The Mekal was leering defiantly at my companion through his pallor. “You think you have won, O devotee of the Queen!” he laughed in sardonic scorn. “You imagine that you have beaten me, that you can steal the mine from Joywater and place it at the Queen’s feet! Faugh! Know then that hours ago I despatched the youth whom the Queen so artfully bewitched, may Mu-Lo bless her, and a number of my trusted henchmen, to find the mine and survey it. When they return with their data the mine shall be registered in my name. Thus Mu-Lo punishes the wicked.”
Parks’ grin was almost benign. “Right, Great One. I have appointed myself the instrument of Mu-Lo’s wrath. You shall accompany us on our journey. We go immediately. And remember, I shall keep my pistols always trained on you from within my coat.”
CHAPTER II
Across the Moon
WITH the Mekal leading and Parks following him closely like a malignant shadow, we made our way through deserted corridors to a small doorway opening into a street.
Here Parks paused and leaned toward me, still keeping his eyes fixed watchfully on the treacherous Mekal. He seemed tired, almost haggard in the wan light of the small bulb above us.
“I know I’m in the red with you after the accusations this fellow made,” he told me in a low voice. “But trust me. I’m doing all I can for you and the boy.”
A monocar carried us through the whirling, flickering bustle of the great lunar city. As the tiny vehicle shot along on its narrow rail, which hung webbily many feet above ground, rows of huge ghostly buildings swept past us. They soared up and up grandly until their shadowy pinnacles seemed almost to touch the colossal radial ribs of the huge quartz dome that roofed the lunar crater of Tycho. It was this dome that sealed in the atmosphere and made life possible on the lifeless moon. Through the thick glass, the icy pin-points of fire that were the stars shone in the velvety blackness of the airless sky.
We came at last to a station at the summit of Tycho’s encircling ring of mountains on which the dome rested. Here, in a locker room, we donned our space armor. In another monocar we shot down the outer slope of the mountains to the rayed plain below.
The upper fringe of the rising sun’s corona, grey-white like a ghost’s veil, was just stabbing up over the horizon when we reached the shed that housed the tractor-like vehicle which was to carry us to the mine. The dim light glinted on the faint frost of congealed carbon dioxide that covered the chalky ground. The cold was intense and numbing, biting even through our heavily-insulated clothing.
And so we started out, creeping along under the weak power of our small atomic motor. We could not wait for the rays of the sun to impinge upon the huge, sail-like energy collectors which rose above us. Our course was toward the southeast and the unknown.
The tiny cabin, closely packed with intricate machinery, had the aspect of an ancient submarine’s interior. There was no luxury here. For many days if all went well, these cramped quarters would be our only home.
For safety’s sake we still wore our space armor. The short-range radios in our helmets enabled us to talk with one another.
Parks sat before the levers that steered and controlled the clumsy monster. His sober gaze darted watchfully along the serrated horizon where the grey landscape met the black, star-decked sky.
“You understand that we are staking our lives on this venture, Grey,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “The boy would have done the same for me,” I told him.
Parks bit his lip. “It isn’t alone the boy and the mine that we’re fighting for, Grey. Think of what would happen if our friend the Mekal got control of that enormous deposit of radium. Every space ship owner, almost every manufacturer, would be at his beck and call. There would scarcely be a decent corner left in the solar system.”
The Mekal was wired to a metal buttress behind us. His taunting words came to us through the earphones in our own helmets:
“You act your part well, slave of the Queen,” he growled. Turning I saw his vengeful sneer through the crystalline globe that covered his head.
“Man,” he continued, addressing me, “why do you not turn upon this treacherous one who imposes so outrageously upon your credulity?”
I managed to give him a tolerant, amused smile that sent him back to sullen silence.
Parks was quick to see that some kind of an explanation was necessary. “I can’t offer any proof now that I’m playing fair, Grey. I can only ask that you wait and let me prove it. Yes, as you can certainly guess, I have had business with the Mekal and the lady who danced at La Terre Rouge. However, maybe that business was for their good and maybe it wasn’t,” he added suggestively.
