THE INVADING ASTEROID

                         By MANLY WADE WELLMAN

                     Science Fiction Series No. 15

                             Published By
                    STELLAR PUBLISHING CORPORATION
                           96-98 PARK PLACE
                               NEW YORK

         ©1932, Gernsback Publications, Inc. Printed in U.S.A.

      [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any
  evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Higher and higher through the night mounted the small, trim
space-launch. Far below the lights of St. Louis, capital of the
Terrestrial League, shone as myriad stars and reflected gleams on
the flat surfaces and soaring spires of the uppermost levels. From
a great height the city resembled a rambling building of tremendous
size, wherein little specks of surface-cars scampered over miniature
traffic-ways and clouds of air and space-vehicles danced around and
over the town like midges.

It was a fighting ship that was mounting upward, one of the many that
sped through space in the days of 2675, when Earth and Mars were in the
throes of that gigantic and regrettable conflict, the Interplanetary
War. However, the disintegrating ray apparatus, a deadly weapon that
enabled Terrestrial forces to compete on something like equal terms
with the overwhelming numbers of the space-navies of Mars, had been
removed from bow and stern. Most of the space inside the cigar-shaped
hull was occupied by engines to insure highest maneuverability and
speed, but in the center was a cushioned chamber large enough to allow
its three occupants to ride in comfort.

They were in Terrestrial uniform, but did not look like the sternest
of warriors. A year ago they had been students together at the
International University in St. Louis, looking forward to graduation
in 2675. But 2675 was here, and already they had participated in
the bitter conflicts that marked the beginnings of the war. Even
now, when the two worlds had drawn far apart in their orbits and the
interplanetary passage was too far for war parties to travel, they were
kept in intensive training and their school days seemed memories of a
thousand years ago.

"This is a squadron-commander's gig, at the very least," chuckled Bull
Mike Tishinev, former star athlete of his university, as he squared his
colossal shoulders. "We'll never have a softer trip, nor a freer one,
so long as we're in the service."

"And, inasmuch as we _are_ in the service, we're apt to catch it for
absence without leave, and also for using property of the Terrestrial
government for private purposes," suggested Neil Andresson, slim and
handsome.

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I had thought there would be danger,"
assured Sukune, the little Japanese, his young Oriental face shining
with a smile. "However, I had free run of the rocketport for my
experimentation, and nobody thought anything of it when I checked the
ship out. And we have all had two days' liberty and won't be missed.
They won't check the rocketport until the day after tomorrow, so we'll
have full forty-eight hours in space--first chance we've had to do such
a thing without some officer on our necks, directing every move of our
fingers."

Into the stratosphere, with the speed steadily and carefully
increasing, the ship made its way. The broad Mississippi lay across the
terrain beneath them, shrunk to the apparent dimensions of a silver
thread. St. Louis was now only a vari-colored, light-flecked blotch
lying across the river's course, with the smaller dark areas of suburbs
close at hand.

"What a lot of Martian culture could be spread by dropping two or three
roving bombs down there!" observed Sukune.

"Where is Mars from here?" asked Neil. The Japanese spun the dial of
the television, showing an orange disk blotched with gray-green.

"There you are--seat of Earth's troubles," he said.

       *       *       *       *       *

"What's that lump traveling along between us and Mars?" was Bull Mike's
question.

"That appears to be the asteroid that strayed from its path, the
astronomers say," replied Sukune. "It's not more than a mile or so in
diameter, and its distance has been computed to be about a hundred and
twelve million miles from the sun. That puts it nearly twenty million
miles beyond the Earth's orbit, or half-way between us and Mars.
However, science doesn't know much more about the thing. It's a bit too
far away for exploration just now, especially since all ships are now
built for war-service. It ought to come into opposition with us in the
spring of 2676."

He delivered this little lecture with the utmost fluency, and his
companions, less versed in sky-lore than he, listened admiringly. Bull
Mike grinned and patted the Japanese on the back.

"Never knew you to be stumped by anything yet," he cried. "No wonder
the ancients used to be afraid that your people would conquer the
world!"

Returning to the television, the three young men looked curiously at
the new phenomenon in the heavens. They knew, of course, about the
asteroids--fragments of exploded planets revolving just inside the path
of mighty Jupiter--but this one, so far from its fellows, presented a
different problem.

Leaving the atmospheric envelope, the ship sailed beyond danger of
overheating from friction. Like a comet it rose through empty space.
A glance from one port showed Earth at quarter-full, a warm, gleaming
crescent that clasped a round globe of shadowy blue. Beside and beyond,
glowed the white incandescence of the sun, its light intensified by
the soft blackness of space. Jewel-like stars were scattered in all
directions.

"If Commander Raws could only see us now!" said Bull Mike, boyishly
delighted by a sense of freedom.

"If he could, he'd order us all into confinement," Sukune reminded him.
"Eh, Neil?"

Before them hung the full moon. Toward this they laid their course and,
after twelve hours' flight, they slowed down to drift like a vagrant
bit of thistledown above the silent, dead valleys and mountain ranges.
Once they dropped down and rested on the ashy surface of the satellite.
In a few moments they were able to appreciate the depressed spirits
that afflicted the occasional explorers of the lunar wilderness.

For, despite the heavenly-aspiring peaks, the abysmal depths, the
far-reaching plains, there was a certain sameness about the moon's
scenery. They could see no movement save the shadow of their own craft
sliding along beneath them. No green of grass, no brilliant color of
flowers showed. No creatures scampered, crept or flew. There was not so
much as a heat-flurry in the atmosphere--for there was no atmosphere.
Nothing but the glaring white of sun-drenched rock, the inky black of
airless shade.

