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                        DREAD-FLAME OF M'TONAK

                            By HENRY HASSE

           A flame of pure thought ... green and unspeakably
           vile ... thrust from its own supra-dimension into
             the Solar warp, it found one whose malignance
            matched its own--and who would bargain with it.
               Against them--Ketrik, outlawed and alone!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Planet Stories Fall 1946.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Ketrik came in from Perlac, came fast, using the Frequency Tuner all
the way. Now his great bulk came forward in the control-seat, his eyes
fastened intently on the dark blue disk of Earth that loomed ahead.

"Strange," he muttered. "Strange, no Patrollers! I expected an escort
at least, if not a challenge!"

But no one heard. Ketrik, as always, had come alone. The helio from
Mark Travers, recorded on the sensitized receivers at Perlac, had
been more than a summons and a plea; it had contained an undertone
of urgency. Ketrik had left at once, making the trip from the newly
discovered outer planet in record time, thanks to the secret power-unit
which the Earth Council still coveted.

Ketrik thought of that now, as he neared Earth where he had not set
foot for so long. He remembered the tedious negotiations between
Earth and Perlac, designed to bring the latter planet into the Solar
Federation--a status hardly equitable to the Perlac government, due
to Earth's high-handed demands. For Earth still claimed priority on
Brownell's "Frequency Tuner," despite the fact that he had been forced
to flee with his invention to Perlac; and since then there had been an
alarming exodus of Earth's scientists to Perlac where they could work
out their ideas unhampered.[1]

[Footnote 1: _Passage to Planet X_, Planet Stories, Winter, 1945.]

The Earth Council remained haughty, adamant. Only six months ago there
had been a skirmish beyond Jupiter in which several Earth Patrollers
had gone to flaming destruction against the speedy Perlac ships. The
"Perlac Incident" was developing into open, bitter warfare. Venus
remained wisely aloof, riding a crest of peace under the reign of
Princess Aladdian. And on Mars, Dar Vaajo sat brooding on his ancient
throne, silent and watchful.

"Maybe I'm being a fool," Ketrik murmured now as he crossed the orbit
of Earth's moon. "Mark Travers guaranteed me safe landing and full
protection--nevertheless--"

Weary but still cautious, he switched to the auxiliary rocket-power,
then went to work dismantling the Frequency Tuner. In a short time
he had jumbled the unit into a confusion of its component parts, and
carefully hid it away. He trusted Mark Travers ... but there were
others.

As he picked up the grav-beam for his landing, he thought again of
Mark. It would be good to see him again after four years. He wondered
if the lad's status as "Member of Council" had changed him any. Even
more, he wondered at Mark's urgent message.

The city spread below. Then the landing field. Ketrik berthed with
practiced ease, stepped down from the lock.

       *       *       *       *       *

The guards closed in fast. There were dozens of them. Ketrik had only
time to glimpse the black-and-silver insignia of the elite Council
Guard, the drawn guns and grim purpose on their faces. Even as he
whirled back toward his ship, the deadly song of a heat-beam sounded
past his ear--so close he could feel the swirling scorch of it.

Ketrik came erect and motionless. He turned slowly, brain wry with the
thought that he'd come into a trap after all. But he smiled--a twisted
smile which failed to erase the hard lines of his face. His eyes were
a puzzle, gray and serene but somehow mocking beneath the dark bangs
tumbling across his forehead.

The Guards formed a watchful circle about this man whose deeds were
renowned throughout the System. For a moment their Captain hesitated.
Then, squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward. His gun became
intimate with Ketrik's wishbone.

"George Ketrik, I arrest you by order of the Supreme Earth Council! You
will come along peaceably or suffer the consequences!" The man's voice
was overly loud, arrogant. With a dramatic gesture he removed Ketrik's
gun, then whirled him into the hands of the Guards. They marched toward
a waiting tube-car. Other guards were trying to keep back the crowd,
passengers for the Venus Express who thronged the field.

Ketrik's eyes were emotionless now, devoid of color. He said
tonelessly: "Taking quite a chance, aren't you, Captain? I've only
counted fifty of your men."

"We've heard too much about you, Ketrik! And we want you alive--that's
why we didn't try to take you in space. I'm glad you're being sensible
about this."

Ketrik shrugged his towering shoulders as though to say, "Why not?"
But his mind raced. So they wanted him alive. They were nearing the
tube-car now, and the crowd, eternally curious, was trying to press in.

It was now or never. Ketrik stumbled. His elbow shot back, caught the
captain in the stomach. With the same motion he snatched the latter's
heat-gun, and bending low, lunged to the left. The crowd parted before
his onrush. Women screamed at sight of the gun he waved before him.

Ketrik heard shouts and curses from the startled guard, but he knew
they wouldn't fire into the crowd. A uniformed man loomed before him,
swinging a gun-fist up. Ketrik was quicker. The guard went down from
a sledge-hammer blow. Grinning joyously, Ketrik evaded two others. He
twisted and turned through the crowd, with some notion of gaining the
tube-car and escaping into the heart of the city.

And it might have worked. Now a path was opening clear. But this time
he really stumbled, lost his balance momentarily. It was enough to
allow the guards to close in. Ketrik twisted erect, felt clutching
hands upon him and heard the bellowing voice of the captain. He swung
out with his arms, felt men flung backward. He tried to bring up the
heat-gun.

This time someone else was quicker.

A heavy weight crashed against Ketrik's head, a sun exploded into
millions of fragments which dwindled away as he plunged forward into
darkness.

       *       *       *       *       *

He regained his faculties quickly. His subconsciousness demanded it.
This curious "awareness" in which Ketrik had trained himself had saved
him from many a tight scrape.

But now he did not open his eyes at once. He knew he was in the
tube-car, for he could feel the cushioned seat beneath him and the
faint vibration of the gyro-motors. Then he became aware of another
fact.

He was alone.

This brought him to his feet, wide-eyed and alert. He felt the weight
of his own gun again in his belt, examined it, found it still loaded.
Strange!

Where were the guards? Why should they be sending him somewhere alone?
A glance at the _crystyte_ window revealed a flashing panorama of the
city. He knew he was moving at terrific speed, probably on a special
"right-of-way." To attempt an escape now would be suicide.

He shrugged, settled down in the seat. His capture had been well
planned, but he failed to see what the Council hoped to gain by it!
Ketrik felt a surge of cold fury at this treachery--a treachery in
which Mark Travers must have had a hand.

Presently a braking signal flashed green. The tiny car sighed, as
though exhausted from its headlong route across the city. It came to a
stop against the forward cushion of air, and doors of _duraplon_ slid
smoothly back.

Hand near his gun, Ketrik emerged into a long empty corridor of black
and silver. Black marble walls reached sheerly up, to curve away
into a filigreed ceiling. Priceless tapestries adorned the walls,
caught a hidden overhead glow and shattered it into lances of silver
radiance. Ketrik frowned, looking at these tapestries. Their design
was interwoven with thousands of _Kra_ plumes, those priceless silvery
plumes for which he'd risked his life many times among the wild peaks
of Ganymede. Only the very elect could afford them. He knew now, that
he must be in Earth's Council Chambers.

Again he felt a tingling awareness, knew that unseen eyes were upon
him. He straightened his shoulders and walked unhurriedly toward a
massive door at the end of the corridor. As he neared it, there came a
tiny click and the door slid back.

It was a large room but startlingly bare. A huge table of Martian
_majagua_ wood, with a dozen surrounding chairs, occupied the center.
The only other article was a magnificent Ethero-Magnum, with screen
reaching nearly to the ceiling--an instrument powerful enough for
communication with Venus, Mars, even the Callistan colonies.

To Ketrik's surprise, only one Member of Council was present. This man
had risen as Ketrik entered. Ketrik stared and it took him fully a
minute to recognize this man. It had been four years since he had last
seen him, out there at Perlac--but now Mark Travers seemed to have aged
twenty years!

Mark came slowly around the table, hand thrust out in greeting.

Ketrik's voice was like a whiplash.

"Nice going, Travers! I trusted you, so I came right into your little
trap! What is it you want--the Frequency Tuner? Or am I just plain
under arrest?"

Mark stopped in his tracks. A pained look swept across his features.
Ketrik went on mercilessly.

"And I expected a better reception than this! Where's the rest of the
Council? I'll save you time, though, and tell you that Perlac has
ceased negotiating. We're prepared to fight for our independence and
free enterprise in the System!"

"I know that, Ketrik. I'll continue to champion Perlac's cause against
all odds here!" Grim-faced, Mark began pacing the room. "As for the
other eleven Council Members--they don't even know that you've arrived
on Earth. I'm risking my position in Council, perhaps my very life, by
bringing an outsider into these chambers without a quorum present!"

Ketrik's mien underwent a change. "You mean I'm not under arrest?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Mark laughed. "Of course you're not! That little show at the spaceport
was faked, had to be. And," he smiled a little, "thanks for adding the
touch of realism. Moreover, your spacer is in safe hands."

"Well, son, congratulations!" Ketrik grinned broadly. "You sure had me
fooled. But what about the rest of the Council, if they learn that I'm
on Earth--"

"By the time they do, it won't matter. You won't be here." Mark stopped
his pacing, turned to the famed adventurer. "Ketrik, I sent for you
because I need you desperately! Earth needs you! I have reason to
believe that Earth is facing the greatest danger in its history."

"Earth." The bronzed exile spoke the word quietly, but with a world of
contempt.

"Well, then, the entire System! Even Perlac. I believe it will strike
first at Earth, in fact may already have done so."

"And this danger. Danger from what?"

"Ketrik, you'll probably think me a fool--but I don't know! It's so
damned vague it's terrifying. I do have an accumulation of data that
points to Mars. I want you to go there."

"Mars? A second-rate power. Their race is dying out, and their science
goes with it."

Mark shook his head. "Don't underrate Dar Vaajo! He's an old man
now, but cunning. An opportunist. He's never forgotten how Princess
Aladdian of Venus, through her treaty with Earth, put an end to his
dreams of conquest."[2]

[Footnote 2: _Alcatraz of the Starways_, Planet Stories, May, 1943.]

"Yes, I remember it well." Ketrik was thoughtful. "But how could Dar
Vaajo make a play now against the power of Earth, or for that matter
Perlac?"

Mark permitted himself a smile. He didn't miss the implication that
Perlac, too, was fast becoming a power to be reckoned with.

"I'll give you the facts," he said quietly, "and you can judge. About
two years ago, Dar Vaajo stopped all Uranium shipments from Mars. That
in itself is comparatively unimportant. What is important, is the Earth
Council. Now consider, Ketrik--I've been close to these men for four
years. Very often it has seemed to me that where rudimentary logic
should dictate a course of action, they incomprehensibly choose to
follow another. So it was with this Uranium embargo. They might easily
have forced a showdown, but instead, they seemed satisfied with Dar
Vaajo's peculiar evasions.

"Of course, about this time Earth's quarrel with Perlac was reaching
a crisis. But even there, I noticed definite trends of irrational
thinking on the part of the Members. At our frequent sessions to
discuss the Perlac question, they seemed to appreciate all the factors
involved--even that we were fast losing our best scientific talent to
Perlac. Yet their damned egotisms crept through, dictating to their
reason. Ketrik, I swear to you that when they voted sending a fleet
of Patrollers out to Jupiter to prevent your men from landing there,
I did everything in my power to prevent it. But again my voice was
one against eleven. And believe me, the majority vote of Council is
final--irrevocable."

"I have reason to know that," Ketrik said. "But, Mark, I still fail to
see this danger you spoke of."

"I'm getting to it. And this is the part that's frightening. About a
month ago, in my own home, I set up a secret Cerebro-Scanner. Know what
that is?"

"Never heard of it."

"It's new, and plenty dangerous in the wrong hands. Works on a ray
principle. Produces elaborate graphs of an individual's mental and
emotional co-ordinates. Well, on a secret wave-length I probed the
minds of my fellow Council Members!" Mark smiled. "Yes, I'd probably
receive sentence of death if they knew, but the end justified the
means. Ketrik, the resulting graphs reveal that the cerebro-thalamic
co-ordinates of the Council Members do not vary in the slightest! They
are the same down to ten decimal points!"

Ketrik gestured helplessly. "Is this important?"

Mark stared at him. "Important--it's unprecedented! Much the same as
finding eleven identical sets of fingerprints! But what is worse, the
graphs show elements of--of--it's hard to explain. Certainly not
disloyalty! Rather the opposite. An _intense_ loyalty, but governed by
unreason. Their minds seem directed along a single channel, toward a
definite end. And that is--the utter humbling of Perlac! Nothing else
seems to matter!"

Ketrik nodded. Then he asked the obvious question.

"Did you employ this Scanner on yourself?"

"To make the record complete--yes! Needless to say, this tenacity
of purpose concerning Perlac is utterly missing from my own mental
co-ordinates."

"Hmm. How do you account for that?"

"I can't. But this mental trend in the others seems to be _induced_.
Now, you begin to see the implications?"

Ketrik nodded slowly. "Yes, son, and you're right! It even begins to
scare me a little. Suppose Dar Vaajo in some way has gained control of
those eleven minds--is that what you mean? But why Dar Vaajo?"

