MOON OF DANGER

                           By Albert de Pina

           The huge ship from Mars bore on toward Earth with
           the last haggard survivors of a terrible plague.
         But Ric Martin hurtled to intercept the space-giant,
             knowing it brought an evil far deadlier than
               even the relentless metal-spores it fled!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Summer 1947.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


_"In approximately two more hours," Dar Mihelson said, "the ionization
towers will fail. Look well upon your world, for we may never return."_

_He was a huge, stern-visaged man, with the weight of his
responsibility showing upon him, but his voice was soft as he spoke to
his people through the ship's central televise._

_"This is our last chance for survival. Upon the success of this flight
depends our very lives, and the preservation of the race. Venus is
denied to us. Mercury has thrown up a barricade for ten thousand miles
around their planet. Only Earth has offered us sanctuary--and even
there a growing faction has risen against us in fear that some of the
deadly spores may be transported to their planet."_

_Dar Mihelson paused, turned his bronze face to look out upon his
world. His violet eyes brimmed with anguish. Only the walls of red
metallic dust could be seen, the appalling clouds that had surged from
the furthermost reaches of the planet to wipe out most of the populace,
destroying cities, crumbling everything metallic and thereby adding
unto itself. It had been a race of their science against time. The
Ionization Towers had held back the dust, only long enough for the huge
spaceship to be completed._

_"We want to go peaceably," Dar Mihelson continued, "but we are
prepared for any contingency. Many of you have wondered about the_
Valiant's _unusual construction; some of you have doubted that the ship
is capable. True, its secret is known only to a few, but this much I
can tell you now: the_ Valiant _is a fully-equipped fighting ship, and
we will use it as such if the occasion arises!"_

_The lines smoothed from Mihelson's face, as he concluded, "You have
all been assigned to your quarters. The take-off will be in thirty
minutes. Let us spend that time in prayer to merciful Providence, to
guide us safely through our crisis...."_


                                   I

Ric Martin could feel the excitement already, as he eased his gyro
closer to Mount Palomar and saw the great Observatory dome just below
him. The night was dark, ideal for observation. The greatest minds of
Earth would be here this night, to watch a world and its people in
their death-throes.

Ric's face went grim at the thought of it. For weeks the tele-casts had
been jammed with the news. Mars was dying, and Mars had been a friendly
neighbor for decades. Earth had been helpless to act. No one, not even
the Martians, knew where the mysterious Red Plague came from; it had
appeared simultaneously in a score of places across the planet, quickly
spreading and destroying everything before it.

After prolonged hesitancy, the Earth Council had agreed to accept the
Mars refugees. Thereupon a brooding dread and mistrust had swept across
Earth like a patina. A new political faction, the anti-Mars sect, had
arisen and was gathering strength. There would surely be trouble....

A shrill siren blast brought Ric out of his revery. He glanced back,
saw a white-winged police 'copter descending upon him.

"Damn!" Ric set his plane down on the broad field atop Palomar, as the
police 'copter came down beside him. Ric stepped out, straightened his
uniform and waited.

"How'd you ever get through our lines?" the officer demanded
suspiciously. "Don't you know this is the night of the Mars take-off?
No one's permitted up here!"

"Sure, I know. But I have a special pass to this shindig." Ric produced
a card signed by Professor George Broxted, and the name was magical.

"Very good, sir. Sorry to have detained you!" The officer stared
after Ric's departing figure as though wondering how a Captain of the
Interstellar Fleet could gain admittance here where so many big-names
had failed.

And even Ric didn't realize what an occasion this was until he reached
the tower. Every outstanding figure in the scientific as well as the
political world was here, gathered in tense groups about the huge
tele-panel in the center of the room. This Mars take-off was certainly
the most dramatic event in all Mars' history and perhaps Earth's as
well!

Professor Broxted spied him, came over and shook hands.

"Good evening, Ric! I won't bother with introductions. No one cares
about that tonight. Glad you could make it!"

"So am I, Professor. I wouldn't have missed this. How much time?"

"Take-off's in twenty minutes, but we've already got the scene in
focus. We can bring it to a distance of a few miles, thanks to the new
magni-beams. Come."

They threaded their way toward the huge screen to stare at the scene
pictured there.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was a terribly changed Mars that Ric looked upon. The blood-red
metallic haze covered all but a mile-wide strip of clear atmosphere;
and along this strip Ric could see tiny dots of white light, which he
guessed must be the Ionization Towers.

"There's the _Valiant_," Broxted said. "You can just see it on the
lower edge of the screen."

Ric peered--then gave a gasp of disbelief. Even at this distance, it
was apparent that the ship had tremendous bulk and stretched for fully
a mile!

"They're going to hoist gravs in that? It will fall apart!"

"There are some here tonight," Broxted's voice lowered, "who hope that
will happen. The _Valiant_ was built in record time under supervision
of Dar Mihelson. It's supposed to have a new type of anti-grav."
Broxted paused. "I knew Dar Mihelson well, when I was at Mars
University two years ago. A fine man, and I trust him still. He's given
his word that not a spore will reach Earth, and every precaution will
be taken!"

"It's a ticklish situation."

"Yes. And believe me, the anti-Mars faction here has grown more than
anyone dreams! There've been secret meetings, and tonight may set
everything off. Ric ... if the _Valiant_ manages to up gravs, keep
your eyes open! Wessell's here!"

Ric's brows furrowed, beneath his shock of blond hair. Yes, Wessell
_would_ be here. Felix Wessell was Supreme Commander of Earth's
Interstellar Fleet, and he'd been particularly bitter in his
denunciation of the Earth Council's decision to accept the Mars
refugees. There had even been rumors that Wessell was holding the Fleet
in readiness, if necessary, to prevent the _Valiant_ from landing on
Earth. The man wielded a powerful influence.

Ric looked about him now but didn't see his superior, Wessell, and
didn't want to. He did see Lal Disbro, the Martian Ambassador. Disbro
and his aides had been stranded on Earth when the sudden malady struck
his planet. Now the man was a disconsolate figure who seemed to have
aged ten years in as many weeks, knowing that only a few of his people
were left and even their fate was an imponderable.

It was largely due to Disbro's frantic efforts that the Earth Council
had agreed to accept the _Valiant_--and then only after appeals to
Venus and Mercury had been coldly refused. Looking at Disbro now, Ric
felt truly sorry for him.

       *       *       *       *       *

"It's almost time!" Broxted touched Ric's arm. The telescopic sights
were being set to follow the _Valiant_ in its flight. There was tension
in the room and sudden, deathly silence. Could the clumsy bulk of the
_Valiant_ really hoist gravs, or would it crack up against the wastes
of Mars? The future of a race was in the balance.

The televise took on a deeper glow. The entire planet of Mars was a
backdrop across the screen. The seconds ticked off. Suddenly then ...
the _Valiant_ moved! It seemed to shudder for a moment under unleashed
power. Then it slid slowly forward across sand.

For a few seconds the scene wavered. The watchers couldn't tell what
was happening. Ric gave a quick glance at Lal Disbro. The man's face
had gone pale.

Now it was apparent that the great ship was rising as a bulk, to hang
poised, fighting against gravity. Then the flash of rockets was plainly
seen--literally dozens of them, spaced in parallel rows across the
long underhull.

The scene was silent and unreal. But there was no doubt in any man's
mind, now--the ship had lifted gravs and was blasting! Slowly, the
great lumbering shape widened the distance. The scene resolved to the
blackness of outer space where a glitter of stars was seen. There the
_Valiant_ steadied on her course.

The worst was over. It had been dramatic, momentous. Ric heard sighs of
relief about him. People were congratulating Lal Disbro, whose face was
wreathed in smiles.

But there were men in this room who did not smile, who were strangely
silent. Again Ric allowed his gaze to sweep about--and this time he
spotted Wessell.

The man was tall, hard-featured, crisp of manner. His eyes were stern
as he leaned a little forward to peer at the screen. Ric watched him.
Wessell's only show of emotion was a slight twitching at the corners of
his mouth. Now that the _Valiant_ had gained free space he was studying
it, studying it hard. His lips curled a little in disdain.

Ric glanced again at the screen. The Martian ship _was_ clumsy, there
was no denying it. On its slow and careful course it would take perhaps
six days to reach Earth. Much could happen in six days....

Then he saw Wessell rise. The man crossed to the private room where the
communicators were kept. Through the partly open door Ric saw him lift
a tube and speak into it with crisp authority.

"Trouble," Ric muttered. "I knew it!" And there were cold, coiling
knots in the pit of his stomach.

When he bade Broxted goodbye a few minutes later, and headed back for
the city, it was with a feeling of dark events brewing--events that
were going to touch him whether he liked it or not.


                                  II

It came very soon. The harsh buzzing of the ampliphone beside Ric's bed
jerked him awake. "Hello," he said sleepily. "Ric Martin...."

Then sleep was gone from him, as he listened to the voice of his Unit
Commander.

"Very well, sir. Yes ... yes, I understand. At once!" He slammed off
the switch and began dressing quickly. This was it! He'd been called
back to duty at two in the morning. In thirty-six hours the Coast Fleet
was to join the Chicago Fleet at a rendezvous a hundred miles in space,
and there prepare in battle formation.

"Wessell," he muttered. "I didn't think he'd really do it! Those poor
Martians...."

