Parks smiled at me. “I know the moon,” he said, “and sometimes she has been kind to me; maybe she will be kind to us now. Who knows?”
We loaded ourselves with what food and water there was. Then Parks led the way in the direction we believed the mine to be. As we loped along, he kept scanning the terrain. Minute after minute labored by, as the needles of the oxygen pressure-gauges slowly dropped toward the zero points that meant death for us.
We had gone a considerable distance before Parks found that for which he was searching—a group of Ledi. There were six of them. The leader, which was perhaps six inches in length, and looked much like an Earthly ant except that his abdomen was enormously distended, paused at our approach. His antennae waved questioningly. Then, leading his comrades, he scurried off. We followed.
I was much puzzled as to what Parks intended to do, and I was not much enlightened when we came to a deep hollow beside the walls of a small crater. The floor of the depression was covered with many transparent hemispheres that looked like huge soap bubbles. Within each of the hemispheres, an odd, greenish-blue vegetation was growing. I knew that we had come upon a city of the Ledi; but how did this figure in with Parks’ plans?
Puzzlement became amazement when he selected a can of syrup from our supplies. Opening it he proceeded to smear the sticky, now bubbling stuff all over his armor. At his direction I did likewise. We cached the remainder of our supplies in the sand, and then advanced into the city and threw ourselves down beside the bubbles.
OUR presence was immediately detected. A few of the Ledi ventured questioningly toward us. When their mandibles touched the sugary substance that coated us, they hurried back to tell their comrades of their discovery.
In almost no time every burrow in the colony was pouring forth a stream of eager inhabitants.
They fairly swarmed over us. So thickly did they cover the glazed front of my helmet that for a time I could see practically nothing. However, I did manage to note that many of them carried bits of a thin, transparent substance that looked like cellophane.
In a short while the horde of busy, hurrying creatures subsided somewhat. Barely a foot over our heads as we lay prostrate on the ground, the Ledi had constructed a flattened dome of the light-transmitting material.
From beside me Parks spoke: “You can open the vent in your helmet now, Grey. They have admitted air from the chambers below.”
I did as he bade. Though the air had a nauseous, metallic smell, it was breathable.
A few of the lunar ants were still with us, removing the syrup, presumably for storage. Parks was refilling his oxygen bottle by means of a small hand-pump which was part of his equipment.
Somewhere, years before, I had read a book describing the lives and habits of the Ledi. It told how they hibernated during the long lunar nights, in air-tight subterranean lairs, coming out at dawn to collect the crystals of carbon dioxide and water that had formed as frost during the period of darkness and cold. These crystals they carried into the transparent hemispheres which they constructed from a rubbery, gelatinous substance which exuded from their mouths.
With the coming of day, the carbon dioxide volatized again. Under the action of the sunlight, the chlorophyl in the plants converted the carbon dioxide and water into starch and free oxygen. Thus the Ledi obtained both air and food on the dead moon. They were able to store sufficient air in their bodies so that for short periods they could venture out into the open, away from their hemispheres and burrows.
It was the instinct of theirs that compels them to seal up anything that promises to be food, in an air-tight dome to prevent its evaporation into the vacuum of space, that Parks had made use of in saving our lives.
Having filled his oxygen bottle, Parks gave me the pump. When I had finished replenishing mine, Parks carefully slit the taut bubble with his knife, and we crept forth. We knew that it would be necessary for us to return in a short time.
We had not journeyed far when we descried a peculiar pinnacle of red rock capped by a broad flat stone which made it resemble a pedestal. Just such a formation was marked on Joywater’s map. The radium mine should be scarcely five miles beyond.
Almost coincident with this discovery we noticed marks of caterpillar treads in the volcanic ash of our trail. The Mekal’s men had beaten us to our goal! How long ago they had passed this way we had no means of knowing, for in the wastes of the moon a footprint may remain perfectly fresh for countless ages.
Half madly we hurried forward. What we meant to do I cannot say, for our small oxygen supply would barely have taken us to the mine. Even if we had arrived there, we could have done nothing. I think a kind of panic must have taken possession of us.
A cloud of brown smoke arose from behind an obstructing hill ahead of us. It puffed up and dissipated rapidly, as vapors have a habit of doing in a vacuum. Another followed it. The ground beneath our feet trembled as if shaken by an explosion. Perhaps after all we had caught up with the Mekal’s men.
Like twin demons we scrambled and clawed our way to the top of that torn mass of lava, and in the small level plain beyond we saw four caterpillars, or rather two, and the wreckage of two more. Threads of smoke arose from the debris. One of the undamaged vehicles was quite close to us. Its door stood invitingly open, and it seemed to be deserted. About fifty men clad in insectiform space armor, were gathered around the wrecked machines which were some distance away.
I was on the point of mentioning our splendid opportunity to Parks, when a figure crawled from the nearest of the battered caterpillars, darted through a break in the encircling ring of armor-clad men, and made off in our direction. Though he covered ground rapidly, his wavering, staggering gait suggested that he was injured. Those from whom he was evidently trying to escape made only a brief, half-interested attempt to head him off. Not succeeding in this, they returned their attention to the two twisted heaps of junk. They knew that in the empty lunar wastes death would quickly overtake him anyway.
