note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) transcriber's note: the th-century text showed direct quotation in a number of ways, including italics and continuous quotation marks. in this e-text, longer italicized passages are shown as block quotes (indented) without quotation marks, while passages with marginal quotes are shown as block quotes with quotation marks. a list of corrections to the text can be found at the end of the file. a voyage to cacklogallinia with a description of the religion, policy, customs and manners of that country by captain samuel brunt reproduced from the original edition, , with an introduction by marjorie nicolson published for the facsimile text society by columbia university press new york: mcmxl introduction _a voyage to cacklogallinia_ appeared in london, in , from the pen of a pseudonymous "captain samuel brunt." posterity has continued to preserve the anonymity of the author, perhaps more jealously than he would have wished. whatever his real parentage, he must for the present be referred only to the literary family of which his progenitor "captain lemuel gulliver" is the most distinguished member. like so many other works of that period, _a voyage to cacklogallinia_ has sometimes been attributed to swift; its similarities to the fourth book of _gulliver's travels_ are unmistakable. again, the work has sometimes been attributed to defoe. there is, however, no good reason to believe that either defoe or swift was concerned in its authorship, except in so far as both gave impetus to lesser writers in this form of composition. fortunately the authorship of the work is of little importance. it lives, not because of anything remarkable in the style or anything original in its author's point of view, but because of its satiric reflection of the background of its age. it is republished both because of its historical value and because of its peculiarly contemporary appeal today. its satire needs no learned paraphernalia of footnotes; it can be readily understood and appreciated by readers in an age dominated on the one hand by economics and on the other, by science. its satire-- not too subtle--is as pertinent in our own period as it was two hundred years ago. its irony is concerned with stock exchanges and feverish speculation. it is a tale of incredible inflation and abrupt and devastating depression. its "voyage to the moon" has not lost its appeal to men and women who can still remember a period when human flights seemed incredible and who have lived to see "flying chariots" spanning oceans and continents and ascending into the stratosphere. the first and most obvious interest of the tale is in its reflection of economic conditions in the early eighteenth century. the period following the revolution of saw tremendous changes in attitudes toward credit and speculation. a new and powerful economic instrument was put into the hands of men who had not yet discovered its dangers. with the natural confusion which ensued between "credit" and "wealth," with a new emphasis upon the possible values inherent in "expectations of wealth" rather than immediate control over money, an unheard-of speculative emphasis appeared in business. the rapid increase in new trades and new industrial systems afforded possibilities of immediate rise to affluence. the outside public engaged in speculation to a degree not before known. exaggerated gains, violent fluctuations in prices, meteoric rises and collapses--these gave rein to a gambling spirit perennial in man. the word "projects" enters into literature as a recurrent motif, strangely familiar to our present generation, which needs only to turn defoe's _essay on projects_ into contemporary language to see the similarities between the year and the year . that essay is filled with talk of "new inventions, engines, and i know not what, which have rais'd the fancies of credulous people to such height, that merely on the shadow of expectation, they have form'd companies, chose committees, appointed officers, shares, and books, rais'd great stocks, and cri'd up an empty notion to that degree that people have been betray'd to part with their money for shares in a new-nothing." of the many speculative schemes of the early eighteenth century, none is better known than the "south sea bubble." after a long period during which english trade with the spanish west indies was carried on by subterfuge, an act of parliament in incorporated into a joint-stock company the state creditors, upon the basis of their loan of ten million pounds to the government and conferred upon them the monopoly of the english trade with the indies. in spite of these advantages, however, the south sea company found itself so hampered and limited in credit that it offered to convert the national debt into a "single redeemable obligation" to the company in return for a monopoly of british foreign trade outside england. the immediate and spectacular effect of that offer is reflected in the many descriptions, both serious and satiric, of an era of speculation which to many generations might seem incredible--though not to this generation which has itself lived through an orgy of speculation. clearly the south sea bubble, which reached its climax in , was the chief source of captain samuel brunt's satire, which has an important place in the minor literature called forth by the wild speculation connected with the bubble.