The Edmond Hamilton Megapack: 16 Classic Science Fiction Tales

by Edmond Hamilton

  Kenniston was not so sure, but he was too driven by urgent need to waste time in argument. With the Jovian clumping along beside him, he made his way from the spaceport across the ancient Martian city.

  The dark streets of old Syrtis were not crowded. Martians are not a nocturnal people and only a few were abroad in the chill darkness, even they being wrapped in heavy synthewool cloaks from which only their bald red heads and solemn, cadaverous faces protruded.

  Earthmen were fairly numerous in this main port of the planet. Swaggering space-sailors, prosperous-looking traders and rough meteor-miners made up the most of them. There were a few tourists gaping at the grotesque old black stone buildings, and under a krypton-bulb at a corner, two men in the drab uniform of the Patrol stood eyeing passersby sharply. Kenniston breathed more easily when he and the Jovian had passed the two officers without challenge.

  The Terra Hotel stood in a garden at the edge of town, fronting the moonlit immensity of the desert. This glittering glass block, especially built to cater to the tourist trade from Earth, was Earth-conditioned inside. Its gravitation, air pressure and humidity were ingeniously maintained at Earth standards for the greater comfort of its patrons.

  Kenniston felt oddly oppressed by the warm, soft air inside the resplendent lobby. He had spent so much of his time away from Earth that he had become more or less adapted to thinner, colder atmospheres.

  “Miss Gloria Loring?” repeated the immaculate young Earthman behind the information desk. His eyes appraised Kenniston’s shabby space-jacket and the hulking green Jovian. “I am afraid—”

  “I’m here to see her on important business, by appointment,” Kenniston snapped.

  The clerk melted at once. “Oh, I see! I believe that Miss Loring’s party is now in The Bridge. That’s our cocktail room—top floor.”

  Kenniston felt badly out of place, riding up in the magnetic lift with Holk Or. The other people in the car, Earthmen and women in the shimmering synthesilks of the latest formal dress, stared at him and the Jovian as though wondering how they had ever gained admittance.

  The lights, silks and perfumes made Kenniston feel even shabbier than he was. All this luxury was a far cry from the hard, dangerous life he had led for so long amid the wild asteroids and moons of the outer planets.

  It was worse up in the glittering cocktail room atop the hotel. The place had glassite walls and ceiling, and was designed to give an impression of the navigating bridge of a spaceship. The orchestra played behind a phony control-board of instruments and rocket-controls. Meaningless space-charts hung on the walls for decoration. It was just the sort of pretentious sham, Kenniston thought contemptuously, to appeal to tourists.

  “Some crowd!” muttered Holk Or, looking over the tables of richly dressed and jewelled people. His small eyes gleamed. “What a place to loot!”

  “Shut up!” Kenniston muttered hastily. He asked a waiter for the Loring party, and was conducted to a table in a corner.

  There were a half dozen people at the table, most of them young Earthmen and girls. They were drinking pink Martian desert-wine, except for one sulky-looking youngster who had stuck to Earth whisky.

  One of the girls turned and looked at Kenniston with cool, insolently uninterested gaze when the waiter whispered to her politely.

  “I’m Gloria Loring,” she drawled. “What did you want to see me about?”

  She was dark and slim, and surprisingly young. There were almost childish lines to the bare shoulders revealed by her low golden gown. Her thoroughbred grace and beauty were spoiled for Kenniston by the bored look in her clear dark eyes and the faintly disdainful droop of her mouth.

  The chubby, rosy youth beside her goggled in simulated amazement and terror at the battered green Jovian behind Kenniston. He set down his glass with a theatrical gesture of horror.

  “This Martian liquor has got me!” he exclaimed. “I can see a little green man!”

  Holk Or started wrathfully forward. “Why, that young pup—”

  Kenniston hastily restrained him with a gesture. He turned back to the table. Some of the girls were giggling.

  “Be quiet, Robbie,” Gloria Loring was telling the chubby young comedian. She turned her cool gaze back to Kenniston. “Well?”

  “Miss Loring, I heard down at the spaceport that you are the charterer of that small cruiser, the Sunsprite,” Kenniston explained. “I need a craft like that very badly. If you would part with her, I’d be glad to pay almost any price for your charter.”

