The Worlds of Edmond Hamilton

by Edmond Hamilton

  But the parasitic creature did not overpower his will! He reached around, grasped and tore loose the hideous little thing, and with strong revulsion flung it to the ground.

  "Your formula works, Ricky--we're immune to them!" he gasped. "But hurry!"

  Other Vestans were clambering up on them like ghastly gray spiders as they ran, but were powerless to overcome them. They tore away the creatures and plunged on.

  Holk Or appeared in the door of the Falcon, his green face blazing as his atom-pistol pumped crashing fire into pirates inside the ship.

  "I've got the ship cleared of them!" the Jovian shouted to Kenniston. "Let's get out of here!"

  It was time they did so. Almost the last of John Dark's pirates had been possessed by Vestans and had become parasite-dominated robots stumbling off into the jungle. The remaining swarms of gray creatures were scurrying toward Kenniston's group.

  They tumbled into the Falcon and slammed shut the space-door. The ship, completely if roughly repaired, was ready for take-off. Captain Walls and the men of the Sunsprite crew hastily started the newly-installed cyclotrons while Kenniston and the others raced up to the bridge.

  Kenniston took the controls. He sent the big black pirate ship leaping up into the darkness upon flaming keel and tail-jets, and then it climbed steeply toward the wonderful sky of countless rushing moonlets.

  By the time an hour had passed, the Falcon had groped out through the periodic break in the meteor-swarm around the asteroid. And it was throbbing at steadily increasing speed out into the vault of space, away from the World with a Thousand Moons.

  "We'll head for Mars," Kenniston told the others. "We can report there to the Patrol."

  "If you don't mind," Holk Or put in hastily, "I'd just as soon you dropped me at some asteroid before then. I've no desire to meet the Patrol."

  Captain Walls told the Jovian, "Nonsense! After what you've done, you'll get a full pardon from the Patrol."

  "You can count on it," Hugh Murdock told the doubtful Jovian. "We have some influence, back at Earth."

  "Well, I guess I'll have to go honest, then," sighed Holk Or. "All the real pirate outfits are gone now, anyway." He shook his head heavily as he walked away. "The System sure isn't what it used to be."

  Captain Walls was asking Ricky earnestly, "You're quite sure your formula will cure my son? All these years, I've hoped and prayed--"

  "I'm certain," Ricky smiled. "Within a few weeks after we get back to Earth, gravitation-paralysis will be a thing of the past."

  They moved off with the others. But Gloria lingered in the bridge with Kenniston.

  "Where will you be going, after we get back?" she asked him quietly.

  "Oh, back to space," he answered, a little uncomfortably. "There's nothing to hold me on Earth now that Ricky's work has succeeded."

  "Nothing to hold you on Earth?" Gloria repeated. "That, I would say, is about the most ungallant speech on record."

  He flushed. "You don't mean--that night on the Sunsprite--you weren't in earnest, surely--"

  "Your passionate proposal is accepted," Gloria said calmly.

  Kenniston was aghast. "But I didn't propose! I mean--I do love you, and you know it, but you're an heiress, and I--"

  "We'll have all the way back to Mars to argue that out," she told him. "And I have an idea you'll lose."

  Kenniston had the same idea.

  The End.

  THE THREE PLANETEERS

  (1940)

  Prelude

  From Earth, Venus and Mercury, three Musketeers of Space, accompanied by a female D'Artagnan, rocket out in a grim battle against the League of the Cold Worlds!

  CHAPTER I

  Comrades of Peril

  They sauntered through the crowded, krypton lit street bordering the great New York spaceport, casually, as though there was not a reward on their heads. An Earthman, a Venusian, and a huge Mercurian, looking merely like three ordinary space-sailors in their soiled, drab jackets and trousers.

  But inwardly John Thorn, the lean, dark-headed Earthman of the trio, was queerly tense. He felt the warning of that sixth sense which tells of being watched. His brown, hard-chinned face showed nothing of what he felt, and he was smiling as though telling some joke as he spoke to his two companions.

  "We're being followed,” he said. “I've felt it, since we left the spaceport. I don't know who it is."