"I wouldn't live here for all the money in St. Louis," said Bull Mike.
"As far as that goes, I couldn't."

"I don't see why not," argued Sukune. "Mars' two moons are smaller
and rockier than this, and haven't any more air, water or natural
comfort. Yet the Martians have built cities under glass domes; pumped
in artificial air, and settled right down to keep house."

"That's because they're crowded at home," was Bull Mike's rebuttal.
"Well, there's room enough on Earth for me just now. Plenty of girls to
keep me company and wine to keep me healthy and excitement to keep me
occupied."

They gladly left the Moon behind and continued their journey. They
passed the time by eating part of the provisions they had brought
along, by observing the heavens and by working practise problems in
astronautics and space-maneuvers. At last they idled, a little more
than half a million miles from Earth--twenty hours by direct space
flight at top speed.

Neil was at the television. Suddenly he started violently and gestured
to his comrades.

"Look here!" he cried. "A ship!"

"A patrol scout from the army," groaned Bull Mike. "Now we're in for
it."

"That's no army craft!" declared Sukune when he saw the image. "Look
at the lines of its hull, see that emblem on the side--_it's an armed
Martian scout!_"

"You're right," said Neil. "It's just about on top of us, too. Let's
shake on out of here."

       *       *       *       *       *

Sukune jumped to the control board and began to strike a combination
of keys. As quickly as possible he turned the nose of their ship back
toward Earth. A glance through a port showed the Martian already within
sight of the naked eye.

From the enemy ship came a sudden streak of flame. Desperately Sukune
rattled the keys on the board. The Terrestrial craft writhed to one
side, barely escaping the explosion of a roving bomb.

"The ratty lizard!" yelled Bull Mike, clenching a mammoth fist. "He
sees that we're not armed for space-fighting!"

"What's he doing here, with Mars so far out of travel-shot, anyway?"
demanded Neil.

Nobody answered, for another bomb exploded at that moment, seemingly
just outside. It was soundless in the vacuum of space, but the force of
the detonation shook the ship like a leaf in a gust of wind.

"No chance for escape," said Sukune. He tapped the combination for a
halt and rose from his seat.

"Now he'll think he hit us," he told the others. "Let's play dead."

"Why?" asked Bull Mike.

"It's our only hope. Another bomb will do the business if we try to
run. But he'll want to capture our ship. If he sees it idling, he'll
figure that we're washed out. He'll come on board, and then----"

"And then!" repeated the giant, grinning. "Then we'll have a fair shake
with him!"

Quickly the three threw themselves down in attitudes of
unconsciousness. Neil flung himself on the sill of the port nearest the
Martian, in such a position that he could keep a cautious lookout.

Closer and closer came the enemy. Slowing down, he almost scraped
against their side. Peeping out, Neil could see a port directly
opposite. A Martian face, swarthy and skeleton-lean, was looking into
the interior.

What the fellow discovered evidently reassured him. He could be seen
pulling on a heavy space-suit over his scrawny limbs and clasping a
helmet into place. Then a long jointed arm of metal extended from his
ship to grapple and hold the supposedly disabled Terrestrial. A moment
later a lock-panel opened and the Martian emerged to jump lightly
across the few feet of intervening space.

They heard him working at their own entrance panel, evidently with some
sort of ray apparatus. Soon he had negotiated the lock and entered.
Fastening the panel behind him, he stepped over to where Bull Mike lay.
He did not even trouble to draw his automatic pistol from its holster
as he bent down to examine the silent form.

Easily, effortlessly, Bull Mike shot out his big hand and yanked the
Martian's feet out from under him.

Down crashed the Martian. His gloved hand fumbled with the butt of
his pistol, but Sukune was there first and snatched the weapon away.
Bull Mike sat up quickly, cradling the struggling enemy in his arms as
though he were a baby.

"Got him!" snorted the big fellow. "Let's appoint me as a committee of
one to break him in two across my knee."

"Wait a minute," said Sukune, flinging out a restraining hand. "I want
to question him first."

"What about?" asked Bull Mike.

"Lots of things. About where he came from, for instance."

"That's an easy one. He came from Mars," said Bull Mike. "Hi, you, lie
still or I'll do your legs in a braid!" This last to the prisoner.

"Not directly, he didn't come from Mars," said Neil. "He couldn't
travel that far. He must have a base somewhere near. Perhaps he's a
survivor from that bunch that was rubbed out on the Moon after they
landed their big space-ship there last spring."

"Thunder, that's so," admitted Bull Mike, as with no gentle hand he
unfastened and plucked away the space helmet. The prisoner grimaced in
impotent rage.

"You're a heroic customer, attacking a defenseless ship!" scolded
Bull Mike in very bad Martian. "What brought you here? Where's your
headquarters?"

They rose to their feet and allowed the prisoner to do likewise. He
looked at each in turn, undaunted by the reversal of fortunes.

"I'll tell you nothing," he said shortly in their own language. "Kill
me if you want to."




                              CHAPTER II

                          An Incredible Story


Bull Mike's open hand drove at him, its hard heel striking his chin.
With a gasp the Martian collapsed and would have fallen had not Neil
caught and supported him.

"Here, none of that, Bull Mike!" barked Sukune. "You don't know your
own strength--and very little else, either. Pour water on the fellow,
Neil."

The Martian revived. He fingered his bruised face and glared up at the
three Terrestrials. He still refused to answer questions.

But he couldn't have come all the way from home. "How far is it to
Mars?" queried Bull Mike.