[ ] if the "projects" proposed to captain brunt[ ] seem extreme to any modern reader, let him turn to the list of "bubbles," still accessible in many places.[ ] nothing in brunt is so fantastic as many of the actual schemes suggested and acted upon in the eighteenth century. the possibility of extracting gold from the mountains of the moon is no more fanciful than several of the proposals seriously received by englishmen under the spell of speculation. as in the kingdom of cacklogallinia, so in london, men mortgaged their homes and women sold their jewels [ ] in order to purchase shares in wildcat companies, born one day, only to die the next. as the anonymous author of one of many south sea ballads wrote in his "merry remarks upon exchange alley bubbles": our greatest ladies hither come, and ply in chariots daily; oft pawn their jewels for a sum to venture in the alley. the meteoric rise in the price of shares in the moon-mountain project of the cacklogallinians is no greater than the actual rise in prices of shares during the south sea bubble, when, between april and july, , shares rose from £ to £ , . the fluctuating market of the cacklogallinian 'change, which responded to every rumor, follows faithfully the actual situation in london in ; and the final crash which shook cacklogallinian foundations--subtly suggested by brunt's unwillingness to return and face the enraged multitude--is an echo of the crash which shook england when the bubble was pricked. but its reflection of the economic background of the age is not the only reason for the interest and importance of _a voyage to cacklogallinia_, either in its generation or in our own. the little tale has its place in the history of science, particularly in that movement of science which, beginning with the "new astronomy" in the early seventeenth century, was to produce one of the most important chapters in the history of aviation.[ ] so far as literature is concerned, _a voyage to cacklogallinia_ belongs to the literary _genre_ of "voyages to the moon" which from lucian to h.g. wells (even to modern "pulp magazines") have enthralled human imagination. yet while its fantasy looks back to lucian's icaro-menippus, who flew to the moon by using the wing of a vulture and the wing of an eagle, its suggestion of the growing scientific temper of modern times makes it much more than mere fantasy. in the semilegendary history of iran is to be found a tale, retold by firdausi in the _shaknameh_, of kavi usan, who "essayed the sky to outsoar angels" by fastening four eagles to his throne. the iranian motif was adopted in the romances of alexander the great and so passed into european literature. the researches of leonardo da vinci upon the muscles of birds and the principles of the flight of birds brought over to the realm of science ideas long familiar in tale and legend. francis bacon did not hesitate to suggest in his _natural history_ (experiment ) that there are possibilities of human flight by the use of birds and "advises others to think further upon this experiment as giving some light to the invention of the art of flying." john wilkins, one of the most influential early members of the royal society, in his _mathematicall magick_,[ ] in , suggested "four several ways whereby this flying in the air hath been or may be attempted." he listed, as the second, "by the help of fowls." ten years earlier there appeared in england during the same year two works which were to have great influence in popularizing the theme of light: wilkins's _discovery of a world in the moone_,[ ] a serious semiscientific work on the nature of the moon and the possibility of man's flying thither, and a prose romance by francis godwin, _the man in the moone: or, a discourse of a voyage thither by d. gonsales._[ ] these two works were largely responsible for the emergence of the old theme of flight to the moon in imaginative literature; the english translation of lucian at almost the same time perhaps aided in advancing the popularity of the idea. the similarities between brunt's romance and godwin's tale a century earlier are too striking to be fortuitous, and, indeed, there is no question that brunt used godwin as one of his chief sources. an earlier _robinson crusoe_, an idyllic _gulliver's travels_, godwin's _the man in the moone_ helped to establish in english literature the vogue of the traveler's tale to strange countries. domingo, like captain samuel brunt, draws from the "exotic" tradition. both travelers find themselves in strange lands; both experience many other adventures before they make their way to the moon, drawn