"There's one more item that completes the pattern, and points to Mars.
During the past year, as many as four of our spacers have disappeared
on the Earth-Mars route. No trace has ever been found. However, about a
month ago, a life-boat from the missing _Terra III_ was found drifting
near the orbit of our moon. Aboard was one survivor--Dr. Curt Ransome,
the brilliant physicist and mathematician, returning from a lecture
tour on Mars."

"And could you learn nothing from him?"

"No." Mark's voice was tragic. "We learned nothing, because--_his
brilliant mind was gone_! The doctors say it's doubtful if he'll
ever respond to treatment. He babbles incessantly, has the mind of a
week-old infant!"

Ketrik was aghast. "What has the Council done?"

"Nothing, of course!" Mark laughed bitterly. "They're pre-occupied
with Perlac! I've personally contacted Dar Vaajo on the Ethero-Magnum.
He expresses regret and puzzlement, offers every aid in tracing the
disappearing ships. But there's an under-current of evasion. As a
desperate measure I sent two secret operatives to Mars."

"Good," Ketrik nodded his approval. "They get through all right?"

"Yes, apparently just in time. Dar Vaajo has thrown a close guard about
the planet. Anyway, my operatives managed to set up a communications
base in the wilds of the K'Mari Range, half a day's flight from
Turibek, capital of South Mars. I've contacted them twice. They report
strange activities at Turibek, something in the nature of a vast
scientific experiment! And another thing. Dar Vaajo apparently has made
a truce with the Rajecs."

"The Rajecs! Those Martian Outlanders?" Ketrik's face was dark with
real concern. This news seemed to affect him more than anything Mark
had said.

"We've really never learned much about those strange desert tribes,"
Mark went on. "But--"

"It's impossible!" Ketrik said. "Those Outlanders hate the Upper
Martians with a hatred beyond our understanding. Nothing would impel
them to make truce, absolutely _nothing_! I know, for I once lived
among them for six months." Ketrik was as near to being excited as was
possible for him. "Yes, Mark, I'll go to Mars. This really begins to
interest me!"


                                  II

They spent much of that night in going over their plans. Ketrik had
no misapprehensions about landing on Mars; he could do that despite
Vaajo's patrols. Turibek presented the real problem.

Carefully he perused the tele-strip recordings from Mark's operatives,
E-39 and EV-5. There had only been two reports, and they were brief.

"This last one was sent two weeks ago," Mark said, "and I haven't been
able to contact them since. The channel's dead. I'm afraid it means
their hide-out was discovered!"

Ketrik studied the rough map Mark had made, showing the location of the
hide-out in the K'Mari Range, and its position from Turibek.

"This will help. I'll try to get over there, see if anything's left of
their sending equipment. Then I want to make a try for the city. If
I can get inside of Turibek, and maybe get a line on this scientific
thing they're working up ... I was at Turibek eight years ago, and know
it fairly well."

"Here's a photo-static air view," Mark said. "Afraid it doesn't show
much."

"It shows one thing," Ketrik said, studying the film. "Dar Vaajo's had
a wall built completely around the city. That wasn't there eight years
ago! And those towers stationed around the wall--what do you suppose
they are?"

"Control towers. That's an electronic wall! And you'll observe there's
another within the city itself, surrounding that group of buildings
which must be the laboratories. Ketrik--if you ever get in there...."
His voice dwindled away in doubt.

"You don't think I can do it? I don't either, Mark--not as an Earthman!"

"Come. We'll fix that."

They passed through endless corridors, arrived finally at a large
white-enameled room. It was complete with operating tables,
instruments, plastics, ray-lamps--everything necessary to Earth's
espionage system.

Ketrik stripped piecemeal, allowed every inch of his superbly muscled
body to be subjected to the stinging Ulmo lamps. Gradually under
the hot rays, the very pigmentation of his skin changed to the deep
reddish-copper of a Martian. Mark proved himself an expert at this.
Even the insides of Ketrik's ears did not escape the ray.

"Don't worry," Mark told him. "This will all wear off eventually."

"Yes? How long?"

"In about two years! Now, your eyes. You never saw a Martian with gray
eyes. Look up just a moment."

A few drops of liquid, a harmless vegetable composition, changed
Ketrik's eyes to a muddy golden color.

"Those bangs have got to come off!" Mark went to work in earnest. Ten
minutes under another ray, and Ketrik's unruly hair was transformed
into tight, crisp curls in keeping with the Martian fashion. His
features presented the hardest problem, but Mark worked miracles with
the plastics and equipment.

At last the job was done. When Ketrik surveyed himself in the mirror
he saw a tall, somewhat arrogant Martian of the middle class, with
slightly flaring nostrils, bulging cheek-bones and lips curving in a
thin, cruel smile. He nodded, more than satisfied.

Mark consulted his wrist-chrono. "Four hours until dawn. Better grab a
few hours' sleep, it may be your last for a while."

"Sure, but I'll rest better if I know one thing. Where's my ship?"

"My guards moved it secretly to the underground repair locks. Right
now it's undergoing as radical a change as I just performed on you."
Mark smiled. "When you leave Earth, it will be in a slow-powered ore
freighter ostensibly bound for the Moon!"

       *       *       *       *       *

An hour before the dawn, Mark wakened Ketrik. But Mark hadn't been idle
in those hours. He handed the other a small, compact instrument.

"Here's a Scanner disc I just finished assembling. It only works within
a very short range, but you may have need of it."

They took the swift tube-car across the city and arrived at the
spaceport amidst surprising activity. A Callistan freighter had just
berthed. Bright lights were trained upon it, men and trucks were moving
about handling the cargo.

"I planned it for this hour," Mark explained, "because now less
attention will be drawn to you. We can't be too careful." He pointed to
a dark, far corner of the field where a clumsy bulk rested. "Believe it
or not, that's your ship. The exterior's been changed but that's all.
You still have the Frequency Tuner." They paused for a moment in solemn
thought. "I can't impress upon you too much, Ketrik, what this--"

"That's right, Mark, you can't. So let's not mention it." Ketrik was
brusque. "Believe me, son, I know what I'm up against."

"Send _any_ news at all as to what Dar Vaajo's up to. If I learn
that, I can rouse the people of Earth to preparedness in spite of the
Council." He thrust out his hand. "I'll say goodby now--and good luck!"

Ketrik said simply, "You'll be hearing from me, Mark." He moved across
the field, keeping to the shadows, the collar of his space tunic turned
up. He wondered how many of the men working about this field were
Martian "Specials." Some of them, surely. If he, an Earthman, could be
molded into Martian guise, Dar Vaajo could certainly perform the same
miracle in reverse and probably had.

He reached his ship undetected. All was dark and quiet. The hull, he
noticed, had been painted solid black. He entered and flicked on the
lights. Mark was right, nothing on the inside had been changed.

He explored the ship to make sure. Then he moved forward to the
control-console, remembering that this was supposed to be a clumsy Moon
freighter. The rockets roared. The ship moved with slow acceleration up
the step locks, to finally catapult into the stratosphere.

And five minutes later, just as he was clearing Earth's gravity, he
heard the voice behind him:

"Well, Ketrik, at last! Really--I thought you were never going to make
it!"

Ketrik had long since learned caution in these matters. He turned
slowly now and was glad he did. The first thing he saw was the gun--a
powerful weapon, an electro. The fist wrapped around it looked firm and
experienced. Ketrik's gaze went to the man's face.

It was the Captain of the Guard, the same captain who had met him at
his landing eight hours before. The man was cold-eyed now. He kept a
few paces away from Ketrik.

Ketrik said, "I searched the ship. Where were you?"

"You failed to look in the emergency fuel locker. It was a tight
squeeze for me." He smiled tightly, surveying Ketrik's transformed
figure. "A nice job. Slightly tall for a Martian but, withal very nice.
Too bad all that ingenuity has to be wasted at the very outset."

Ketrik's muscles tightened. As though it were a signal, the other's
voice became brittle.

"Up! Up with those hands, Ketrik. I have a few questions to ask, and
then--"

       *       *       *       *       *

It seemed ridiculously easy, the way Ketrik did it. He let his eyes
go dull. He sighed and raised his hands, slowly. He saw the other's
gun-fist relax ever so slightly. Then Ketrik's legs gave way and he
went swiftly downward. The captain fired but Ketrik wasn't there, his
powerful muscles had launched him forward, beneath the hissing beam.
His shoulder caught the other just below the midriff and bent him
double, carried him backward. They crashed into the controlroom door.
Ketrik's left hand found the other's gun-wrist and twisted powerfully.
A bone snapped, the electro skidded away. The captain began a curse but
it was cut short by Ketrik's right hand at his throat.

Ketrik pulled the man to a sitting posture. He gazed deep into the eyes
which were glazing over with pain. But it was not enough to prevent the
true color from shining through ... the color of dull, tarnished gold.

"I thought so," Ketrik murmured, and then his hand loosened, balled
into a fist that drove forward. The man laid back and went limp.

Ketrik's fingers probed the other's face. The man was a Martian, all
right, the features had been subtly altered. Enough to fool even Mark!
Captain of the elite guard! How long had the man masqueraded in that
position, Ketrik wondered--and then he shrugged. It didn't matter now.

He went through the man's clothes, found nothing of interest until he
came under the left arm-pit. There, next to the skin, he found a tiny
metal disk. He rose, went over to the wall-light to examine his find.
The disk was perforated with queer Martian characters. Ketrik knew
Martian, but he couldn't quite make these out. He bent closer.

A sixth sense warned him, or perhaps it was some slight sound. He
whirled. The Martian's hand had moved, was now grasping the electro
which he swung up into line. Ketrik's hand dropped and he fired his own
heat-beam from the hip. The beam cut a clean swath across the other's
chest, and he died without so much as a sigh.

"Sorry, buddy, whoever you are," Ketrik whispered. "Guess I'd have had
to do that anyway, though. When Dar Vaajo plants Specials like you on
Earth, we don't play for fun!"

He fastened the identification disk under his own arm-pit. Five minutes
later, from the starboard lock, he dumped the body into space and
without a qualm, rayed it to dust.

Then, champing with impatience, Ketrik allowed his "freighter" to plod
Moonward. He skirted within five thousand miles of it, then with the
satellite as a shield between him and Earth, he charted for Mars.

His brush with the Martian operative had sobered him. He began to
realize that Mark had every reason for alarm! The subtle tampering with
the Council's mental patterns, the placing of operatives in high Earth
positions, the secret scientific experiments on Mars--they all had to
tie in. He was sure of one thing now. Dar Vaajo, an embittered old man,
was making one last bid which would bring his race to its former glory
or else carry it forever to extinction with him.

There were surely other Martian operatives on Earth, and they
would have established a communications base. By this time they had
undoubtedly flashed the news of his coming. Ketrik smiled inwardly.
Very well--they'd be expecting him at Turibek, but he'd take the
indirect approach.

All the way to Mars his mind was at work. He was remembering days he'd
spent in that wild desert country of South Mars. From the tide of his
thoughts he segregated events ... places and people ... the canals and
cruel deserts, the customs of the Rajecs, those fierce black outcasts
from the cities of Mars. He knew that before he got through to Turibek,
he'd need all this. Already a plan was forming....

Twenty hours later he sighted a Mars patrol, six formidable spacers
athwart the Earth-route. They moved leisurely, in perfect formation,
and Ketrik knew their network of "finder beams" covered a large area.
However, the power-principle of the Frequency Tuner defied those
"finders." No challenge came through his open radio, which meant they
hadn't sighted him yet.

A solid black ship was strictly against the Space Code, but Codes
mattered little now! With the ebony backdrop of space behind him,
Ketrik's ship would be hard to detect. He decided to try a sneak past
them. He'd have to go into Inferior-plane, but he was sure he could
make it.

Quickly he changed course, swept into a sharp parabola that carried
him far below the Ecliptic. In a matter of minutes he was watching the
Mars-cruisers fade away into darkness. His present course would bring
him far over into Mars' dark-side, but that was what he wanted anyway.

       *       *       *       *       *

Hours later the vast South Desert was rising up below him. Deimos had
just appeared, climbing with slow majesty across the sky; Phobos would
come a few hours later, pursuing its reckless course. Ketrik peered far
ahead to the horizon. There, against the dark downward curve, he saw a
faint glow that was not the glow of Deimos. He knew that must be the
capital city, Turibek, untold miles away. He made swift calculation. To
the right, then, would be the K'Mari Range. He knew those mountains.
It would be the very place to leave his ship.

He dropped lower and headed for there. The pale ghost-glow of Deimos
didn't help much. He switched to infra-red, peered at the V-Panel as it
lighted up and saw the unmistakable, serrated line of mountains about
twenty miles away. He had judged it that close! Ketrik grinned proudly.

It was short-lived. A Martian voice sliced through the radio, shrill
and commanding.

"Ground! You, below there--you will ground immediately or we blast!"

Then Ketrik realized that for the past several minutes there had been
a faint humming sound from above and all about him, scarcely heard. He
had relaxed in his vigilance, and the Martian 'copters had picked out
his trail--those fast-powered and deadly scouting ships. They too must
be equipped with infra-red!

Even as these thoughts raced through his mind, Ketrik was acting. He
leaped away from the V-Panel, grabbed the Control and threw it over.
Too late now! The ship responded, but sluggishly. The nose veered
sharply upward, trying to leap away--then the entire hull shuddered.
Power-beams! It must be a vast concentration of them, to stop Frequency
power! Slowly his forward progress was retarded. Relentlessly he was
being forced down into the Martian sands. Again the voice sliced
through.

