odor of the released gases settled down upon
me.
The trajectory controls of the projector were
beside me. I seized them, ripped and tore at them. There was a roar down on the
deck. The projector had exploded. A man's agonized scream split the confusion
of sounds.
It silenced the
brigands on the deck. Under our floor-grid those on the ladder had been
pounding at the trap-door. They stopped, evidently to see what had happened.
The bombardment of our windows ceased momentarily.
I cautiously
peered out the window again. In the wreck of the projector three men were
lying. One of them was screaming horribly. The dome-side was damaged. Potan and
other men were frantically investigating to see if the ship's air were hissing
out.
A triumph swept
me. They had not found me so meek and inoffensive as they might have thought!
Anita clutched at
me. She still had not donned her helmet.
"Put it
on!"
"But
Gregg—"
"Put it
on!"
"I—I don't
want to put it on until you put yours on."
"I've
smashed the projector! We've stopped them coming up for a while."
But they were
still on the ladder under our floor. They heard our voices; they began thumping
again. Then pounding. They seemed now to have some heavy implement. They rammed
with it against the trap.
But the floor
seemed holding. The square of metal grid trembled, yielded a little. But it was
good for a few minutes longer.
I called down,
"The first one who comes through will be shot." My words mingled with
their oaths. There was a moment's pause, then the ramming went on. The dying
man on the deck was still screaming.
I whispered, "I'll try an Earth-signal."
She nodded. Pale,
tense, but calm. "Yes, Gregg. And I was thinking—"
"It won't
take a minute. Have your helmet ready."
"I was
thinking—"
She hurried
across the room. I swung on the Botz signaling apparatus. It was connected.
Within a moment I had it humming. The fluorescent tubes lighted with their
lurid glare; they painted purple the body of the giant duty-man who lay
sprawled at my feet. I drew on all the ship's power. The tube-lights in the
room quivered and went dim.
I would have to
hurry. Potan could shut this off from the main hull control room. I could see,
through the room's upper trap, the primary sending mirror mounted in the peak
of the dome. It was quivering, radiant with its light-energy. I sent the flash.
The flattened,
past-full Earth was up there. I knew that the western hemisphere faced the Moon
at this hour. I flashed in English, with the open Universal Earth-code:
"Help!
Grantline."
And again:
"Send help! Archimedes region near Apennines. Attacked by brigands. Send
help at once! Grantline!"
If only it would
be received! I flung off the current. Anita stood watching me intently.
"Gregg, look!"
She had taken
some of the glass globe-bombs which lay by the foot of the ascending ladder.
She held some of them now.
"Gregg. I
threw some."
At the window we gazed down. The globes she flung
had shattered on the deck. They were occulting darkness bombs.[5]
Through the blackness of the deck, the shouts of
the brigands came up. They were stumbling about. But the ramming of our trap
went on, and I saw that it was beginning to yield. One corner of it was bent
up.
"We've got
to go, Anita!"
"Yes."
From out of the
darkness which hung like a shroud over the deck an occasional flash came up,
unaimed—wide of our windows. But the darkness was dissipating. I could see now
the dim glow of the deck lights, blurred as through a heavy fog.
I dropped another
of the bombs.
"Put on your
helmet."
"Yes—yes, I
will. You put on yours."
We had them
adjusted in a moment. Our Erentz motors were pumping.
I gripped her.
"Put out your helmet-light."
She extinguished it.
I handed her my bullet projector.
"Hold it a
moment. I'm going to take that belt of bombs."
The trap-door was
all but broken under the ramming blows of the men on the ladder. I leaped over
the body of the duty-man, seized the belt of bombs and strapped it about my
waist.
Anita stood with
me.
"Give me the
projector."
She handed it to
me. The trap-door burst upward! A man's head and shoulders appeared. I fired a
bullet into him—the little leaden pellet singing down through the yellow
powder-flash that spat from the projector's muzzle.
The brigand screamed, and dropped back out of
sight. There was confusion at the ladder-top. I flung a bomb at the broken
trap. A tiny heat-ray came wavering up through the opening, but went wide of
us.
The instrument
room was in darkness. I clung to Anita.
"Hold on to
me! You go first—here is the ladder."
We found it in
the blackness, mounted it and went through the cubby's roof-trap.
I took a hasty
look and dropped another bomb beside us. The four-foot space up here between
the cubby roof and the overhead dome went black. We were momentarily concealed.
Anita located the
manual levers of the lock-entrance.
"Here,
Gregg."
I shoved at them.
Fear leaped in me that they would not operate. But they swung. The tiny porte
opened wide to receive us. We clambered into the small air-chamber; the door
slid closed, just as a flash from below struck at it. The brigands had seen our
little cloud of darkness and were firing up through it.