  Sual Av, the bald, bow-legged Venusian, laughed merrily as though at a jest. His bright green eyes glistened, and there was a wide grin on his ugly, froglike face.

  "The police?” he chuckled.

  Gunner Welk, the huge Mercurian, growled in his throat. His shock of yellow hair seemed to bristle on his head, his massive face and cold blue eyes hardening belligerently.

  "How in hell's name would the Earth police spot us so quickly after our arrival?” he muttered.

  "I don't think it's the police,” John Thorn said, his black eyes still smiling casually. “Stop at the next corner, and we'll see who passes us."

  At the corner gleamed a luminous red sign, “THE CLUB OF WEARY SPACEMEN.” In and out of the vibration-joint, thus benevolently named, were streaming dozens of the motley throng that jammed the blue-lit street. Reedy-looking red Martians, squat and surly Jovians, hard-bitten Earthmen-sailors from all the eight inhabited worlds, spewed up by the great spaceport nearby. There were many naval officers and men, too—a few in the crimson of Mars, the green of Venus and blue of Mercury, but most of them in the gray uniform of the Earth Navy.

  John Thorn and his two comrades paused on the corner as though debating whether or not to enter the vibration-joint. Inwardly, Thorn was tautly alert to everyone who passed in the shuffling throngs. Every moment, his sense of peril grew greater. He was now certain that they were being watched from close at hand.

  Sual Av suddenly grinned. “Look at that, John. It's a new one."

  The Venusian nodded his bald head toward the corner of the chromaloy building, which was plastered with advertisements and official notices. Among them was a bright new poster.

  "WANTED—THE THREE PLANETEERS

  "Reward of one million dollars offered by the Earth Police for any information leading to the arrest of the outlaws known as the Three Planeteers.'

  Sual Av's green eyes gleamed with droll humor in his froglike face.

  "They've raised the price on us, John. We ought to feel flattered."

  Gunner Welk was reading the rest of the notice in a low, rumbling voice.

  "The identities and descriptions of the Three Planeteers follow: John Thorn, Earthman, twenty-eight years old, deserter from the Earth Navy—"

  "That's enough,” Sual Av chuckled. “The rest is just a long list of our heinous exploits."

  John Thorn took a long, green cigarette of Martian rail leaf from his pocket and scratched its tip against the wall, thus igniting it. As he puffed on it, Thorn spoke under his breath.

  "Get ready, boys—here comes our shadow, if my guess is right."

  Neither the grinning, bald Venusian nor the big Mercurian changed expression. But their hands casually dropped to the side of their jackets, where atom-pistols bulged their pockets.

  A man in the gray uniform of a noncom of the Earth Navy was shouldering toward them out of the passing throng. He was a middle-aged man with a flat, grizzled face.

  "Can you spare a smoke, sailor?” he asked Thorn.

  "Of course,” John Thorn answered calmly, and fished one of the green cigarettes from his pocket. He kept his face bent as he handed it over.

  "Thanks,” muttered the man, and was gone in the throng.

  "A false alarm, after all,” grunted Gunner Welk.

  "No,” clipped Thorn. “I know that man. He was one of my non-coms before I deserted the Navy. He knows I'm John Thorn, which means that he knows we're the Planeteers. He's gone for the police."

  Thorn's gaze swiveled rapidly. Then he pushed his companions toward the swinging door of the vibration-joint.

  "In
here!” he exclaimed. “We can go out another door."

  Thrumming music hit John Thorn and his comrades in the faces as they entered the place. It was a room clogged with greenish smoke. Men at tables in the center were arguing in bull voices as they drank black Venusian wine or brown Earth whisky. In the booths around the walls, many more men sprawled, somnolent, sleepy faces relaxed under the pale violet rays of the brain-soothing happiness vibrations."

  Thorn's lean figure shouldered through the noisy, crowded tables, the bald-pated Venusian and the towering Mercurian following closely. They were half-way across the crowded place toward the back door, when there was a rush of feet through the front entrance.

  Thorn twisted his head. Two men in the white uniform of the Earth Police had just burst in. With them was the grizzled non-com. The latter instantly pointed at Thorn and his two companions.