"It is useless, outlaw! We've had you in our finder for the past five
minutes and you are in a network of Power-beams. Nullify your control
immediately or we blast!"

Ketrik cursed. Already his ship was straining at the seams. And now
he felt insufferable heat all about him, realized they were using the
beams. His stomach turned over as he thought of his rocket-tubes loaded
with fuel....

Quickly he entered the starboard lock; stood peering down. He was
dropping fast. Above him now he saw hosts of vague shapes, heard the
whine of Martian 'copter blades cutting the air. The metal under his
fingers was growing hot. He counted to five, slowly ... and leaped
outward.

It may have been thirty feet--or fifty. Ketrik only knew that he was
plummeting downward. He let his muscles go limp, and just in time. He
hit the sand hard, rolled over once and knew that no bones were broken.
Above him he saw the pale glow of heat-beams, saw the hull of his
spacer growing cherry-red ... and suddenly realized his danger.

He staggered up, went ploughing across the desert, still mentally
counting off the seconds ... "eight ... nine ... ten...." The explosion
lighted the sky for a hell-filled moment. Ketrik went hurling forward,
to land head foremost into the sand. Parts of his ship came thudding
down about him.

One fragment, red-hot, landed against his arm and burned it severely.
Other fragments scattered over a wide area. Ketrik was cursing now,
unconsciously using the mono-syllabic Martian in which he had versed
himself.

Then it was all over. Ketrik was glad of only one thing. His ship was
gone, but the Frequency Tuner had gone with it! The Martians would
never get that priceless power unit. He rolled to his back and looked
up.

It was not over! A few 'copters were descending to view the
wreckage--or perhaps to look for him. Had they seen him jump? Powerful
searchlights began criss-crossing the area. Again he staggered up, went
forward into darkness. Every muscle ached, but his eyes were alert for
the beams. Whenever one passed near him, he flattened into the sand.
After untold agonies, he judged that he was fairly safe. Far behind, he
heard the drift of excited Martian voices.

He didn't rest. He kept going away from those voices. They might still
be looking for him. He was utterly confused in his direction now. He
could be going toward Turibek, or toward K'Mari Range ... or out into
the vast wilderness to the south. One of those dark storms was sweeping
up, and Deimos was hidden. Soon the sharp sand began to pelt him.

Ketrik turned up his collar and ploughed on. He remembered that those
storms usually, but not always, came up from the south. He guided his
direction by that, and plunged on.

"At least one thing's settled," he muttered after a while. "I'm
relieved of the problem of hiding my ship!"


                                  III

Through adventures on every far-flung world, every barren satellite,
Ketrik's uncanny "time-awareness" had never failed him. It didn't now.
He knew that it was precisely one hour and twenty minutes later when
he saw the flickering lights, so he couldn't have come far. He saw the
lights but once, quite a distance ahead and low against the ground.
Then they were gone as the sand rose in renewed fury.

He moved cautiously now. He didn't see the lights again but knew he was
going toward them. Ketrik was no stranger to this south desert. Now
the old nameless awareness was with him. It may not have been anything
he heard--but he suddenly knew that very close, just beyond the radius
of his vision, unknown shapes moved through murky darkness. The very
sands seemed to whisper the danger. But Ketrik heard other sounds now.
The sounds he heard were sibilant footsteps and they were patient, very
patient, as they kept pace with him.

He became suddenly motionless, held his ears attuned. The soft
footsteps stopped, but not before Ketrik determined that they were on
both sides of him now and probably behind him as well. He nodded grimly
and went on, no longer trying to tread softly. He loosened the electro
in his belt. These might be Rajecs or they might be the scavenger rats
that trailed a man until he dropped. In either event....

He knew very soon. They came hurtling out of darkness at him, great
black shapes, silent and swift. But they were man-size, which meant
they were Rajecs. His electro was out, but he didn't get a chance to
use it. A muscular hand seized his arm and bore it painfully backward.
Other Rajecs crowded in. Even at this close range Ketrik could see
little except their eyes, feral as flaming topaz.

Even Ketrik could not fight that which he could not see. But he tried,
tried grimly until the weight of their bodies bore him down. He
remembered that these people could see in darkness. They undoubtedly
saw that he was "Martian," and his life would be forfeit unless....

He was trying to remember something else, something out of Rajec
legendry. A single word. It came to him then, and he ceased fighting.
He whispered the word fiercely.

"_S'Relah!_"

It was magic. The clutching hands loosened. He could feel the black
muscular figures draw back, hesitant.

"You are Martian!" one of them hissed.

"But _S'Relah_, I tell you!" Ketrik spat the word. "I am one of you!"

They helped him to rise, but kept firm grip on his arms. "We will see.
Come."

They went forward through darkness. Presently they were mounting a
slight rise. From the top of it Ketrik looked down at the campfires of
a Rajec caravan, a large one.

As they moved down the slope, Ketrik realized he'd have to stick to
his word. His mind raced, building up a brief but, he hoped, suitable
story. He was sufficiently versed in Martian history. He knew that
aeons ago vast tribes of these black-skinned Rajecs had been dominant
on the planet. But the "Upper Martians," so called, had progressed
phenomenally. They were superior in the arts, social government,
science, and the "culture" of warfare. They had swept down from the
north, expanding, building their cities and developing their waterways,
the now famous Canals. A bitter thousand-years' war had driven the
Rajecs ever southward into the merciless deserts.

There they had stayed, waging periodic but futile warfare. Wild
and tribal now, they still had never forgotten. The _S'Relah_ was
a fanatic, inter-tribal society ... persisting through countless
generations, dedicated to a relentless hate of those upper Martians.
And Ketrik knew what few men knew--that among the _S'Relah_ were many
renegade Martians, outlaws and embittered "politicals" usually, working
through the Society for personal gain or revenge.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ketrik had his story ready as they came into the camp. The Rajec leader
was sent for. This man was large, well proportioned, the muscles
beneath his ebon skin high-lighted in the glow of the central fire. He
was armed merely with a razor-edged dagger in a jewelled belt. Ketrik,
looking at him, felt respect and a certain foreboding--the latter
occasioned by the slight enigmatic smile about the other's lips.

The man eyed Ketrik with equal interest. His keen gaze lingered overly
long on his "Martian" features. He certainly noted the electro which
Ketrik retained, but it didn't seem to bother him. He spoke at last, in
Martian.

"You claim to be _S'Relah_. We will need proof of that. What is your
name?"

"Khosan."

"Ah, yes. Khosan. And where do you come from?"

"L'Ottli." Ketrik named a small mining camp far to the south. "Been
prospecting there for six months, trying to make stake enough to get up
to Turibek."

"Yes. We, too, go to Turibek. You knew that?"

Ketrik allowed puzzlement to show in his eyes. The other went on. "You
seem surprised, Khosan. Had you not heard, then, that your emperor, Dar
Vaajo, has signed a treaty with the consolidated tribes of Rajec?"

"I had not heard. And I believe you lie! The Rajecs would never make
treaty!" Ketrik hoped his disbelief sounded convincing.

"It is true," the black shrugged. "But that does not matter. Your going
to Turibek matters. A foolhardy thing to attempt alone!" The enigmatic
smile still lingered. "But, then, being at L'Ottli for so long, you
were not aware of Dar Vaajo's scouts everywhere. This area has become
thick with their 'copters--especially in the last few hours!" There was
calculated meaning in the last words.

Ketrik decided on a bold stroke. He said calmly, "Yes. I am aware of it
now. They blasted my plane out of the sky scarcely an hour ago. Perhaps
you saw that?"

"We all have observed a slight display in the sky to the west. You
know--Khosan--word reaches us swiftly and in many ways. It is rumored
that Vaajo's scouts are seeking to apprehend one who _may_ come here
from Earth." The black paused, but Ketrik's eyes never flickered. "They
may even search this area. They know our camp is here. There should be
a reward of many Martian credits for capture of the one they seek!"

Ketrik shrugged. "That explains why they fired at me. I guess they
mistook me for that one."

The Rajec's smile vanished abruptly. His next questions came fast. "You
are _S'Relah_? Why are you _S'Relah_?"

"Political. Irreconcilable. My father was a 'political' before me."

"Where do you go in Turibek?"

"Where the Street of the Double Moon makes juncture with the Low Canal
is a tiny shop dealing in curios from the far planets. The proprietor
is one Jal Thurlo. I go there for a meeting with him."

"And the reason? The reason--quickly!"

Ketrik's gaze leveled and he said slowly, "You would not expect me to
tell you that. He too is a 'political'."

"You can quote the oath of the _S'Relah_?"

Ketrik had been waiting for that one. Now, in a low voice, he quoted
the oath which not all Rajecs, very few Martians, and probably no
Earthman save himself had ever heard. It was a strange and terrible
oath, an oath hallowed in blood, and its implications would have made
some men blanch. But Ketrik spoke it feelingly. He finished the words
and looked closely at the black's face.

The man was satisfied and strangely moved, albeit slightly puzzled. He
drew a tremulous breath at last.

"You have proven! You may go on to Turibek with us. We travel afoot and
the way is slow, but certain."

"That is agreeable."

       *       *       *       *       *

The leader drew Ketrik aside, out of hearing of the others. "At the
rear of our caravan is a small group of Martians, prospectors from the
nearby mountains--a ragged, harmless lot, whom we tolerate. I think it
advisable that you travel with them. Dar Vaajo's Specials are stationed
along our route."

Ketrik nodded curtly, started to move away. The Rajec stopped him.
"This mining camp you mention, this L'Ottli where you have been for
six months. Is it not far, far to the south, at the extreme end of the
K'Mari Range?"

"That's the place." Ketrik was on his guard.

"I thought you would like to know there is no L'Ottli. That entire town
was wiped out in a great avalanche three years ago. Oh, yes, one more
thing." The black was smiling now, looking at the place on Ketrik's arm
where the hot chunk of metal had burned the sleeve away. "That is a bad
burn, and a strange one--for a Martian."

Ketrik looked at his injured arm for the first time. Around the area
of the burn was a tiny outline of white--the white skin of an Earthman
showing through. Only the keen eyes of this Rajec would have noticed it.

"I'll give you other garments," the man said. "You had better burn
these. Good night, and sleep well--Khosan."

But Ketrik didn't sleep well. He burned his garments and donned the
others, then found the camp of the Martian prospectors. There were
six of them, all asleep now. Ketrik found a place by the fire and lay
awake, speculating.

The Rajec leader he trusted. The man was undoubtedly of the _S'Relah_.
But these six Martians would be suspicious of him, a newcomer. If
they hadn't yet heard of the search for a spy in the area, they would
certainly hear of it on the morrow! And they'd report him to any of Dar
Vaajo's "Specials" they met along the line of march.

That last thought gave Ketrik his answer, a temporary one at least.

At dawn the caravan moved. The six Martians were surprised at this
newcomer, but not yet suspicious. Ketrik didn't give them time to be.
From beneath his arm-pit he produced the thin disk which he'd taken
from the slain Martian operative. He flashed it briefly, asked a few
curt questions, and the men were properly cowed. Apparently they knew
the power of Vaajo's Specials.

"Just routine," Ketrik told them. "I'll travel along with you for a
while." Determined to play his role to the hilt, he added, "We can't be
too careful in these times. There may be _S'Relah_ among these damned
Rajecs, but we'll find them out before we get to Turibek. Dar Vaajo has
gone too far in his plans to have them thwarted now."

By tactful conversation he sought to learn something of what was going
on at Turibek. It soon became apparent that these bedraggled men didn't
know, and cared less. One of them had heard of Dar Vaajo coming to
Turibek with a complete staff of scientists, but that's as far as his
knowledge went. Another of the men had heard of the treaty, and wasn't
surprised.

"I've seen it coming," he said gruffly. "Many years I've lived in these
deserts, and I tell you the Rajecs aren't the same. Especially the last
few years. Something just seems to have gone out of them."

Something indeed had gone out of the Rajecs, if they made treaty!
Ketrik wondered what kind of magic Dar Vaajo had used to bring that
about. More particularly, _why_! There was some sort of link here,
between the Rajecs and whatever was going on at Turibek. And that, in
turn, was a pivot in Vaajo's larger plan, the plan that would deal with
Earth. Ketrik just couldn't piece it together as yet; he'd have to get
to Turibek. He thought fleetingly of those electronic walls....

The sun climbed higher, hot and dry, sapping the strength. Ketrik
marvelled at the long line of marching Rajecs--there were perhaps two
hundred. Long years in these deserts had inured them to discomfort.
Again he wondered why they were going to Turibek. Almost he was tempted
to go up and speak again with the Rajec leader--the man's name was
Aarnto, he learned--but he thought better of it.

At high noon they stopped for rations, and a few hours later the
Martian 'copters came over. They came from the direction of the city,
circled once, and flew leisurely back. Ketrik wondered what that meant.
He was soon to know.

       *       *       *       *       *

Presently Aarnto dropped back, fell into step beside him and drew him
away from the others. "You saw the 'copters?"

"Yes," Ketrik replied. "Trouble ahead?"

"For you, perhaps, O mysterious one from out of the desert! Those
'copters mean there is a surveying station ahead, and the Specials will
be there. Apparently they are still searching for the spy."

"These surveying stations--what do they do there?"