By the time he reached Government Spaceport, Ric's heart was bitter
within him. How could the plodding _Valiant_ hope to stand against even
two Units of Earth's Fleet? True, Wessell's move was in direct defiance
of the Council's edict, but he was moving swiftly! Ric had never
reached a decision as to what he, as a Captain in Earth's Fleet, would
do if Wessell attempted to carry out his high-handed plan. He had been
trained to obey orders implicitly and unquestioningly.

But this was wrong and Ric knew it was wrong. He made his decision now.
Setting down at the edge of the Spaceport, he hurried to the building
housing the tiny Patrol cruisers. These ships were swift and secret,
with tubes of the new allotropic metal recently found on Mercury.
Access to them could be attained only by special Government pass.

As he neared the doors, a guard stepped out of the shadows. The man
recognized Ric's uniform but he remained alert, hand hovering near his
parala-gun, as he gave a challenge.

"Wessell's orders," Ric replied tersely. "Emergency!"

"Sorry, sir. You know this requires special--"

"All right," Ric sighed. "Here's my pass!" He saw the guard relax for
an instant. Ric poised on his toes and unleashed a long left that sent
the guard staggering against the building. The man righted himself,
muttered an oath and came boring in. But already Ric was following
through with a vicious right; it connected with the angle of the
guard's jaw, and he went down. Then Ric was inside the doors, sprinting
down the corridor.

He found the hangar of the _Falcon_, a swift three-man cruiser which he
knew well. A glance at the power-board showed him that it was fueled
and ready. A minute later he was blasting upward, watching the city's
lights drop swiftly away.

Once in free space, he set the robot-control. It would be thirty hours
before he intercepted the _Valiant_ somewhere in its plodding path for
Earth. At least he could warn them! For he knew, now, that Wessell
meant to go all the way--utter annihilation for the _Valiant_!

And this meant revolt--the overthrow of Earth's Supreme Council!
Wessell had waited a long time for this, and there were men behind
him, ready to back him to the hilt. The Mars crisis had provided a
convenient spark.

But Ric wasn't thinking of Wessell now, nor the Earth Council, as he
settled down to watchfulness. He was thinking of two thousand Martians,
the last of their race, struggling to keep alive this last thin
life-line of survival. He was thinking of death in space. Even if he
warned them of Wessell's plan--where were they to go?

       *       *       *       *       *

Hours later, his probing magni-finder picked out the _Valiant_ from the
depths of blackness. It was still vastly far away, a mere pin-point in
his V-Panel, but Ric cut acceleration. He watched the Martian ship grow
larger by the hour. He switched to his radio-beam and sent a message
through, but it remained unanswered.

It was still unanswered when he drew close enough to cut his rockets
altogether and go into a drift. Surely they were radio-equipped? There
was only one explanation. They simply weren't expecting a spacer out
here, so their beam was off power.

They wouldn't spot him, either. The _Falcon_ was tiny by comparison,
and solid black, undetectable against the backdrop of space. But he'd
have to get aboard the _Valiant_ some way! Slowly he brought his
cruiser beneath the great ship's hull. He was more than ever impressed
by the size of this Martian colossus.

And he was puzzled. There was something strange about this ship's
construction. It was more than merely clumsy, it was grotesque!
Carefully he eased along, examining it. For one thing there were too
many air-locks, even for a ship of this size. Ric shook his head in
puzzlement.

He began trying his tractor beam on those locks, tightening the beam
slowly. The locks held. Still he persisted, easing the _Falcon_ along
the hull; he had to gain an entrance somewhere! With any kind of
luck....

Then, somewhere amidships, one of the locks opened under the steady
pull of his beam. Slowly it swung outward. Ric's hands flew to the
controls. Carefully he eased the _Falcon_ forward and into the lock.
There was room to spare. The outer door closed and he heard generators
humming, automatically building up an atmosphere. Finally they stopped
and he knew it was safe. He leaped down from the _Falcon_.

The inner door was swinging back automatically. For a moment Ric
hesitated; then he stepped through, saw that he was in some sort of
control room. There were instruments such as he'd never seen in any
spacer! He stared around uncertainly. Then from behind him came a
queerly accented voice.

"Greetings, Earthman. But I won't say welcome, yet. You will please
turn around--slowly!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Ric turned. A Martian holding a heat gun stepped from behind a bulwark.
The Martian came forward and the gun got playful with the third button
on Ric's tunic.

Ric had expected this. Naturally they'd be suspicious of an Earthman
aboard--but he could soon explain things. He stepped back a little from
the gun.

"I'm friendly. I must see Dar Mihelson at once! I come with urgent
news!"

"So? What news?"

"Wessell's massing the Earth Fleet. In thirty-six hours they'll be out
here to meet you. He'll never allow you to land on Earth!"

"So. Hear that, Kueelo?" He addressed a second Martian who was busy at
work over a bank of levers.

This man looked up and grinned, and Ric liked him even less than the
one crowding him. He especially didn't like the eyes. They were strange
and colorless, not quite Martian.

"Yes, I heard. Take care of him, Luhor; we haven't much time!"

Luhor surged forward, bringing the gun up. Ric swayed to the right, his
hands darted out and caught the man's free wrist; with the same motion
he twisted, and brought Luhor sailing across his body to crash into a
metal beam, where he slumped and lay still.

Kueelo had whirled, muttering an oath that certainly wasn't Martian.
Now he leaped for the free gun. Ric reached it a second faster, kicked
it out of reach. He parried Kueelo's fist--then sent a left to the
Martian's stomach and crossed with a right. The man was huge, and stood
his ground.

Ric danced back as Kueelo came boring in. He realized joyously that
this lesser, artificial gravity was an advantage. He sent a boxer's
left, long and weaving, to Kueelo's face, then a second and third,
that set the Martian off balance. Ric stepped in with a crashing
right-cross. Kueelo's legs went rubbery. Another smashing right and the
Martian's face lost contour; he whirled half around and slumped across
the bank of levers. Ric rolled his body away and stood looking down.

There were thirty of those levers, all numbered. They were large and
heavy, but just now they were all pulled up from their contacts,
revealing masses of coils and wires. Ric frowned, wondering what it
meant. He thought he knew!

Those wires could be easily fused or cut. Ric recognized sabotage when
he saw it....

He glanced at Kueelo. The man would be out for some time. He stepped
to the one called Luhor, bent quickly over him. The man was dead, his
skull crushed. Momentary panic flooded over Ric. After all, he could be
wrong; if he'd blundered, he'd have to account for this!

He rose, looked around for an inter-communication system. He couldn't
spot one. This ship was utterly alien to him. He did find another door,
however, and stepped out into a corridor.

Ric gasped. This corridor extended for well over half a mile ahead of
him, and as far behind--straight through the heart of the ship. This
was a colossus indeed! Far ahead he could see a few men moving about,
but if they noticed him at that distance they gave no sign of it. He
started to walk in that direction, but a crisp voice stopped him.

"Hold it, Earthman!" Something hard and heavy jabbed into his back.
"You are very careless, Earthman. Your blow stunned me, but Martians
recover easily. And you forgot to take the heat gun."

Ric shot a glance over his shoulder. It was Kueelo all right, he of the
colorless eyes.

"Martian? Phobian half-breed, you mean! Those eyes--"

"Never mind!" The gun jabbed harder. "No tricks with your hands this
time, if you want to stay alive. Turn around--slowly! Let us march in
the _other_ direction."

       *       *       *       *       *

They walked along the empty corridor. Ric's mind was in turmoil. A
half-breed aboard this ship was unthinkable! They passed strange,
curved bulkheads abutting on the corridor. Ric couldn't understand them
either. Everything about this ship was puzzling.

"I'm really glad you came, Earthman. It makes my task easier!"

"You mean--"

"Yes. I shall leave the _Valiant_ to the Earth Fleet. But when that
happens _we_ won't be there." He chuckled. "You don't understand? But
you will--soon."

They paused before a bulkhead with "UNIT 26" blazoned on the door.
Kueelo rapped sharply. After a long moment the door opened slightly.
Kueelo thrust it wide, shoved Ric forward and stepped in quickly behind
him. Ric caught a glimpse of a dozen people in this room, men and women
alike. There were startled gasps as Kueelo waved the heat gun at them.

"Back! Move back all of you, and quickly! You, Earthman--get over there
with them."

Ric joined the group, saw a slow grin come over Kueelo's face. The
other Martians were stunned, speechless, partly at the sight of an
Earthman aboard but mainly because one of their kind stood there waving
a lethal weapon at them.

Then Ric heard a gasp from a Martian girl standing near him, and she
clutched at the arm of her companion.

"Tal ... it's he, the same one! He managed to get aboard!"

Kueelo flashed them a glance, bowed mockingly. "Yes. So our paths cross
again, Tal Horan. How fortunate for me!" His smile faded. "Naric! You
may come forward now. I shall need you."

A tall brooding Martian came from the group to stand at Kueelo's side.
He too produced a heat gun and helped to keep the others covered. He
jerked his head toward the inner corridor. "How did things go?"

"This Earthman interfered. Luhor is dead. It doesn't matter now, we
have to get away from here fast! Wessell is bringing out the Earth
Fleet!"

Ric heard mutterings about him and knew that any moment these two
renegades were going to have their hands full. Kueelo knew it, too. He
opened the door again and motioned the group through, as he and Naric
kept them carefully covered.