by birds. but the century which elapsed between godwin's fanciful tale and brunt's fantastic romance felt the impact of the new science. no matter how clearly both tales draw from old traditions of legend and literature, no matter how many elements of fantasy remain, there is a profound and fundamental difference between them. godwin's hero made his way to the moon by mere chance; it happened that he harnessed himself to his gansas during their period of hibernation. too late, he discovered that gansas hibernate in the moon! the earlier voyage took only "eleven or twelve daies"--and that by gansa power! the earlier author did not suggest that his hero encountered any particular difficulties of respiration, nor did he pause to consider in detail the problem of the nature of the intervening air through which his hero passed. but a hundred years of science had intervened between godwin's tale and that of captain samuel brunt. the later voyage to the moon is no less fantastic in its outlines than is the earlier, yet it shows clearly the impact of science upon popular imagination. the imagination of man had expanded with the expanding universe. brunt takes care to indicate the vast distance between the earth and the moon by subtle mathematical suggestion. although both travelers flew "with incredible swiftness," the eighteenth-century flyers found that it was "about a month before we came into the attraction of the moon." brunt's account of the preparation for the ascent into the orb of the moon is almost as careful as a modern account of an ascent into the stratosphere. his bird flyers lay their plans deliberately and upon the basis of the most recent scientific discoveries. there is nothing fortuitous about their final ascent. brunt was clearly aware of the work of many scientists, notably boyle, upon the nature and rarefaction of the air. his flyers proceed by slow stages, accustoming themselves gradually to the rarefied air, assisting their respiration by the use of wet sponges. they learn by experience the answer to the problems with which godwin's mind had played but which many later scientific writers had considered more definitely: what is the nature of gravity; how far beyond the confines of the earth does it extend; what would happen to man could he "pass the atmosphere"? the generation to which captain samuel brunt belonged might still delight in the fantastic; but like our own generation, it insisted that fantasy must rest upon that which is at least scientifically possible, if not probable. _a voyage to cacklogallinia_ is republished today because of its appeal to many readers. it offers something to the student of economic history; something to the student of early science. it is one of several little-known "voyages to the moon," of which the most famous are those of cyrano de bergerac, a form of reading in which our ancestors delighted and which deserve to be collected. but apart from having a not-inconsiderable historical interest, it remains the kind of tale which may be read at any time because it appeals to the fundamental love of adventure in human beings. its author was undoubtedly only one of many men who, under the influence of godwin, swift, and others, could weave a tale in an accepted pattern. yet there are elements which make it unique; and it deserves at least this opportunity of rising phoenix-like from the ashes of the past and being treasured by posterity. marjorie nicolson smith college northampton, mass. nov. , [ : the best treatment of the south sea bubble for students of literature will be found in lewis melville, _the south sea bubble_, boston, . the author has also included in his volume extracts from dozens of satires which appeared after . he does not, however, mention _a voyage to cacklogallinia_.] [ : pages ff.] [ : the list of "bubbles" may be found in melville, _op. cit._, chap, iv; cobbett, _parliamentary history_, vii, ff., somers, _tracts_ [ed. ], xiii, .] [ : contemporary letters indicating the interest of both men and women in speculation may be found in _historical manuscripts commission_, xlv, , and cxxv, , - , - .] [ : i have discussed the relationship between aviation and the "new astronomy" in several articles dealing with voyages to the moon. bibliography may be found in two of these, "a world in the moon," in _smith college studies in modern languages_, vol. xvii (no. , january, ), and "swift's 'flying island' in the 'voyage to laputa,'" _annals of science_, ii (october, ), - .] [ : _mathematicall magick; or, the wonders that may be performed by mechanicall geometry_, london, ; in _mathematical and philosophical works_, london, , ii, .] [ : _the discovery of a world in the moone; or, a discourse tending to prove, that 'tis probable there may be another habitable world in that planet_, london, .] [ : _the man in the moone; or, a discourse of a voyage thither by d. gonsales_, [by f.g.], london, . this has recently been republished from the first edition by grant mccolley in _smith college studies