"Oh, they are diabolic, these Specials of Vaajo's! They have machines
which tear a man's mind apart, probe into his inner thoughts. No spy
could ever get past them."

"Then how do _you_ propose to get by, O grinning one?"

The black continued to grin. "True," he said frankly, "I am _S'Relah_.
And there are several others among us. We shall get by the Specials all
right, and into Turibek by the main gate. For the past year we have
prepared for this, through systematic thought-control. We can submerge
our true thoughts so that all the machines will read will be obeisance
and loyalty."

"Seems ticklish," Ketrik said. "But I guess I'll try that too." He had
no intention of trying it. He was watching Aarnto's reaction.

"Listen to me." Aarnto was serious, gripping Ketrik's arm. "You could
never manage it. It takes months to perfect such mind control, and you
have only hours. I do not know why you wish to get to Turibek, but you
quoted the oath to me. I know of another way into the city for you--it
will be perilous but not so perilous as trying to run the gauntlet of
Specials!"

"I am listening, O helpful one."

"We will reach this station before sundown. If you should leave the
caravan now, and cut across desert to the foothills, you would be safe.
Once over there...."

Now it was Ketrik who grinned. "I know. Once over there, I might find
the entrance to the ancient South Canal."

Aarnto was amazed. "You know of that too?"

"I've heard of it, but don't know the exact location."

Aarnto pointed to the K'Mari Range, indicating twin peaks that curled
up like devil's horns. "Guide your course directly between those. The
Canal ends somewhere in the foothills below."

"Thanks, Aarnto." Ketrik placed his hand on the man's shoulder, in the
Rajec custom. "May I repay you some day!"

"That day may come soon," the other said calmly. "I can almost promise
it."

Ketrik wondered what he meant by that, but wasted no more time on
words. Turning abruptly, he set out across the desert. The six Martians
watched him go. One of them, who had been silent and surly, frowned
thoughtfully now as he stared after Ketrik's retreating figure.

Ketrik judged the hills to be fifteen miles away at this point. He'd
be lucky if he reached them before nightfall. After that, well, there
were tales about those abandoned Canals....

He directed his course between the curving peaks. In a few hours the
ground began to rise slightly, became firmer underfoot. Still later,
deep little gullies began crossing the terrain. He followed these,
changing from one to the other, searching for some sign of the Canal.

After an interminable search, he was rewarded. He began to notice
peculiarities of the gully in which he trod. It seemed to level out,
and the walls seemed smoother and higher. He scraped away layers of
sand, saw ancient stone.

By this time the sun had dropped below his vision. He knew that any
minute the Martian night would come with awful suddenness. And with it,
would come ... other things.

But Ketrik was unprepared for what came in that moment. He heard a
sudden sharp _whirr_ of blades, and a 'copter appeared above him! It
swept so low he could almost see the pilot. There was no doubt the
pilot had seen him, for a heat-beam sliced downward, swept along the
Canal floor. Ketrik leaped aside, hugged the sandy wall.

Then the 'copter was gone, but Ketrik knew it would circle and return.
That could only mean one thing. The caravan had reached the Station,
and one of those Martians had spoken of him to the Specials.

Ahead, through the gloom, the Canal seemed to dip into a sort of
culvert. He raced for it as he heard the whirring blades again, entered
the dark tunnel just as the heat-beam sprayed downward, sending the
sand into molten froth. Ketrik groped forward in darkness. The tunnel
leveled and continued. Ketrik's heart leaped as he realized where he
was. This was one of the abandoned Canals which had been filled with
slag from the Martian mines. But years ago pirates had conceived the
unique idea of burrowing through it, making a perfect retreat from
Turibek to the mountains!

       *       *       *       *       *

Suddenly he started. Far behind he heard a scuffle of steps. That could
only be the Martian Special! There was no doubt, now, that word had
gone to Dar Vaajo; they really wanted to stop him! Ketrik grinned and
went on, hurrying his steps a little. Rajecs could see in the dark, but
Martians couldn't. If it came to a showdown....

His grin soon vanished. All about him now he heard vicious little
animal squeals, the scuffing of tiny feet. Scavengers! There must be
thousands of them. He saw their baleful red eyes. They gradually grew
bolder, began nipping at him. Soon his trousers were in shreds from the
knees down, and he felt the flow of blood.

There was one satisfaction. The Martian coming behind must be suffering
the same treatment! But the man kept coming. The footsteps were dogged
and Ketrik knew he had a real antagonist here.

Now the scavengers were becoming more than annoying. He knew that
before he ever reached the city, he would weaken from loss of blood and
they'd pull him down. He could use the electro to clear a path through
the vicious beasts--but he knew the one coming behind was waiting for
that, waiting for any sign of light that would give him a clear target.
Ketrik gritted his teeth and went on, occasionally kicking out at the
beasts in the dark. It didn't do much good.

Then, far ahead, he saw the faintest glow of light. It seemed to come
from around a bend in the tunnel. If he could only get up there in
time--and beyond that light, before his pursuer came into view....

He sprinted ahead now, noiselessly. The scavengers squealed in renewed
fury, racing along beside him. Once he stumbled, felt a horrid mass of
the things swarming. But he fought his way up. By the time he reached
the light, he was sure he had gained a considerable distance on his
pursuer.

He hurried around the bend, saw that the faint light came from a radium
lamp in the ceiling. It had probably been there for years. But what
held his attention, and brought him to a standstill, was the figure
huddling against the wall.

It was an Earthman and he was still alive. His clothes were in shreds
and the rats had been at him--before he reached this light where the
rats did not come. He struggled up weakly, gazed at Ketrik out of
idiotic eyes. Ketrik hurried forward, pulled the man erect.

One look into his gibbering face, and Ketrik felt his stomach turn
over in a prodigious yawn.

_It had taken more than the rats and darkness to do this! The
Earthman's mind had been literally and deliberately blasted!_

Ketrik suddenly remembered what Mark had said of Dr. Ransome, whom
they'd found drifting near the moon ... his mind that of a week-old
infant....

He hurriedly searched the man's clothes, but found nothing. He
knew this must be one of the operatives whom Mark had sent a month
before--E-39 or EV-5. The other must be dead, somewhere in this tunnel
or back at their communications base in the mountains.

He spoke softly to the man, but the other only cringed in terror.
Then, with unexpected strength, he tore himself from Ketrik's grasp
and was scuttling away, back around the bend of the corridor. Ketrik
followed, called a warning. He reached the bend too late. He heard the
hiss of a heat-gun and saw the vivid blue streak of it from out of the
darkness--a streak that touched the Earthman's chest and sent him
crumpling.

Ketrik fired at the spot where the ray had appeared, fired
instinctively but unerringly. He heard a soft moan that ended abruptly,
then a clatter of sound.

He moved slowly forward, hugging the wall. He feared a trick. Past the
little radius of light where the Earthman's body lay, he stumbled upon
the Martian Special. He flashed his electro again and saw that the man
was unmistakably dead. He went back to the Earthman, stared down for a
moment. There was no doubt that he had unwittingly saved Ketrik's life.

"Guess you served your purpose here, after all," Ketrik murmured, but
his thoughts at that moment were not as calloused as the words.

With a few strokes of his electro, he removed the crystyte globe of
radium from the ceiling; and carrying this light, he was no longer
bothered by the scavengers. For hours he proceeded along the tunnel. At
last, infinitely weary and wracked with pain, he reached a blank wall.

Searching around it, he at last found a loose stone which he pulled
away. A tiny metal lever was revealed. After tugging interminably at it
and pounding the rust away, Ketrik managed to pull it slowly back.

The entire wall swung around on pivots. A blast of foul air struck
him. Ketrik stepped into a small passage. He recognized it as one of
the underground sewers of Turibek. He followed it and came to a short
flight of stone stairs leading up to a hinged door. Slowly he shoved it
open.

He was in Turibek! This was one of the narrow, winding streets in the
warehouse district. He glanced at the sky. It was night. Deimos was
gone below the horizon, but Phobos rode high on liquid sapphire.

Ketrik rested there for a few hours until Phobos descended. Then, in
the utterly dark hour that precedes dawn on Mars, he crept forth and
sought the shop of one Jal Thurlo in the Street of the Double Moon.


                                  IV

He found the shop, in a twisting little street that seemed to cringe
from the rest of the city. The insignia of Jal Thurlo was still upon
the door, and Ketrik breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, after his persistent knocking, the door opened a trifle and
Ketrik saw the wizened little face of Jal Thurlo. The shop-keeper's
eyes were dark with suspicion.

"I was told I would find one Jal Thurlo here," Ketrik said glibly. "I
come with news of a secret shipment. Rare _kaladonis_ furs from the
plains of Io."

"At this ungodly hour?" Thurlo grumbled sleepily.

"It is the proper hour for such matters, thou sulky one! Permit me to
enter now or I take my news elsewhere!"

Thurlo opened the door, and Ketrik slipped into a dark room that
smelled of spices, perfumes, and a miscellany of objects from the far
planets. He followed the little Martian through the shop and along a
dim corridor, until they arrived at the living quarters. There, under
brilliant light, Thurlo faced him. "Who sent you?"

Ketrik answered carefully. He knew this little man carried a needle-gun
in his sleeve and had used it on occasion. "No one. I merely seek haven
here. I once saved your life on Deimos--you remember it?"

Thurlo started visibly. "Ketrik! Is it really you? But no, it cannot
be!"

"It's Ketrik, all right. But 'Khosan' for the time being. Remember
this?" He bared one arm and revealed a long jagged scar from shoulder
to elbow. He further proved his identity by recounting the adventure on
Deimos many years ago, in which he'd received this scar while saving
Thurlo's life. "I must remind you of the Martian blood debt," he ended.
"I saved your life and it is forfeit to me until you repay."

"I have not forgotten!" He looked at the other's torn and bleeding
legs. "Come, man, let me dress those wounds! Then you can tell me why
you are here."

Ketrik recounted part but not all. When he had finished, impressing
upon Thurlo the urgent need to get inside Dar Vaajo's laboratories, the
little Martian shook his head.

"I fear it cannot be done. That part of the city is strictly forbidden.
Vaajo's palace is there, and the homes of his scientists, all
surrounded by the wall. Even the few servants who are permitted to pass
in and out occasionally are painstakingly examined."

"I've got to get in there," Ketrik reiterated. "And I intend to!"

"Wish I could help you. It might be for the best! Dar Vaajo is becoming
as hated as he is feared, yes even by his own people! Something
monstrous and mad is going on in those laboratories!"

"What can you tell me about it?"

Thurlo's eyes became dark, and his voice lowered. "Only this:
Frequently, in the dark of night, a faint greenish glow comes over the
city. It only lasts a few seconds, then withdraws into a pillar of
concentrated fire _directly over the laboratories_! Then it seems to
extend itself, lashing outward into space."

"Greenish fire!" Ketrik exclaimed. "Do you mean electronic power,
Thurlo?"

"No, not that at all. I'm no scientist, but I know this is _cold
light_. It's different--devilish! You may laugh at me, Ketrik, but
I will say it. These radiations seem alien to this world, to this
universe; they seem almost--_alive_!"

But Ketrik did not laugh. He was remembering the mad survivor of a
missing Earth spacer. He was remembering the poor gibbering devil he
had seen but recently in the tunnel. He thought of these and other
things, and felt the hair at the back of his neck begin to rise.

"Why," Thurlo was grumbling, "did Vaajo have to come _here_ to conduct
his devilish experiments? Why could he not have stayed in the northern
capital?"

"Because here he is in close contact with the Rajecs," Ketrik said
experimentally, and watched for the little Martian's reaction.

"Yes!" Thurlo nodded. "I can tell you something about that, too. Under
the treaty, the Rajecs are allowed access to Turibek or, if they wish,
other cities to the north. Vaajo has even built a magnificent temple
here, where they can carry on their own ritualistic worship. Well--I've
seen those black caravans come into the city, quite a number of them in
the past weeks. But one sees little of them afterwards! Of course they
may be shunted further north...."

"No!" Ketrik smacked a fist into his palm. "No, Thurlo, for some reason
they are needed here! It's all a part of Vaajo's plan--I knew it!"

"I care little about the Rajecs," Thurlo shrugged. "It is well that
they disappear."

Ketrik thought differently. He lay awake in the little cubicle to which
Thurlo assigned him, his mind too turbulent for sleep. The pattern,
though still vague, was beginning to take shape. At least he had gained
entrance to Turibek! Tomorrow he would make a short tour about the
city, try to formulate a plan. At last his tired muscles relaxed, and
he dropped into an untroubled sleep.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was high noon when Jal Thurlo wakened him. The little Martian seemed
strangely perturbed. "My friend, there is one at the alley entrance who
asks for you!"

"For me?" Ketrik was up instantly and began dressing with deft, precise
fingers. Who else would know that he had arrived in Turibek? But his
mind was put at ease when he reached the rear entrance. Standing before
him was the somewhat bedraggled but still grinning figure of Aarnto,
the caravan leader.

"Did I not say, Khosan, that the day would soon come when you could
repay me? I remembered well your mention of this shop!" And when
Ketrik hesitated, he went on, "Well, O fugitive of the dark tunnels--am
I not permitted entrance?"

"Come in--quickly!"

Aarnto waved a hand cheerily. "There is no need for alarm. I entered
through the city gates as I said I would. The others have gone to the
temple, but not I. I will need a place...."

