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                               BLACK-OUT

                           By JOSEPH FARRELL

                   The destiny of a dying world lay
                    in another--a blue planet which
                      could not control its own.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Winter 1943.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Old Thak watched fondly as the new telescope was being put into its
place. He had been a long time persuading the elders to build this
instrument, a duplicate of the one destroyed in the latest great war.
It was as fine a telescope as Mars could produce, and only Thak's
assurances that the work was of the greatest importance had secured
him this luxury.

His project must succeed, he felt, glancing at his students. Like him,
they were almost spherical in shape, with fine arm-like appendages
ringing their middles. They were young and enthusiastic, and Thak
believed they could revive the science of astronomy. He, the last
astronomer of Mars, would teach them all he knew.

The overseer of the workers was disgusted. "You waste our resources,
Thak," he declared. "You have taken two years of labor by dozens of
workers, and for what? So that you may look at the sky!"

Thak's tentacles purpled, a sign of irritation. "You military men!" he
retorted. "It was your kind, Mitfpa, that destroyed our civilization
and reduced our race to a few hungry thousands. You have ruined
progress and science forever. You have hastened the death of our race.
Unless--"

He waved through the open doorway, pointing out the early evening sky.
Just rising over the horizon was a blue body that was of a dazzling
brilliance, outshining all the other heavenly bodies. Thak's voice
became emotional.

"On that planet," he said, "are civilized beings. They hold the only
hope for the salvation of our race. We must work to contact them, as
long as there is one of us to carry on!"

"What is this, Thak?" Mitfpa demanded angrily. "How can you say, old
one, that people of intelligence live on the blue planet? You will tell
me next that you have been there!"

The soldier laughed scornfully, but Thak's voice was unruffled as he
explained. "This is no mere fancy of mine. These people have been
signalling to us for some time. And when I signalled back by creating
a network of space-warping lines through our entire power system, they
strengthened their signals. Then came your war--"

"Space warps?" Mitfpa growled. "More power wasted? How was this
accomplished?"

The workers were bolting the last legs of the telescope into position,
and the students were making happy squeaks. Thak looked gratefully
toward his new instrument, and toward the scholars. A fine lot of young
ones, these. Perhaps, in them, astronomy would become once more a
science of great importance. Perhaps they would be the salvation of
Mars.

He answered Mitfpa's questions. "The power used was very small. You
have heard of controlled space warps?"

"What about it?" grumbled the soldier.

"An interesting laboratory trick. But it also occurs in nature.
As a youth I once saw the light of stars bent around the sun in a
selector-scope; indeed, it was this very phenomenon that showed our
scientists how to make their own warps."

"Enough of your lecture, old one. What was the result of this
scientific trickery?"

"One as stupid as you would not understand the method," Thak replied
levelly, "but the result of warping all of our power beams was a
network of opaque lines that to an observer would be an obvious signal.
And now, if you are quite ready to leave--?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Grumbling, Mitfpa departed, taking his soldier-worker with him. Thak
checked the placement of the telescope, finally nodding in satisfaction
as he found everything in proper order. The four students crowded
around, watching with interest. He gazed good-naturedly at them.

"Our work is a great one," he declared. "We must communicate with
the third planet by means of a system of signals that we shall work
out--in time. But there is so little time...." His tentacles curled
thoughtfully about him. "You have followed the work of our last great
physicist, _Mor_ Gran?"

"You mean," asked an alert youngster named Rofan, "the probability
tables worked out by him? Showing that the end is near for our race?"

Thak nodded sadly. "Indeed, lad, the future appears dark. War and its
disorganization must inevitably strangle civilization. Even now our
race is thinned in numbers, and the beasts of the desert multiply."

"There," he went on, waving toward the blue planet, "is our only hope.
If we can effect communication with them, and be guided by their
superior wisdom, we may yet rally. They may have some secret--some way
to prevent wars--"

[Illustration: _"There!" Thak said. "There lies our only hope."_]

"You continue to speak of their superior wisdom, _Mor_ Thak," said
Rofan. "How can you be so very sure of that?"

"It is obvious, lad. Their signal system consists of spots of light
over the greater part of the land surface of their planet. I have shown
you the old photographs, taken before the last war, showing these
lights. Even with the small telescope I have been forced to use during
these lean years, I have watched the lights. What a mighty science
theirs must be that can make the night time light merely to signal
another planet! For that can be the only purpose of the lights."

Rofan let his tentacles curl about him as he concentrated. "You must be
right," he finally agreed. "I was going to suggest that they might be
the lights of cities. I noticed many of them were situated where a city
would be likely--but there must be millions of beings to populate so
many cities--"

One of the other pupils made a loud amused noise. "Whoever heard of
a city without a roof?" he demanded. "Could lights be seen through a
roof?"

Rofan was embarrassed, and he remained very quiet for a while,
wondering how he could have made such a stupid error. Of course lights
could not be seen through a roof. And who had ever heard of a city
without a roof!

Thak, paying no attention to the byplay, focused his lens with great
care. The students gathered about the concave bowl of white quartz.
The lights were lowered, and into the bowl moved a blurred sphere. As
Thak's tentacles moved the lenses closer and closer into focus, the
sphere resolved itself with more and more clarity, until it was a fine
image of the third planet.

Awed by the splendor of the sight, the students could only stare. And
indeed it was a breathtaking spectacle, as if they were gathered in the
immense void of space itself, looking at the planet from a height of
several thousand miles.

There were five continents in two major land masses, Thak had told
them. In addition, there were several islands of great size, at last
one being practically of continental dimensions, besides a host of
islands large and small which dotted the surface of the planet.

The hemisphere on which they gazed was mostly water. The larger land
mass was passing from sight. And half of the smaller mass was presented
to their vision, a double continent that spread almost from pole to
pole, with a narrow isthmus joining north and south.

Like all Martians, they thrilled to a scene of fearful beauty, and they
stood around the quartz bowl for a long time, not speaking, merely
watching the twin continents come into full view. None noticed old
Thak's eyes peering desperately at the image of the third planet. Nor
did they see the look of utter despair that grew in his face. They were
too intent on the strange scene.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was Rofan who first felt that something was wrong. The novelty was
wearing off, and an elusive thought made him uncomfortable. Something
was wrong with the picture ... what was it?

Suddenly he realized. He turned to Thak. "But--the lights, _Mor_ Thak?
The signals--"

Thak's face looked as old as Mars itself as he gazed at his pupil. He
started to speak several times before he could manage.

"We have failed," he said, in heavy tones. "Our signals must have been
too weak for the beings of the blue planet to detect. I had hoped--"

He arose and looked sadly into the evening sky. "I had hoped I was
wrong. For two years now--our years--I have watched through my
small telescope, and the lights have been disappearing, one by one,
sometimes, but more often several at a time. I thought it was the
weakness of my instrument. I was wrong. Every light on the blue planet
has been blacked out..."

His voice was a low wail. "_And--the blacking out of those lights means
a blackout of life on Mars. A planet-wide blackout...._"