I had raised my head a little too far above the rock behind which we were crouching, and the fugitive saw me. His arms waved wildly as he came straight in our direction.
HE reached us at last and managed to climb over our little rock barrier. Utterly spent he tumbled face downward in the dust beside us. We rolled him over on his back. His eyeballs had turned up in their sockets, so that little but the white showed. His breath was quick and gasping. The reason for his condition was immediately evident. A flying fragment of metal which had hit him probably during the blowing up of the vehicle in which he had rode, had made an unpatchable hole in the armor over his chest. Through the breach, the life vapor in his space suit was slowly leaking. He was dying not only by asphyxia, but because, no longer resisted by normal atmospheric pressure, his vital organs were expanding, literally tearing themselves from their normal positions in his body.
He trembled convulsively as he tried to speak. “The Queen,” he gasped, “she does not know where the radium is. She must not know! She followed us, but we got to the mine and surveyed it and took photographs before... they destroyed us. They are all dead, I think. The Mekal... our Mekal... I have the data... in my pouch... Take it back... The Queen must not... I...”
Death had claimed him. His blankly staring eyes were wide open, seemed to bulge from his head. The whites were shot with the wavering red lines of ruptured capillaries. The hideous look sickened me, and yet it filled me with pity for this poor wretch who had been a loyal slave of the Mekal. In his half-delirious condition, something had caused him to imagine that we were friends.
Now, however, a stronger emotion claimed us. The maps, the photographs were ours! My trembling fingers groped in the man’s pouch and drew forth a small metal box. I opened it and thumbed through its contents while Parks watched from over my shoulder. Yes, the papers containing the complete record of the survey were there, and the pictures already developed. They showed a rugged, mountain-bound valley in one wall of which were many tunnel mouths—the workings,
presumably, of an ancient lunar race, dead and gone before the earth was fit to support life.
I grinned at Parks and he grinned back. “Things are beginning to look a trifle simpler now,” I remarked. “Shall we try it?” I was gesturing toward the caterpillar which stood deserted in the valley.
“Might as well, Grey,” he replied. “However, don’t be too hopeful. And remember, don’t touch that gun of yours unless I tell you to.”
Quickly we crept over the crest of the hill and down the slope. The bulky caterpillar which was our goal was so placed that our enemies were hidden behind it and could not see us. This was fortunate, for the ground was fairly level offering few places where we could hide in case of necessity.
Our scamper to the vehicle was without incident. Cautiously we clambered into the spacious cabin which was many times larger than that of the caterpillar which we had once possessed. Parks stepped to the controls and gave them one quick searching glance.
He nodded ruefully at me. “Locked,” he muttered. “We haven’t a key and, as it is, we can’t budge this thing an inch, much less escape in it.”
I happened to look out of the window on the side of the cabin which faced the other vehicles and the minions of the Queen. The men were coming back to their caterpillar; it would be only a matter of a few moments before they would discover us if we remained where we were. If we fled, the result would be the same for we no longer had time to reach the protection of the hills.
Parks had seen too. He leaned close to me and whispered: “We can’t run for it now. They allowed a man mortally wounded to get away, but they won’t be so kind to us.”
“What shall we do?” I asked. “We certainly can't stay here.”
“To surrender is our only chance.”
“Surrender! You’re crazy. I’d rather die than...”
“No you wouldn’t. Besides, if we’re clever, maybe it won’t be the end of things for us. Now quick, we’ve got to get out of here!”
He shoved me through the door. Abruptly his manner changed. Something metallic clinked against the plates at the back of my armor. It was the muzzle of Parks’ pistol. “One false gesture on your part,” he hissed slowly, “and nothing will ever trouble you anymore. Now march—around the caterpillar!”
“You rotten skunk!” I spat. But he could not hear me for he had already ripped the thin cable that led from the microphone in my helmet to the transmitting apparatus in the case fastened to my belt. However, my receiving equipment was still functioning. Parks had taken my pistol. Anger and amazement over Parks’ sudden change of attitude had taken possession of me to such an extent that I scarcely noticed what happened around me in the next few seconds.
I told myself that I should have known better. Parks’ vague answers to many of my questions, as well as a number of other things, had long ago aroused my suspicions. Still I had allowed him to lead me on. Fool! But I would bide my time. Maybe there would be a chance for revenge.
CHAPTER IV
Vengeance!
I WAS only vaguely conscious of being seized at Parks' command by many men in insectiform armor. They hustled me to the farther of the caterpillars. First taking the precaution of binding me securely, they carried me along a short passage to a tiny and barbarically furnished room in the huge vehicle’s interior. Here, a young woman, still wearing her space armor, sat before a desk of elaborately-wrought metal. I was tossed on the thick carpet of the floor. Those who had carried me departed, leaving the Queen, Parks and me as the sole occupants of the room.
Parks stood respectfully before the desk, while the Mistress of Mu-Lo surveyed him piercingly, suspiciously. She was a beautiful, fascinating woman, the Queen. I had recognized that fact when she had danced, and chanted that weird melody in La Terre Rouge. Even now the helmet she wore could not hide the siren-like fascination of her eyes.