Thurlo frowned. Ketrik said, "It's all right, Thurlo. Aarnto's a friend
of mine. Please allow him to stay. I owe a debt too." He turned to
Aarnto. "But listen! Don't draw the Specials here. I can't afford that!"

"I am caution itself, my friend! I too have a mission here. Perhaps
one night's sanctuary is all I shall ask, and your debt is paid." The
black still smiled--with all but his eyes. Behind them Ketrik detected
a hardness and cunning, together with a warning not to ask questions.

Ketrik had no intention of doing that, but he made a resolution to
watch this one. If their paths here should ever chance to cross, Aarnto
would be a tough one indeed! Ketrik left him in Thurlo's capable but
somewhat reluctant hands, while he prepared himself for his tour of the
city.

From the Street of the Double Moon, he emerged into the broader
thoroughfare. Turibek was the metropolis of the south, boasting
of theatres, cafés and shopping centers, as well as a magnificent
spaceport.

Ketrik gave but a glance to the overhead mono-cars, preferring to
stroll leisurely. He found the people, the streets, and the queer
facaded buildings much the same as he'd know them years ago.

There was one startling difference. At the end of this main
thoroughfare a forbidding wall reared up, to extend out of sight in
either direction. That was the wall around the laboratories. Ketrik
could not possibly see what lay beyond.

He made his way slowly in that direction. Thurlo had furnished him with
apparel that stamped him as a prosperous, somewhat foppish Martian,
perhaps a mercantile buyer. He stopped once, listened to news blaring
from a public Tele-system, but it contained nothing of consequence to
him--no mention of Dar Vaajo or local events.

A few minutes later he entered a tiny shop dealing in rare spices and
tobaccos. He purchased a vile but expensive Venusian cigar. He lighted
and drew upon it with evident relish.

"Ah, we do not find these often in Roktol!" he said to the proprietor,
naming a city far to the north. "Turibek has its advantages after all."

"You are a stranger here?"

"Yes, I have just arrived. I am a buyer for Varik's." He saw the man
was impressed. "I find Turibek a fascinating city, but tell me--the
high wall to the east of here--what is it? They would not allow me to
pass!"

"And no wonder, sir. Those walls surround the palace grounds and
laboratories of our Emperor!"

"To be sure! I should have known that." Ketrik smiled, and when he
spoke again there was the slightest hint of mockery. "Ah, but you of
Turibek should be flattered that our Emperor chose your city to carry
on his noble experiments."

The man hesitated, glanced around, but decided to speak. "I think you
know we are not fortunate, sir. What Dar Vaajo is doing may be for the
best ... but if only we were informed!"

Ketrik raised his brows in puzzlement, and the other went on, "Eh, then
you do not know of it? But of course not--you have just arrived. Well,
sir, it is to come again _tonight_--at two hours past the midnight.
This morning's Tele-news warned all residents to stay in their homes at
that hour--and we know what that means."

       *       *       *       *       *

Ketrik knew, too. The green radiance which Thurlo had spoken of.
Tonight! He wanted to observe that display! Then he thought of the
Rajecs, the caravan of two hundred which had just that day entered the
city. His mind leaped. Was it mere coincidence, that upon this very
day...?

He said carelessly, "I have heard that more of those wretched Rajecs
were permitted entrance this morning. It seems a stupid thing, this
treaty which allows the outlanders to pollute our cities!"

"It would seem so, yes. But Dar Vaajo is cunning in his way. Perhaps
the blacks are shipped north, to work the Uranium mines!"

Ketrik dared ask no more questions. He left the shop and continued his
stroll toward the wall. When he came within a block of it he could see
that it wasn't stone, as he had supposed. It was heavy mesh-_duraplon_
reaching twenty feet high, and still higher were the electronic
control-towers. A touch of a button would throw any section of this
wall into flaming, deadly radiance. Here was a formidable barrier!
Ketrik frowned, looking at it--but he didn't dare linger there too long.

He turned back, was crossing the street when he heard a warning shout
and then a clarion-blast. He leaped to the curb just as a vehicle swept
by. It swerved sharply to avoid hitting him. Two others followed--they
were the three-wheeled, electronic-powered cars native to Mars.

From the rear seat of the second car a girl's face peered out, a
bit frightened at the near accident. A golden face, lovely, with
copper-hued hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders, and eyes large and
blue as _asterines_.

This much Ketrik saw, before the cars were gone. He turned and stared.
A section of the _duraplon_ wall slid upward and the cars passed
through; all, except the last one. It turned sharply and came hurtling
back to where Ketrik stood. A pompous Martian climbed out, strode
angrily up to him.

"You! Dolt! The Princess Praana might have been injured! What are
you doing here anyway, so near the grounds? Do you not know it is
forbidden?"

The Princess Praana! Yes, now Ketrik remembered. Dar Vaajo had a
daughter--she had completed her early education at one of Earth's best
schools. That was all of ten years ago, but she had been a pretty child
even then.

"Well! Answer me! Or shall I take you to the Guards for questions?"

Ketrik came out of his reverie and looked at this man. A high-servant
at the palace, probably, judging from his manner. Ketrik bowed coldly.

"I was not aware of the restricted area. I am but newly arrived in
Turibek, and have found your city most charming--until now." There was
the correct amount of annoyance in his voice, plus a subtle warning.
"You wish to see my credentials, sir?"

The other's manner changed. For the first time he seemed to notice
Ketrik's dignified dress and manner. He hesitated.

"I don't suppose that will be necessary, sir. A thousand pardons for
speaking so hastily, but our nerves have been on edge, you know, ever
since the rumor that some of the _S'Relah_ would attempt to enter the
city."

"My dear man! I am sure our Emperor's splendid Guard can deal capably
with these _S'Relah_! I will bid you good day now; I have yet to visit
your charming shops." Ketrik turned haughtily, began his stroll back to
the main avenues. He felt the Martian's puzzled gaze upon him, but did
not look back.

He did not look back until ten minutes later, when he had the eerie
sensation of being followed. He spotted the man at once, undoubtedly a
Special--tall, cold-eyed, a bit too leisurely of manner. Ketrik smiled
grimly, and entered a shop. The man followed. Ketrik came out, and the
Special was just the correct distance behind.

At the next loading platform Ketrik purchased a ticket, waited until
one of the mono-cars dropped down from the single overhead track. He
entered the car, walked the length of it and exited on the opposite
side. He hurried across an area-way and lost himself in the crowd
waiting for the opposite-bound car which just then hove into view. The
simple ruse worked. He boarded this car and there was no sign of his
pursuer.

Dusk was fast coming upon the city when he again made his way to
Thurlo's shop. His mind still wrestled with the problem of the
electronic wall, and how to get beyond it. He immediately discarded
the idea of an aero-copter in the dead of night; there would surely
be detector rays. Here was a problem that called for planning, and
patience.

And something else vaguely bothered him. A vision intruded upon his
thoughts, annoying but persistent--the vision of a girl's face, lovely
and golden....


                                   V

He entered the shop, and was startled to see a Rajec emerge from behind
a counter piled high with silks and fineries. The black was tall,
elderly, a bit stooped, with a nervous twitch at the side of his face.

"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in
a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps--or these
exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have
found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the
Ancients."

Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A
fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now."

"But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not
as thorough as yours, of course," he added.

"Where is Jal Thurlo?"

"Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose
wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our
miserable desert fare!"

Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent.
Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched
the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old
self--more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed
earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as
he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the
customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the
expected price.

"And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned
the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? _Vanadol_, the nectar of the
Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one
of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can
obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He
poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion--that
two such as you and I should find our way here!"

Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips.

When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself,
but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no
occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been
most gracious. And you--Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?"

"Yes, Aarnto. You more than I."

"Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the
night which swallowed him up.

Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he
is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the _S'Relah_ here,
even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik."

"You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were
up to!"

"They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied.

Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it
out of mind. "What do _you_ think they're up to, Thurlo?"

The little Martian spoke slowly. "The _S'Relah_? They are apart from
other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to
strike at Dar Vaajo, and"--he hesitated--"what better way to do it than
through his daughter?"

       *       *       *       *       *

The Princess Praana! Of course that was it! A bold stroke, but just
such a one as the Society of _S'Relah_ would attempt. Ketrik realized
now that some such thought had been hammering at his mind all the
afternoon. He said eagerly, "Tell me about her, Thurlo. I caught a
glimpse of her this afternoon."

"You did? Yes, she visits the shops occasionally, always accompanied by
a bodyguard. The Palace Guard has been doubled too, since these rumors
of the _S'Relah_. I'll wager her father would be furious if he knew
she had left the grounds this afternoon! But that girl has a mind and
temper of her own--so I have heard."

"Has she been here long?"

"No, she flew down from the northern capital only a few weeks ago. That
was against Vaajo's orders, too. I think he'll be sending her back
soon."

Ketrik remained thoughtful. He failed to see how Aarnto and the others
hoped to reach her! For a Martian to get beyond those walls would be a
ticklish problem; for a Rajec, it would be impossible! He heard Thurlo
again.

"That's why I'm worried, Ketrik. Attention is being drawn to my shop.
This afternoon an elderly matron came in--I recognized her, she's been
here before, one of the Princess Praana's personal servants--"

"Go on!" Ketrik was listening now.

"Well, Aarnto was in the front of the shop. He sold her some Ionian
laces, then I saw him speak to her in an undertone and hand her a
folded note. He doesn't know I saw him. I don't like it, Ketrik. I--"

"A note!" Ketrik's mind was racing with the speed of atomotors. "To be
delivered to the Princess, no doubt! Thurlo, tell me--does Praana ever
come here?"

"She would never deign to set foot in this humble part of the city. But
she has undoubtedly heard of my shop...."

"That's it, Thurlo. I think I see their plan now. If you will promise
to retire early tonight, I can guarantee that no word of this will
reach the Emperor's ears."

Thurlo would have promised anything. An hour later all lights were
out, and Ketrik stood in the darkened front of the shop where he could
see the street but remain unseen. If his surmise was correct, he
could thwart the plans of the _S'Relah_. Ordinarily he wouldn't have
bothered, but now he thought he could turn it to his own advantage.

The hours passed. He watched the slow climb of Deimos across the sky.
Its light scarcely touched this cringing little street. Once he saw the
dull lights of a freighter descending, and remembered that just beyond
this district was the freighter spaceport. Occasionally a skulking
figure passed, keeping to the shadows. Once the flash of a heat-pistol
came from a nearby alley, and a moment later the sound of running feet.

Still he waited. He lit a cigarette, keeping the glow of it carefully
hidden. He began to wonder if the Princess would venture into this
place after all. It seemed most unlikely, at this hour! It had been a
crazy idea to begin with. He was clutching at straws. That note which
Aarnto slipped to the servant might have meant something else entirely.

Ketrik dropped the cigarette, ground it savagely underfoot. Then, with
a sharp intake of breath he leaned forward, peering through the window.
From the nearby corner a dark vehicle had glided into the street! It
moved swiftly and silently. It could only be one of the three-wheeled
cars.

It stopped across the street from the shop of Thurlo. For a minute no
one emerged, and Ketrik knew the occupants were surveying the shop. He
drew back a little. Then two figures stepped out, started across the
street. One was a woman. Her steps were unhesitant, even a bit excited.
Ketrik recognized the Princess Praana even from here. The other was a
man, who seemed to be remonstrating with her.

"The fool! The little fool," Ketrik muttered. "But at least, she had
sense enough to bring one of the Guard!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Events happened then with blurring swiftness. The shadows came from
somewhere out of darkness, seemed to glide toward the pair in the
street. In a split second they were upon Praana and the man. Too late
the Guard sensed the danger; he whirled, but in the same instant was
sinking to the street with a Rajec dagger through his heart. The other
Rajec had clapped a hand roughly over the girl's mouth, was dragging
her back to the car.

In those few seconds Ketrik was tugging at the shop door. It seemed
to stick. He cursed, wrenched it open and flung himself into the
street. His gun was out but he saw it was too late; Praana and the two
assailants were already in the car, the motor was whining to life.
Ketrik reached the car in two bounds, just as it hurtled away. He flung
himself blindly at it. His hands managed to grip the rear wheel-guard.
He clung to it, arms wrenching painfully as he was dragged along.

The car slowed, turning into the nearby street, and Ketrik managed to
get his feet up. There he crouched precariously, leaning his weight
forward as the car jolted through rough streets and alleyways. Again he
cursed. He'd lost his gun back there! He didn't think they'd seen him,
though; Praana had fought like a wild _hella_.

They apparently had her under control now, probably had administered a
drug. Ketrik began to take notice of their direction. They were deep in
the dark warehouse district. Suddenly his heart leaped. He knew where
they were going! They intended to get Praana out of the city through
that secret Canal-tunnel! He doubted if there were a dozen men in this
city who knew of its existence, much less its location.

Then they reached it. Ketrik recognized the place, knew he'd have
to act quickly. One of the Rajecs had gotten out, was leaning over,
trying to lift the girl's limp figure down from the seat. Ketrik stole
forward. He put all his weight behind the blow which landed at the
side of the man's neck; it was a dirty blow but this was no time for
niceties. The Rajec crumpled, slid forward against the car.

"What's the matter, Vronu?" The other was Aarnto; Ketrik recognized his
voice. Aarnto came around the front of the car then, and took in the
scene.