"You may stay and fight it out with your brave Commander," Kueelo told
them mockingly. "_We_ have plans a little less foolhardy ... no, these
two stay," he told Naric, indicating Tal Horan and the girl. "The
Earthman, too!"

One of the Martians leaped forward, making a try for Kueelo's gun.
Kueelo blasted him down calmly, the heat beam making a charred hole
completely through the man's neck. The others dragged him out, the door
clanged shut and the five of them were alone in Unit 26.

"Quickly now! They'll be giving the alarm! Naric, take the controls
while I release the plates. But first...." Kueelo faced the three,
holding a different type of gun, shorter and thicker. Without warning
he aimed it at the floor near their feet. A projectile burst, a pinkish
gas sprayed quickly up.

Ric tried to leap forward, but now he couldn't move! Intuition told him
to hold his breath. He glimpsed Tal Horan trying to support the girl as
she slumped to the floor. But Tal was going down too, slowly, his eyes
burning hatred. Then things blurred for Ric. Somehow he kept himself
erect as a shadow swayed toward him. His head seemed to burst, but he
knew it wasn't the gas ... it was Kueelo's gun crashing down....


                                  III

Someone slapped his face, a voice sounded urgently in his ear. Ric
opened his eyes and looked up at Tal Horan, whose lean face broke into
a grin.

"That's better. Kueelo must have hit you pretty hard!"

Ric struggled up. His head ached. They were somewhere in a tiny room,
and he could hear a thin whine of rocket-tubes under full blast. The
Martian girl was standing near, her attention torn between the Earthman
and a view-plate looking out into space.

Ric walked a bit unsteadily to the view-plate. Far away in space he saw
the _Valiant_ still plodding its course, but their Unit seemed to be
blasting away from it at a sharp tangent!

"Dar Mihelson anticipated trouble with the Earth Fleet," Tal Horan
answered Ric's puzzled glance. "No spores are going to Earth, but
he's determined to fight if necessary. We only want a place to live,
Earthman, until we can get back to Mars and wipe out that red plague!"

"The name's Ric Martin. But look, Tal ... Mihelson mustn't fight! He
can't possibly stand against Wessell's fleet!"

"I've counselled against it, but Mihelson is Commander and he's
determined if it comes to a showdown--"

"Look!" The girl was pointing into the view-plate. Far ahead of the
_Valiant_, across thousands of miles of space, they could see a tiny
pin-point of moving light. The Earth Fleet was moving out fast.

"Tal ... Ric Martin is right. It will mean annihilation for our people.
But the _Valiant_ has speed! If we could only get a message through to
Mihelson...."

Ric strode to the door, tested it. It was locked. He turned back to
Tal. "Where's Kueelo and his pal?"

"Busy at the controls, I guess. They threw us in here."

Quickly Ric searched through his pockets, brought out a disc a few
inches in diameter, with a milky-white crystallized facing. Inside were
highly sensitized coils, and it was rimmed with a sliding sheathe.

"Short distance trans-telector," he explained. "Now if I can only get
the _Valiant's_ wave-length!"

He clicked a switch and manipulated the dials with swift surety. A bit
of crackling came through but nothing more. He increased the power.
"Afraid we're out of range, and we're moving away fast! Wait...."

The dial began to glow with an inner light. A man's face appeared
there, rather fuzzy and indistinct. Ric moved the dials infinitesimally
and a faint voice was heard.

"Quickly!" Ric held the disc to Tal Horan's lips.

But the girl came forward. "Allow me, Tal! It is time that Dar Mihelson
knew...." She spoke crisply. "Unit Twenty-six calling the _Valiant_!
We're moving away fast so listen carefully, Dar Mihelson! You must not
fight--it would mean destruction! Look to your magni-plates ... use
your speed, and stay out of Earth Fleet's range!"

Mihelson's answer filtered through, something about "Fight to the
death...."

The girl's eyes flashed, she became magnificent. Her voice took a tone
of unmistakable authority.

"It is Praana speaking, the Princess Praana, daughter of Bedril! I
order you not to fight, Dar Mihelson! You will not place my people in
such peril!"

A thousand miles away on the _Valiant's_ huge televise, Praana's face
must have been visible. She realized that instantly, and went on.

"I am in disguise, Dar Mihelson! It was Bedril's last order, and we
planned this well. I must remain as a rallying point for my people in
the time of their direst stress. The time is now! Mihelson ... you know
my voice, do you not?"

"But what are we to do, your Eminence? We cannot return to Mars ...
Wessell blocks our way to Earth...."

       *       *       *       *       *

After a moment of indecision, Ric whispered, "You're sure he has speed?
He could outrace the Earth Fleet?"

"Yes! You will see!"

"The moon, then. Earth's moon! The crater Tycho...."

"Dar Mihelson," she spoke again. "You must get past Earth's fleet. You
can do that, with the element of surprise; then head for Earth's moon!
Swing around it once and enter Tycho! You will find air-locks there at
the abandoned mines, and tunnels leading deep inside. You will be safe
for a while! Await further word from me ... I shall contact you again,
I promise it!"

Already the wave-length was becoming tenuous, but Praana was sure her
final words had reached him. Ric snapped off the disc.

A voice behind them brought them whirling around.

       *       *       *       *       *

Kueelo stood in the doorway, heat gun held ready as always. He laughed
mockingly.

"So. A handy little gadget that is, Earthman. And you really managed
to contact Dar Mihelson with it?" he shrugged. "That is all right--we
shall have entertainment now. It will be interesting to see how he
out-maneuvers the Earth Fleet! If you three will join me?"

They walked ahead of Kueelo, into a room where a visi-panel had already
centered the _Valiant_ and was following its slow progress. Naric
appeared in the doorway behind them, and remained watchful. Kueelo
stepped to the screen and manipulated the magni-lens.

The space scene seemed to widen, draw away a little ... then the Earth
Fleet could be seen. Even at this distance it appeared formidable.
In staggered horizontal tiers, perhaps fifty of Earth's cruisers had
arrayed themselves under Wessell's command. Breathlessly they watched,
from their own ship which was already speeding far out of range.

Ric noticed one thing. The Earth ships were all of the heavy type,
built for concentrated power-blasts rather than speed. Mihelson might
out-maneuver them, but, if he chose to fight....

The Fleet was almost in range of the _Valiant_ now, and still the
Mars ship continued its plodding course. It was unlikely that Wessell
suspected anything. He was approaching slowly to make sure of doing a
thorough job. It was sheer treachery; worse, it was murder! In that
moment Ric felt almost ashamed of being an Earthman.

Suddenly, from the prow of the _Valiant_ a beam of light probed forth
to cut the gap of darkness like a slashing saber. Once, twice, three
times it slashed. This was the accepted signal for a parley in space.

Tal Horan muttered and moved restlessly. Praana's golden face had gone
pale. Surely Dar Mihelson was not going to parley! He must know what
awaited him! Speed was the only salvation now.

From Earth's flagship the answering signal came. And then, although
the _Valiant_ still moved, the Earth Fleet applied forward rockets and
began to slow appreciably. Mihelson's strategy was apparent now! This
would give him precious seconds needed for acceleration!

And then it came. Without warning the _Valiant_ seemed to burst apart.
To the watchers from afar it was startling; to Wessell it must have
been unbelievable. Some thirty Units, each a spaceship in itself, moved
outward in an ever widening circle ... then all of space seemed aflame
as the rockets burst into action. The Mars spacers sped straight at the
Earth Fleet, but the circle was widening now and they passed safely
_around_ the Fleet, around and beyond it and were gaining acceleration
even as the Earth cruisers tried to reverse their drift!

One of the Earth ships opened up with its rear-action ray blasts.
Slicing, probing angrily, the livid blue rays tried to intercept the
fleeting Martian Units. Two of the rays converged upon one of the Units
and held there. The Martian ship grew fiery red, seemed to falter ...
then exploded into holocaust.

But the others were beyond range now and gaining acceleration with each
second. Even the atomo-bombs, hurled recklessly, fell far short. By the
time the Earth Fleet had reversed, the Martian ships were disappearing
dots of light, heading for Earth.

"Mihelson did well!" Kueelo said, and whirled dials that dissolved the
scene. "Only one Unit lost. But I have the most important Unit ... do I
not, Princess Praana!" His voice was mocking; it seemed to have secret
meaning.

"Phobian half-breed!" Tal Horan's face was tight with hate. "Murderers
and traitors, all of you ... since time began! Ric, I had an encounter
with this man back on Mars, at one of the Ionization Towers. He tried
to get my identity card so he could come aboard the _Valiant_. How'd
you manage it, Kueelo?"

"Never mind, Tal." It was Praana who spoke softly, but her slender body
was taut, her golden face showed a pallor. "Where are you taking us,
Kueelo?"

"Ah, so you are curious at last! Observe." Again the screen came to
life. Ahead of them loomed the bright red disc of Mars! They had made a
sweeping parabola and were heading back toward the planet.

Kueelo spoke again, and for once his voice lost its mockery. "Observe
further, The Towers have failed, the plague has conquered. Mars is a
dead world now. I know that Emperor Bedril and his group of scientists
remained there. He was a brave man, I admit--but foolish. This was
inevitable."

Praana turned her head away. Tal Horan said bitterly, "I wish I had
stayed to die with him! At least our work--"

"Yes! I am aware, Tal Horan, that you were working with Bedril on the
atomic breakdown of the new Mercury metal, with which you hoped to
combat the plague." Kueelo's eyes became bright. "I am sure you must
have gone far. Well ... _we_ have worked on the same principle, and I'm
sure your formula will be useful to us!"

