The Collected Stories

by Earl

  His rise had been rapid. From a raw recruit of eighteen, thirsting for adventure, he had been molded by the code of the Ether Patrol to a major, high command of thirty ships.

  “Yes, Capt. Gilbert,” Wright continued, “I’m just itching to get back into harness. I’ve heard reports that the ether lane between Mars and Earth has been ridden lately by a group of vicious marauders, space pirates. My first job is going to be to find out who’s back of those activities and put an end to them. Why—”

  But Wright never finished his sentence. The door flew open and in rushed a tall uniformed pilot’s assistant.

  “Capt. Gilbert,” he quickly saluted. “We—we’ve seen them!”

  “Who, who, you blubbering young fool! And why this irregular intrusion!”

  “Begging your pardon, Captain. But we’ve seen them. Just now. I mean the Skull and Crossbones of Barly Moque. I recognized his insignia. I spotted him through our new long-range finder, but I don’t think he can see us. He’s considerable ahead of us.”

  “Slow up our ship at once,” ordered the captain. Moque is undoubtedly cruising around seeking prey. Let him get away, far away.”

  “Barly Moque!” repeated the captain incredulously after the assistant departed. Why, man, I thought you wiped him and his crew out ten years ago!”

  Wright shook his head. “There was always a mystery connected with the battle. We thought we had destroyed all his ships, but one of my men reported seeing one streaking away. I’ve always had a suspicion that Barly Moque had escaped death. Now I know! He’s back at his old game!” The two men looked at each other, one thoughtful, the other worried.

  “Damn!” Captain Gilbert said, finally. “Major Wright! You—is there anything you might do—” His voice held a note of pleading. He was thinking of the time ten years before when, at the age of twenty, Wright had broken up a powerful pirate gang and destroyed all their ships.

  Wright, strangely, was thinking of that too. But to himself he was saying, “I had ten fighting ships at my command during that campaign. Here I am alone—and without a ship.”

  There was silence for a minute. The captain sat down and nervously tapped a finger on the chart table. There was nothing he could do. He had no weapons. He could not speed up the ship enough anyhow. And the North Pole unit could not possibly arrive for four hours. The pirates—when they pleased—could cruise, plunder, and escape.

  “This is the bitterest moment of my life,” he said. “It’s a disgrace I’ll never live down. Oh, if only the Ether Patrol could do something—”

  “The Ether Patrol is going to do something!” said Wright tersely. “I’m going to take your life-boat, Captain. Round up two men for me—men with spirit. One for the engines, one as pilot.”

  Gilbert was on his feet, wide-eyed. “But—but Major! The life-boat isn’t armed!”

  “I’m not going to battle them,” Wright said. “I’m going to follow them. They must have a base somewhere. Last time Barly Moque had one in Siberia. If I can locate his new base and set the Ether Patrol on the trail—”

  Captain Gilbert delayed no longer. He grabbed the rad-phone and barked into it, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

  “All right,” he said a minute later. “Your men will be waiting at the rear lock, with the life-boat. They will have along pistols and ammunition, just in case.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” Wright said calmly. “I’ll trail them by their rocket blasts, all the way to Earth if possible. Moque the Mocker and I have a score to settle.”

  CHAPTER II

  A Chase Through the Void

  MAJOR WRIGHT looked with an experienced eye at the President Roosevelt’s life-boat and decided it to be a tub—a slow and clumsy affair. But it would have to do for no better ship was available.

  “Hop in, men,” he said to the two President Roosevelt men who stood respectfully at his side. Cedric Wright was known throughout the system. Others were awed in his presence. His exploits with the adventurous Ether Patrol were almost myths to the peoples of three worlds.

  The pilot strapped himself in his seat. The mechanic went out of sight towards the rear motor compartment. Wright swung the entrance hatch shut with a bang, jerked over the seal screw, and waved a hand. The pilot, seeing the lock wide open, bent to his controls and sent the ship from its berth.

  As soon as they were clear of the President Roosevelt, Wright pressed his face against the pilot port. Far in the starry inkpot of space he saw the red-yellow flames of receding rockets. He pointed and without a word the pilot shot the tiny ship in that direction. Somewhat to one side glowed the quarter moon.