Ketrik was tense. But Aarnto didn't move or speak. Not for several
seconds. Then he said, slowly, "So. It is you again, Earthman." He was
calling the terms correctly now. "I thought I had seen the last of you."

Ketrik glanced at Praana's unconscious figure upon the seat. His
eyes flicked back to Aarnto. "My debt is paid, Aarnto! You said it
yourself." With that, his limbs uncoiled and he hurled himself forward.

Aarnto met his rush, sending out a straight jab as he allowed his body
to sway aside. The blow was glancing but powerful enough to send Ketrik
off balance. Ketrik's lips went tight as he whirled back to the attack.
He knew he had his work cut out for him here.

Aarnto seemed slim, but there was weight there and he knew how to use
it. He put it behind every blow. For a few seconds Ketrik found himself
parrying these blows, ducking and rolling and taking a few on the arms
which numbed him. He managed to get a few past Aarnto's guard, but the
Rajec took them too, and pressed his advantage. Ketrik was satisfied
to back away for the moment. His legs were still a little numb from
crouching on the car.

A crashing right came through Ketrik's guard, drawing blood from his
mouth. He countered and missed, as the other leaped away. Again and yet
again this happened, with Ketrik missing almost clumsily; they fought
in near darkness and it was hard to connect with that swift moving
black body!

"So you would interfere, O crudely disguised one!" Again Aarnto's fist
came through, to send Ketrik reeling back. But his legs were less numb
now, and he began to co-ordinate his footwork. His brain was lightning
clear. Aarnto laughed contemptuously, laughed with the joy of battle
and pressed forward, throwing more lefts and rights. They missed as
Ketrik danced away lightly as a _hella_ cat--then Ketrik threw a
boxer's left, long and weaving, that found its mark.

"That better, O haunter of dark places?" He followed it with a right
that crashed against bone, and Aarnto didn't laugh again.

Slowly Ketrik took the initiative, refusing to give way now and
throwing his long left to advantage. He used the other's feral eyes
as a focal point, aiming just below them. He sensed that the other
was weakening. Aarnto gave ground slowly, fighting back. His blows
were still heavy but now his timing was off and Ketrik didn't give
him a chance to regain it. Ketrik's own arms were becoming numb, from
stopping the other's blows. He shifted the attack to the stomach and
Aarnto's guard dropped. A right came up that sent the Rajec staggering.
Ketrik leaped in for the kill, lashed with a left that sent the black
spinning half around.

The right-cross that followed immediately, was the one that did it. It
caught Aarnto at the point of the jaw just below his ear. By the way he
crumpled, Ketrik knew he wouldn't get up for some time.

Ketrik stood there for a moment looking down. A roaring was in his
ears, a vast tiredness came upon him. He wiped blood from his face and
looked at his bruised fists.

A sound came from behind him. He whirled.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was Praana. She stood there, looking small but somehow not
frightened, staring at Aarnto's prone figure. She reached into her
tunic and drew out a small electro. Before Ketrik could realize her
intention, she aimed it at Aarnto.

He snatched the gun away just in time. "You'd kill him in cold blood?"

"He's a Rajec. And a member of the _S'Relah_!"

"Oh, you realize that how, do you? Well, listen to me. He fought
fairly--had a dagger there in his belt, and could have used it. So he
gets a break."

She turned an angry face to him, started to speak, but he stopped her
with a gesture. "Quiet! Listen!"

       *       *       *       *       *

From somewhere near came the sound of scuffing feet. Ketrik moved
swiftly to a little metal door between two buildings. This was the door
to the sewer, which in turn led into the secret tunnel. Presently it
opened, and Ketrik saw the yellowish glow of eyes. Rajec eyes, many of
them--perhaps eight or ten. Ketrik stepped back. He gave a burst with
the electro, allowed the beam to cut a frothing path very near the
doorway. The black figures drew back.

"You get these two, and that's all!" He indicated Aarnto and Vronu.
"Two of you step forward and get them. Quickly, now!" He gestured
meaningfully with the weapon.

Two of the Rajecs crept out, watching him all the while. They seized
the limp figures and dragged them back. Ketrik followed. "All the way!
Clear back into the tunnel. I'm letting you off easy. Be glad you don't
get Vaajo's torture plates for this night's work!"

He herded them all into the tunnel, then swung the pivoted door shut. A
steady play of the electro-beam fused the mechanism so that it wouldn't
work again, ever. He knew they might use their knives, loosen the stone
blocks enough to gain another entrance, but he didn't care about that
now.

He hurried back to the street, found Praana still waiting. Her fists
were clinched and her voice sharp. "You take a lot upon yourself! Those
were the _S'Relah_ and should be turned over to the Guard!"

Not a word of thanks, no show of gratitude. Ketrik let his own voice
rasp. "It isn't important. You were a little fool to leave the Palace!
Why did you do it?"

"Then you know I am the Princess Praana! And you--you dare to speak to
me like that!" She raised her fists, seemed about to strike him--then
a thought occurred. "Rilon--he--where is he? What happened?" Then she
shuddered, as though suddenly remembering.

"I suppose you mean your Guard," Ketrik said with no attempt to spare
her feelings. "He's lying back in the Street of the Double Moon with a
dagger through his heart, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me," she whispered, all the spirit gone out of her now.
"I shall never forgive myself! He warned me, tried to stop me, even
pleaded--and when I threatened to come alone...."

Ketrik said sternly, "Why should you want to come at all--to this
miserable part of the city?"

"You are right, I was a fool. Occasionally I send a servant to the shop
of one Jal Thurlo, to pick up a rare article that would never find its
way to Mars by the ordinary routes--you understand? This afternoon my
servant brought me exciting news. In his shop Jal Thurlo had a single
bottle of the perfume from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients! Can you
understand what that means? That rare, that glorious perfume...."

Yes, Ketrik could understand. He smiled at Aarnto's cunning. Women
would give their money, their jewels, everything they held precious,
for a single dram of that perfume which was so rare as to be almost
non-existent.

"But," Praana went on, "it was to be smuggled away from Mars tonight!
It was to go to the Princess Aladdian on Venus! The note said that if I
were to see Jal Thurlo tonight, I might persuade him--"

Ketrik felt suddenly sorry for her. She was almost in tears. "It was
a trick of the _S'Relah_," he said, "and Jal Thurlo knew nothing of
it. As for the Deimian perfume--my dear girl! I happen to know that
the last of it was smuggled to Earth some years ago, and sold for
a fabulous price." Ketrik neglected to mention that he himself had
engineered the feat.

She smiled wistfully. "You have saved my life, and I have learned a
great lesson. I owe you for both." She suddenly removed a bracelet of
Martian diamonds. Ketrik waved it away, and she frowned in puzzlement.
"Is it not enough?"

It was not nearly enough. What he wanted was to get beyond the
electronic wall. He came near to hinting at it, but checked himself. No
need to press his luck too far.

He bowed elegantly. "To have been of service to you, Princess, is
reward enough in itself."

She was impressed, insisted on knowing his name and where he could
be reached. He gave her the information with seeming reluctance. She
assured him she could make her way back to the palace alone. "You shall
be rewarded, nevertheless," were the last words Ketrik heard as she
drove the car away. And he smiled inwardly.

       *       *       *       *       *

He was jubilant, retracing his route through the dark streets. Dar
Vaajo would certainly send for him tomorrow! For he knew that Praana
would tell her father of this.

It was just past the midnight hour, and suddenly he remembered
something. This was the hour ... but even as the thought crossed his
mind, the phenomenon came. It came as a greenish glow rising above the
city center, spreading swiftly outward. As it spread, like a blanket of
palely pulsing light, a frightening _malignancy_ came with it.

Then it touched upon Ketrik, and he reeled. The cold light was all
about him, surging through him. Tightening tendrils of it clutched
at his brain. A vast singing was in his ears. He fought back,
fought as his mind reeled upon a chaos of vertiginous horror! Those
light-tendrils tearing at his brain, eagerly, hungrily--here was Dar
Vaajo's weapon and he knew it, even as he fell to the street to lie
exhausted, his mind going away....

Still he tried to fight, knowing it was hopeless. An agony was in him,
tearing at his fingertips and through every muscle; wrenching at his
brain, seeking to tear it apart fiber by fiber. He felt his sanity
going; it was being _drained_ away as liquid is sucked through a
straw. He laughed once, wildly. He felt other light-tendrils seeking,
seeking hungrily all about him. With a last vestige of mental power he
remembered again a gibbering madman in a dark tunnel....

Then the light was going away. It receded, rushing back upon itself,
coalescing into a mass of greenish radiance that swirled and twisted
angrily and tried to escape. Almost _alive_! As Jal Thurlo had said!
Ketrik rose and stood swaying, his head throbbing, as he watched it
from afar.

Now the spherical mass of it, deeper in hue and pulsing angrily,
hovered in the sky just above Vaajo's laboratories. Suddenly the sphere
extended, became a pillar of pulsing light trying to leap away.

And it leaped away. Faster than light, swift as thought, hurtling
through the outer reaches of space.

Ketrik didn't stay to see more. He didn't need to. Even through the
cold needle-fires in his brain, he had enough faculty left to know that
far out in space, in that part of the heavens, swam the planet Earth.
Again this night Dar Vaajo was testing ... testing the power of his
curiously-alive weapon....

Ketrik reached the shop of Jal Thurlo, found the jar of _vanadol_ and
downed enough of it to put him into merciful oblivion.


                                  VI

It was late the following day when a car, bearing the royal insignia,
drew up before the shop and one of the Guards asked for "Khosan."

Ketrik was ready. He'd been waiting for this. As they drove toward the
palace grounds the two Guards looked at him enviously.

"You have won great favor with the Emperor for last night's work,"
one of them said. "He wants personal audience with you! It would not
surprise me if he made you Captain of Praana's own guard!"

"It is true you were not supposed to be on the streets at that hour,"
said the other. "But Dar Vaajo will overlook that, considering the
circumstances."

Ketrik remembered that Praana was not supposed to be on the streets
either, but he didn't voice the thought. They reached the electronic
wall. One of the men gave the signal, and a section of it moved upward.
Their car passed through.

At last he was inside the forbidden grounds! Ketrik remained outwardly
humble, but he kept his eyes open. They went along a sweeping drive
bordered by stately _majagua_ trees. They passed a few buildings,
fronted by splendid lawns. Then the palace itself loomed ahead, a
magnificent two-storied structure of dark _culchite_ marble.

But Ketrik had no eyes for it. To the left was a building equally
imposing, and covering more area, which could only be the royal
laboratories! It was undoubtedly from that building that the phenomenon
had come the night before. He noticed the roof in particular,
glass-covered, curving into a shallow dome. If Dar Vaajo favored him,
he could get a position in there....

Then they were past the building and approaching the palace. The
audio-tube near the driver's head crackled to life, and a voice came
through. Ketrik couldn't hear the words. A startled look appeared on
the Guard's face. "Are you sure?" he said. "My orders were--"

"These are new orders! Obey them!" Ketrik heard those words all right.
The audio went dead. The driver wheeled the car around abruptly, headed
away from the palace.

"Something wrong?" Ketrik asked.

"Plans have been changed. Dar Vaajo doesn't want to see you quite yet."
The man's voice was grim.

Ketrik felt a sudden foreboding. "Where are you taking me, then?"

No answer. Ketrik glanced at the Guard sitting next to him. This man
had gone grim too, as his hand rested lightly on the electro beneath
his tunic. Ketrik couldn't guess what had gone wrong or why, but he
knew he wasn't going to see Dar Vaajo under favorable circumstances. He
went tight inside.

They stopped before a low stone building. The driver came around,
opened the car door. "Out!" he ordered curtly.

Ketrik came out. He launched himself bodily, his fist smashing to the
other's face and making a bloody smear of it. The man staggered back.
The momentum carried Ketrik out of the car and to his knees. He heard
the rush of the other Guard, whirled to meet it. Too late. He only saw
the dark blur of the man's arm coming down in a swift arc, then heavy
metal crashed behind his ear, leaving him stunned.

His muscles wouldn't pull him up. The blows came again ... more than
once, heavy and accurate. He ploughed forward onto cold pavement as his
mind blanked out.

       *       *       *       *       *

He came again to consciousness, groaned as heavy pain hammered through
his skull. Gradually his eyes focused upon the details of the room.
There weren't many details. It was a small room, quite bare. The floor
was stone but the walls seemed to be of thick _crystyte_. Dim lights
filtered through. There was no entrance of any kind that he could see.

"So you are awake at last, Earthman. And none the worse for wear." The
voice came from within the room. Ketrik raised his head, stared at the
opposite wall, a section of which had taken on the silvery radiance of
a tele-vise.

Imaged there were the features of Dar Vaajo. Ketrik recognized him
immediately.

It was an elderly face, but smooth--with the color and toughness
and texture of old leather. The lips were tight and purposeful, the
cheek-bones bulged beneath crisp, graying hair. And the eyes ... they
held Ketrik. They weren't old eyes. They were hard and bright as
jewels. An indomitable light came up from the dark depths of them.

Dar Vaajo spoke again from the screen.

"As you see, I prefer to hold audience with you in this manner. You are
a dangerous man. Yes, very dangerous, to have come so far. Through my
Space Patrol. Past my Specials. Into the city and past the inner wall
itself." The lips quirked a little. "Yes, I have determined everything
about you. Your name is not Khosan, but George Ketrik--I have heard
something of your exploits in the past. You are the spy sent here by
the Earth Councillor, Mark Travers." Again he paused. "You are not
surprised that I know all this?"