“What is the cult of Mu-Lo?” I demanded. We had altered the wavelength of our radios so that the Mekal could not hear what we were saying.
Parks shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Secret organization with plenty of power. It’s based on dope—a strange lunar dope that you smoke. A few doses of it and you become its slave. Since the Mekal and his gang have complete control of the supply, an addict is automatically and completely their slave.”
“I see,” I muttered. “And Mu-Lo?”
“Some kind of deity. The organization needs a figurehead. But even most of the members of the ring don’t know just what Mu-Lo is.”
I was satisfied. I had seen to it that Parks was well recommended before I had engaged his services. That was all a man who knew little or nothing of the moon could do.
I HAD noted that our course was somewhat more eastward than the course indicated on Joywater’s crude map. I questioned Parks about it.
“Short cut,” he told me. “Joywater didn’t go straight toward the mine as we are doing. His course was a wavering arc. The men the Mekal sent will follow Jack’s notes implicitly to avoid the rough territory which we are certain to hit. That gives a chance to beat them to the mine. It’s a pretty dangerous chance, but it’s the only one we’ve got.
“And we’ll have to keep our eyes open. The Mekal’s friends are sure to follow us,” he added. “They have the finest espionage system on either the Earth or the moon. We’re fairly safe now while we are still in this well-explored area so close to Tycho; but when we get into the rough country...” He shrugged suggestively.
Hours of tense monotony followed. The tardy sun, hastened a little in its slow rising by our eastward motion, swung on a low arc along the rim of the infernal landscape. Fourteen terrestrial days would pass before the old luminary, blazing with a dazzling brilliance totally unknown on earth, would set. Its rays were playing on the broad metal plates of the energy collectors, causing them to send a strong electric current through our powerful driving motors. To me our rate of progress seemed remarkably rapid for so heavy a vehicle, and over such rough ground. Our swaying, rocking, bumping motion, coupled with the constant whir of machinery sickened me. Mile after mile of wild and scarred ground jolted by; little craters seemingly filled with ink; steep ridges casting serrated shadows black as the waters of the Styx.
Here and there, in the hollows, were dry clusters of small lichen-like plants—the only living vestiges of an ancient lunar vegetation. High up in the ebony sky the incandescent train of an outgoing space liner traced its way. The Earth too was there, about half illuminated.
Anxiously, and with aching eyes, I scanned the bizarre scenery through the cabin windows. We had made many miles of progress and the way was growing increasingly difficult. Presently, in a depression perhaps three hundred yards away, something metallic glistened for an instant and then unaccountably vanished.
I called Parks’ attention to it. For a long time he had sat in the pilot’s chair, steering the clumsy caterpillar with the careless ease of long experience. The while preoccupied and taciturn, he toyed with mathematical formulae which he scrawled on a calculating pad. He nodded knowingly and returned to his work.
Perhaps three-quarters of an hour later, when we were topping a rise, I caught a glimpse of a strange creature that darted hurriedly from one shadow to an
other. It was about the size of a man, and like a man it carried itself in an erect position. The segmented armor of glistening black that covered it from head to foot, however, gave it the aspect of a monstrous insect!
Parks saw the thing too. “Our real troubles begin now, Grey,” he told me with cool steadiness. “But we also have teeth.” He gestured meaningly toward the mechanism of the big electronic gun which was mounted on the roof of the cabin.
“But insects!” I cried. “Are we to be matched against huge bugs?”
Little crow’s feet showed at the corners of Parks’ eyes as he grinned sardonically. The brief cryptic word, “Perhaps,” was truly characteristic of him when there was important business at hand.
I stared wonderingly as a small globular thing that originated from some concealing nook to the right of our caterpillar described a slow arc, as things have a habit of doing on the moon where gravity is so slight. It floated toward us and landed only a few yards ahead of the nose of our vehicle. Our view was suddenly obstructed as a shower of rock fragments, mingled with a mass of thick brownish smoke, poured over the cabin. Even though there was practically no air to transmit sound, the concussion was terrific, vibrating up through the treads of the caterpillar. Quick work on the part of Parks, a sharp turn to the left, was all that saved us from tumbling into the hole the atomic grenade had blasted in our path.