"We?" Tal was puzzled.

Kueelo merely grinned, waved a hand at the televise.

They were skirting Mars. Now a tiny world moved unerringly toward them.
It was a dark, airless little world of crags and shadows, but it was
unmistakable. Mars' smaller moon ... Phobos!


                                  IV

"You may watch if you wish. I'm going to treat you to as masterful a
piece of navigation as you've ever seen." Kueelo stood at the control
board, hands ready, eyes fastened on the panorama spreading below them.
"You especially should appreciate this, Earthman! Naric, keep them
covered."

Phobos rushed up before them, a horribly barren world that seemed
to encompass all of space. Closer it came, but Kueelo didn't check
his drive. They could see vast plains dotted with craters, and huge
serrated cliffs reaching up.

At last Kueelo applied his forward thrust, and they levelled out. Half
around the planet they raced. A mountain range loomed. The spacer
dipped sharply, driving straight at it! Ric was taut, sweat glistening
on his brow. No ship could ever brake in time at that suicidal speed!
He merely closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

A sudden force sent him reeling. A profound nausea made him retch. Then
Kueelo was at his side, touching his shoulder.

"How was that, Earthman?" Kueelo laughed. "Don't worry, we're safe
now!"

White-faced and shaken, Ric opened his eyes. They had entered a place
of semi-darkness, but were still moving ahead.

"Where are we?"

"Inside the cliffs! We've entered a magnetic field that arrests speed
and mass synchronously. We are being slowed in a graduating net of
force."

In a few minutes they had come to a complete rest, but Kueelo told
them, "Stay where you are! Our trip isn't over yet."

Ric peered into the forward screen. Darkness encompassed them. He
turned questioningly. Kueelo grinned and gestured downward.

"You mean we're going inside this planet?"

"Yes. _Very_ far inside. We're on the downward beams now. Patience,
Earthman, you'll see many amazing things before we're through."

It took a long time, and there was no telling how far they'd gone or
with what speed. They seemed not to be moving at all. But at last a
faint blue radiance appeared, and Kueelo opened the lock.

They stepped out onto a ledge which extended perhaps a hundred yards,
then dropped sheerly away. The walls curving up were of polished
smoothness, and stretched away into unimaginable distances. The soft
bluish light came from these walls and seemed to pervade the whole
interior of this hollow world. The air was damp but comfortably warm.
And the gravity....

Praana clutched at Tal Horan's arm. "This is almost Mars gravity!
But ... where do they get it?"

"Yes, we'll have to look into that later." Tal cautioned her to silence.

A three-wheeled car was waiting for them. Kueelo hurried them into
it, and Naric took the controls. Soon they were speeding away, and
they gasped as their ledge tapered off into nothingness! They were
traversing the inside of the shell itself.

"It's eerie at first," Kueelo told them, "but you'll soon become
accustomed to our gravity. Just imagine the space out there as being
_up_. The only difference is that our light comes from the surface
instead of overhead."

"What's the interior diameter?" Ric gestured outward.

"About three hundred miles. And you were wondering about our gravity,
Tal Horan? It comes from out there!" Kueelo gestured vaguely at the
gray-blue interior. "Our power plant is anchored in space at the exact
center of Phobos. But it's reverse gravity--that is to say, its force
extends _outward_ toward the shell, instead of pulling inward."

Tal saw that the man was communicative. He nodded thoughtfully. "Quite
an engineering feat! It must have taken a long time to set up all this!"

"Two generations! It was not done in my time."

"Where are we going now?"

"To the city of the Phobians."

Praana gasped. "Native Phobians? But there are no Phobians left! For
three hundred years--"

"That's the popular supposition, and it suits our convenience. Yes,
three hundred years ago the war between Mars and Phobos was supposed to
have ended. But you shall see! Perhaps Gorak himself will have much to
tell you."

"Gorak?"

"The present Phobian leader! There are only a few thousand Phobians
remaining, as there are only a few thousand of your people. Ironic, is
it not ... Princess Praana?"

       *       *       *       *       *

The city came into view, a sheer grotesquerie of impossible buildings
jutting crazily into space. However, as they came nearer, it was
apparent that many of them were abandoned.

They passed through a long street and entered a building which Kueelo
seemed to know well. He was familiar with everything here, Ric
thought--too familiar! They came into a room where a man sat at a
table, poring over charts and figures. He looked up, greeted Kueelo and
Naric by name.

"This is Tal Horan, and the Princess Praana!" Kueelo said, the pride
of accomplishment in his voice. "We have done better than we supposed!
And this one is Ric Martin, who foolishly came into space to warn Dar
Mihelson."

While Kueelo was telling his story, Ric watched this Phobian leader,
Gorak, who was as ghastly a character as he had ever seen. Pallid,
with a bluish tinge, the man stood well over six feet tall, but his
body seemed frail. His head was absurdly large, quite hairless and
glistening. The colorless, lidless eyes were not nice to look into. He
watched the others, especially Praana, with those cold eyes as Kueelo
talked.

"So. The Princess Praana," Gorak said at last, and his thin gash of a
mouth parted in a grin, revealing brownish teeth. "But are you quite
sure, Kueelo? I seem to remember her differently, in the tele-magnum."

"I am quite sure, Gorak. It was Bedril's wish that she disguise
herself."

Gorak nodded, never once taking those lidless orbs from Praana. "You
have done well, Kueelo. She will serve as a most valuable pawn. And
this other--Tal Horan. Is he not the metallurgist who worked with
Bedril?"

"Yes, and I'm sure he must have their formula for the Counter-active!
They were working in the right direction, just as we...."

Gorak held up a hand. He surveyed Tal Horan coldly from head to foot,
and Tal returned the gaze unflinchingly. Then Gorak's gaze lingered on
Tal's right hand. He spoke without emotion.

"Kueelo. You have not been very observant."

Tal Horan whirled for the door, but a dozen Phobians had entered
silently to bar the way. Tal lashed out at them, and three went down
before his pile-driver fists before the others brought him back,
struggling, to stand before Gorak.

"It is useless, Tal Horan. You see, we need this formula." Gorak
reached to Tal's right hand, removed a colorless, plastic ring from his
finger. From the inside of the ring he stripped a tightly-rolled film,
handed it to Kueelo.

"It is you who will need this, Kueelo. I am sure you can persuade Tal
Horan to assist you in deciphering it."

"Think again!" Tal husked through clenched teeth.

Praana faced the Phobian leader squarely. "You beast! You'll never
reclaim Mars from the red plague! And--my people are safe!" Triumph
filtered into her voice.

Gorak grinned down at her. All of him grinned except those horrible
eyes. He turned, touched the huge tele-magnum behind him. "Let us say,
rather, that your people have gained a temporary respite. They are safe
on Earth's moon. I watched it." Sudden vicious hate erased the grin.
"But my people remain too, Praana! For three hundred years the Phobians
have hidden and burrowed and builded--and planned! The Martians thought
they had wiped us out. They levelled our cities with atom-blasts, they
slashed and blackened the surface of Phobos and hunted down my people
mercilessly. Even when our Fleet had gone down to destruction and we
were helpless, even when my people sued for a peace from the horrible
war, _pleaded_, the Martian leaders would not listen!"

Praana was taut with emotion. "Yes! Yes, our history tells of it too!
Three times the Phobians had initiated wars against Mars which ended
in holocaust for both our peoples! And the last time, we determined it
should never happen again. However," she gained control of herself,
"this was long before your time or mine. Centuries ago."

"True. We are the fourth generation. It is personal, nevertheless! The
Phobians as a race do not die easily ... nor as individuals do they
ever forget!" Gorak's lips writhed again. "It was for _me_ to resume
the war against Mars! _I_ am destined to be our liberator, and I have
done exceedingly well. Once more we are on equal terms, Praana!"

"_You_ resumed the war!" Her face was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"The spores, of course. The red plague that appeared so mysteriously on
Mars. Where do you think it came from?"

Praana's face blanched. Tal Horan tried to leap forward, to smash
Gorak's sneering face. But a dozen wiry Phobians held him back.

"Yes," Gorak went on. "The spores were launched from here! Almost
single-handed, I have accomplished the destruction of Mars. The rest
will be easy! We have far-reaching plans!" With a wave of the hand
Gorak indicated that he was weary of this. "Take them away, Kueelo. See
that Praana is made comfortable, but guard her well. If Tal Horan shows
a disinclination to work with you on the Counter-active, refer him
again to me, but I am sure you have persuasive methods equal to my own."

Gorak turned his cold orbs on Ric. "As for the Earthman ... watch him
well! His lips have been very still, but not his brain!"


                                   V

Outside again, Ric flashed a warning look at Tal Horan and said
tentatively to Kueelo:

"As a spaceman and engineer, all of this interests me! Just what is the
nature of these spores? How did you manage to get them across to Mars?
And"--he looked about the empty streets--"where are the Phobians?"

"You shall learn these things in due time. And, if you are entertaining
thoughts of escaping from here," Kueelo said with calm assurance, "you
may as well forget it. You will work, Earthman; you will work very
hard, in order to stay alive. You'll soon learn why! Later ... you may
be of even more use to us."

They entered the car again and soon were speeding away from the city.
The shimmering blue surface light began to fade away. They entered a
twilight place where the walls were of dull gray stone.

