by Ray Cummings
Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Sankar Viswanathan,and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.
_BRIGANDS of the MOON_
by
RAY CUMMINGS
ACE BOOKS, INC.
23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y.
Copyright, 1931, by Ray Cummings
* * * * *
I
Our ship, the space-flyer, _Planetara_, whose home port was GreaterNew York, carried mail and passenger traffic to and from both Venusand Mars. Of astronomical necessity, our flights were irregular. Thespring of 2070, with both planets close to the Earth, we were makingtwo complete round trips. We had just arrived in Greater New York, oneMay evening, from Grebhar, Venus Free State. With only five hours inport here, we were departing the same night at the zero hour forFerrok-Shahn, capital of the Martian Union.
We were no sooner at the landing stage than I found a code flashsummoning Dan Dean and me to Divisional Detective Headquarters. Dan"Snap" Dean was one of my closest friends. He was electron-radiooperator of the _Planetara_. A small, wiry, red-headed chap, with aquick, ready laugh and the kind of wit that made everyone like him.
The summons to Detective-Colonel Halsey's office surprised us. Deaneyed me.
"You haven't been opening any treasure vaults, have you, Gregg?"
"He wants you, also," I retorted.
He laughed. "Well, he can roar at me like a traffic switch-man and myprivate life will remain my own."
We could not think why we should be wanted. It was the darkness ofmid-evening when we left the _Planetara_ for Halsey's office. It wasnot a long trip. We went on the upper monorail, descending into thesubterranean city at Park Circle 30.
We had never been to Halsey's office before. Now we found it to be agloomy, vaultlike place in one of the deepest corridors. The doorlifted.
"Gregg Haljan and Daniel Dean."
The guard stood aside. "Come in."
I own that my heart was unduly thumping as we entered. The doordropped behind us. It was a small blue-lit apartment--a steel-linedroom like a vault.
Colonel Halsey sat at his desk. And the big, heavy-set, florid CaptainCarter--our commander on the _Planetara_--was here. That surprised us:we had not seen him leave the ship.
Halsey smiled at us gravely. Captain Carter spoke with an ominouscalmness: "Sit down, lads."
We took the seats. There was an alarming solemnity about this. If Ihad been guilty of anything that I could think of, it would have beenfrightening. But Halsey's words reassured me.
"It's about the Grantline Moon Expedition. In spite of our secrecy,the news has gotten out. We want to know how. Can you tell us?"
Captain Carter's huge bulk--he was about as tall as I am--towered overus as we sat before Halsey's desk. "If you lads have told anyone--saidanything--let _slip_ the slightest hint about it...."
Snap smiled with relief; but he turned solemn at once. "I haven't. Nota word!"
"Nor have I!" I declared.
The Grantline Moon Expedition! We had not thought of that as a reasonfor this summons. Johnny Grantline was a close friend of ours. He hadorganized an exploring expedition to the Moon. Uninhabited, with itsbleak, forbidding, airless, waterless surface, the Moon--even thoughso close to the Earth--was seldom visited. No regular ship everstopped there. A few exploring parties of recent years had come togrief.
But there was a persistent rumor that upon the Moon, mineral riches offabulous wealth were awaiting discovery. The thing had already causedsome interplanetary complications. The aggressive Martians would beonly too glad to explore the Moon. But the United States of the World,which came into being in 2067, definitely warned them away. The Moonwas Earth territory, we announced, and we would protect it as such.
There was, nevertheless, a realization by our government, thatwhatever riches might be upon the Moon should be seized at once andheld by some reputable Earth Company. And when John Grantline applied,with his father's wealth and his own scientific record of attainment,the government was glad to grant him its writ.
The Grantline Expedition had started six months ago. The Martiangovernment had acquiesced to our ultimatum, yet brigands have beenknown to be financed under cover of a government disavowal. And so ourexpedition was kept secret.
My words need give no offence to any Martian who comes upon them. Irefer to the history of our Earth only. The Grantline Expedition wason the Moon now. No word had come from it. One could not flash helioseven in code without letting all the universe know that explorers wereon the Moon. And why they were there, anyone could easily guess.
And now Colonel Halsey was telling us that the news was abroad!Captain Carter eyed us closely; his flashing eyes under the whitebushy brows would pry a secret from anyone.
"You're sure? A girl of Venus, perhaps, with her cursed, seductivelure! A chance word, with you lads befuddled by alcolite?"
We assured him that we had been careful. By the heavens, I know that Ihad been. Not a whisper, even to Snap, of the name Grantline in sixmonths or more.
Captain Carter added abruptly, "We're insulated here, Halsey?"
"Yes. Talk as freely as you like. An eavesdropping ray will never getthrough to us."