  An hour later Wright called them together at the pilot board. Murch, the mechanic, was a short, stocky man with a daring look in his eye. It was plain to see he was having the time of his life—chasing pirates with the famous Cedric Wright. Brill, the pilot, was young, lithe of body, quick in his movements. His eyes followed Wright with a light of worship.

  “Now, fellows,” Wright said laconically, when introductions were over, “we’re chasing pirates whose leader is Barly Moque, known as Moque the Mocker, the same that preyed on ether commerce a decade ago. He’s come to life again, and is plundering in the same bold and tricky way. And I’m out to get him. I can’t fight him with this tub, but I can follow him if he doesn’t put on more speed. As it is, he’s gradually drawing away from us, but I think we can keep his rocket blasts in sight till we get to Earth. You, Murch, pet and pamper those engines and keep them going at top speed. You, Brill, just follow my directions.”

  For another hour they plunged through space, following the faint pyrotechnic trail of the pirates. Wright sat at the port and kept an eagle eye on the flares that looked like some will-o-wisp in a night swamp. The steady, changeless stars seemed to mock him, even as Barly Moque had mocked. The crescent moon began to loom larger.

  Pilot Brill stirred and spoke, “Seems to me, Major Wright, that they are heading for the moon!”

  Wright started. Then he looked at the moon. It was no more than two hours away, and the gradual arc of the pirates’ course had brought it almost directly ahead of them. Earth, a huge green ball, was off to starboard.

  “I believe you’re right, Brill,” the major said. “But a base on the moon!—hard to figure out. It’s airless, uninhabited, inimical to human life. How could they have a base there?”

  He was speaking more to himself than to the others. Brill and Murch respectfully kept silence. Suddenly a thought struck Wright. If the pirate chief did have a base on the moon—impossible as it sounded—then indeed his lair was secure. For the practically unexplored satellite with its barren, limitless expanse of ravines and craters, would shelter them from discovery for ages. The Ether Patrol might search years, centuries, and never locate it, especially if it were an underground headquarters.

  Wright shook his head. “I doubt they have a base on the moon—it’s too fantastic. They are heading for it all right, but for some other purpose. When they leave for Earth, we’re going to be right behind them!”

  During the next two hours, the red-yellow rocket discharges dimmed and finally merged into the blazing glare of the enlarged moon. For a time the pursued were invisible. Then they resolved themselves as tiny black specks streaking across the Lunar surface. Pilot Brill had changed to deceleration an hour before, at Wright’s order.

  Wright became anxious about the engines. He knew that top-power operation could well burn them out. They were none of the sturdiness and strength of high-speed engine such as the Ether Patrol had. Murch, sweating and grease-smeared, grinned up at him. “So far, so good, sir. But I can’t vouch for them all the way to Earth, except at a slower speed. Magno-coils are getting awful hot.”

  “They can cool off soon,” Wright said. “Seems we’ll have a stop-over at the moon.”

  For many minutes Wright watched the black specks racing over the Lunar topography, puzzled as to what they were doing there. In the meantime, their ship plunged straight for the satellite till i
t covered their whole sky.

  “Swing the ship horizontal and follow them,” Wright said, “as soon as our forward velocity is zero.”

  “Right, sir,” Brill said, watching the velocity meter.

  A little later Brill looped the ship about and sent it scuttling parallel to the moon’s surface. The pirate craft had disappeared over the horizon, but in a moment appeared again as Brill picked up speed.

  Then Wright gasped. The pirate ships were the size of peas, little black dots against the dazzling white and cream of Lunar pumice. Three of them had stopped dead, but the thing that so startled the watcher was that the other eight were dropping swiftly to the ground. They were going to land! But why? Wright asked himself.

  His answer came in a moment. The eight ships descended till they hovered above a small round patch of something that glinted metallic. Then a hole appeared magically in the round patch and the ships slowly dropped through, one by one. For once in his life, the emotionless Wright was completely astounded. Barly Moque had underground headquarters on the moon!

  Brill’s voice jerked him erect: “Major Wright, sir! Those three ships—they are coming this way!”