At once a sharp command came to us over the radio: “Parks—Grey—surrender. Parks—Grey—surrender.”
The command, given in harsh metallic tones, was repeated over and over again, the while the hellish inferno of bursting grenades continued all about us. But we chose to ignore it. To surrender now could mean nothing but the sudden demise of all our hopes, and possibly our own physical demise as well. And so, jolted and shaken by the hail of explosions, the caterpillar, zigzagging this way and that, continued valiantly on its way.
The Mekal, still firmly bound, sneered at us viciously. “This is the end for you, Parks and Grey,” he hissed. “My creatures will avenge the capture of their master.”
HIS words gave me an idea. Deserting my post beside the sights of the electronic gun, I stepped over to the radio transmitter beside Parks and connected the microphone within my helmet to the set. I was now ready to broadcast to the enemy. [1]
Without consulting Parks I spoke into the transmitter: “Cease firing; let us alone or we shall kill your Mekal!”
A long moment followed, punctuated only by a few intermittent grenades. Then the answer: “Kill him if you will, but remember: thus will you make the manner of your death the more terrible!” Immediately the tooth-cracking vibration of explosions was resumed.
“Won’t work, Grey,” Parks shouted.
It seemed evident that, because the Mekal was our captive, our enemies were not hurling their missiles directly at us for fear of killing him too. They only sought to stop us.
I was back at the firing mechanism of the electronic gun peering into the eyepiece of its telescope sights. I set in motion the machinery that turned the gun on its swivel. As it rotated, each section of the surrounding country in range was visible to me through the lenses.
Our pace, hindered as we now were, was slow—barely as fast as a man could run on earth. And then they came, those creatures of the Mekal. They popped up from various points of cover about us, and darting this way and that, they rushed toward us. Each brandished a small electronic pistol. Insects, huge insects, resembling the tiny Ledi, which are the only living creatures native to the moon! The sight of them astounded me, and yet it did not spoil my aim. One disappeared in a spurt of sparks from my weapon, another and another. I sent the gun swinging this way and that, seeking victims.
The minions of the Mekal were close now, and I saw that they were not insects but men—men who peered through strange slant-eyed goggles with which their fantastic space suits were fitted. It was evident that the resemblance of their queer costumes to the Ledi was intentional and not accidental.
What was the reason for this outlandish kind of horseplay? I had no time to ponder the question, for the task of defending the caterpillar completely occupied me. And it looked as though I was going to fail. I had accounted for half a dozen of the scattered attackers, but the others had come so close now that they were out of range of my weapon. They were directing flaming blasts from their pistols at the treads and undercarriage of our vehicle.
The heavy insulating material that coated all external parts of the machine would resist the electronic streams for maybe a minute; then the undercarriage would melt away and we would be wrecked. Our foes feared to puncture the airtight cabin for they did not know that we all wore space armor; they had no desire to cause the death of their Mekal by exposing him unprotected to the vacuum of the void.
Parks had urged the caterpillar to its topmost speed. Ahead of us, yet still a considerable distance away, was a range of jagged hills through which led a steep pass. If we could reach that pass there was hope, but our chances of doing so were slight. Already the driving mechanism beneath us was beginning to creak and strain. It would have been completely suicidal for us to open the door and attack the Mekal’s men with hand weapons.
A broad patch of white ground stretched before us. It gleamed deceptively solid in the fierce light of the sun. Yet it was not solid. Even I, having no previous first-hand experience with the wildernesses of the moon, knew that. It was quicksand, powdery and bottomless—the quicksand so common in this region we were now traversing that it had previously kept explorers away. To be caught in its yielding clutch meant death.