"Where are you taking us now?" Praana asked.

"You shall see! I feel it is best that you understand fully what we
have accomplished here, and it is only the beginning. Our plans are
far-reaching!"

Far-reaching. Ric thought he knew what that meant, but he remained
silent and watchful. A few miles further they entered a region of
pallid, purplish vegetation. There were vast patches of it, acres
wide, growing from the surface. And they saw the Phobians. Hundreds of
these frail, pallid people were working listlessly into the growth,
harvesting it, placing it in small fibroid carts to be hauled away.

"You asked about the nature of the spores," Kueelo said to Ric. "Touch
it, then. I want you to see for yourself."

Ric examined it curiously. It grew in thick masses close to the stone,
almost lichen-like. It was the strangest stuff he had ever seen. It
seemed literally to crawl! Carefully he reached out a hand. A faint
tingling, almost radioactive, went through his skin.

"Touch it with metal," Kueelo said.

Ric searched his pockets, found a small silver coin. Gingerly he
extended it. When the metal was yet a few inches from the fungoid
growth, it seemed to be snatched from his fingers! The growth reached
swiftly upward at it, and the metal dissolved away. For a three foot
radius the growth turned from the pallid purple to blood red ... seemed
trying to tear itself from the stone. Ric could even feel a faint heat
from it.

So this was Gorak's weapon! This was the stuff he had launched,
somehow, upon Mars. It was diabolic ... and Ric could understand, now,
how Mars had been devastated in a matter of weeks! Questions were
pounding in his brain; but before he could speak, Kueelo was saying
with supreme confidence:

"You wonder how we control it. We have only partially done that, by
use of the new allotropic metal from Mercury. Under special processing
in our atomic furnaces we have been able to strengthen the atomic
structure of the Mercury metal, at least to the point where it will
counter-act the spores temporarily. With that accomplished, it was a
simple matter to propel them on robot-control across the short space to
Mars."

"And upon landing there," Tal Horan's voice came fraught with hate,
"the spores broke down the metal and were free to spread on Mars! It's
diabolic!"

"Let us say, clever," Kueelo continued coldly. "And with the formula
you have provided, I believe we can strengthen the atomic structure
still more. We can increase our range. We shall have a weapon indeed!"

He dismissed the subject abruptly and turned to Ric. "Tal Horan will
assist me tomorrow at the laboratories. _Your_ work will be here. You
are new, and can do the work of a hundred of these Phobians."

There was secret meaning, secret amusement in the words. Ric looked
again at the Phobians moving slowly, automaton-like, listless and
dull-eyed. He felt an awful foreboding as he wondered how long before
he became like these shells of men....

       *       *       *       *       *

They returned to the city where Kueelo assigned them to their quarters.
They didn't lack for comfort, but Phobian guards, obviously not of the
worker class, patrolled the corridors ceaselessly.

"Their plan is obvious!" Ric said when they were alone. "Earth is to
be next, unless it capitulates to their demands. And lord knows what
those will be!"

"Yes." Praana was thoughtful. "I think Kueelo would have bargained
with Mars, but Gorak wanted his revenge, the wholesale destruction of
our people. And he probably figures it will be a good object lesson to
Earth."

"They couldn't have picked a better time, with Earth divided on the
question of the Mars refugees, and Wessell using the Fleet for his own
political ambitions! Tal ... you'll be working with Kueelo tomorrow.
Pretend to co-operate, but slow them down if you can! Learn what their
plans are. Find out how much time we have!"

Tal nodded. "We'll all have to keep our eyes and ears open. Our only
chance is to get back to that spaceship."

"How? Even if we got past the guards, we could never find our way back
to that air-lock." Ric laughed bitterly. "Direction is meaningless in
this crazy world!"

Then he was strangely silent, as his mind struggled on the threshold
of an idea. There was something Kueelo had said, in his boastful mood,
something Ric should have remembered. Something....

But Ric couldn't recall it now. Events had happened too swiftly. The
more he tried to grasp the idea the more it eluded him. At last his
weary mind gave it up, and he sank into a sleep of exhaustion.

He was awakened roughly and looked up to see Kueelo. Tal and Praana
were already up, and some Phobian servants were bringing breakfast in
to them.

"You won't find existence here too hard," Kueelo told them, "so long
as you do as you're told. Eat your breakfast, then you, Tal Horan,
will accompany me, and you, Ric Martin, will go with Naric to the
spore-fields. As for Praana ... Gorak wishes to confer further with
her."

Tal Horan glanced at her anxiously, but Praana whispered, "It's all
right, Tal, I can take care of myself; and I may be able to help!"

Ric accompanied Naric, and they reached the spore-fields where groups
of Phobians were already beginning the day's work. Ric was given a
leather hood that came over his head and around his neck, and soft
leather gloves.

He went to work slowly, methodically, following the example of the
others. The roots of the growth, he found, were embedded deep. It clung
tenaciously. And soon, even through his clothes, through the protecting
gear, he could feel faint radiations at work on his skin.

Before an hour had passed, it began to take its toll of him. Sweat was
in his eyes, but he did not mind that. Much worse, something seemed
to be happening to his metabolism. His blood moved sluggishly in his
veins, as a terrible impassivity gripped him. Almost it was as though
essential salts within his body were being dissolved, to slow up
cellular activity! Ric paused to stare around at the phosphorescent
glow that clung about the place like a ghastly pall.

       *       *       *       *       *

A group of Phobians moved toward him, pushing one of the half-filled
carts. Ric watched them dully, feeling only a desire to give up, to
sink down into the lichen growth that came about his ankles. To move,
even to think, was an effort. Then one of the Phobians came toward him.

"You are new," the man said without emotion. "To stand still is fatal.
You must keep working, keep moving, if you want to last long."

"Thanks." With an effort Ric roused himself from his lethargy, and
joined the group. He worked fast now. It was tiring work, and the sweat
still poured from him, but he felt his brain gradually clearing, and
the blood didn't pound so heavily at his temples. He knew well what
Kueelo had meant when he said, "You will work very hard, Earthman ...
in order to stay alive."

"My name is Yarnith," said the Phobian who had first spoken, as he
moved and worked beside Ric.

Ric didn't see what that mattered, and he made no reply.

"You are Earthian," the man went on. "I don't know how you came here,
but you are strong, stronger than four of us. Stay with our group,
Earthman!"

Ric looked at him, then, and at the others in the group. There were
perhaps a dozen. They were frail and pallid, but somehow their eyes
were not so vacant, there was not the gray look of death upon their
faces.

"You've not been here so long as the others!" Ric ventured.

Yarnith's face twisted bitterly. "No. Once we worked in the city, at
the laboratories, carrying on Gorak's great work. He has promised us
much ... expansion, and the respect of other worlds and the glory that
once was ours. But I've seen our people sent here to the spore-fields
in increasing numbers! It's a living death!"

Ric saw the others nod in agreement, as they listened to Yarnith. "How
much longer will it be?" one of them grumbled. "I for one do not intend
to stay here and become as these others!" He indicated the hundreds of
Phobians moving listlessly about their work.

Ric's heart leaped. "You mean ... you're planning an escape?"

But immediately he saw he was wrong. Yarnith looked at him in
puzzlement. "Escape ... how can that be? This is our world, and where
could we go?"

Ric knew, then, that these people knew little of Gorak's plans. They
were probably unaware of the secret air-lock leading from their hollow
world! Not for three generations had a Phobian set foot on the barren
outer surface. Gorak was using them as pawns in his insatiable plan.

Again Ric looked about him. Their cart was half-filled now, and they
were moving toward a group of rough stone buildings that apparently
served as barracks. Yarnith whispered, "Be alert, Earthman!"

Ric was puzzled, but stayed with them. They rounded a corner of one of
the buildings, out of sight of the other workers. Then Yarnith acted
quickly. He burrowed deep into the cart, came up with a small leather
pouch; then as the other Phobians gathered 'round, he portioned out the
contents.

Ric thought he recognized the brownish stuff. The dread _eishn_ stems,
a powerful narcotic. He'd encountered it once on Venus.

"It helps," Yarnith explained. "It combats the fatigue, builds up a
cellular resistance and re-activates the blood stream. But we don't
have much of it here, and--"

One of the men gave a warning cry. Ric whirled, saw another group of
Phobians appear around the corner of the building. Their dull eyes
took on a glint as they saw the _eishn_ stems. Some of the newcomers
carried crude knives. Then they were rushing forward, and Ric found
himself battling beside Yarnith and the others, battling for his life.

He lashed out as two of the Phobians converged upon him. His fist
caught one of them, the man's face lost contour and his frail body
sailed backward. The other went down from a blow to the body. Then a
dozen of them were upon him, hands tearing at his arms and throat, and
Ric felt himself going down. He fought back, using fists and knees now.
The dread lethargy of this place was gone from him. He was feeling the
first joy of battle against odds.

Soon he was clear, using his Earth strength to advantage. He rolled
aside as a knife flashed toward him, grazing his cheek. He gained his
feet. Yarnith and the others were fighting against overwhelming odds.
He saw Yarnith seize a fallen knife, and two Phobians went down with
blood gushing from their throats.

The very silence lent an unreality. Ric was everywhere now, unleashing
sledgehammer fists that cut a path through the attackers. He evaded the
slashing knives, seized one of the Phobians and hurled him bodily.