  Wright, fascinated in watching the other ships descend, had not thought of the three above. Now he looked to see them streaming in their direction with ominous speed.

  “Ship around!” barked Wright. “Straight away from the moon!”

  But even as he spoke, he knew there was no hope of escape, if—as seemed obvious—the pirates had spied them. But Pilot Brill, pale though he was at sight of the gun-bristling, hurtling ships, would not admit defeat. He jerked their ship upward and shot it away.

  Futile maneuver. Two of the pirate ships, graceful and swift as birds, zoomed alongside. Cedric Wright closed his eyes and waited for the hissing crash of infra-bolts on their hull, plunging through to sear them to a crisp. But he heard instead an odd tinkling noise. Then he saw.

  The two pirate craft had flicked out their magnetic grappling rods and had fastened the fleeing ship between them like a speared fish.

  There was an explosive curse from Brill, a sudden grinding noise from the rear, and then silence. Murch stumbled in. “We’re caught, helpless!” he cried hoarsely. He looked out the port, then jerked his face quizzically at Wright.

  The latter threw himself into a seat. “One of two things, men,” he said. “Either they’re going to drop us and let us crash on the moon, or they will take us along as captives. In either case, take it easy. We’re caught and no escape—at present.”

  His voice was calm, almost indifferent. Brill, pale as death, heaved a long breath and looked admiringly at the man who could face adversity without a sign of perturbation. Murch shuddered a bit at the thought of crashing on the hard moon, then quietly strapped himself in.

  The next move was up to the enemy. The pirate ships drew up alongside—the three ships were locked together as one.

  Suddenly there was a banging at the outside of the hatch. “I guess they want to come in,” gasped Brill.

  “Watch the air-valves,” Wright said as he unstrapped himself and stepped to the hatch. He pulled the lever for the outside lock. In another moment a figure in a vac-suit came in their cabin from the air-lock, radiating a wave of intense frigidity. It fumbled at its face-piece and finally opened the flexible glass flap. A fierce pair of eyes glared around carelessly.

  “Who’s in charge here?” the voice demanded.

  “I am. Major Wright.”

  “Barly Moque wants to see you,” the voice countered in a stern unemotional tone. “We’ll release your ship from the magnetic rods, and you follow us down to the moon on your own power. No funny tricks or we’ll riddle you with bolts. You’re going through an air-lock down there and watch your step so’s you don’t kill yourselves.”

  With that the pirate fastened his face-flap and left.

  “Get going, Murch,” Wright said as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “And Brill, see that you follow them closely.”

  When the ship swayed and strained in the grip of the magnetic rods, the pirates released them and sank slowly toward the surface of the moon, one in front, two in back. Nearer and nearer loomed the gashed surface with its sharp-cut outlines and dense shadows. Wright had eyes only for the mysterious entrance to the incredible underground pirate stronghold. As the first ship descended, a huge circular piece came away from the metallic seal set almost flush with the pumice flatland. The ship was swallowed in the dark depths.

  Their ship being next, Brill carefully lowered away. Wright saw that the seal was perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, being a perfect circle. The lock piece was some seventy feet across, able to accommodate any ship outside of the freight and passenger classes. They sank below the Lunar surface into a dimly-lighted chamber, followed by the two remaining pirate ships. Then the lock swung ponderously shut, motivated at its gimbaled hinge.

  There was a sudden hissing and the air-lock room changed from a vacuum to a breathable space. Then the lower seal opened. As Brill gently lowered the ship, Wright peered downward. Already the size of the lock and the elaborate seals had impressed him with respect for the pirates.

  But the scene below took his breath away.

  CHAPTER III

  Prison

  FROM the narrow air-lock, the underground cavern widened out to a rough circle of a half-mile diameter, like a truncated cone. From the lock down to the flat floor was a quarter mile. And all that immense volume was filled with air!

  A breathable, livable pocket in the Lunar surface. To one side, lined up evenly near the wall of rock, were no less than three-score space ships. Most of them were armed with pyro-guns, the rest with smaller weapons, and all were equipped with multi-form rockets. Half the floor space was bare, the other half being taken up with a variety of sheet metal structures. Dozens of figures were running about in the dim light of the cavern, furnished by several sunpower lamps set a few hundred feet off the floor level.