If he was surprised, Ketrik didn't show it in the slight shrug he gave.
He knew the voice would go on.

"I have learned this," Vaajo said, "within the past few hours. You
see--we, too, have a development of the Scanner Beam. This beam was
trained upon you from the very moment you drove into the palace
grounds. We learned your true identity and purpose."

Ketrik went dry inside. It would have to be that, the one thing he
couldn't have foreseen! He spoke to the screen. "Very well, so I have
lost. I suppose I can expect no reward for saving the Princess."

Something showed in the dark depths of Vaajo's eyes. Amusement? But he
spoke thoughtfully. "Very well, you shall have your reward. I think I
will send you back to Mark Travers--in a most unique way!"

Quite suddenly then, Ketrik knew. He knew the reason for the beam he
had seen launched into space, and almost he grasped the principle of
it. He felt his insides twisting up into cold, hard knots. But he
managed to say, "You mean--that just a part of me will go."

Vaajo chuckled. "So. You saw last night's display, felt a taste of it
perhaps, and you have guessed. Yes, your surmise is correct! We utilize
the Rajec caravans. Two hundred yesterday, and fine specimens they
were! But they are now mere walking hulks, devoid of all but the most
meager mental impulses. Their bodies will be sent north to work the
Uranium pits. Their minds have already been absorbed into my--shall we
say, weapon, increasing its potential considerably."

Ketrik's brain seemed to twist inside his skull, until he could not
tell whether he felt horror or fury or both. He only knew he must keep
control, learn more of this grisly thing that Vaajo was conducting with
human minds.... He found his own voice, hard and dry, saying, "Yes, I
saw it last night, felt it ... but still I cannot understand...." He
passed a hand across his forehead in seeming bewilderment. He heard
Vaajo saying, "It cannot matter now, for my beam reached Earth last
night ... yes, it would please me to tell you something of it! You
must have heard of the ancient city of M'Tonak, lying far beneath
Mars' Polar Cap. And the sentient thought-force that came from outer
space, or another dimension--no one ever knew--to land at M'Tonak where
it remained for untold centuries. Through all that time the Entity
remained barely alive, unknown to man, sustaining itself by sending out
invisible radiations that fed on Martian minds! And you must have heard
of the Earthman, Jim Landor, who found his way there and destroyed the
Entity, leaving it crushed beneath tons of ice. All this was before
your time or mine. Over a hundred years ago...."[3]

[Footnote 3: _City of the Living Flame_, Planet Stories, Fall, 1942.]

Ketrik nodded. He had heard the story many times.

       *       *       *       *       *

Dar Vaajo went on. "The story of the thought-entity beneath our ice
cap had always intrigued me," he said. "So several years ago I sent
some workmen to uncover that ancient city. Yes, you have guessed. The
Entity hadn't died! It remained there insentient but alive, frozen into
suspended animation beneath miles of ice! It was then that I remembered
the stories of its power, its insatiable appetite for the mental forces
of man ... and thereupon I evolved my scheme. It has been dangerous,
Ketrik, but I worked slowly and carefully.

"The first step was to waken it, which was easy. The second step was
to keep it under control--not so easy. But I managed this by means of
Uranium rays which seems to be the only thing capable of combating
the Entity's own peculiar atomic structure. That was the reason for
my Uranium embargo; I've had to increase the potential of these
controlling rays as the Entity grew in size and power."

"You mean you ... _fed it_? Allowed it to _grow_?" Ketrik was aghast,
listening to this cold-blooded recital.

"Of course! How else was I to reach Earth with it, across miles of
space? That was my ultimate goal."

"But how? It must have taken a tremendous ... surely the Rajecs were
not enough?"

Vaajo smiled blandly from the screen. "I told you I worked slowly.
I began by communicating with it, telepathically. Yes! It's a
highly intelligent entity, and it wishes to remain alive. It seems
it came originally from a world _in another dimension bordering on
ours_! It was the creation of a scientist on that world. The Entity
became dangerous, threatened to get out of control, and could not be
destroyed. The scientists rigged up a contra-dimensional device which
hurled it out of that dimension. It landed quite by chance in ours--on
Mars, near M'Tonak.

"So we made a sort of pact, the Entity and I. I wished it to grow
in size and potential, but not at the sacrifice of my own people. I
told it something of my plans. It, in turn, told me how to build a
contra-dimensional machine by which to project it back into its own
world! I managed this at last, adding a reverse control by which I
could always bring it back.

"Fully a dozen times now it has crossed the dimensions. Whenever I
brought it back, it had ... _fed_. You understand? It was satiating
itself upon the populace of that other world! Until finally, it
revealed to me that ... there was no more. The other-dimensional world
was barren of sustenance!

"By this time, however, I was almost ready. It had grown tremendously
in size and power. I always added more rays to keep it under control.
Then I began testing for Earth, allowing it to reach out. Have you
realized what a terrible weapon concentrated and projected thought
can be? Several times it touched Earth spacers, absorbed the minds
aboard them, and"-- Dar Vaajo shrugged--"I had to send my Patrollers
out afterwards to destroy the spacers. But never were we quite able
to reach Earth! It would take more potential, just a little more, and
where was I to find it? Then I thought of the Rajecs. I made treaty
with them, built the temple here to attract them ... I guess you know
the rest."

Ketrik knew the rest, and more. He knew that Earth would have
to capitulate to Vaajo's demands, or face destruction by a
mind-destroying, mind-feeding Entity now capable of reaching across
space. Venus would undoubtedly be next, leaving Dar Vaajo in control
of the inner planets including the colonies recently established on
Jupiter's moons.

"So, Ketrik, I shall send you back to Mark Travers," Dar Vaajo was
saying. "Four days from now the orbits of our two planets reach their
nearest juxtaposition. _Then_ is when the Entity shall reach out
again for Earth, to give another sample of my power." Vaajo smiled
maddeningly just before he caused the screen to blank out. "And isn't
it ironic that you, or rather the mental part of you, shall be an
infinitesimal part of it!"


                                  VII

It seemed hours later when Ketrik awoke. He had tried in vain to find
a way out of the smooth, _crystyte_-walled room. He had sought to
loosen one of the heavy stones in the floor until, with bleeding and
broken-nailed fingers, he had fallen into a sleep of sheer exhaustion.

Now, in the exact center of the room, he noticed a platter of food. He
frowned, until it dawned on him that it must have been lowered from the
ceiling! He glanced up, but if the entrance was there, it was tightly
closed now.

He ate the palatable food, but noticed the platter was of light
plastex, could not possibly be used as a weapon or anything else. He
made another search through his clothes, knowing it was useless. But
suddenly he remembered the tiny scanner disc which Mark had given him.
He had strapped it tightly to the underside of his arm ... and it was
still there!

He could think of no use for it now, however. He was still pondering
this, when his attuned ears caught a faint sound of footsteps overhead.
A moment later a section of the ceiling slid back. Framed in the square
of light Ketrik saw a face ... golden, a bit frightened.

Praana! Ketrik's heart leaped.

"Speak softly," she whispered. "You are in a room directly beneath the
main palace. Father has gone for the moment, and I took this chance...."

"Why are you here?"

She spoke quickly. "A few hours ago I tuned my tele-vise into this
one. I heard everything he told you! It's horrible, what he is
doing--unbelievable! I hadn't known before! I knew he was conducting
some sort of experiment ... but this...." The shock of it, even
disbelief, was still mirrored on her face.

"Praana, listen to me! Doesn't your father have an Ethero-Magnum here,
capable of reaching Earth?"

"Yes, in his own private quarters." She was puzzled.

"You must get to it! Tune it into the Earth beam, then give me a
channel from this tele-vise here, into that beam. If I can reach Mark
Travers, I'll have him send the Earth Fleet!"

He saw her hesitate. She knew that Mars' patrollers could not stand
against Earth's mighty armada. She was visioning the holocaust, the
destruction of Martian cities and her own people. Ketrik went on
quickly.

"Praana, you've been to Earth! You spent most of your girlhood there,
and you must remember it still, have a fondness for it! The green
forests and wide lakes, the mountains, the unreal clouds in a blue
sky--and the people who treated you kindly! All this will go, unless
you act. Surely--"

"Mars is my world," she was murmuring. "My own people ... to consign
them to another horrible war! Mars would never recover."

"It will not come to that! If Earth takes the initiative, sends its
Fleet in a surprise attack--the display of power will be enough. Dar
Vaajo will be helpless in the face of it." Ketrik was not at all sure
this would be the case, but here was his only chance. "Quickly ... we
haven't much time!"

Praana was wavering. "You saved my life," she whispered. "Yes, I will
try!" She tossed an electro-gun down to him, her own gun. Then she was
gone, as the ceiling door went shut.

Ketrik waited, facing the wall which he knew was the tele-vise. Minutes
passed, seemed to lengthen interminably. If he couldn't get through to
Mark ... if Praana failed to gain access to the Ethero-Magnum, that was
his last hope.... He wondered if she knew how to operate it!

Suddenly a pale glow came across the wall, wavered for a moment
and then deepened. He was looking into a luxurious room which must
be somewhere in the palace above him. At the far end he saw the
magnificent Ethero-Magnum, with Praana standing before it manipulating
the controls. He heard the ascending whine as selenic cells poured
power into the beam, then minutes passed as it gained full strength. At
last a voice came through faint and clear! Mark Travers' voice saying
cautiously, "Go ahead, go ahead! You're on Earth beam."

"Ketrik speaking! Mark, listen carefully now and act fast! Mass the
Earth Fleet, get it to Mars. Blast the city of Turibek clear off the
planet if you have to! Things--"

"The Fleet," Mark cut in, "is already on its way, in full battle
formation! Something happened here about thirty hours ago that I
suspect is Vaajo's work! Touched an area just south of Kansas City.
It's horrible! Everyone within that area--"

"Spare me the details, I know them anyway. Dar Vaajo plans to give you
another taste in three days, on what I think will be a vastly wider
scale! After that, he'll probably give his ultimatum."

"What is it he's got there?" Mark's voice was harried. "And where are
you--"

"No time to tell you now! You wouldn't believe me anyway, and there's
no defense against it except to get that Fleet here and fast! I only
hope--"

The beam went suddenly dead. For a second the screen blurred, then
Ketrik was looking into the room of the Ethero-Magnum again. But it was
a different scene now.

       *       *       *       *       *

Different, because Dar Vaajo strode swiftly into view! He approached
Praana who straightened up suddenly from the Magnum's panel. Vaajo was
trembling with rage, but Praana faced him defiantly. For a moment no
one spoke. Then Vaajo turned, facing the screen so Ketrik could see
him. Anger was still on his face, but something of triumph too.

"I really should thank you, Ketrik--and my daughter! I couldn't, have
planned it better myself. So the entire Earth Fleet is coming, and I am
warned! I shall wait until they are almost here before I use my weapon;
yes, it should cover the entire expanse of the Fleet at one stroke!
And after that"--he shrugged, permitted his cruel lips to fashion the
faintest of smiles--"after that, what shall I have to fear from a Fleet
manned by mindless idiots? Yes, it will be a master stroke! Again I
thank you."

He flicked off the control. The screen before Ketrik's eyes went dead,
almost as dead as the hope within him.

The Fleet might have gotten through and taken Vaajo unawares, if it
hadn't been for him! Now Vaajo was warned, and Ketrik knew it was no
idle boast he had made. The awful power of the Entity was quite capable
of dealing with the Earth Fleet, especially as the Commanders had
no idea of the type of thing they were facing. That it would strike
suddenly and completely, Ketrik had no doubt.

His soul was bitter within him. He had but one chance left, a wild
and improbable chance, but he mustn't miss! It was hours later when
he again heard footsteps overhead. He threw himself to the floor,
pretended to be asleep. The electro was in his hand, carefully
concealed beneath him.

As he thought, it was a Guard bringing him food. From lowered lids he
saw the ceiling trap slide back--slowly at first, then wider. The Guard
leaned over, concentrated on lowering the platter of food on a long
cord. When it had almost touched the floor, Ketrik brought out his hand
and fired. It was simple as that. The man's body toppled through the
opening, made a dull thud on the floor below.

So far so good, Ketrik thought grimly. He bunched the dead man's limbs
under him, stood upon the sagging shoulders and leaped for the opening.
A moment later he was swinging his body up and through.

He was in a dim, carpeted corridor, probably part of the servants'
quarters. He hurried softly past a row of doors to the end of the hall,
then up a short flight of stairs. A heavy door faced him. He pushed
it open cautiously, then stepped out into a small flower garden. It
was night, but Phobos was making a brilliant path across the sky.
Unfortunate. But he'd have to make the best of it now.

He hugged the shadows until he got his bearings. This was the rear
of the palace, he realized; at least that was lucky, for it brought
him closer to that glass-domed building which he was sure was Vaajo's
laboratory. It should be somewhere to the left of here.

Swiftly he crossed the garden. He passed through a tall hedge which
concealed him from the palace. He followed the shadow of it all the way
to the left, until he came in sight of the laboratory building. It was
lying only fifty yards away--but fifty yards drenched in Phobos' glow!

He hesitated. But there was no other way. He started across the space
leisurely, remembering he was still "Martian." The building was dark,
there seemed to be no Guards about.