Yarnith fought on by Ric's side, exulting, using the knife. The
attacking group was falling back now. Panic seized them as they
witnessed the Earthman's strength. Soon they were fleeing, leaving a
half-dozen of their dead and dying on the ground.

Ric towered there, still feeling the fierce surge of blood that was a
tonic to him. He heard Yarnith's exultant voice.

"That was a battle, Earthman! I'm glad you were with us. They'll kill
to get a few of these _eishn_ stems." It seemed not to matter to
Yarnith that these were his own people. He extended the pouch, but Ric
waved it away. Yarnith seemed puzzled, then shrugged, as the group went
back to their work.

Disgust flooded Ric like a cold wave from the sea. These people were
lost, struggling against a hopeless existence. They were little more
than beasts, and the addiction to the _eishn_ stems only hastened the
inevitable. He could not even feel pity--and certainly he could expect
no help from them.

       *       *       *       *       *

He returned to their quarters in the city, weary of body and mind. It
was hours before the dread effect of the spores left him--but Ric was
determined not to resort to the _eishn_ stems. Praana and Tal Horan had
returned, and they compared notes for the day.

"They've gone far," Tal said grimly, "much farther than I ever dreamed!
They have an improved type of atomic furnace. They process and shape
the new metal into bomb-casings for the spores; but they're using
it for new rocket-tubes as well! According to Kueelo, it will give
them tubes that are absolutely blast proof and triples efficiency in
relation to fuel consumption. Already they've equipped two new spacers,
and will have more of them ready in the event that Earth refuses the
Phobian ultimatum."

Ric listened wearily, his mind trying to seize the problem. "What will
the ultimatum be?"

"I learned that today," Praana said. "Gorak will demand full
recognition of Phobos as a member of the Inner Planet Federation, with
himself as supreme ruler of Mars once he reclaims it from the red
plague."

"Earth Council will never agree!"

"I learned even more," Praana went on. "Dar Mihelson managed to reach
Luna safely with all units! They are safe for the time being, deep
within Tycho. And Ric ... the balance of Earth's fleet has sided with
your Earth Council, and against Wessell. Already a showdown battle is
in the making!"

Ric groaned. "Just what Gorak wanted! It will give him the time he
needs. Tal, how far have they gone?"

"Unfortunately, Kueelo's already deciphered our formula and it gives
them the missing equation! You see, Bedril and I were working on a
principle which meant stripping the outer sheathe of electrons from the
new metal, without disrupting the atom itself--and the power generated
would serve to counter-act the spores. Here, in their new type of
atomic furnace, they have the necessary heat and pressure to do that."

"What will it mean, then?" Ric's brows furrowed.

"Simply that, in a manner of speaking, they'll be able to control the
spore action, and they'll soon be able to launch the spore-bombs all
the way to Earth!"

Ric arose and paced the room angrily. He stepped to the outer door and
peered along the corridor, but a group of guards hurried toward him
with electros held in readiness. They had been instructed well. Ric
turned and continued to pace the room.

"It will be at least a few days before they're ready," Tal said.
"There's little I can do to slow them down, Ric--but my chance may
come!"

Ric paused. Already an idea was growing apace within him. It was a
desperate idea but they had to try something--anything! He said, "I
think somewhere in this city there's a supply of _eishn_ stems. I
saw some of the workers using it today--maybe it's smuggled out to
them occasionally. I want to get hold of some! All I can get! Praana,
suppose you work on that. If you can, find out where the stuff's kept!"


                                  VI

For Ric, the next few days were an anguish that surpassed the most
refined torture. He worked long hours in the spore-fields, doing the
work of a hundred Phobians. One worked hard, in order to retain life
and sanity; to remain long idle, out there was to die a slow death.
As it was, the stuff was taking an insidious toll of him. At times he
wondered why he bothered. But he drove himself on, hoping against hope.

Once he even partook of the _eishn_ stems that Yarnith offered.
The stuff was bitter, gum-like, and offered a soaring elation and
a surcease from the terrible fatigue; but the after-effect was so
depressive that he didn't try it again.

He stayed with Yarnith's little group, moving and working and fighting
with them. The others became increasingly hostile, launching sporadic
attacks--those who could rouse themselves from lethargy--in an effort
to get some of the _eishn_ stems. But soon even Yarnith's small supply
was gone, divided among his group.

Still the fighting went on, for the sake of action and blood-lust. Each
day men died. Each day Ric had to protect himself. He found himself
taking a fierce joy in it, and he no longer looked upon these Phobians
as men. They were mere beasts with the killer instinct.

Ric was becoming one of them.

Only one thing sustained him. After each day's work the Martian, Naric,
came for him in the atomo-car and took him back to his quarters in the
city. There at least he had the company of Praana and Tal Horan. He
could bathe, and rest, and the meals weren't bad.

Tal Horan, in the meantime, was working hard with Kueelo and the others
in the laboratories, at the atomic furnaces, at the forges. Kueelo
seemed not to care how much Tal learned of their work. He was supremely
confident.

And well he might be. Tal told Ric of it.

"I've seen the newly processed metal under test! It stands up
indefinitely against the metal-devouring spores--and eventually it will
be a complete counter-active against them. And the new rocket-tubes
are frightening! I saw one of them in the testing block, subjected
to internal blasts far greater than anything known. It seems almost
resilient under stress!" Tal's face had gone pale as he talked. "Later
they plan to equip an entire Fleet. If that time ever comes...."

Time began to lose all meaning for Ric. Days blended into a
phantasmagoria of working and fighting ... blood and madness. Already
he was forgetting how he had come here. He cared even less. He was here
to die, and he hoped it would be soon.

It was perhaps a week later that Kueelo came to them, after the days
work. "Gorak wishes to see you. All of you!"

Tal and Praana were puzzled. In Ric, a spark struck home. He struggled
to rouse himself. Gorak ... what could he want with them now?

       *       *       *       *       *

"Today," Gorak told them when they appeared in his quarters, "I spoke
with the Earth Council. I gave them my ultimatum."

He paused, watching their amazement. Then he turned to the tele-magnum,
a huge and magnificent instrument, as powerful as anything Earth had.

"I cut into the Earth beam while they were broadcasting to Venus and,
by drowning out their channel, contacted them for a few minutes.
Needless to say," he turned his cold orbs upon Ric, "they refused my
terms. They refuse to believe I destroyed Mars. Of course I realize it
would be hard for them to capitulate even if they wanted to. Earth's
Fleet is divided, and all has not gone well with Wessell. Already there
have been skirmishes around Luna, and part of Wessell's fleet has gone
down to destruction."

Ric's heart leaped. At least this was good news! But Gorak's cold voice
went on.

"I cannot wait for them to destroy themselves, because in two more days
Phobos comes into juxtaposition with Earth, and that will not happen
again for months. Earth must have an object lesson! Come. I wish to
show you what I mean."

Once again they entered the atomo-car and were speeding away from the
city, traversing Phobos' inner shell. They passed the laboratories and
shops, hearing the clangor of work still going on. They came to a place
where huge, powerful-looking rockets were arranged in neat rows. There
were literally hundreds of them.

"Those are the bombs!" Tal whispered to Ric. "They explode upon
contact, releasing the spores!"

Their car had stopped, and Gorak ordered them out. Kueelo and Naric
were there, and dozens of Phobians, fully armed. The place was well
guarded. They saw vast mechanisms reaching endlessly across the wall.
These were topped by huge metal discs, perhaps ten feet in diameter.

"The propulsion pits," Gorak explained. "Even vaster, of course, than
those we used against Mars. I wanted you especially to see these--Ric
Martin. Kueelo, show him."

Kueelo stepped to the operating board. Slowly, under his control, one
of the huge discs slid back. A great, gleaming metal bore was revealed.
It ejected toward them silently, as though on great compression coils.

"The bores extend entirely through Phobos' shell," Gorak went on.
"It has been the work of years. They rest on huge pivots and can be
adjusted to any desired angle." He waved a hand. "As you can see, we
have twenty of them. Let us hope we will not need them all. Luna is
airless, and the action of the spores will be faster there than on
Mars."

"Luna!" Praana swayed and would have collapsed, but for Tal Horan's
arms about her. "You're going to land the spores on Earth's moon? My
people are there ... bottled up in Tycho!"

"That is unfortunate. Your people may yet be saved, Princess Praana. It
depends upon Ric Martin."

"What do you mean?" Ric's voice was tight.

Gorak looked at him calculatingly. "You may have wondered why we have
revealed everything to you--all of our plans, all of our power. It's
because I want you, as an Earthman, to realize what's in store for your
planet unless they capitulate. I don't want Earth to go the way of
Mars. I don't even want to destroy Earth's moon--unless it's necessary.
It's up to you, Ric Martin, to convince your stubborn Earth Council!"

"How can I do that?"

"Tomorrow evening Earth's regular news broadcast will be beamed to
Venus. I can cut into the channel again, as I did today. This time
_you_ will speak to them. You will tell your Council what you have seen
here, and what faces them. It will be their last chance! If you don't
convince them ... Luna's destruction will! Earth was aloof when Mars
was dying, but this will be much nearer home!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The hours passed. A deadly quiet had come over the city, not even
broken now by the monotonous hum of the atomic furnaces. It was
"night"; their wall lights had automatically dimmed, but outside the
bluish light from Phobos' walls was all-pervading.