"We'll see," said Neil, turning to the television and checking the
distance-finding device on it. "H'm, Mars is nearly on the other side
of the sun. 'Way out of flight-shot. That little asteroid shows at
about a hundred and fifty million miles."

"That asteroid!" repeated the Martian in a frightened voice. All three
stared at him in surprise. He recovered himself. "What asteroid?" he
queried more calmly.

"Asking, are you?" said Neil. "Well, I think you know. Where does that
asteroid come in?"

"I'm not talking," said the Martian doggedly.

"We'll remedy that," announced Sukune grimly. "Get that space-suit off
of him, you two."

The prisoner struggled fiercely, but his puny strength was futile
against their muscles, attuned to Earth's greater gravity. Quickly they
overpowered him and stripped away his armor of metal and insulated
fabric.

"Make him lie down on his face--so!" The Japanese had a hard gleam in
his eye. "Hold him by the wrists, Neil. And you, Bull Mike, hold his
ankles."

They did so. "Will you talk now?" Sukune asked the Martian.

"I'll not!"

"Well," sighed Sukune, "this may seem a little crude, my friend, but
it's necessary. Earth needs the information--and, if you'll remember,
you _did_ attack an unarmed ship."

Kneeling, he laid the tips of his fingers on the prisoner's flanks. It
seemed no more than the lightest touch, yet the Martian shrieked out as
if in an ecstasy of pain.

"You'll talk?" prompted the torturer.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!"

"A little spot of jiu-jitsu," Sukune said to his friends, rising. "It
is strange how much the Martian nerve centers resemble the Terrestrial
in position and response to stimuli. Let him up again."

The Martian dropped weakly on a seat, the defiance gone out of him.
Sukune produced a metal flask and unscrewed the stopper.

"Here, drink this," he told the captive. "It's Terrestrial wine, it'll
strengthen you. There, feel better? All right, tell us where you came
from."

The Martian licked his lips with his dark, pointed tongue. "You guessed
it at once," he said. "I'm from the asteroid. I was on a lone scout,
like you; got too far away from home and ran out of fuel. I thought I'd
capture you and fill my tanks."

"Nonsense!" said Sukune. "That asteroid isn't as large as lots
of mountains on Earth. If a body of Martians had dwellings and
fortifications on it, our astronomers would have made them out. You
don't mean to tell us that you've been living on it."

The captive frowned and hesitated until he saw Sukune's wiry fingers
crook suggestively. Then he made haste to reply.

"Not on it. Inside it. It's an artificial asteroid."

They looked at him in astonishment, only half-comprehending.

"Already you know about the giant ship on the Moon, that housed so many
men----"

"You mean," said Neil, "that the asteroid is a giant ship also?"

       *       *       *       *       *

"It's more than one. On Mars we built four tremendous craft, each about
one of your Earth miles in length and shaped like a quarter-slice from
a round fruit. Then we took the four into space, one at a time, to the
point where we wanted the asteroid's orbit to be. There we joined them
together, like the quarters of the fruit fitted into shape again. The
outer surfaces of them are roughcast to represent the natural rocky
landscape of a little planet. And there we have a little world of our
own, midway between Mars and your Earth."

The three Terrestrials were still mute with amazement. The Martian had
recovered enough of his courage to laugh at them.

"I know that it sounds impossible. And so it must be, to such as you.
Only on Mars, where we have the greatest metal resources, the most
skillful mechanics, the wisest scientists in all the great universe,
could such a thing be possible."

"Well," said Sukune, "what about it?"

"The Earth revolves around the sun every three hundred and sixty-five
days, Mars in twice that. They will not come into opposition again
for fully an Earth year from now. Naturally, Earth feels secure. Her
mighty ships of war are idle, her millions of manpower loll in peaceful
repose. They do not dream that this little artificial world may be
dangerous. But it makes its journey around the sun in approximately
four hundred and eighty days, and that can be speeded or slowed
somewhat by means of tremendous rocket-engines. It will come into
opposition with unthinking Earth in one hundred and fifty days, as I
approximate it."

"Next April!" figured Neil quickly. "And then?"

"And then the little world will empty itself. It can bring forth two
thousand heavily-armed ships, manned by six hundred thousand picked
men. The space armies of Earth with their ships and weapons will be
mighty and many, but unwary. Those two thousand Martian raiders will
sell themselves at the highest cost, crippling and destroying Earth's
defenses and cities to the utmost of their power. If they are lucky,
you and your comrades will be prostrated, so that, months later, the
expeditionary force from Mars can capture the planet without serious
opposition."

The Martian bowed slightly, as if he were concluding a public address.

"I wonder if he's lying," said Bull Mike.

"Not at all, gentlemen," said the Martian. "Do you give me credit for
inventing such a wonderful tale?"

"Let's get back to Earth," suggested Neil.

"Right," seconded Sukune. "Back there we'll turn ourselves in for being
absent without leave, but they'll forget about us when they check this
lad's veracity under the truth-ray."

The three agreed. First they bound their prisoner hand and foot. Bull
Mike was told off to mount guard over him and Sukune returned to
the controls. Putting on the Martian's space-suit, Neil hopped out
and across the abyss to the other ship where it still clung by its
automatic grapple. Transferring some new fuel to its tanks, he sent it
speeding along in the wake of Sukune's craft.

In the stratosphere above St. Louis a patrol sighted and hailed them.
The Martian craft was instantly boarded and seized, and the commander
of the patrol bombarded the occupants of the two vessels with sharp,
suspicious questions. At last he listened to the pleadings of the
young Terrestrials and took them and their prisoner direct to their
home rocketport, where Commander Scholom Raws, the officer of the
space-scout squadron to which they belonged, was called to hear their
story.