in modern languages_ xix ( ).] * * * * * [illustration] * * * * * a voyage to cacklogallinia: with a description of the religion, policy, customs and manners, of that country by captain samuel brunt london: printed by j. watson in black-fryers, and sold by the booksellers of london and westminster. [price sticht, two shillings and sixpence.] nothing is more common than a traveller's beginning the account of his voyages with one of his own family; in which, if he can't boast antiquity, he is sure to make it up with the probity of his ancestors. as it can no way interest my reader, i shall decline following a method, which i can't but think ridiculous, as unnecessary. i shall only say, that by the death of my father and mother, which happen'd while i was an infant, i fell to the care of my grandfather by my mother, who was a citizen of some note in _bristol_, and at the age of thirteen sent me to sea prentice to a master of a merchant-man. my two first voyages were to _jamaica_, in which nothing remarkable happen'd. our third voyage was to _guinea_ and _jamaica_; we slaved, and arrived happily at that island; but it being time of war, and our men fearing they should be press'd (for we were mann'd a-peak) twelve, and myself, went on shore a little to the eastward of _port morante_, designing to foot it to _port royal_. we had taken no arms, suspecting no danger; but i soon found we wanted precaution: for we were, in less than an hour after our landing, encompass'd by about forty run-away negroes, well arm'd, who, without a word speaking, pour'd in upon us a volley of shot, which laid eight of our company dead, and wounded the rest. i was shot thro' the right arm. after this discharge, they ran upon us with their axes, and (tho' we cried for mercy) cruelly butcher'd my remaining four companions. i had shared their fate, had not he who seemed to head the party, interposed between me and the fatal axe already lifted for my destruction. he seized the designed executioner by the arm, and said, _no kill te boy, me scavez him; me no have him make deady_. i knew not to what i should attribute this humanity, and was not less surprized than pleas'd at my escape. they struck off the heads of my companions, which they carried with 'em to the mountains, putting me in the center of the company. i march'd very pensively, lamenting the murder of my ship-mates, and often wish'd the negro who saved me had been less charitable; for i began to doubt i was reserved for future tortures, and to be made a spectacle to their wives and children; when my protector coming up to me, said, _no be sadd_, sam, _you no scavez me?_ i look'd earnestly at the fellow, and remember'd he was a slave of a planter's, a distant relation of mine, who had been a long while settled in the island: he had twice before run from his master, and while i was at the plantation my first voyage, he was brought in, and his feet ordered to be cut off to the instep (a common punishment inflicted on run-away slaves) by my intercession this was remitted, and he escaped with a whipping. i ask'd if his name was not _cuffey_, mr. _tenant_'s negro? "my name _cuffey_, said he, me no _*baccararo_ negro now; me freeman. [*_baccararo_, the name negroes give the whites.] you no let cutty my foot, so me no let cutty your head; no be sadd, you have _bumby grande *yam yam_. [*_yam yam_, in negroes dialect, signifies victuals.]" he endeavoured to comfort me under my afflictions in this barbarous dialect; but i was so possess'd with the notion of my being reserv'd to be murdered, that i received but little consolation. we marched very slowly, both on account of the heat, and of the plunder they had got from some plantations; for every one had his load of kidds, turkies, and other provisions. about three in the afternoon, we reach'd a village of run-away negroes, and we were received by the inhabitants with all possible demonstrations of joy. the women sung, danc'd, and clapp'd their hands, and the men brought _mobby_ (a sort of drink) and rum, to welcome the return'd party. one of the negro men ask'd _cuffey_, why he did not bring my head, instead of bringing me alive? he gave his reason, at which he seem'd satisfied, but said it was dangerous to let a _baccararo_ know their retreat; that he would tell captain _thomas_, and he must expect his orders concerning me. _cuffey_ said he would go to give captain _thomas_ an account of what had happen'd in this _sortie_, and would carry me with him. as they spoke in the negroes _english_, i understood them perfectly well. my friend then went to captain _thomas_, who was the chief of all the run-away blacks, and took me with him. this chief of theirs was about seventy five years old, a hale, strong, well-proportion'd man, about six foot three inches high; the wooll of his head and his beard were white with age, he sat upon a little platform rais'd about a foot from the ground, accompanied by eight or ten near his own age, smoaking segars, which are tobacco leaves roll'd up