Ric, Praana and Tal Horan did not sleep. But the guards outside
had been doubled, and they were alert, patrolling the corridors
ceaselessly. Occasionally one of the guards stopped to look in upon
them.

"Your people will not die, Praana," Ric told her. "I'll convince the
Council to do as Gorak says. Later, perhaps, they can find the way to
deal with him."

"No! His first move would be to order the surrender of their entire
Fleet. Earth would be relegated to a minor power ... and Venus would be
next!"

Tal said thoughtfully, "Ric ... when you get in front of that
tele-magnum, tell your Council to send their entire Fleet out here!
They ought to be able to blast Phobos out of space!"

"Yes, if they could get within ten thousand miles of here--which
they can't! Gorak's bombs are radio-controlled, and the entire Fleet
wouldn't stand long against them."

They were suddenly silent, as a Phobian guard appeared in the doorway.
For a moment the man stood hesitant. Praana rose, quickly crossed the
room to him. The guard handed something to her, and moved quickly away.

"The _eishn_ stems!" Praana handed Ric several tightly wrapped bundles.
"For days I've been trying to persuade him to get some for us! I
convinced him we needed it for ourselves."

Ric had almost forgotten about it. "My plan may not work, now. But it's
a last chance. If only they send me back to the spore-fields tomorrow!"
He hid the drug carefully away in his clothes.

And Ric did go back to the fields. For him it was the same routine day.
Those deadly spores needed harvesting, to go into the bombs that were
still being assembled. He worked as usual, but stayed near the man
Yarnith, awaiting his chance.

At last it came. He managed to get Yarnith apart from the others.

"I have something for you!" Ric reached into his pocket, brought out
one of the _eishn_ stems. Just one.

Yarnith seized it, placed it in his mouth. His hands trembled in
eagerness, his dulling eyes came to life. "Earthman! where did you--I
thought--"

"Yes, you thought there were no more of them! Yarnith, you are no
longer men, you are slaves, all of you are slaves! Do you suppose Gorak
cares about you? He and the others live in luxury in the city, while
the rest of you work out here and die and kill--"

Yarnith wasn't listening, he had become as the others. He no longer
cared. Ric looked at the man in disgust, then fury swept over him. He
seized Yarnith's arm, whirled him around roughly. Yarnith cowered,
whimpering.

"Listen to me! Listen! There are more _eishn_ stems, enough for all of
you. All you have to do is take them! Do you understand that?"

Yarnith understood that. It was all he understood, all he cared. He
nodded eagerly. "More of them?"

"Yes, in the city! Gorak has them!"

Yarnith slumped in despair. "The city. We can never go there again.
None of us have ever--"

Ric shoved him away disgustedly, went to join the others. Throughout
the day he moved among them, portioning out the stems, giving them the
same story. Each worker received one stem, no more. Some were beyond
understanding him, and these he tried to avoid. Others watched him
covetously, eyeing the supply of stems he was portioning out.

Once a knife slashed his shoulder, and he went to his knees from the
blow. Ric whirled and killed the man with a single blow that snapped
the frail neck. Ric went berserk then, dashing among them, flailing and
lashing and throwing fists left and right as the blood-lust came upon
him. They fled before him.

"You're going to understand one thing, damn you!" he shouted. "There
are plenty of these stems in the city, but you'll get them for
yourself! I'll bring you no more!"

That seemed to work better. It roused them from their lethargy, and Ric
kept them that way. How many more he killed or maimed, he never knew.
It became a sort of mad game. It was a day Ric was never to forget!

Nor would they forget him. At the end of that day he saw many of them
in groups, muttering to themselves, watching him balefully. As if for
the first time, they realized one thing: this Earthman always returned
to the city ... and he had _eishn_ stems!

When Ric returned this time, there was a weariness upon him such as he
had never known. But a fierce hope burned within him, a hope that these
Phobians would remember ... that they'd become men again for at least a
while, and not fall again into their lethargy....

He'd done his best, and there would not be another chance.


                                  VII

Kueelo came to them, as they were at the evening meal. "Be ready, Ric
Martin. The Earth broadcast will be in a few hours. Gorak is getting
the tele-magnum ready now." He handed Ric a closely-written paper.
"These are the things you will tell your Earth Council, and be sure you
follow it to the letter!"

Ric scarcely looked at the paper. They waited nervously, as the minutes
lengthened into hours, and Ric's thoughts whirled in chaos. To refuse
Gorak's dictates now would mean death to Praana's people on Luna. On
the other hand Ric knew that Earth would never capitulate! At the very
best, it would mean holocaust and a spatial war such as the System had
not known in two hundred years.

At last it was time. They were taken under special guard to Gorak's
quarters, where the tele-magnum was ready. The next few minutes would
determine the fate of two worlds, perhaps even the entire System!

Everyone was tense. Even Gorak's pallid features were pulled into tight
lines, as he said to Ric, "When we've gained control of the Earth beam,
you will announce yourself. Then you will read what is on the paper,
and no more! If you depart from it in the slightest, I shall order my
guards to blast you down." He turned to Praana. "When Ric Martin is
through, you may make a plea to the Earth Council on behalf of your
people."

Gorak turned to the tele-magnum, an instrument that dwarfed everything
in the room. The control panel was taller than the man himself,
connected to huge coils and tubes. He manipulated the controls with
swift surety. The tubes came aglow, danced with silvery radiance.

The coils hummed a smooth threnody, then shrieked as they absorbed
the increasing power. Soon the sound rose above the audible. Then ...
from far away, a faint voice was heard droning monotonously. This was
the Earth beam, the scheduled news broadcast to Venus. Gorak moved the
dials swiftly, and the voice filtered through.

"... at last report, has been determined that the Martians under
command of Dar Mihelson have maintained their temporary haven within
crater Tycho. The eight-day Battle of Luna, it is expected, will be
terminated shortly. An unconfirmed report says that Felix Wessell
has been captured, and is being returned to Earth where he will face
court-martial for high treason. Another amazing development concerning
the plague on Mars, is thought to be a hoax. Thirty hours ago--"

Gorak twisted the dials viciously, cutting off the voice. "A hoax! So
they think my demands are a hoax!" Fury mastered him for a moment, then
he went to work over the controls. "I'll cut into their beam. Be ready,
Ric Martin! They'd better listen now!"

The voice came again, then was drowned out as Gorak's increased
potential flooded the channel. Tal Horan, standing beside Ric, was
suddenly tense. He gripped his arm and whispered, "Listen!"

But Ric had heard it too, they all heard it. From the streets outside,
from far away, came an angry murmur--a _crowd_ murmur, wafted to them
through the night stillness. And it was coming nearer.

       *       *       *       *       *

They saw Kueelo motion to several of the guards, and the men hurried
outside. Still the sounds came, louder now, a sort of angry chant. Now
it seemed to enter this street, to be heading this way.

Alarmed, Kueelo himself seized an electro and hurried out. Gorak
still worked over the tele-magnum. He looked up in annoyance. Then he
straightened.

"Very well, Ric Martin. I've established contact!"

Ric hesitated, then moved slowly to stand before the tele-sender. He
moistened his lips, glanced at the paper in his hand. At that moment a
guard came bursting back into the room. Blood streamed from his face.

"The workers! I--I think they've revolted!"

Gorak leaped to another instrument, pressed a row of buttons--six of
them, lightning-fast. Then he was across the room, hurrying out the
door.

"Ric Martin speaking!" Ric was shouting into the tele-sender. "Be alert
for spore-bombs aimed at Luna!" He could not be sure it got across,
but that was all he had time for. The remaining guards stood hesitant,
started to follow Gorak, and then turned back.

But Tal Horan was leaping into action now. He met two of the guards
before they could draw their weapons ... sent them crashing across
the room. Ric leaped to help him. An electro-beam slashed across his
shoulder, so close he could feel the swirling heat of it. The melee was
furious but brief. The remaining guards were no match for the two men
and Praana, who had seized a small ornamental vase from a table and was
battering one of the guards to pulp.

Tal grabbed one of the electros and came to his feet. "We'll have to
make a break for it! I know the way back to that outer air-lock!"

Outside, the Phobian workers were coming in a surging resolute mob.
There were hundreds of them. On the far side of the street were Gorak
and Kueelo and a few of the guards. Gorak was haranguing the advancing
mob, but it was useless. Then they saw him give an order ... and the
guards began opening up with the electros.

"To the right!" Tal said. "We've got to get past that mob. Stay on this
side!"

With Tal leading the way, they sprinted toward the advancing Phobians,
staying in the shadow of the walls. The electros were taking effect
now. The odor of burning flesh arose.

But there was no stemming that tide. The mob raced forward, yelling, as
those behind pressed on. Ric's work at the fields that day had roused
them, all right--perhaps too well! They found themselves being carried
forward in the mob.

A few crazed Phobians swerved from their path to leap at the little
party. Tal and Praana had no choice but to bring their electros into
play. Ric swung one foolhardy Phobian high over his head and dashed him
back among his fellows.

[Illustration: _They brought their electros into play._]

"This way!" Tal hurried to a small building, blasted the lock with his
electro. Inside were a score of the three-wheeled, atom powered cars.
Minutes later they were speeding away from the city, heading for the
outer air-lock of Phobos.