He was wrong in the latter surmise, he learned when he had almost
reached the building. A voice challenged him. Almost in the same
instant he saw the man, deep in the shadow of an arched doorway. Ketrik
veered toward him, grunted something in reply and raised a hand in
casual greeting. The Guard hesitated. Ketrik came two steps nearer. The
Guard dropped a hand to his gun, and Ketrik hurled himself forward--low
and hard.

The impact carried the Guard backward. Their combined weight crashed
into a door, nearly taking it from the hinges. Ketrik rose quickly but
the Guard didn't rise at all, and Ketrik knew his luck was still with
him.

He changed his mind a second later. He heard shouts and pounding feet.
Guards were all about the place, probably stationed at each of the
doors! For a split second Ketrik hesitated. The only way now, was _in_.

He hurled his weight forward and the already weakened door crashed open.

       *       *       *       *       *

He hurried recklessly forward through darkness. He touched a smooth
marble wall, allowed his fingertips to brush lightly along it as he
ran. His racing feet sent up echoes in the hollow place.

The Guards were crowding through the doorway behind him now. Suddenly
lights leaped up! Just as suddenly, Ketrik swerved aside. An
electro-beam hummed, came so close to him he could feel the swirling
heat. He hurled himself into a dim cross-corridor, as more electros
lanced out. But Ketrik was expert at this game. He raced for a stairway
he could see just ahead. He was halfway up when the others came into
view below him. He whirled, gave a sweeping burst with his own gun
that sent them tumbling back out of range. He gained the second floor
corridor.

Suddenly the lights came on there too! Someone at the master-switch
was throwing on light all over the place! Ketrik preferred darkness.
He couldn't keep this up interminably. Feet pounded on the stairs now.
He opened the nearest door, slipped into a dark room. There he stood
breathing heavily as the pursuers pounded by. He waited until their
footsteps died away, then opened the door a crack.

It was almost his undoing. A beam creased his hair. He drew back, then
suddenly flung the door wide and fired at the man they had left to
guard the stairs. His beam sliced across the Guard's wrist, sent his
gun spinning. But the man's scream of pain sent up shrill echoes that
would bring the others back. Ketrik bowled the man aside as he leaped
for the stairs leading up. At least he'd gained a few minutes!

He wasn't fleeing blindly now. He had an objective. He was sure the
place he sought lay _above_--somewhere near that great, curved glass
roof. He reached the third floor and continued upward. Then he groaned.
The stairs ended at the next floor. A heavy metal door barred his way.
He wasted precious seconds fumbling at the complicated mechanism--was
about to use his electro to burn it away, when the great handle slid
down under his pressure and the ponderous door swung aside. He leaped
forward into more darkness.

There he paused, electro raised. This would be cutting off his own
retreat, but he had to do it now! The beam lashed out, played across
the door's inner mechanism. Gradually the tough metal fused under the
heat. Ketrik made a thorough job of it, was satisfied at last that it
would take them some time to blast through!

But he couldn't hear them out there. They should have reached the
door by this time. He frowned, then drew out the short-wave scanner
disc. He pressed the stud and tiny coils hummed to life. He moved the
sliding sheathes around the rim and at last a thought-impression came
through--a jumble of them. Ketrik knew his pursuers were standing on
the stairs, hesitant and a bit frightened, staring at the metal door.
Then a stronger impression came out of the thought-jumble as one of the
Guards spoke. "Shall we go ahead? We can burn through the door."

"Enter that place?" came an answer, and Ketrik felt the mental shudder
that came with the words. "I'd sooner go unarmed into a den of
_hellas_!"

Other thoughts agreed. Ketrik grinned there in the dark. He knew now,
that somewhere beyond him must be the lair of Dar Vaajo's _Entity_, and
these men were deathly afraid of it. Finally another thought stabbed
through.

"Very well. There's no retreat for him now anyway. We'll wait here, but
one of you hurry to the palace and bring Dar Vaajo!"

Ketrik acted quickly then. He found the lights, saw that he was in a
small metal-walled room. On the opposite side was another door, and
near it was a tall case containing half a dozen protective suits.

He hurriedly donned one. It wasn't hard to guess what they were
for. The suit itself was of light mesh-beryllium, topped by a heavy
_crystyte_ helmet. Again he brought his weapon into play, destroyed the
other five suits. Let Vaajo come! He would hardly dare enter this den
without protective gear!

But even within the suit Ketrik didn't feel quite safe. He still
remembered the power of the thing he had felt the previous night. His
stomach turned over in a frightened yawn as he stepped through the
opposite door.


                                 VIII

He was on a wide balcony. Near at hand was a tele-vise, a
control-studded panel, and other complicated machinery. Overhead,
seeming so near he could almost touch it, the great laboratory
dome stretched out and away in its vast curve. While below ... was
emptiness. Now for the first time he realized the gigantic proportions
of this building. A hundred feet below he saw bare floor. Probably
twice that distance away, straight across from him, he could make out
the opposite wall. There was nothing more, nothing in all that maw of
space.

Peering at the walls, he saw strange instruments protruding. Short and
tubular, literally thousands of them reached from the floor to the
height of this balcony, stretching away across the walls as far as he
could see. Ketrik thought he knew what they were--but he had to be sure.

He looked at the controls all about him. One huge panel contained
thousands of studs. He depressed one. From the far away opposite wall
a ray of white light needled out and slightly downward. He swept his
hand across more studs, and other beams lanced out from the four
walls--dozens, then hundreds. Ketrik was satisfied. Here, he knew were
the controlling rays which Vaajo had spoken of. He shut the rays off,
and looked further about him.

There was only the tele-vise, and two other instruments. One was merely
a wheel, six feet in diameter. The other was a machine complicated
beyond anything Ketrik had ever imagined. Giant tubes, coils, and alien
looking grids nestled in the bulk of it. Cables thick as his arm led
to the nearest wall, thence upward to the lower rim of the glassite
dome, and completely around it. From there, other cables dangled
downward for a few feet into empty space.

Ketrik approached the control panel. It seemed simpler than he had
supposed, but he studied it a while before reaching out a tentative
hand to the first switch. The coils shrieked maddeningly, then the
sound ascended the scale and passed beyond the audible. The giant tubes
pulsed to life, throwing out a silver radiance. Then Ketrik reached out
to what seemed to be a master-lever. He pulled it slowly toward him.

There came a sound, a sighing, which rose to tremendous crescendo as
though every wind from the depths of space were sweeping in upon him!
An awful vertigo as the dome, the floor, and all space between seemed
to tilt crazily--into _nothingness_! He clung to the lever, sought to
push it back. His mind reeled. Everything before him was merging into a
grotesquerie of impossible angles and planes--and through it all came a
twisting vortex of darkness, utter emptiness, that sought to sweep him
out and away!

Then the lever gave before his surging muscles. It fell back into
place. Everything came back to normal--except Ketrik. He allowed the
dizziness to pass, and then grinning, he tried the stunt again! Two,
three times more he tried it, with the same result, until he was quite
sure of his mastery over that control.

For here was the machine he had hoped to find! Here was the means
and the only means, of ridding the System once and for all of that
Entity which Dar Vaajo in his madness had built up into such a weapon;
a terribly alive weapon which, if allowed to go unchecked, with or
without Dar Vaajo, could well become a menace to all the worlds! Ketrik
realized that his task had reached the crucial point. A single mistake
now, a mere miscalculation, and all would be over. So far he had only
seen a manifestation of the Entity, not the thing itself. But he knew
it must be here, somewhere very close--and waiting....

He stepped over to the towering perpendicular wheel.

       *       *       *       *       *

It moved easily beneath his hand. He was tense now, watching the great
expanse of floor a hundred feet below. His surmise was correct. A tiny
crack appeared there, extending the length of the floor. And upward
from it came light--greenish, terrible light which he'd felt before,
which he knew was the Entity itself, eager to lash outward! Almost,
Ketrik hesitated. But he forced his hand to move the wheel.

The crack widened as the floor moved away on either side. Gradually he
could see the Entity, the very bulk of it--maddening, impossible--but
there it was! Fully a hundred feet across, greenish and blinding!
It was roughly globular, seemed to be a giant brain slowly pulsing
and evilly alive, yet somehow it was more than that. It was
quasi-amorphous, writhing and changing shape and trying to heave itself
upward! Tentacles lashed out--tentacles that seemed to be solidified
light, seeking ... seeking for sustenance!

It began to move upward. Up between the walls on a sliding platform,
to a point just above the floor, where it stopped. Some of its light
touched Ketrik, beat against his helmet and surged about him, tearing
with cold fingers at his beryllium suit. In his absorbing interest he
had almost forgotten the controlling rays! He hurled himself at the
panel. With reckless sweeps of his hands he flicked on the studs.

[Illustration: _It began to move upward ... to beat against Ketrik,
surging ... tearing._...]

He had been just in time. The white rays, lancing out from the walls,
now formed a gorgeous criss-crossing pattern that held the Entity in
leash. It writhed and cowered. Slowly its own tentacles of light drew
back. It lay in seeming quiescence. But even then Ketrik received its
thought-emanations, as they crashed with frightening impact upon his
brain. Yes, the thing was alive and evil. Too long had Dar Vaajo held
it in subservience. It wished to escape these barriers, launch out
for itself. There was sustenance aplenty on Mars, and it would grow
titanically. Then would come Earth--and there were many other planets.

Perhaps the Entity sensed Ketrik's rising horror. Perhaps it guessed
what he meant to do! For now, despite the concentration of rays, it
tried to lash out in new fury. Ketrik laughed then, a bit wildly;
laughed in mockery and joy, seeing the thing in thrall, watching its
futile efforts against the barriers....

Then the laughter died in his throat. Something was happening. The
rays, the controlling rays across the walls--one by one they were
blanking out! One by one, then suddenly whole rows at a time!

       *       *       *       *       *

Ketrik whirled to the control-panel. Another figure was there--Dar
Vaajo! Somewhere he had obtained another protective suit, had entered
silently. Now he was blanking out the control-rays, enough of them to
allow the power of the Entity through!

Even as Ketrik hurled himself forward, he saw madness on Vaajo's face.
More of the rays blanked off as Vaajo swept his hand down. Then Ketrik
was upon him. The two metal-suited figures clashed, went spinning
backward and then to the floor of the balcony in a wild tangle.

Dar Vaajo was old but he was still tough and wiry. He had the strength
of a madman now. He kept Ketrik at bay as the latter sought to grip
his throat. He laughed wildly as Ketrik pounded futilely at the tough
_crystyte_ helmet. Then Ketrik knew why he laughed. The damage had been
done, the power of the Entity was lashing through the barriers now! A
tendril of light curled about Ketrik's head. Even through the helmet he
felt the insatiable greed of it, as his brain exploded in fire.

[Illustration: _Dar Vaajo was old but he was still tough and wiry._]

He forgot Dar Vaajo, managed to drag himself upward. He staggered
toward the huge Vortex machine. Vaajo hurled against his legs and
brought him crashing down. His brain was now a writhing agony of fire.
He saw Vaajo's grinning face near his own, and knew that somehow Vaajo
wasn't affected by the Entity; perhaps years of working so close to
it had made him partially immune. Slowly Ketrik managed to bring his
knees up under the other's body, then his feet. With his last remaining
strength he lashed out.

He saw the Martian's slight body hurl backward. It crashed into the
balcony's low railing which caught him just at the knees. For a moment
Vaajo tottered, arms flailing wildly; then his mouth opened in what
must have been a shriek as he went over the edge, over and downward,
to crash a hundred feet below into the great greenish bulk of the
Entity.

But Ketrik didn't see that. He was dragging himself the few remaining
yards to the Vortex machine, then slowly up to the controls. Heedless
now of the frantic light-tendrils that tried to stop him, he managed
to turn on the control. He sank to the floor as he pulled back on the
master lever.

It was through blurring eyes this time that he saw the crazy tilting
of the laboratory dome and everything beneath, saw the dark Vortex
twisting through from an alien space. As though in a dream he saw a
rush of light, glimpsed a greenish mass hurtling outward to disappear
in a convergence of crazy space-angles....

After that he remembered finding his electro which had skidded away on
the floor. He used it to blast the Vortex machine into tangled ruin. He
remembered staggering to the tele-vise and turning it on, and seeing
Praana's face from a screen somewhere in the palace.

"Praana ... the laboratory ... your father is...." But that was all. He
was sliding forward against the screen, sliding down to the floor into
merciful oblivion.

       *       *       *       *       *

He saw her face again and it was no longer startled, it was smiling
down at him. He tried to sit up. A spasm of pain hit him. He heard her
say, "Rest. You will be all right soon."

He was lying on a couch somewhere in the palace. Servants were hovering
around anxiously. Praana sent them away. Presently she said, "I've
contacted the Earth Fleet's flagship. They will be here sometime
tomorrow. They come in peace."

He managed to nod. "You know about the other? Your father--he was...."
He stopped the words in time, his face twisted as he thought of it.

"Don't be afraid to say it." Praana still managed to smile. "Yes, I
know it now, we all know! He was mad. Mars as well as Earth owes you
a debt of gratitude it can never repay." She hesitated. "I want to
forget. I must get away, somewhere far away. I should like to return to
Earth, for just a little while."

Ketrik grinned. He lay back. He had wanted to hear her say that.