hollow. _cuffey_, at his entrance, threw himself on his face, and clapp'd his hands over his head; then rising, he, with a visible awe in his countenance, drew nearer, and address'd the captain in the _cholomantæan_ language, in which he gave an account, as i suppose, of his expedition; for when he had done speaking, my comrades heads were brought in, and thrown at the captain's feet, who returned but a short answer to _cuffey_, tho' he presented him with a segar, made him sit down, and drank to him in a calabash of rum. after this ceremony, captain _thomas_ address'd himself to me in perfect good _english_. young man, _said he,_ i would have you banish all fear; you are not fallen into the hands of barbarous christians, whose practice and profession are as distant as the country they came from, is from this island, which they have usurp'd from the original natives. capt. _cuffey_'s returning the service you once did him, by saving your life, which we shall not, after the example of your country, take in cold blood, may give you a specimen of our morals. we believe in, and fear a god, and whatever you may conclude from the slaughter of your companions, yet we are far from thirsting after the blood of the whites; and it's necessity alone which obliges us to what bears the face of cruelty. nothing is so dear to man as liberty, and we have no way of avoiding slavery, of which our bodies wear the inhuman marks, but by a war, in which, if we give no quarter, the _english_ must blame themselves; since even, with a shew of justice, they put to the most cruel deaths those among us, who have the misfortune to fall into their hands; and make that a crime in us (the desire of liberty, i mean) which they look upon as the distinguishing mark of a great soul. your wound shall be dress'd; you shall want nothing necessary we have; and we will see you safe to some plantation the first opportunity. all the return we expect, is, that you will not discover to the whites our place of retreat: i don't exact from you an oath to keep the secret; for who will violate his word, will not be bound down, by calling god for a witness. if you betray us, he will punish you; and the fear of your being a villain shall not engage me to put it out of your power to hurt us, by taking the life of one to whom any of us has promised security. go and repose your self, captain _cuffey_ will shew you his house. i made an answer full of acknowledgments, and _cuffey_ carried me home, where my hurt, which was a flesh wound, was dress'd: he saw me laid on a matrass, and left me. about eight, a negro wench brought me some kid very well drest, and leaving me, bid me good night. notwithstanding my hurt, i slept tolerably well, being heartily fatigued with the day's walk. next morning, _cuffey_ saw my wound drest by a negro sent for from another village, who had been slave to a surgeon several years, and was very expert in his business. the village where i was contained about two and fifty houses, made of wild canes and cabbage trees; it was the residence of captain _thomas_. here were all sorts of handicrafts, as, joyners, smiths, gunsmiths, taylors, _&c._ for in _jamaica_ the whites teach their slaves the arts they severally exercise. the houses were furnished with all necessaries, which they had plundered from the plantations; and they had great quantities of corn and dunghill fowl. captain _thomas_ sometimes sent for me, and endeavour'd, by his kindness, to make my stay among 'em as little irksome as possible. he often entertain'd me with the cruelty of the _english_ to their slaves, and the injustice of depriving men of that liberty they were born to. in about a fortnight, my wound was thoroughly cured, and i begg'd of captain _thomas_ to let me be directed to the next plantation. he promis'd i shou'd, as, soon as he could do it with safety. i waited with patience, for i did not think it just he should, for my sake, hazard his own, and the lives of his followers. about a week after this promise, i reminded him of it, and he told me, that a party from a neighbour village being out, he could not send me away: for shou'd those men miscarry, he might be suspected of having, by my means, betray'd 'em to make his own peace with the whites; for (said he) the treachery our people have observed among those of your colour, has made 'em extreamly suspicious. i was obliged to seem contented with his reason, and waited the return of this party, which in about ten days after, came back, laden with provisions, kitchen furniture and bedding; but the most acceptable part of their booty, was two small caggs of powder, of eight pound weight each, and near two hundred of lead. they also brought with 'em the heads of the overseer, and the distiller belonging to _littleton_'s plantation, both white men, whom they met separately in the woods. captain _thomas_ now promis'd me, that the next day i should be guided to _plantane-garden-river-plantation_, which was no small satisfaction to me. i left the captain at eleven o' clock