His first sharp accusation of truancy was stilled as they poured out
their strange tale. When they had finished he ordered them to form a
guard for the Martian and led the way at once to staff headquarters of
the Intelligence Department many levels below.

       *       *       *       *       *

The group of intelligence officers who heard the report was deadly
serious. First it held a whispered conference behind closed doors. Then
the officers emerged again to question Neil, Bull Mike and Sukune, one
at a time. The three were sworn not to discuss their adventure, even
among themselves, and directed to return to their quarters.

The Martian prisoner also repeated his story. Subjected to the
truth-rays, which, properly administered, eliminate the power of lying,
he answered all questions in substantially the same manner as before.
He was prevailed upon to draw diagrams of the artificial planetoid in
which his fellows were whirling ever nearer to their opposition with
Earth.

Finally he was imprisoned and a trusted guard set over him, with every
precaution taken to insure absolute secrecy. Should Martian spies,
still thick in every Terrestrial community, despite the ceaseless war
waged upon them, find out the facts of the man's capture, the plans of
the Terrestrial high command might go for naught.

Commander Raws mentioned the affair once only. That was when he called
Neil and his two friends into his quarters; and first making sure that
nobody could hear them, spoke as follows:

"I do not condone your absence without leave although it may have
chanced to bring fortune to our cause. Yet the high command feels that
there is some reward due you."

He paused and studied the three young faces.

"That reward will be the knowledge of what your part will be in further
action against this Martian force," he continued. "Well, I have asked
for and received permission for my squadron to be included in the
raiding group that is going to tackle them. No, ask no questions.
Dismiss!"

Thereafter nothing more was said and no further hint of the nature of
the plan of campaign was forthcoming. Only here and there, all over
Earth's surface, isolated flights and squadrons of war-craft were given
extra-duty training, were led in longer and more intricate maneuvers
than their fellows; were ordered to install fighting equipment on their
ships and to practice its use.

The number of Martians inside the round hull of the asteroid, according
to the prisoner, was about six hundred thousand. The asteroid would
have several thousand swift, light raiding ships, all fully armed and,
in addition, the sham world would assuredly be defended and fortified
to a high degree. Undoubtedly it was well guarded and observers with
television and astronomical equipment would keep close watch on Earth
as they approached. A fleet of space-ships could hardly steal upon that
mile-size ball through coverless space--surprise would be out of the
question. And chances seemed hardly better that the battle could be won
by sheer force of arms.

However, a group of six thousand space-ships was organized for the
attempt, ranging in size and model from small scouts such as were
included in Commander Raws' squadron to huge and powerful dreadnaughts
of space. Since these larger, heavier craft were less fitted for long
journeys, the start of the expedition was delayed until the middle
of January, 2676. Should the group start from Earth at that time,
computations showed, the Martian asteroid would be met at a point some
seventy million miles away, shortly after the first of March. Even
for that comparatively short journey the big ships would have to be
refitted with special tanks for reserve fuel and the crews would have
to be cut down accordingly. In the end, barely three hundred thousand
men were included in the plans.




                              CHAPTER III

                             The Deserter


Yaxa, the prisoner, was of course ignorant of all these things as he
sat alone in his secret prison. Food came to him by dumbwaiter and he
did not see a human face. It was not until the middle of January that
the door of his cell opened and admitted a Terrestrial--a Terrestrial
whom he recognized as one of the three who had captured him.

"Courage!" said Neil Andresson. "We're getting out of here."

Yaxa looked at him levely. They made a striking contrast; the
saddle-colored Martian--with his puffy body, his spidery legs and his
head that, except for the brilliant eyes, seemed to be a high-craniumed
skull covered only with skin--looked like a weird cartoon of the
Terrestrial with his fine, muscular proportions, his smooth cheeks and
his smiling countenance.

"Are you going to torture me further?" demanded Yaxa.

"Not I," said Neil. "If you'll remember, I never offered you violence
at any time. I was not in sympathy with the measures taken to
wring information from you, though I was in the minority and had
to countenance them. For that matter, I'm not in sympathy with the
Terrestrial cause at all."

"Then what are you doing here?" asked the Martian.

"I succeeded in being detailed to guard you. I'm going to set you free."

Yaxa made a helpless gesture. "What can I do if I am freed? I'll be
a stranger in a hostile world. Terrestrials will recognize me for an
enemy as far as they can see me. I'll be hunted down and killed or
injured or, at the very least, brought back to prison."

"I've provided for that, else I would not have made the suggestion,"
said Neil. "Here, take this pistol. And see the cloak I am wearing.
Take it, drape it about you. At first glance you might pass for a
Terrestrial. Come, I know where your ship is kept. We'll escape in it."

"We?" repeated the captive.

"Yes, I'm going with you, back to your asteroid. It's within space-shot
now. I cannot remain here, I would be punished as a traitor."

His eyes shining with new hope, Yaxa donned Neil's cape and followed
him into a deserted hallway, then out into a street where a closed
surface-car awaited them. They entered this and traveled, by
traffic-way and by lift, to the very top level of the city.

When Neil opened the door Yaxa peeped out and saw that they had reached
a rocketport. Hangars stood at every hand, with rows of space craft,
large and small, on all sides. But nearest to them and isolated from
the others was the fast Martian scout which had been his when he had
flown to his capture.

"Quick, we have no time to lose," Neil urged him, and they left
the car. A dozen steps took them to the side of the space-ship. A
lock-panel was open and the two of them entered the inner compartment.

Sukune and Bull Mike looked up curiously from their seats inside. The
leveled pistols of the two intruders prompted the young guards to raise
their hands. "What's the meaning of this?" asked Sukune.