They questioned us. They were satisfied at last that, though thesecret had escaped, we had not given it away. Hearing it discussed, itoccurred to me to wonder why Carter was concerned. I was not awarethat he knew of Grantline's venture. I learned now the reason why the_Planetara_, upon each of her last voyages, had managed to pass fairlyclose to the Moon. It had been arranged with Grantline that if hewanted help or had any important message, he was to flash it locallyto our passing ship. And this Snap knew, and had never mentioned it,even to me.
Halsey was saying, "Well, apparently we can't blame you: but thesecret is out."
Snap and I regarded each other. What could anyone do? What wouldanyone dare do?
Captain Carter said abruptly, "Look here, lads, this is my chance nowto talk plainly to you. Outside, anywhere outside these walls, aneavesdropping ray may be upon us. You know that? One may never evendare to whisper since that accursed ray was developed."
Snap opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. My heart waspounding.
Captain Carter went on: "I know I can trust you two more than anyoneunder me on the _Planetara_."
"What do you mean by that?" I demanded. "What--"
He interrupted me. "Just what I said."
Halsey smiled grimly. "What he means, Haljan, is that things are notalways what they seem these days. One cannot always tell a friend froman enemy. The _Planetara_ is a public vessel. You have--how many isit, Carter?--thirty or forty passengers this trip tonight?"
"Thirty-eight," said Carter.
"There are thirty-eight people listed for the flight to Ferrok-Shahntonight," Halsey said slowly. "And some may not be what they seem." Heraised his thin dark hand. "We have information...." He paused. "Iconfess, we know almost nothing--hardly more than enough to alarm us."
Captain Carter interjected, "I want you and Dean to be on your guard.Once on the _Planetara_ it is difficult for us to talk openly, but bewatchful. I will arrange for us to be doubly armed."
Vague, perturbing words! Halsey said, "They tell me George Prince islisted for the voyage. I am suggesting, Haljan, that you keep your eyeespecially on him. Your duties on the _Planetara_ leave youcomparatively free, don't they?"
<
br /> "Yes," I agreed. With the first and second officers on duty, and theCaptain aboard, my routine was more or less that of an understudy.
I said, "George Prince? Who is he?"
"A mechanical engineer," said Halsey. "An underofficial of the EarthFederated Catalyst Corporation. But he associates with badcompanions--particularly Martians."
I had never heard of this George Prince, though I was familiar withthe Federated Catalyst Corporation, of course. A semigovernment trust,which controlled virtually the entire Earth supply of radiactum, thecatalyst mineral which was revolutionizing industry.
"He was in the Automotive Department," Carter put in. "You've heard ofthe Federated Radiactum Motor?"
We had, of course. It was a recent Earth discovery and invention. Anengine of a new type, using radiactum as its fuel.
Snap demanded, "What in the stars has this got to do with JohnnyGrantline?"
"Much," said Halsey quietly, "or perhaps nothing. But George Princesome years ago mixed in rather unethical transactions. We had him incustody once. He is known as unusually friendly with several Martiansin Greater New York of bad reputation."
"Well?"
"What you don't know," Halsey said, "is that Grantline expects to findradiactum on the Moon."
We gasped.
"Exactly," said Halsey. "The ill-fated Ballon Expedition thought theyhad found it on the Moon, shortly after its merit was discovered. Anew type of ore--a lode of it is there somewhere, without doubt."
He added vehemently, "Do you understand now why we should besuspicious of this George Prince? He has a criminal record. He has athorough technical knowledge of radium ores. He associates withMartians of bad reputation. A large Martian company has recentlydeveloped a radiactum engine to compete with our Earth motor. There isvery little radiactum available on Mars, and our government will notallow our own supply to be exported. What do you suppose that companyon Mars would pay for a few tons of richly radioactive radiactum suchas Grantline may have found on the Moon?"
"But," I objected, "That is a reputable Martian company. It's backedby the government of the Martian Union. The government of Mars wouldnot dare--"
"Of course not!" Captain Carter exclaimed sardonically. "Not openly!But if Martian Brigands had a supply of radiactum I don't imaginewhere it came from would make much difference. The Martian companywould buy it, and you know that as well as I do!"
Halsey added, "And George Prince, my agents inform me, seems to knowthat Grantline is on the Moon. Put it all together, lads. Littlesparks show the hidden current.
"More than that: George Prince knows that we have arranged to have the_Planetara_ stop at the Moon and bring back Grantline's ore.... Thisis your last voyage this year. You'll hear from Grantline this time,we're convinced. He'll probably give you the signal as you pass theMoon on your way out. Coming back, you'll stop at the Moon andtransport whatever radiactum ore Grantline has ready. The GrantlineFlyer is too small for ore transportation."
Halsey's voice turned grimly sarcastic. "Doesn't it seem queer thatGeorge Prince and a few of his Martian friends happen to be listed aspassengers for this voyage?"
In the silence that followed, Snap and I regarded each other. Halseyadded abruptly:
"We had George Prince typed that time we arrested him four years ago.I'll show him to you."