who gave orders for the entertaining the party, and the spending the day in merriment. about three, when they were in the midst of their jollity, one of the scouts brought word, that he had discovered a party of white men, who were coming up the mountain. the captain immediately ordered all the women and children to a more remote village, and sent for the ablest men from thence, while he prepared to give the enemy a warm reception. every man took a fusil, a pistol, and an axe: ambuscades were laid in all the avenues to the village; he exhorted his men to behave themselves bravely, there being no way to save their lives, but by exposing them for the common safety. he told 'em, they had many advantages; for the whites did not so well, as they, know all the passages to the mountain; and that they could not, at most, march in the widest, above two a-breast; that the way was rugged, troublesome to climb, and expos'd them to their fire, while they lay hid in their ambuscades he had appointed 'em. but (said he) were we to meet 'em upon even terms, yet our circumstances ought to inspire resolution in the most fearful: for, were any among us of so poor a spirit, to prefer slavery to death, experience shews us, all hopes of life, even on such vile terms, are entirely vain. it is then certainly more eligible to die bravely in defence of our liberty, than to end our lives in lingring and exquisite torments by the hands of an executioner. for my part, i am resolved never to fall alive into the hands of the whites, and i think every one in the same circumstances ought to take the same resolution. after this exhortation, and the departure of those laid in ambush, he order'd me to go with the women, children, and _cuffey_, whom he had sent to head the men he had commanded from the other village. i had not been gone a quarter of an hour, in which time i was hardly got half a mile, before i heard a very warm firing. we went still higher up the mountain, thro' a very difficult passage; the village we were order'd to, was about half a league from that we left, than which it was much larger, and more populous; for here were at least one hundred and twenty houses, and as many able men, with about four times the number of women and children. the alarm had been given them by an express from captain _thomas_, and we met about half way, near fifty negroes arm'd in the manner already mentioned. they were headed by an old woman, whom they look'd upon a prophetess. _cuffey_ recommended me to her protection, took upon him the command of the men, and return'd, after asking this beldame's blessing, which she gave him with assurance of repelling the whites. the fire all this while was very brisk, and the old woman said to me, that she saw those in ambush run away from the whites, tho' she lay with her face on the ground. _no matter_, continued she, _let the cowards perish, the whites will burn _cormaco (the village i came from)_ that's all. they come again another day, then poor negroes all lost._ the shot continued near two hours, but not with near that briskness it began; and the old woman rising, bid me see the smoke of _cormaco_. _captain thomas_, said she, _send away the white man._ i staid by my protectress, whom i durst not quit, tho' i did not like her company. about half an hour after the shot began, and continued for near that space pretty brisk, and then ceas'd. soon after, we saw a negro dispatch'd by captain _thomas_, who told us the whites had burnt _cormaco_, but were gone away, and that captain _thomas_ was coming. he appeared not long after with _cuffey_, and about forty other negroes. i learn'd from him, that the _english_, by fault of their scouts, had seized the places where he design'd his ambushes, kill'd part of the men he had sent, and pursued the rest to the village, where they defended themselves, till the whites had broke thro' the back part of some houses, and set fire to the whole village; that he then retired with his men up the mountains, the whites following him; but he having the start, while they were busied in burning and plundering, he wheel'd round, and came upon their backs, and from the woods and bushes poured in his shot; his men being all well cover'd, the whites did them no harm, and thought proper to retire with the loss of six men, and many wounded, for there were thirty and a captain. we have lost, said he, twenty two men, and our village is burnt. soon after, we were join'd by about forty more negroes, and we all went to the village i was order'd to, which they called _barbascouta_. the next morning, a council was call'd, which breaking up, four negroes, who had not behaved well in this last action, were brought bound, and laid in the largest street upon their backs; all the women and children piss'd upon them; after which, captain _thomas_ told 'em, that the example they had given, had it been follow'd, must have ended in the destruction of 'em all; and tho' their crime was pardon'd, and their lives given 'em, yet they must not