"It's what you Terrestrials call poetic justice," smiled Yaxa. "You
captured me--now I have captured you."

"Neil, you traitor!" fumed Bull Mike.

"I wouldn't call names if I were in your shoes," rejoined Neil,
crossing to the panel which led into the storeroom, and opening it.
"Yaxa, this ship is well supplied with everything we need on the
voyage. Shall we leave?"

"Yes, of course. What shall we do with these friends of yours?"

"Don't call me a friend of his," growled Bull Mike.

"We'll take them along," replied Neil, taking no notice of his former
chum's remark. "If we let them go now they'll rouse the whole planet on
us. As it is, the force that is tackling your asteroid doesn't leave
for two days yet. That ought to be head start enough for us."

It seemed that nobody at the rocketport noticed the departure of the
Martian ship. If notice was taken, perhaps it was reflected that there
were Terrestrial guards on board and that all must be well. Unhindered,
the craft went up and out, cleared the atmospheric envelope and headed
for the bright speck in the sky that marked the sham world which was
its goal.

       *       *       *       *       *

For a few hours there was silence aboard between the captives and the
captors, but at length Sukune spoke up with a smile.

"Why be unreasonable about this thing?" he said. "If we're to be
together for two months or so in space, we might as well be pleasant
about it. I, for one, will accept defeat gracefully if you'll let me."

"Gladly," said Yaxa.

"Me, too," said Bull Mike.

"That settles it," said Yaxa. "We'll get along together, I'm sure."

"Senator W. L. Marcy of our United States once said, 'To the victors
belong the spoils,'" continued Sukune. "We'll admit for the time being
that you are victors and we're the spoils. Until the situation reverses
itself we'll be model prisoners."

They gathered in friendly fashion around the television screen and
dialed in the image of the asteroid. It appeared half light, half
dark, like a moon at the half. They could pick out the roughnesses of
mountains, ravines and plains, all made in miniature by clever Martian
artisans. They discussed what they saw like real comrades, all enmity
apparently forgotten.

When two days had passed they watched the diminishing Earth by
television and, sure enough, sighted great clouds of shining
specks--the hundreds of flights of space-ships that were taking the
ether. They saw how some flew slowly, others swiftly, so that in a
short time they had formed into the conventional "curtain front"--an
open order formation of three dimensions, roughly disk-like in shape
and perpendicular to the line of advance. It was about a thousand miles
in diameter and about as thick through as the distance in which three
or four ships could fly in single column. Against the black sky it
looked like a moving galaxy of runaway stars.

In front of this formation danced several flights of speedy scouts.
"Raws and the boys are among those," said Sukune.

"Don't the Martians inside the asteroid see that attacking force?"
asked Bull Mike. "They can fly away, can't they? Well, why don't they?"

"A body of that size could hardly carry enough fuel for a long,
sustained trip," Yaxa explained. "It just boosts itself along
occasionally as it follows the orbit to which it is held by the sun's
gravitational pull. That being the case, it could hardly hope to escape
from those lighter, further-traveling ships. My companions inside
doubtless figure that they might as well face the attack first as last."

There was something uncanny in the thought of what was being done
and decided inside that floating globe, so like a lifeless planetoid
and yet the work of mortal hands. Brimful of men and weapons it was
destined to destroy whatever of Earth it might.

A month passed. And then another week. Larger and ever larger grew the
mock asteroid until it filled a sizeable portion of the television
screen that reflected it. At last they swooped down toward it, a great
uneven globe the color of clay that spun slowly upon its tilted axis.
Lightly as a falling leaf the ship descended. Neil was at the controls
inside, while Yaxa sent code messages by radio. A great black opening
suddenly appeared. Into this the craft slipped.

It fitted into the end of a long tube, like a nut dropped into a
mouse-hole. As it came to a stop Yaxa opened the lock-panel to the
outside. At once several Martians, all heavily armed, looked in. At the
sight of the Terrestrials they levelled automatic rifles and pistols.

"It's all right," said Yaxa. "One of these is a friend, the other two
are prisoners."

Still suspicious, a guard took the four to an officer. There Yaxa made
a long report in an undertone. The three Terrestrials were questioned
next, one at a time. In the end Sukune and Bull Mike were sent away to
be confined.

"As for you," the officer said to Neil, "I find that you have done a
great service to us and that at a great personal sacrifice. Consider
yourself one of us. We are prepared to offer you whatever reward you
ask within reason."

"Thank you," replied Neil. "I know nothing that I would like at present
except a chance to inspect your wonderful asteroid."

"We will gladly grant you such a chance," he was assured.

Some conversation about the oncoming Terrestrial force then followed,
but Neil, a simple scout in rank, was unable to give much information.
At last he was allowed to go away with Yaxa, who by this time looked
upon him as a close friend.

       *       *       *       *       *

They walked through long, high corridors, walled with gray metal
and flanked by doors opening into compartments of various styles
and equipment. Aided by Yaxa's explanations. Neil was not long in
visualizing the whole structure as a series of spherical surfaces,
one within another, each surface utilized as the floor of a level.
Artificial gravity was set up at the core and elevators and sloping
runways permitted the garrison to progress from one level to another.

"Most of all," said Neil, "I want to view this wonderful mechanism
which holds the four parts of your asteroid together."

"A trifle, nothing but a trifle," Yaxa replied with a deprecatory
gesture. "The principal is a simple magnetic one. The four
sections--the fruit slices, I once described them--bring their inner
angles together along a common line. That common line is a long, thin
cable made of six different kinds of metal, each of the six connected
with a special motor at either end. They set up the current among
themselves, and the cable acts as the pole of our world."