But now it was our salvation. Parks moved a lever, and broad plates of metal extended themselves out from the treads of the caterpillar. This recent invention quadrupled the surface over which the weight of the huge vehicle was distributed.
As safely as a man treading over deep snow with snowshoes, we glided out over the area of white sand. The Mekal’s men could not follow. I managed to pot two of them before they were able to find cover.
And so we reached the protection of the pass. Just before we rounded a bend in the steep-walled ravine, I looked back. In long bounding leaps our pursuers were circling the quicksand. Farther back was their caterpillar moving at top speed in our direction. It was much larger than the machine we had. The chances of our being eventually captured looked excellent.
Another unexpected turn of fortune played into our hands, and though its value was doubtful it bolstered up my hopes considerably. The gorge we were traversing branched into two separate passages. The floors of each were as smooth and hard as flint. There would be no spoor. We chose the one to our right.
For many minutes we made our way along it, watching anxiously for any evidence that we had been discovered. We reached a broad, mountain-bordered plain safely and still there were no favorable developments.
CHAPTER III
Lunar Strategy
HOURS of slow progress followed. Frequently we had to blast our way through rocky obstructions with our electronic gun. Hastily we ate sketchy meals of concentrated food. Twice I relieved Parks at the controls for he was badly in need of sleep.
There was little danger of our being lost, for the region had been fairly well mapped from space fliers even though it was impossible for them to land here.
On several occasions minor breakdowns delayed us. However, repairs were always possible.
I wondered about many things. How far had the Mekal’s expedition progressed? It was not unlikely that they had already reached the mine. I chafed at every moment of delay. What of Jack Joywater? And still I could not quite straighten out the connection between Mu-Lo and the now uncommunicative Parks.
Occasionally we saw small groups of the Ledi ants of the moon scurrying busily over the ground.
We had passed into that lunar hemisphere which is always invisible from the earth. The mine must be only a short distance farther on. Eagerly we watched for the landmarks drawn on Joywater’s map.
We were ascending a steep hil
lside when the accident which was to prove our undoing occurred. With a sharp jolt one of the drive chains parted. Parks and I clambered out to determine the extent of the damage, leaving the door open. We walked around to the other side of the caterpillar, for there the trouble was located. The examination of the broken chain claimed all our attention. Some moments later I looked up, glancing across the nose of our vehicle to a little plain strewn with many boulders. There I saw three men bounding away from us. Two were clad in the insectiform armor of the Mekal’s henchmen, the other was the Mekal himself!
My discovery came too late to be of any help to us. Parks and I both sent blasts of flame from our pistols at the fugitives, but they were already out of range.
A small warning spurt of blue flame, visible to us through the windows, flickered in the interior of the caterpillar’s cabin. In a second or so it was followed by a concussion the like of which I have never experienced before or since. It hurled us half-stunned into the dust. When I had regained my senses sufficiently to shake the encumbering debris from me and look about, Parks was already on his feet. Aside from a few severe bruises we were uninjured. The caterpillar, however, was totally out of commission, for the bomb the Mekal’s men had left had done its work well. The cabin and the motors were entirely demolished.
With feverish anxiety we took stock of the supplies left to us. There was a small amount of concentrated food and about a gallon of water in a battered cask, but not a single bottle of oxygen. The oxygen in the flasks attached to our helmets could last only half an hour more.
Being stranded on a desert island peopled only by wild beasts, and located hundreds of miles from civilization doubtless would satisfy anyone’s yearning for breath-taking adventure. Yet, such a position is nothing in comparison to the one in which we now found ourselves. In all the horrible devil’s kingdom about us, there was no air that a man could breathe. I stared around me, over the ash-colored landscape, the tortured rocks and the twisted hills that cast their fang-like black shadows. For untold eons no living thing except the tiny Ledi had trod those hills, and the stars in the inky Armament had not even winked kindly at them. For the first time I became aware of the utter silence, and it seemed to be filled with the faint tinkling of a thousand fairy bells and the piping whisperings of impish, elfin voices. Madness came easily out here.
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