hereafter think of being freemen, since they did not deserve that liberty which they were not zealous in defending; neither cou'd they, after the disgrace they had suffer'd, and which they deservedly had brought on themselves, hope ever to be admitted into the company of brave men, were they exempted from the slavery to which their pusillanimity had condemn'd 'em. after this they were sold to the best bidder. i remember, he who was sold at the greatest price, brought no more than two dozen of fowls and a kid, to be paid the next publick festival. the scout who had not given timely advice of the enemy's approach, was next brought out and beheaded; and three, who run away at the first attack, were hang'd. out-centinels were placed, and all the men lay that night on their arms, for _qwanaboa_, their prophetess, foretold another attack, which she apprehended wou'd prove their ruine, if not prevented by uncommon vigilance and bravery. four days pass'd, and none of the enemy appearing, they began to recover their spirits, and grew less cautious; their most advanced scouts were recalled, and they imagin'd the _english_ had no knowledge of this village. the fifth at night, when they were in perfect tranquillity, the _english_, who had, by a distant and difficult way, climb'd the mountains, and got above the village, about twelve at night, came down upon 'em, and were in the streets before the negroes had any inkling of their being so near. they enter'd the village with thirty or forty men, and about half that number intercepted all the ways. here began a cruel slaughter, for none they could light on were spared, but women and children, who were all taken. capt. _thomas_ fought, and died like a hero; my grateful _cuffey_, join'd by about a dozen more, made all possible resistance; but finding their utmost efforts useless, taking me with them, with menaces, if i did not go freely, they clamber'd over some rocks, and skulking thro' the thick of the woods, reach'd a morass on the top of the mountain, where we lay hid three days. the fourth, press'd by hunger, six of 'em ventured out to get plantanes, but they never returned; for which reason, the fifth day we went in search of food. at night we got into a plantane walk, from whence, after having fill'd our bellies, and loaded our backs, with the ripe fruit, we retired to the woods. next day, _cuffey_ went out by himself, and, at his return, told us, he had observ'd a large canoe with sails and paddles, at the sea side, which belonged he believ'd to some fishing negroes. he propos'd the siezing, loading it with plantanes, and going to the _spanish_ coast, which he was sure he could make shift to find, having been there with the _buccaniers_. this was unanimously agreed to by the rest. i desired to be left behind, but their fear wou'd not let 'em consent to my stay. at night we went again to the plantane walk, where i hop'd to make my escape; but one of 'em always held me by the arm, suspecting i would give 'em the slip. being loaded, we follow'd _cuffey_ to the canoe, where we found a negro asleep, whom they bound, and having taken what plantanes they thought fit, and found two large runlets of water in the canoe, with fishing-nets and other tackle, they set sail about eleven o' clock with a fine hand breeze, which carried us before day to the last end of the island. the next day about even, we saw _hispaniola_, and landed at four o'clock the day following in a creek, where we filled our runlets with fresh water, and going up into the country, we catched a number of land crabbs, which we dress'd and eat. we lay two days in this creek, and in the night of the second, coasted along the island unperceived; but as we cross'd the streights between cape _maese_ and cape _nicholas_, which divides the islands of _hispaniola_ and _cuba_, we were seen and chased by a sloop, which very soon came up with us, and proved a free-booter, whose crew was of all nations and colours. they offer'd the seven negroes their liberty, and each half a share of an able seaman, which they readily accepted. to me they would have given a whole share, but i refusing to join 'em, they resolved to set me on shore with the first conveniency, tho' some were for throwing me over-board. we were eight days without seeing a sail, but the ninth, about break of day the man at the top-mast head, descried one on our leeward bow. the pyrates immediately prepared for an engagement; we clapp'd our helm a-weather, eas'd out our main-sheet, and gave chase. she proved a tall ship, and did not seem to make sail to avoid us; which was the reason we brought to, and a consultation was held, whether it was safe or not to venture upon her? it was resolved in the affirmative. in consequence of this, we bore away for her, and when we were in less than gun shot, we perceived she was very deep, _spanish_ built, and mounted thirty guns by the number of ports, tho' we were surprized they were all close, and not a man appeared on her decks. the resolution was taken, to board