"And if the current was cut off?"

"Then the four sections would float apart. But the current will endure
as long as the cable is not cut clean in two."

"Then where is the center of gravity?"

"At the very mid-point of the cable, which is also the center of the
asteroid and of each concentric sphere within it."

"I would greatly like to see this cable," said Neil again.

"That is the only request I cannot grant you," the Martian replied.
"It is the most sacred, the most jealously fenced object of all. Every
foot is guarded by trusted men, each one sworn to defend it with his
last drop of blood. Only the commander of this garrison can be admitted
to the tubular compartment which surrounds its central emanator
of gravity, or to the shops where the motors run. But don't feel
disappointed over such a prohibition. Come, we'll go to a theater and
on the way we'll pass as close to the cable as we're likely to get."

Sure enough, as they walked down the corridor they came to a juncture
of four wide passages. Here was a small concourse, thronged with
pedestrians, and in its very center a stout metal pillar rose from the
flooring to the roof. Two sentries stood vigilantly on opposite sides
of it.

"We are now at the point where the four sections meet on this level,"
Yaxa pointed out. "As you see, the walls are cut well away to allow
the passages to cross. That pillar is made of four pieces--the edges
of the sections. Enclosed by them is the cable I told you about. The
pillar and the cable extend above and below here, from one pole of the
asteroid to the other."

Neil looked at the arrangement as if fascinated but Yaxa urged him
on. They came to the spot where opposite partitions of two adjoining
sections came together. There was not enough space to insert a
knife-blade, so accurately had the structure been made.

"Not very thick for outer walls," observed Neil, measuring the
partitions with his eye. "A Terrestrial disintegrator-ray could easily
pierce them."

"Of course, but these are only inner walls, after all. The real strong,
thick partition is the outside, the tough rind of the fruit. That is
too much for the strongest ray or bomb ever made."

"There aren't any bolts to hold the sections together."

"Have you forgotten what I told you about the artificial gravity? That
holds everything in place. But here's the theater. Let's get inside or
we'll be late."




                              CHAPTER IV

                           The Great Battle


The television drama broadcast from the Martian pleasure city of
Pulambar, was one of the cynical tragi-comedies that the men of Mars
love so well. As it unfolded certain gases were released in the
auditorium. They seemed pungent, even acrid, to Neil, who was not used
to Martian luxuries, but those around him sniffed the fumes with every
evidence of pleasure. He watched the drama progress and was careful to
applaud and laugh whenever Yaxa did.

From there they went to an eating-compartment, where a group of young
officers first looked askance at the Terrestrial stranger, but crowded
around with exclamations of welcome when Yaxa explained his presence in
the asteroid. Neil made the best of his limited command of the Martian
language. The party seemed to be having a fine time, not the slightest
bit worried by the fact that a strong force from Earth was due to
attack within a few hours.

"We have only to remain inside our defenses," said one. "They can
hammer away on our surface forever without effect, while we can bomb
them out of existence one by one."

"It'll be a way to break the tedium of existence," offered another.

"And excellent practice for our coming raid on Earth," added a third.

"Will you fight on our side?" the first speaker asked Neil.

"No, I'll be a non-combatant," grinned the Terrestrial. "After all,
I've some old comrades in those ships. However," he continued, "I'll
drink in the fashion of my planet to your success and that of your
friends."

He was loudly applauded and several raised their glasses in imitation
of his courtesy.

The gathering broke up late and Neil confessing himself tired, was
allowed to go to bed in quarters near those of Yaxa. Yet he did not
sleep for hours and, when he dozed off at last, it seemed but a moment
before Yaxa knocked at his door to waken him.

He dressed and went out into the wide passage that served as a street.
The carefree attitude of the Martians was gone now; everywhere he saw
bodies of troops drawn up into formation, while here and there sped
vehicles laden with munitions and supplies.

"The enemy is almost here and we're getting ready," explained Yaxa.
"The commander has told me to bring you to him, that he may ask what
part you want to take in the action."

"I've already said that I don't want to fight," said Neil. "As a matter
of fact, I think that I'd do best as a guard over the Terrestrial
prisoners who came with us. I'm built along the same mental and
physical lines that they are, and so I ought to be ideal for the job."

When he faced the Martian chief he made the same suggestion and it
was accepted on the spot. Yaxa conducted him to an elevator and they
descended, it seemed for miles. At last they stepped out into a narrow
corridor the floor of which was sharply curved.

In front of a near-by panel a Martian soldier stood, armed with
automatic rifle, pistol and bomb-thrower. Yaxa explained their errand
and showed a stamped bit of metal as badge of authority. The fellow
saluted and opened the door.

Inside, Sukune and Bull Mike rose from the pallets on which they sat.
They were courteous, even cheerful, in their greeting to the newcomers.

"We've been getting ourselves an eyeful of the show that's coming,"
said the Japanese, pointing to the television screen that was part of
the chamber's furnishings. Sure enough, he had dialed in a viewpoint
in space from which the artificial asteroid appeared as a sphere about
two feet in diameter, while in the distance the "curtain front" of the
Terrestrial ships' advance could be seen like a puff of luminous dust.

"There's a lot of friends of ours in that mob," added Bull Mike.
"They'll take this little pill of yours without so much as a swallow of
water. Then we'll be free, speaking a good word for you, Yaxa."

"That's kind of you," smiled the Martian. "However, I don't think that
there will be that much of a reverse."

"We'll soon know," said Neil. "Look, the Terrestrials are about ready
to close in."