  Wright saw all this with incredulous eyes. The whole thing was gigantic in scope—must have cost several fortunes. It must have been engineered by capable men. Where had Barly Moque gotten the funds? How had he ever planned and built this elaborate hideaway? Or was he just an agent for another, and higher authority?

  Brill, too busy to be astounded, lowered their ship and finally landed it beside the pirate ship which had led the way.

  Murch dashed in excitedly from the rear. “Some place, says I!”

  Brill feasted his eyes on the surroundings through the pilot port, jerking out exclamations of surprise.

  “Come on, men. Out we go,” Wright said, as an imperative fist banged outside the hatch.

  A pirate with pistol in hand met them as they stepped from the ship. He had a leer on his face.

  “This way, please, Major Wright!”

  They followed him across the bare rock floor to a nearby sheet-metal housing which stood alone and was smaller than structures further on. The pirate waved them in after opening the door. They found themselves in an unadorned room with several chairs and a throne chair. On his throne sat a slight man with a dapper moustache and tiny gimlet eyes, impeccably dressed in military clothing. Nothing would indicate his lawless nature except perhaps a wanton curl of the lips that seemed to mock the universe. In his shoulder holster rested a long-barrelled pistol.

  He looked up as Wright and his comrades entered, then nodded his head. The curl of his lips twisted saturninely.

  “Ah, Major Wright! What a pleasure to meet again. It’s like seeing an old friend. Ten years, isn’t it, that we’ve been apart? You’ve changed, Major—and it was lieutenant then. But aside from that, you look matured, experienced. But there’s that old daredevil in your eyes—”

  “Forget it,” Wright cut in. “Barly Moque, what do you want with me?”

  “Precipitate as ever,” returned the pirate chief. “No hurry, though, Major. You may be here a long time. It’s unfortunate for you, Wright, that you couldn’t l
et well enough alone and had to stick your nose into my affairs.”

  “Your affairs interest us of the Ether Patrol.”

  “Yes, and duty sent you on the trail of a pirate. Well, Wright, you’re due for a few more surprises besides seeing this place of mine. I’m going to make you a proposition later. First, I’ll explain a few things. Sit down.”

  Wright shrugged carelessly and seated himself. Murch and Brill, awed beyond the power of speech, sat down gingerly. They could not have been more awed in the presence of the Devil personified. Before Wright had broken up his pirate crew ten years before, the name Barly Moque had been synonymous with bloodshed and rapacity.

  “Ten years ago,” began Barly Moque, “our paths crossed and the gods leaned away from me. You and your so admirable Ether Patrol wiped out all my ships and nearly ended my life too. But I escaped—how isn’t important. And from then till now, a space of ten years, I have worked hard and finally achieved a goal.

  “You destroyed my former base in Siberia, but no one knew that I had hidden much of my treasure—what you would call loot—in another spot. With that wealth I started anew, being far from satisfied to live a quiet life.

  “Once long ago I landed on the moon at this spot and found a curious crater shaped like a cone or bottle. It intrigued me. When you, major, broke up my band, I promptly made plans that had lain dormant in my mind. You will be surprised to learn that the engineers and laborers who made a livable headquarters of this bottle crater, are all now part of my organization. I think you, major, and everybody else, always underestimated my abilities as a leader and organizer.”

  Barly Moque paused to leer mockingly at his enemy, but the latter gazed back at him disdainfully.

  “Well, Wright, today I have this base on the moon. Outside of my men, you are the only outsider who knows of it. A perfect hideaway. Who would ever think of pirates on the moon?

  “I have over six hundred men here, Wright! And I have seventy ships, all splendidly armed and second to none—not even the famous Ether Patrol—in speed. I have a sunpower station up above which furnishes more than enough energy to run my hydro-electric plant which makes water from pumice. And to run my electrolysis plant which makes oxygen. And to run the heating apparatus, lights, battery chargers, and gravity motor accumulators. I have a tight little system of buying foods and materials from earth, through agents of course. I buy on earth, you know. I only rob in space. All this I have, Wright.”