He snapped open an alcove, and said to his waiting attendant "Flash onthe type of George Prince."
Almost at once, the image glowed on the grids before us. He stoodsmiling sourly before us as he repeated the official formula:
"My name is George Prince. I was born in Greater New York twenty-fiveyears ago."
I gazed at this televised image of George Prince. He stood somber inthe black detention uniform, silhouetted sharply against theregulation backdrop of vivid scarlet. A dark, almost femininelyhandsome fellow, well below medium height--the rod checking him showedfive foot four inches. Slim and slight. Long, wavy black hair, fallingabout his ears. A pale, clean-cut, really handsome face, almostbeardless. I regarded it closely. A face that would have beenbeautiful without its masculine touch of heavy black brows and firmlyset jaw. His voice as he spoke was low and soft; but at the end, withthe concluding words, "I am innocent!" it flashed into strongmasculinity. His eyes, shaded with long girlish black lashes, bychance met mine. "I am innocent." His curving sensuous lips drew downinto a grim sneer....
Halsey snapped a button. He turned back to Snap and me as hisattendant drew the curtain, hiding the black grid.
"Well, there he is. We have nothing tangible against him now. But I'llsay this: he's a clever fellow, one to be afraid of. I would not blareit from the newscasters' stadium, but if he is hatching any plot, hehas been too clever for my agents!"
We talked for another half-hour, and then Captain Carter dismissed us.We left Halsey's office with Carter's final words ringing in our ears."Whatever comes, lads, remember I trust you...."
* * * * *
Snap and I decided to walk part of the way back to the ship. It wasbarely more than a mile through this subterranean corridor to where wecould get the vertical lift direct to the landing stage.
We started off on the lower level. Once outside the insulation ofHalsey's office we did not dare talk of this thing. Not onlyelectrical ears, but every possible eavesdropping device might be uponus. The corridor was two hundred feet or more below the ground level.At this hour of the night the business section was comparativelydeserted. The stores and office arcades were all closed.
Our footfall echoed on the metal grids as we hurried along. I feltdepressed and oppressed. As though prying eyes were upon me. We walkedfor a time in silence, each of us busy with memory of what hadtranspired at Halsey's office.
Suddenly Snap gripped me. "What's that?"
"Where?" I whispered.
We stopped at a corner. An entryway was here. Snap pulled me into it.I could feel him quivering with excitement.
"What is it?" I demanded in a whisper.
"We're being followed. Did you hear anything?"
"No!" Yet I thought now that I could hear something. Vague footfalls.A rustling. And a microscopic whine, as though some device were withinrange of us.
Snap was fumbling in his pocket. "Wait! I've got a pair of low-scaledetectors."
He put the little grids against his ears. I could hear the sharpintake of his breath. Then he seized me, pulled me down to the metalfloor of the entryway.
"Back, Gregg! Get back!" I could barely hear his whisper. We crouchedas far back into the doorway as we could get. I was armed. My officialpermit for the carrying of the pencil heat ray allowed me always tohave it with me. I drew it now. But there was nothing to shoot at. Ifelt Snap clamping the grids on my ears. And now I heard something! Anintensification of the vague footsteps I had thought I heard before.
There was something following us! Something out in the corridor therenow! The corridor was dim, but plainly visible, and as far as I couldsee it was empty. But there was something there. Something invisible!I could hear it moving. Creeping toward us. I pulled the grids off myears.
Snap murmured, "You've got a local phone?"
"Yes. I'll get them to give us the street glare!"
I pressed the danger signal, giving our location to the operator. In asecond we got the light. The street in all this neighborhood burstinto a brilliant actinic glare. The thing menacing us was revealed! Afigure in a black cloak, crouching thirty feet away across thecorridor.
Snap was unarmed but he flung his hands out menacingly. The figure,which may perhaps not have been aware of our city safeguard, was takenwholly by surprise. A human figure, seven feet tall at the least, andtherefore, I judged, a Martian man. The black cloak covered his head.He took a step toward us, hesitated, and then turned in confusion.
Snap's shrill voice was bringing help. The whine of a street guard'salarm whistle nearby sounded. The figure was making off! My pencil raywas in my hand and I pressed its switch. The tiny heat ray st
abbedthrough the air, but I missed. The figure stumbled but did not fall. Isaw a bare gray arm come from the cloak, flung up to maintain itsbalance. Or perhaps my pencil ray had seared his arm. The gray-skinnedarm of a Martian.
Snap was shouting, "Give him another!" But the figure passed beyondthe actinic glare and vanished.
We were detained in the turmoil of the corridor for ten minutes ormore with official explanations. Then a message from Halsey releasedus. The Martian who had been following us in his invisible cloak wasnever caught.
We escaped from the crowd at last and made our way back to the_Planetara_, where the passengers were already assembling for theoutward Martian voyage.