  "There they are!” he yelled. “The Three Planeteers!"

  For a moment, the noisy throng in the place was petrified. Even that motley, hard-bitten crowd was frozen by the sudden declaration that there in their midst stood the three half-legendary interplanetary outlaws.

  Then the foremost of the two policemen, drawing his atom pistol, yelled to Thorn.

  "Stand where you are!"

  Thorn's pistol was already in his hand, as was the big Mercurian's.

  "The lights, Gunner!” Thorn cried.

  At the same moment, Thorn shot up toward the ceiling with the quickness of a wolf's snap.

  The pellets from his and the Mercurian's pistols hit the big cluster of krypton lights in the ceiling. The flare of white proton fire from the exploding pellets was followed by an abrupt extinguishing of the lights. The place was plunged into darkness, except for the faint blue glow of the “happiness vibration” booths.

  Scores of voices yelled in the darkness, and shadowy figures surged forward in a melee of reeling, clutching shapes. Some shouted for lights, others to guard the door. Everyone in the room had suddenly remembered the big reward for the capture of the Planeteers.

  "This way,” chuckled Sual Av's throaty voice in the darkness. The Venusian was stolidly clearing a path through the crowd.

  Men sought to hold the three in the darkness, cried out that they were escaping. Gunner Welk's huge fists thudded down in resounding blows, while Thorn struck with the heavy barrel of his atom-pistol.

  Suddenly Sual Av was pulling them out of a shadowy riot, through a door. They stumbled out into an unlighted alley. As they did so, they heard the whiz and roar of rocketcars racing up to the front entrance of the Club of Weary Spacemen.

  "Police,” grunted Gunner Welk. “They'll be around here in a minute."

  "Come on!” cried Thorn, starting down the dark alley in a run. “We're all right now if we keep clear of spy-plates."

  "Yes,” came the Venusian's chuckle as he ran beside them. “The last place they'll look for the Planeteers is the mansion of the Chairman!"

  * * * *

  A half-hour later, the three comrades were two miles across the city from the spaceport, having threaded devious ways to avoid the omnipresent spy-plates of the police. "Spy-plates” were televisor eyes mounted throughout the city, some openly but many more cunningly concealed, by which police headquarters could keep watch on all parts of the metropolis.

  The Planeteers entered the deep shadow of tall trees that bordered extensive grounds. Through the trees glimmered the lighted windows of a magnificent metal mansion. The three comrades moved soundlessly as phantoms toward it.

  The mansion was the official residence of the Chairman of the Earth Government. It was on a scale commensurate with the dignity of the elected executive of the planet. The huge tower that housed the Earth Government itself soared into the starlight from a great park nearby.

  The Planeteers met no guards as they slipped cautiously toward the rear of the impressive mansion.

  There was a broad terrace here, splashed with blue-white light from a single window. John Thorn and his comrades stole up onto the terrace toward that window.

  Thorn peered tautly into the lighted room. It was a small, paneled study. The only furniture was a big desk which lay in the blue-white pool of a krypton lamp. A gray-haired man sat at this desk, writing.

  "It's the Chairman,” Thorn whispered. “And he's alone."

  "Good,” muttered Gunner Welk. “That makes it easier!"

  Thorn gently reached and pushed on the window. It was unlocked, and swung inward on soundless hinges. He stepped silently in upon the soft rug, and Sual Av and Gunner Welk followed as noiselessly.

  The man at the desk suddenly looked up. His haggard, aging face stiffened as he beheld, ten feet from him, the three silent men—the lean, browned young Earthman, the bald, bow-legged Venusian, and the towering, hard-faced Mercurian.

  "The Planeteers!” exclaimed the Chairman, rising to his feet. “Thank God, you're here!"

  CHAPTER II

  Cold-World Menace

  The career of the Three Planeteers had begun four years previously, in 2952.

  That year had seen the splitting of the eight independent inhabited worlds of the Solar System into two hostile alliances. The great and powerful League of Cold Worlds had been formed by Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, under a ruthless, ambitious dictator. Feeling themselves menaced Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars had formed the Inner Alliance. The Alliance had sent out many spies to gain information of the League's threatening plans, but nearly all of them had rapidly been detected and executed.