  The girl looked at him in astonishment. “Why in the world should I let you have our cruiser?”

  Kenniston said earnestly, “Your party could travel just as well and a lot more comfortably by liner. And getting a cruiser like that is a life-or-death business for me right now.”

  “I’m not interested in your business, Mr. Kenniston,” drawled Gloria Loring. “And I certainly don’t propose to alter our plans just to help a stranger out of his difficulties.”

  Kenniston flushed from the cool rebuke. He stood there, suddenly feeling a savage dislike for the whole pampered group of them.

  “Beside that,” the girl continued, “we chose the cruiser for this trip because we wanted to get off the beaten track of liner routes, and see something new. We’re going from here out to Jupiter’s moons.”

  Kenniston perceived that these bored, spoiled youngsters were out here hunting for new thrills on the interplanetary frontier. His dislike of them increased.

  A clean-cut, sober-faced young man who seemed older and more serious than the rest of the party, was speaking to the heiress.

  “Unhardened space-travellers like us are likely to get hit by gravitation paralysis out in the outer planets, Gloria,” he was saying to the heiress. “I don’t think we ought to go farther out than Mars.”

  Gloria looked at him mockingly. “If you’re scared, Hugh, why did you leave your nice safe office on Earth and come along with us?”

  The chubby youth called Robbie laughed loudly. “We all know why Hugh Murdock came along. It’s not thrills he wants—it’s you, Gloria.”

  They were all ignoring Kenniston now. He felt that he had been dismissed but he was desperately reluctant to lose his last hope of getting a ship. Somehow he must get that cruiser!

  A stratagem occurred to him. If these spoiled scions wouldn’t give up their ship, at least he might induce them to go where he wanted.

  Kenniston hesitated. It would mean leading them all into the deadliest kind of peril. But a man’s life depended on it. A man who was worth all these rich young wastrels put together. He decided to try it.

  “Miss Loring, if it’s thrills you’re after, maybe I can furnish them,” Kenniston said. “Maybe we can team up on this. How would you like to go on a voyage after the biggest treasure in the System?”

  “Treasure?” exclaimed the heiress surprisedly. “Where is it?”

  They were all leaning forward, with quick interest. Kenniston saw that his bait had caught them.

  “You’ve heard of John Dark, the notorious space-pirate?” he asked.

  Gloria nodded. “Of course. The telenews was full of his exploits until the Patrol caught and destroyed his ship a few weeks ago.”

  Kenniston corrected her. “The Patrol caught up to John Dark’s ship in the asteroid, but didn’t completely destroy it. They gunned the pirate craft to a wreck in a running fight. But Dark’s wrecked ship drifted into a dangerous zone of meteor swarms where they couldn’t follow.”

  “I remember now—that’s what the telenews said,” conceded the heiress. “But Dark and his crew were undoubtedly killed, they said.”

  “John Dark,” Kenniston went on, “looted scores of ships during his career. He amassed a hoard of jewels and precious metals. And he kept it right with him in his ship. That treasure’s still in that lost wreck.”

  “How do you know?” asked Hugh Murdock bluntly.

  “Because I found the lost wreck of Dark’s ship myself,” Kenniston answered. He hat
ed to lie like this, but knew that he had no choice.

  He plunged on. “I’m a meteor-miner by profession. Two weeks ago my Jovian partner and I were prospecting in the outer asteroid zone in our little rocket. Our air-tanks got low and to replenish them, we landed on the asteroid Vesta. That’s the big asteroid they call the World with a Thousand Moons, because it’s circled by a swarm of hundreds of meteors.

  “It’s a weird, jungled little world, inhabited by some very queer forms of life. In landing, my partner and I noticed where some great object had crashed down into the jungle. We discovered it was the wreck of John Dark’s ship. The wreck had drifted until it crashed on Vesta, almost completely burying itself in the ground. No one was alive on it, of course.”

  Kenniston concluded. “We knew Dark’s treasure must still be in the buried wreck. But it would take machinery and equipment to dig out the wreck. So we came here to Mars, intending to get a small cruiser, load it with the necessary equipment, and go back to Vesta and lift the treasure. Only we haven’t been able to get a ship of any kind.”