We were through
the locks in a moment, out on the open dome-top. A sleek, rounded spread of
glassite, with broad aluminite girders. There were cross-ribs which gave us
footing, and occasional projections—streamline fin-tips, the casings of the
upper rudder shafts, and the upstanding stubby funnels into which the
helicopters were folded.
We moved along
the central footpath and crouched by a six-foot casing. The stars and the
glowing Earth were over us. The curving dome-top—a hundred feet or so in
length, and bulging thirty feet wide beneath us—glistened in the Earthlight. It
was a sheer drop down these curving sides past the ship's hull, a hundred feet
to the rocks on which the vessel rested. The towering wall of Archimedes was
beside us; and beyond the brink of the ledge the thousands of feet down to the
plains.
I saw the lights of Miko's band down there. He had
stopped signaling. His little lights were spread out, bobbing as he and his men
advanced up the crater's foothills, coming to join their ship.
I had an
instant's glimpse. Anita and I could not stay here. The brigands would follow
us up in a moment. I saw no exterior ladder. We would have to take our chances
and jump.
There were
brigands down there on the rocks. I saw three or four skulking helmeted
figures, and they saw us! A bullet whizzed by us, and then came the flash of a
hand-ray.
I touched Anita.
"Can you make the leap? Anita, dear..."
Again it seemed
that this must be farewell.
"Gregg, dear
one—oh, we've got to do it!"
Those waiting
figures would pounce on us.
"Anita, lie
here a moment."
I jumped up and
ran twenty feet toward the bow; then back, toward the stern, flinging down the
last of my bombs. The darkness was like a cloud down there, enveloping the
outer brigands. But up here we were above it, etched by the starlight and
Earthglow.
I came back to
Anita.
"We'll have
to chance it now."
"Gregg..."
"Good-by,
dear. I'll jump first, down this side—you follow."
To leap into that
black patch, with the rocks under it...
"Gregg—"
She was trying to
tell me to look overhead. She gestured. "Gregg, see!"
I saw it out over
the plains—a little speck amid the stars. A moving speck, coming toward us!
"Gregg, what
is it?"
I gazed, held my breath. A moving speck out there.
A blob now.
And then I
realized that it was not a large object, far away, but small, and already very
close—only a few hundred feet off, dropping toward the top of our dome. A
narrow, flat, ten-foot object, like a wingless volplane. There were no lights
on it, but in the Earthlight I could see two crouching, helmeted figures riding
it.
"Anita!
Don't you remember!"
I was swept with
dawning comprehension. Back in the Grantline camp Snap and I had discussed how
to use the Planetara's gravity plates. We had gone to the wreck and secured
them, had rigged this little volplane flyer...
The brigands on
the rocks saw it now. A flash went up at it. One of the figures crouching on it
opened a flexible fabric like a wing over its side. I saw another flash from
below, harmlessly striking the insulated shield.
I gasped to
Anita, "Light your helmet! It's from Grantline! Let them see us!"
I stood erect.
The little flying platform went over us, fifty feet up, circling, dropping to
the dome-top.
I waved my
helmet-light. The exit-lock from below—up which we had come—was near us. The
advancing brigands were already in it! I had forgotten to demolish the manuals.
And I saw that the darkness down on the rocks was almost gone now, dissipating
in the airless night. The brigands down there began firing up at us.
It was a
confusion of flashing lights. I clutched at Anita.
"Come this
way—run!"
The platform
barely missed our heads. It sailed lengthwise of the dome-top, and crashed
silently on the central runway near the stern-tip. Anita and I ran to it.
The two helmeted
figures seized us, shoved us prone on the metal platform. It was barely four
feet wide: a low railing, handles with which to cling, and a tiny hooded cubby
in front, with banks of controls.
"Gregg!"
"Snap!"
It was Snap and
Venza. She seized Anita, held her crouching in place. Snap flung himself face
down at the controls.
The brigands in
the lock were out on the dome now. I took a last shot as we lifted. My bullet
punctured one of them; he fell, slid scrambling off the rounded dome and
dropped out of sight.
Light-rays and
silent flashes seemed to envelop us. Venza held the side-shields higher.
We tilted, swayed
crazily, and then steadied.
The ship's dome
dropped away beneath us. The rocks of the open ledge were under us. Then the
abyss, with the moving climbing specks of Miko's lights far down.
I saw, over the
side-shield, the already distant brigand ship resting on the ledge with the
massive Archimedes' wall behind it. A confusion back there of futile flashing
rays.
It all faded into
a remote glow as we sailed smoothly up into the starlight and away, heading for
the Grantline camp.
[5] Filled with an odorless,
harmless gas, these bombs were used in warfare, taking the place of the
old-fashioned smoke screens. The diffusing gas was of such a nature that, when
released, it absorbed within itself all the color inherent to the light-rays
striking it, thus creating a temporary darkness.