       *       *       *       *       *

The attacking fleet had indeed drawn near its objective. They could see
the face of the "curtain" changing, the edges coming forward and the
center receding. This was the first move toward the gradual formation
of a great net or basket in which to snare the apparently lifeless
ball. That accomplished, the open face of the net would close and the
ships of Earth would settle like a cloud around their quarry. An hour
more, at least, and the thing would be done.

But, as the Terrestrials drew near, a hundred hidden panels flew wide
all over the asteroid, exposing dark recesses. From each of these, shot
ship after ship, like angry hornets disturbed in their nests, hurtling
silently and fiercely to battle.

What followed might seem but a small engagement compared to the later
and final conflict between Earth and Mars, wherein full two million
ships took part. Yet, for display of grim courage, desperate endeavor
and in proportion to the casualties, the fight that ensued around and
within the asteroid has no parallel in the history of either planet.

Records show that the Martian commander of the garrison in the huge
hull foresaw and planned his part of the battle from the moment the
enemy group left Earth. He hoped to launch a surprise attack that it
would have been impossible for the Terrestrials to forestall, and to
that end he awaited the very instant when the attacking party bunched
to close in. Then he sent his entire space-force, something more
than two thousand fighting craft, out and at them. Only the smallest
possible crews were at the battle stations of these ships and the bulk
of the asteroid garrison, more than five hundred thousand strong,
remained inside.

The four at the television watched eagerly the miniature reflection
of the engagement. The Martians, less in number and lighter in craft,
did their best to take advantage of every opportunity. Bunching close
together in fours and fives, they hurled into action. They were all
raiding models, more maneuverable than most of the battleships and
heavy cruisers among the Terrestrials. A quick dash through the ranks
of the oncoming enemy, and they might be able to effect an equally
quick turn and an attack from the rear.

From every Martian ship streaked forth a volley of roving bombs. These
projectiles propelled by ultra-swift rocket-engines, were aimed and
guided by radio controls so that they could be turned to seek a target
missed at first attempt. Some of the foremost Terrestrial ships were
silently exploded into nothingness before they could fight or avoid the
enemy. The others, frantically plied their disintegrator rays, swinging
the lean, glowing fingers of flame back and forth in an attempt to blot
out the whizzing bombs and the ships that were launching them.

"Say, I'm missing some wonderful fighting," said Yaxa suddenly. "You
three will excuse me."

"We three will do nothing of the sort," replied Neil with the utmost
calm. "You're staying here with us."

The young Martian looked up with wondering eyes, first at Neil, who
stood with drawn pistol, then at Bull Mike and Sukune, who had risen to
bar the door. His hand dropped to his belt in search of a weapon.

"Stand still, Yaxa, or I'll kill you," called Neil warningly. Yaxa's
hand ceased its motion. Bull Mike reached out and possessed himself of
the Martian's weapon. Then, holding the prisoner by the shoulder, he
walked toward the door, which Sukune was opening.

Outside the startled sentry brought up his rifle, but paused when he
saw Bull Mike interpose the body of Yaxa as a shield.

"Shoot, fool!" screamed the latter. "Don't mind me, destroy these men
before they escape!"

The sentry still hesitated for a moment and in that moment Neil shot
him down. Sukune sprang out and possessed himself of the fallen man's
rifle, pistol and bomb-thrower.

Neil still remained at the television screen for a moment before
following the men he had liberated. "Our battleships are already raying
the outside," he said, as he came away at last. "We haven't a minute to
lose."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Yaxa in a voice that still
reflected overwhelming astonishment. "I don't understand----"

"It's perfectly simple," said Sukune. "We were deathly afraid that
you'd guess before this, but now you may as well know. The whole
business of your rescue, our capture, the flight from Earth, was
arranged by our intelligence staff. They wanted to get three determined
men inside this shell, where we could in some way lay the innards open
to Terrestrial disintegrators."

"That's why you were so curious about the cable," Yaxa accused Neil.

"Right," admitted the other. "Well, we have little time to lose. Follow
me."

       *       *       *       *       *

Suddenly Yaxa began to struggle. "Help! Help!" he yelled at the top of
his lungs, and at his cry a little group of Martians came running to
view from a side-passage. Bull Mike clouted Yaxa with his fist and the
prisoner fell insensible, while the three Terrestrials ran swiftly up
the corridor. Behind them came a summons to stop, followed by a scatter
of shots. A few leaps, however, left the pursuit well behind.

"There's the cable-pillar, ahead of us," said Neil, pointing ahead.
Sure enough they were approaching a pole on their level.

The two guards on duty by the device looked up at the sound of
hurriedly approaching feet. Before they could challenge, however,
they fell beneath a volley from the Terrestrials. Ignoring the still
quivering bodies, the three comrades gathered around the pillar.

"How can we cut it?" panted Sukune.

"I smuggled this along," said Neil, producing a hand disintegrator
appliance, about the size of a pistol. With it he began to fuse the
metal facings of the pillar.

The Martians who had come at Yaxa's call were approaching now. Bull
Mike sent a stream of bullets at them from the rifle of one of the
cable-guards. Sukune did likewise. Several of the pursuers fell while
the others ducked into sheltering doorways without returning the fire.

"They're afraid they'll hit and damage this pillar," said Neil. "Hang
close to it, you two."

He had cut well into one facing of the great upright. Still he had not
pierced the layer of metal that protected the cable. On he worked while
his comrades faced in opposite directions, rifles at the ready.

The shots had attracted groups in other corridors, and from all
four directions bodies of Martian soldiery could be seen stealthily
approaching. As they came close enough to be good targets Sukune and
Bull Mike sprayed bullets on them. The survivors all sought shelter for
a moment, then resumed steady advance from doorway to doorway along the
passages. A rush from all quarters seemed imminent.