They reached the place, and Tal worked over the mechanism until huge
metal doors rolled away. They saw the ship that had brought them here,
the Unit Twenty-Six of the Martian _Valiant_. But they had no eyes
for it now. Several of Gorak's own spacers were there, those with the
new-type rocket-tubes which Tal had mentioned.

"Tal!" An idea was building up in Ric's mind. "Remember what Kueelo
said about their power plant, anchored in the center of Phobos? He
said it was reverse gravity, expanding _outward_! What would happen if
we drove a spaceship straight into it?"

For a moment they looked at each other in delighted silence.

"About three hundred miles," Tal said, looking at the gray-blue
distances of the hollow world. "And Unit Twenty-Six, here, has a supply
of atomo-bombs! We'll have to ride it out there, and then get back
before the explosion ... it will take perfect timing ... but it can be
done!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Feverishly they went to work. First they maneuvered one of Gorak's
smaller but speedier ships alongside the Mars spacer, anchored it there
with magnetic plates which could be thrown on or off in a split second.
But it pointed in a reverse direction, with its prow toward the larger
ship's stern. Tal Horan looked to the fuel tanks, gave all the rockets
experimental blasts to be sure the feed lines were working. At last all
was in readiness.

Tal Horan faced Praana. "Wait here in one of the other ships. Don't be
nervous. Watch for the explosion. You'll be able to see it. The moment
you do, get these rockets warmed up and ready!"

She nodded, but her face had gone pale. Suddenly she choked up. "Tal,
is--is it necessary?"

"It has to be done. This is the quickest and surest way! Don't worry,"
he took her hands in his. "We'll get back, I promise you!"

Quickly he turned away and entered the larger ship where Ric was
waiting.

"You're a spaceman, Ric; I'm not. You take the controls."

Ric nodded grimly. Slowly he threw over the rocket-feed control.
Yes, he was a spaceman. He'd handled all types of ships under all
conditions, but he knew he'd have to call on every bit of his training
now! The rockets throbbed to life. Gradually the ship dragged out of
the lock, across the vast ledge toward the inner space. Ric increased
the power ... then they were free of the planet's shell and heading
toward the center of Phobos!

The mass of the smaller ship anchored to them made the controls
unwieldy, but Ric was ready for that. What bothered him was that they
were fighting gravity all the way--a gravity that _spread outward_
toward them! The result was the same as a blast-off from a gravity
equal to that of Mars! But there were other conditions that were not
the same.

Tal Horan looked to the magni-plate controls that held the smaller ship
to them. He tightened the power a little and then came to stand by
Ric's side.

"About how long would you say?"

"We should be able to sight it in ten or fifteen minutes." Ric
never took his eyes from the view-finder. "At least I don't want to
accelerate until then. We'll need full power for the final drive."

The space around them now was tinged with the gray-blue light, but it
was thick and murky, as though they were driving beneath the waters of
a sea.

"Suppose we don't sight the gravity-station. If we miss it
altogether...."

"We're not heading blind," Ric nodded toward an indicator above his
head. "That magni-finder will indicate the direction of any mass larger
than ourselves, and then I can center our course. I'm just wondering if
the atomo-bombs will be enough!"

"They will!" Tal assured him. "The principle of this gravity-station is
electronic. It's been here at the center of Phobos for three hundred
years without a breakdown ... but once our bombs start the disruption,
the explosion will be like nothing you've ever seen!"

Ric straightened suddenly. The magni-finder had come to life--was
indicating a position a few degrees to starboard. He altered direction
until the needle centered, and held the controls there. His eyes sought
the proximity indicator.

"Heading at it now. Fifty miles! What do you think?"

"We can go closer," Tal said. Ric didn't question him; he was a
spaceteer, but Tal was the electronic expert.

Tal Horan was peering intently ahead, now, and he exclaimed, "There it
is! I can just make it out!"

Through the glaucous haze they could barely make out a spherical shape,
hanging stationary, with a faint aura around it lending to the ghostly
appearance. It must have encompassed miles, for even at this distance
it was looming larger by the minute.

"Close enough," Tal announced at last. "We'd better get ready to
trans-ship!"

       *       *       *       *       *

They worked fast. Ric sighted the controls to pin-point precision, then
locked them into place. Tal Horan was standing ready at the inter-lock
by which they would trans-ship to the smaller spacer.

Ric gave a last look at the controls ... then threw them over to
full blast. He sprang through the lock, as the ship leaped ahead
like a monster unleashed. With a sweep of the hand Tal released the
magni-plates, and was leaping after him. It was close! Their smaller
ship was sent spinning free, end over end, "falling" back toward
Phobos' shell.

Ric crashed against a wall, was dazed for a moment. He managed to drag
himself forward to the controls. He groped blindly, was able to throw
on the rocket power which served to stabilize them somewhat. He dragged
himself upright, then, and realized that the worst was yet to come.

If that explosion reached them!... They must keep ahead of it at all
costs. Ric opened the rockets wide, and gasped at the surge of power.
These new rockets were blast proof indeed!

Tal was at the stern ports now, watching the larger ship driving away
from them. Soon it had vanished into the gray-blue distance. The
explosion would be soon....

Minutes passed. Then it came. They saw it first, a blinding flash of
light that seemed to encompass all of space within Phobos' shell! But
it would be more minutes before they felt the actual concussion. They
were speeding away recklessly, speeding _with_ gravity now! And before
Ric quite realized it, they were nearing the outer shell again and he
had to break speed.

Then his heart sank within him. Due to that wild spin, he had lost
direction! The huge air-lock, where Praana waited, was nowhere in sight.

Precious seconds passed, as Ric brought the spacer skimming the inside
of the shell like a pebble inside a bottle! Panic gripped him. This
would be the end, if they didn't find that air-lock! It was the only
passage to outer space. When the full concussion reached this shell, it
would flatten them!

He heard Tal shouting in his ear. "The city! There's the city!" He was
gesturing frantically, far to the left. Ric headed for it recklessly
and swept over the city at breakneck speed. The lock should be
somewhere a few miles beyond....

Then they saw it. They glimpsed tiny pin-points of fire as Praana
blasted the rockets of her ship as a signal to them. Ric braked with
the forward tubes. As it was, he came into the wall with a crashing
glide that sheared half of the underhull away.

They climbed out, raced for the lock just as the first wave of
onrushing air threatened to sweep them up. It became a hurricane. The
full concussion would be right behind it!

Praana was waiting and ready. They piled into the ship and without a
waste motion Ric was at the controls. They swept deeper into the
lock ... into darkness. Unbearable heat enveloped them. Already they
were feeling the concussion! There came a moment of giddy acceleration,
an unbearable pressure that sent the blood pounding in their ears.

Then a pattern of starlight swept across their vision. Sharp crags
loomed suddenly ahead ... they passed over them, a wild terrain dropped
sheerly away, and their spacer became a fiery pinwheel of rocket blasts
as they were hurled into free space!

       *       *       *       *       *

Ric was fighting the controls, fighting the unbelievable pressure that
threatened to black him out. He caught a glimpse of Phobos behind them,
bursting apart in a blinding holocaust. Gradually, with alternate
rocket thrusts, he managed to stop their wild spin. Then, dazedly, they
turned to look.

The scene behind them now was like something on a slow-motion film.
Almost lazily Phobos was expanding, as a ghastly bluish radiance
enveloped the area. Then Ric came alert, as spinning, disintegrating
fragments larger than their ship began hurling about them.

He blasted away, and minutes later they were looking back at the deadly
area. Only a vast powdery haze occupied the former orbit of Phobos.
Soon even this haze would disappear as the infinitesimal particles drew
together. A few larger fragments were falling toward Mars now, where
doubtless they would take up individual orbits about the planet.

Ric set his course, and on full rocket blast they headed for Earth. Tal
was worried, as he scanned the visi-panel.

"Ric ... just before Gorak rushed out of the room ... when he touched
that row of buttons...."

"Yes, I know. I'm sure that released the bombs. He already had the
sights set for Luna!"

Hours later Earth came into view, became rapidly larger in their
visi-panel. They could see Luna, far to the left. And a moment later,
part of Earth's Fleet was seen blasting out to meet them. A voice
stabbed through their radio.

"Hello, hello! Commander Graham of Patrol ship _Terra_ speaking. We've
had you in our magniview for the past ten minutes. As you carry no
insignia, you will go into a drift immediately and announce yourself!"

Ric did so gladly. Then, briefly, he explained what had happened. He
chuckled as the Commander's amazed voice came back to him.

"We observed the disruption of Phobos! You came from there? What about
those spore-bombs?"

"They're on the way! You've sighted none of them yet?"

"No. We've been watching...."

Praana spoke into the sender, anxiously. "What about my people? Dar
Mihelson, and the others--"

"They're safe. The Battle of Luna is over, and already the Martians
have trans-shipped to Earth. We're patrolling the dark side of Luna. If
we sight the bombs, we can deflect them from their course, send them
into a free orbit and destroy them at our leisure."

"No!" Ric said. "They may land on Earth if you try that. Send a flash
to your patrol not to touch those bombs, but get away from there fast.
Take my word, it's urgent!"

He received the Commander's assurance, and the televise blanked out.

"It's better to let Luna go," Ric said to Tal, "than to place Earth
in danger. We can reclaim it later--Mars, too--now that you have the
counter-active."

Tal nodded. There would be work, long and hard and dangerous. There
would be problems. He and Praana stood arm in arm at the visi-panel,
watching eagerly as the welcome panorama of Earth spread out below.