  He leaned toward the girl. “Here’s my proposition, Miss Loring. You take us and our equipment to Vesta in your cruiser, and we’ll share the treasure with you fifty-fifty. What do you say?”

  The blonde girl beside Gloria uttered a squeal of excitement. “Pirate treasure! Gloria, let’s do it—what a thrill it would be!”

  The others showed equal excitement. The romance of a treasure hunt in the wild asteroids lured them, rather than the possible rewards.

  “We’d certainly be able to take back a wonderful story to Earth if we found John Dark’s treasure,” admitted Gloria, with quick, eager interest.

  Hugh Murdock was an exception to the general enthusiasm. He asked Kenniston, “How do you know the treasure’s still in the buried wreck?”

  “Because the wreck was still undisturbed,” Kenniston answered. “And because we found these jewels on the body of one of John Dark’s crew, who had been flung clear somehow when the wreck crashed.”

  He held out a half-dozen gems he took from his pocket. They were Saturnian moon-stones, softly shining white jewels whose brilliance waxed and waned in perfect periodic rhythm.

  “These jewels,” Kenniston said, “must have been that pirate’s share of the loot. You can imagine how rich John Dark’s own hoard must be.”

  The jewels, worth many thousands, swept away the lingering incredulity of the others as Kenniston had known they would.

  “You’re sure no one else knows the wreck is there?” Gloria asked breathlessly.

  “We kept our find absolutely secret,” Kenniston told her. “But since I can’t get a ship any other way, I’m willing to share the hoard with you. If I wait too long, someone else may find the wreck.”

  “I accept your proposition, Mr. Kenniston!” Gloria declared. “We’ll start for Vesta just as soon as you can get the equipment you’ll need loaded on the Sunsprite.”

  “Gloria, you’re being too hasty,” protested Hugh Murdock. “I’ve heard of this world with a Thousand Moons. There’re stories of queer, unhuman creatures they call Vestans, who infest that asteroid. The danger—”

  Gloria impatiently dismissed his objections. “Hugh, if you are going to start worrying about dangers again, you’d better go back to Earth and safety.”

  Murdock flushed and was silent. Kenniston felt a certain sympathy for the young businessman. He knew, if these others did not, just how real was the alien menace of those strange creatures, the Vestans.

  “I’ll go right down to the spaceport and see about loading the equipment aboard your cruiser,” Kenniston told the heiress. “You’d better give me a note to your captain. We ought to be able to start tomorrow.”

  “Pirate treasure on an unexplored asteroid!” exulted the enthusiastic Robbie. “Ho for the World with a Thousand Moons!”

  Kenniston felt guilty when he and Holk Or left the big hotel. These youngsters, he thought, hadn’t the faintest idea of the peril into which he was leading them. They were as ignorant as babies of the dark evil and unearthly danger of the interplanetary frontier.

  He hardened himself against the qualms of conscience. There was that at stake, he told himself fiercely, against which the safety of a lot of spoiled, rich young people was absolutely nothing.

  Holk Or was chuckling as they emerged into the chill Martian night. He told Kenniston admiringly, “That was one of the smoothest jobs of lying I ever heard, that story about finding John Dark’s treasure. Take it from me, it was slick!”

  The Jovian guffawed loudly as he added, “What would their faces be like if they knew that John Dark and his crew are still living? That it was John Dark himself who sent us here?”

  “Be quiet, you idiot!” ordered Kenniston hastily. “Do you want the whole Patrol to hear you?”

  CHAPTER II

  Discovered

  The Sunsprite throbbed steadily through the vast, dangerous wilderness of the asteroidal zone. To the eye, the cruiser moved in a black void starred by creeping crumbs of light. In reality those bright, crawling specks were booming asteroids or whirling meteor-swarms rushing in complicated, unchartable orbits and constantly threatening destruction.

  For three days now, the cruiser had cautiously groped deeper into this most perilous region of the System. Now a bright, tiny disk of white light was shining far ahead like a beckoning beacon. It was the asteroid Vesta—their goal.

  Kenniston, leaning against the glassite deck-wall, somberly eyed the distant asteroid.