At last a great oxidized chip fell away from the pillar and Neil gave
a triumphant exclamation. He had pierced the metal and inside he could
plainly see the cable--a taut, gleaming cord of vari-colored strands,
barely six inches in diameter. It was hard to realize that this slender
line was the source of the powerful gravity that controlled this
synthetic world. He aimed his disintegrator at it anew, but no ray
answered his touch on the button. The charge had been exhausted in
forcing a way through the pillar.

He sent a pistol bullet in at the cable. It struck at an angle and
glanced away. His action was seen by the Martians in all directions,
who gave vent to a loud chorus of desperate shouts and charged forward
as if driven by one single impulse.

The rattle of Sukune's and Bull Mike's rifles sounded, but this burst
of fire could not stem the rush. In a second the Martians were upon
them--dozens of them. Bull Mike clubbed his weapon, swung it like a
flail and cleared a space. Half a dozen pistols were fired at him,
their muzzles almost against him as they were discharged. He reeled but
did not collapse, fighting on with undiminished strength.

Sukune did not fare so well, and out of the tail of his eye Neil saw
the Japanese go down and lie still as vengeful Martians showered
blows upon him. In desperation he reached a hand through the hole in
the cable, grasped the cable and gave it a powerful jerk at the same
moment. A moment later he fell sprawling, his body convulsed by a
current that gripped and tore at him as though it would rend his every
muscle to shreds. He tried to rise again, but the shock had paralyzed
him. His ears were dull to the din around him and his eyes were blurred
as if with weariness, but he could see that a loop of the cable had
been pulled out by his attempt.

Bull Mike, last of the three Terrestrials still on his feet, saw it,
too. Hurling his weapon into the midst of the Martians, he sprang to
the side of the pillar and thrust his arm through the exposed loop.
Clasping his great hands, he hurled his giant body outward with all his
strength.

For a moment he seemed to glow as if illuminated from within by a
powerful white flame. Then he flew through the air and crashed to the
floor. The Martians fairly riddled his fallen form with their bullets.
Neil slipped into insensibility, and the last thing he was conscious
of was that the cable's loop had been parted, its two frayed ends
protruding from the hole in the pillar, fully six inches of space
between them.

The mission of the trio had been accomplished.

       *       *       *       *       *

When he regained his senses at last he could not open his eyes. He
moved his hands, and it was as if they were sheathed in massy lead. His
very breathing was a distinct effort.

"Bull Mike!" he called. "Sukune!"--but then he remembered that Bull
Mike and Sukune had been killed.

"Lie still," said a female voice. "You're all right."

"Where am I?" he asked.

"In a hospital," answered the voice.

"A hospital? Where? On Earth?"

"Of course," the voice laughed. "You're in Base Hospital Number 61-X,
at Delhi. I'm your nurse."

"I see. The battle's over, then."

"Months ago. After our ships fired blasts between sections of the
asteroid and then destroyed them, you were one of the few survivors
found floating in space among the wreckage. It's been a fight to keep
you alive."

He lay still and thought silently.

"Am I blind?" he asked at length.

"No, but leave that bandage on your eyes alone. Plenty of time to see
everything when the doctor takes it off."

"I understand," he said. "And am I--badly hurt?"

"You were. But we've put you together, as good as new. It will take
many days more, but you'll walk and talk and see and fly again. And
you'll still have your good looks, too."

Again he was quiet. The nurse broke the silence.

"Something was left here for you."

He heard the rattle of a paper wrapping. Then a small object was placed
in his palm. It seemed to be a bit of metal, cut into the shape of a
many-pointed star and depending from a strip of ribbon.

"The president of the Terrestrial League brought you that with his own
hands," the nurse told him. "Shall I read the citation?"

"Do."

"Very well, listen. 'In recognition of the intelligent and loyal
service rendered in capturing an enemy scout and securing from him
information of paramount importance to the Terrestrial arms on or about
the first day of October, 2675; and for courageous and successful
attempts and actions against and in the presence of a superior armed
force of the enemy on or about the third day of March, 2676; I, Silas
Parrish, president of the Terrestrial League, by authority vested in
me by the government of the planet Earth, do confer upon Captain Neil
Andresson, unattached, the highest award for valor and service that is
within the gift of the body I represent; to wit, the Medal of Honor of
the Terrestrial League.'"

She stopped reading. "But it calls me a captain!" exclaimed Neil. "I'm
only a scout."

"You have the rank of captain now. It's honorary, of course. You'll be
out of the hospital before the beginning of the year, but you won't be
able to go into action again before the whole mess is settled."

He heard her lay the medal and document down. Then her footsteps went
echoing away.

"Hello, Neil," said a voice he knew.

"Yaxa!" he cried. "You here?"

"In the cot next to you. They picked us up together, I'm told."

"Badly wounded?"

"Worse than you. Both my legs have been taken off."

Neil said nothing for a moment. "It could be worse," he ventured at
last.

"Oh yes. Life is worth living, even with artificial limbs."

"Can you see, Yaxa."

"Perfectly."

"Here then. The war's over, at least so far as we're concerned. Let's
call it quits."

He painfully stretched out his hand toward the place from which Yaxa's
voice came. After a moment he felt the Martian's spidery fingers on it.

"Quits it is, then," agreed Yaxa. "We'll get well together."

Both of them relaxed. The fierce conflict they had both gone through
now seemed far away and vague, as if it had been the experience of
other men. They felt peaceful and in some measure content.

For they had both fought a good fight. Both had done their best. Both
would be honored for their efforts. And, best of all, neither of them
would ever need to fight again.


                                The End