  Then John Thorn, captain in the Earth Navy, had conceived his patriotic plan. He and two friends, Sual Av, Venusian engineer, and Gunner Welk, Mercurian adventurer, would go forth into the underworld of the system as outlaws. And as fugitives from the law, they would never be suspected of being agents of the Alliance.

  The three friends had deliberately established criminal records. Thorn had deserted from the Earth Navy.

  Sual Av had fled after supposedly embezzling a great sum—a sum which was being secretly held in trust for its rightful owners. Gunner Welk had broken jail after a brawl on Mercury.

  The three fugitive friends had foregathered, and thus had been born the three Planeteers. They had performed one daring exploit after another. Each time, their exploits seemed mere criminal raids or robberies. Yet each time, their real purpose had been the securing of information as to the purposes and plans of the hostile, threatening League of Cold Worlds.

  Now, the Three Planeteers were the most famous outlaws in the system. Three lone wolves of the void, extravagantly admired by all criminals and pirates, bitterly condemned by all law-abiding men. Only one man—the Chairman of the Earth Government—knew that the notorious Planeteers were really undercover spies.

  Now that man, Richard Hoskins, faced the three comrades with gladness in his eyes. His powerful face, deeply lined by strain of responsibility, quivered with emotion.

  "Thank God, you're here!” he repeated. “It's been days since I sent out that call to you on the secret audio-wave. I was beginning to fear something had happened to you."

  "We were almost picked up by the Earth Police tonight, sir,” John Thorn said quietly. “I was recognized."

  The Chairman hastily closed the metal shutter of the window. There was a look of deep anxiety in his haggard eyes.

  "Thorn, I knew I was summoning you three into danger when I called you here. But I had to do it, for I've something to tell you which I dared not trust even to the secret wave. Something upon which the fate of the whole Inner Alliance may depend!

  "But first, what can you report?” the Chairman asked tensely. “The League is still preparing to attack us?"

  Thorn nodded tightly. “Yes, sir. Every dock and arsenal from Jupiter to Neptune is humming with activity. The League will have at least ten thousand cruisers ready in a few weeks, the story goes. They're working their mining bases out on Pluto at full capacity, digging fuel ores. And there's a rumor that they've planned some new and terrible agent of destructi
on with which they will blast our worlds into submission, after they've smashed our fleet!

  "Furthermore,” Thorn added, “the League dictator, Haskell Trask, is constantly broadcasting inflammatory speeches to his four worlds. He's stirring up their war fever to frenzy, telling them that since the worlds of the Inner Alliance refuse to cede any territory, it must be taken from them by force."

  Chairman Hoskins nodded somberly. “I've heard Trask's broadcast speeches. It's that cursed power-lusting dictator who's driving the system toward war. If we'd only recognized sooner what a menace he is, we wouldn't have let the League get so far ahead of us in armaments. As it is, when their attack comes, they'll outnumber our combined navies by two to one. They'll overwhelm our fleet, unless—"

  "Unless what, sir?” Thorn asked tensely.

  "Unless we can use a new weapon we have,” the Chairman finished. “A weapon such as the system never heard of before."

  He paced the little study for a few moments, and then turned back to the rigidly watching Planeteers.

  "You've heard of Philip Blaine, our famous Earth physicist?” he asked.

  Sual Av's bald head bobbed. “I have, sir. He disappeared, a year ago. No one knows where he is now."

  "Blaine,” said the Chairman, “is in Earth's moon. For a year, he's been working in secret laboratories in the lunar caverns. He's developed a radical, revolutionary new weapon. I dare not tell even you the nature of that weapon. But it will enable us to defeat an overpowering attack of the League fleet-if we can use it!"

  "If we can use it, sir?” puzzled Gunner Welk.

  "Yes. For Blaine's weapon is useless, as it stands now. To operate the thing requires concentrated power of incredible volume. Atomic energy from ordinary fuels is insufficient. The only fuel that will furnish enough atomic energy to operate this thing is radite, that rare isotope of radium. To make use of Blaine's great weapon, we must have a ton of pure radite."