  “We’ll reach it by tomorrow,” he thought. “Then what? I suppose John Dark will hold these rich youngsters for ransom.”

  Kenniston knew that the pirate leader would instantly see the chance of extorting vast sums by holding this group of wealthy young people as captives.

  “I wish to God I hadn’t had to bring them into this,” Kenniston sweated. “But what else could I do? It was the only way I could get back to Vesta with the materials.”

  His mind was going back over the disastrous events since the day three weeks before, when the Patrol had caught up to John Dark at last.

  Dark’s pirate ship, the Falcon, had been gunned to a helpless wreck. It had, fortunately for the pirates, drifted off into a region of perilous meteor-swarms where the Patrol cruisers dared not follow. The Patrol thought everybody on the pirate ship dead anyway, Kenniston knew.

  But John Dark and most of his crew were still alive in the drifting wreck. They had fought the battle wearing space-suits, and that had saved them. They had clung grimly to the wreck as it drifted on and on until it finally fell into the feeble gravitational pull of Vesta.

  Kenniston could still remember those tense hours when the wreck had fallen through the satellite swarm of meteors onto the World with a Thousand Moons. They had managed to cushion their crash. John Dark, always the most resourceful of men, had managed to jury-rig makeshift rocket-tubes that had softened the impact of their fall.

  But the wrecked Falcon had been marooned there in the weird asteroidal jungle, with the alien, menacing Vestans already gathering around it. The ship would never fly space again until major repairs were made. And they could not be made until quantities of material and equipment were brought. Someone must go for those materials to Mars, the nearest planet.

  John Dark had superintended construction of a little two-man rocket from parts of the ship. Kenniston and Holk Or were to go in it.

  “You must be back with that list of equipment and materials within two weeks, Kenniston,” Dark had emphasized. “If we stay castaway here longer than that, either the Vestans will get us or the Patrol discover us.”

  The pirate leader had added, “The moon-jewels I’ve given you will more than pay for a small cruiser, if you can buy one at Mars. If you can’t buy one, get one any way you can—but get back here quickly!”

  Well, Kenniston thought grimly, he had got a cruiser in the only way he could. Down in its hold were the berylloy plates and spare rocket-tubes and new cyclotrons
he had had loaded aboard at Syrtis.

  But he was also bringing back to Vesta with him a bunch of thrill-seeking, rich, young people who believed they were going on a romantic treasure-hunt. What would they think of him when they discovered how he had betrayed them?

  “That’s Vesta, isn’t it?” spoke a girl’s eager voice behind him, interrupting his dark thoughts.

  Kenniston turned quickly. It was Gloria Loring, boyish in silken space-slacks, her hands thrust into the pockets.

  There was a naive eagerness in her clear, lovely face as she looked toward the distant asteroid, that made her look more like an excited small girl than like the bored, jewelled heiress of that night at Syrtis.

  “Yes, that’s the World with a Thousand Moons,” Kenniston nodded. “We’ll reach it by tomorrow. I’ve just been up on the bridge, telling your Captain Walls the safest route through the meteor swarms.”

  Her dark eyes studied him curiously. “You’ve been out here on the frontier a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Twelve years,” he told her. “That’s a long time in the outer planets. Most spacemen don’t last that long out here—wrecks, accidents or gravitation-paralysis gets them.”

  “Gravitation-paralysis?” she repeated. “I’ve heard of that as a terrible danger to space-travelers. But I don’t really know what it is.”

  “It’s the most dreaded danger of all out here,” Kenniston answered. “A paralysis that hits you when you change from very weak to very strong gravities or vice versa, too often. It locks all your muscles rigid by numbing the motor-nerves.”

  Gloria shivered. “That sounds ghastly.”

  “It is,” Kenniston said somberly. “I’ve seen scores of my friends stricken down by it, in the years I’ve sailed the outer System.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been a space-sailor all that time,” the heiress said wonderingly. “I thought you said you were a meteor-miner.”

  Kenniston woke up to the fact that he had made a bad slip. He hastily covered up. “You have to be a good bit of a space-sailor to be a meteor-miner, Miss Loring. You have to cover a lot of territory.”