“The slave of Mu-Lo will give an account of all his doings since his last visit to our meeting place in Tycho,” she said in her rich, sonorous voice.
“Gladly, O Most High Mistress,” Parks began. “It is my duty and desire to obey you and to guard you and your interests. Discovering that the inglorious Mekal had stolen the maps which you had obtained from Jack Joywater, and had already despatched an expedition, I laid my plans against him. First I tricked Grey, the wretch here,”—indicating me—“into accompanying me, for I knew that he might be helpful to you. Then I proceeded to the Mekal’s sanctum and captured him. In a caterpillar supplied by Grey, I set out to beat the Mekal’s men to the mine. I feared to communicate with you concerning my movements and plans, for the Mekal was still powerful; and if he learned about me it might have caused you grave trouble.
“A party was sent out by the Mekal’s loyalists to rescue him from me, and you, O Great Mistress, evidently followed that party in your own vehicle.
“By trickery the Mekal escaped me, but I succeeded in reaching the mine shortly after his first expedition did. I fought them, but they captured me...”
I had noted the Queen’s growing disbelief in Parks’ story by the frown that gradually narrowed her eyes. He had tricked me, but he would not trick this woman who had spent most of her life dealing with the worse crooks on the moon. She would silence him in a moment and demand explanations. I sensed it.
And then Parks sprang his coup. He drew the metal box from his pouch. “I escaped with Grey,” he continued, “and I took this with me. We may thank our enemies for the excellent way they accomplished an arduous job for us!”
The Queen fairly snatched the case from his hand and opened it. Her act was wolfishly eager. She spread the photographs and papers out on the desk. It was easy to see that Parks had won her over completely. I wished that I might speak to her, tell her that Parks had tricked me and was doubtless tricking her for his own selfish ends. But with diabolical foresight Parks had put my microphone out of action.
The Queen’s eyes, the only part of her face that was visible, smiled. “You have done well, faithful one,” she said. “All the necessary data is here. We can claim the mine immediately. But the time is close for the sacrifice to Mu-Lo. We have three victims to feed to the Sacred Ones, the accursed who was once the Mekal, the man here, and Jack Joywater. All of the others are dead. To the temple built by the Ancients it is not far. We shall proceed there before returning to Tycho. As a reward for your excellent service you shall be admitted to the sacred precinct to view the sacrifice. That is all, Parks.”
I was placed in a small compartment in the rear of the vehicle. My space armor had been removed, but I was still firmly bound.
A tiny circular window, the pane of which was frosted, let in only a dim light. Lying beside me on the padded floor was the bound and unconscious form of a man. Though the movements I was now capable of were very limited, by craning my neck painfully I could look at his face. It was youthful, but thin and worn now. The dreadful lunar drug had done that. I was only a little surprised when I recognized the boy as Jack Joywater. A bandaged wound, probably received when the Mekal’s vehicle had been wrecked by the Queen’s forces, explained his unconsciousness. From time to time he stirred restlessly, but did not regain his senses, nor did I try to arouse him.
Up hill, down hill, over indescribably rough terrain the caterpillar rumbled. I had no idea in which direction we were headed. I only knew that at our destination, whatever that was, we were to be offered as sacrifices to some strange lunar god.
Fiercely I fought my bonds, but they were of tough metal cable and could neither be broken nor loosened. Becoming exhausted, I rested. I thought of Parks and I cursed him; yet I still admitted that there were points in the character of this iron adventurer of the moon that I admired.
I slept. Perhaps many hours later a rough shaking aroused me. A man whom I did not recognize was pointing to a space armor. Another devotee of Mu-Lo was putting a similar suit on the still senseless Joywater.
When I had donned the awkward attire, my jailer led me from the vehicle. The other man was carryi
ng the boy over his shoulder.
THE two caterpillars were drawn up beside the rim of a crater. The towering wall of mountains that ringed it arose majestically before us. My gaze slanted up and up to where, near the summit of the slope, a rectangular structure stood. The fierce sunlight glinted on the quartz crystals in the huge Cyclopean blocks of stone from which it was constructed, and filled the deep cracks between them with dense shadow. There were cylindrical towers peaked with rough conical spires at the four corners of the building. It had the aspect of a fortress. There was something bizarre and incredibly ancient about its crude but mighty lines, and a suggestion that no man had a hand in the raising of its stout walls.
The level plain that spread out at the base of the mountains was fairly covered with the bubble-like creations of the Ledi. Nowhere had I even imagined that such an immense colony existed. Many of the little creatures crowded about our feet. They had an air of expectant waiting, and there was a sinister hint in the way they clicked their fanged jaws.
Our entire party, which numbered some fifty persons, climbed a short distance up the mountainside. Presently we came to a broad, flat area of stone set perpendicular against the slope. One of the men manipulated a secret mechanism, and a crude airlock opened to receive us. We climbed a short stair and proceeded along a broad corridor which led farther and farther into the vitals of the mountain. Areas of self-luminous rock in the walls and ceiling gave a scant illumination to the place.
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