on the quarter, which they did; but seeing no body appear, they feared some stratagem. however, some of the crew ran into the steerage and great cabbin; but seeing nobody, they went between decks, and, upon examination, found her a ship abandon'd, and that she had six foot water in the hold. they took out of the great cabbin two chests of pieces of eight, with some hammocks and cloaths from between decks, and so left her. the next day, we spied another sail, which gave us chase: we lay bye, till we saw she was an overmatch for us; for by the canvass she spread, we concluded her no less than a man of war of fifty guns. we clapp'd upon a wind, and made all the sail, and lay as close as we possibly could, but it blowing a fresh gale, we found she gain'd upon us. this obliged our men to throw over the treasure which they had found the day before, and had been the cause of no small joy. finding she still gained upon us, we threw over our eight guns, which together with the wind's slackening, was the means of our escape; for now we visibly wrong'd the ship, and in less than six hours, lost her. the loss of the money was a considerable affliction to the crew, but that of their guns was so great a one, it had well near set them all together by the ears. some condemn'd the captain for ordering them to be thrown over, others justifying what he had done, as the only means of their escape. at length, good words, and a bowl of punch the captain made for each mess, laid this storm for a while; but that which at first pacify'd these turbulent spirits, was what blew them up again: for when they were all drunk, the boatswain said the captain was a coward, and took a merchant-man for a man of war: that his fear had magnified the object, and deprived them of the means of either taking others, or defending themselves. this he said in the captain's hearing, who, without returning any answer, took a pistol from his girdle, and shot him dead; and then seizing another mutineer, he ordered him a hundred lashes at the gangway, which were very honestly paid him. after this, he called all hands upon deck, and told them he should not be fit to command so many brave fellows, would he suffer any to insult him: that if any on board thought he was a braver man than himself, he was ready to shew him his error, either with his fusil, pistol, or cutlass: that since they had done him the honour to chuse him captain, he would carry command, which all brave and experienced men knew necessary, and none but cowards would murmur at. that, as to the boatswain, he had deserved his death, since one mutineer was enough to breed confusion in the vessel, which must end in the destruction of them all. what, _continued he_, i have already said, i repeat, if any man has a mind to exchange a ball with me, i am ready for him; but while i am captain, i will be captain, and let the boldest of ye disobey my commands. this resolute procedure quash'd the mutineers, and he ever after kept a strict command, and was esteemed a gallant man. two days after this, we fell in with a _spanish garde de costa_, and two sloops; they boarded, and with very little resistance, took the ship, tho' she had fourscore hands on board, and our sloop but ninety. she was mounted with twenty guns, but her great shot did us but little damage. the two sloops were _english_, going to the bay of _campechy_ with provisions, which we wanted very much. they were taken but the day before by the _spaniards_, and tho' they endeavoured to get off, when they saw we had carried the frigate, yet our sloop wrong'd 'em so much, that we soon came up with, and took them. there were twelve _englishmen_ on board the prize, four of which took on with us. our captain now quitted his sloop, went on board the ship, which he called the _basilisk_, and left the three sloops to the _spaniards_. the eight _english_, who refused to take on with him, he kept on board, promising to set them on shore on the east end of _jamaica_ in few days, but refused them one of the sloops, which they desired; i suppose, fearing, at their arrival, some man of war might be sent in search of him, or, may be, hoping to bring them over, for, it's certain he had no design to land them as he promis'd. our ship's crew was now extreamly jocund, for they had provisions for at least three months, with what they took out of the _english_ sloops, and, in money, they found upwards of an hundred and sixty thousand pieces of eight, and two thousand gold quadruples. we lost but three men in boarding, so that our crew, with the four _english_ who join'd 'em, consisted of ninety and one man. for three weeks after we met with no adventure; wherefore the captain resolved to cruize off the _havana_, and many of our water-casks being emptied, and we not far from the river of _chagre_, we made for, and came to an anchor at the mouth of that river, and sent our boats ashore with the casks. after we had water'd, we steer'd for the _havana_, and between _portobello_ and _carthagena_, we spied a sail; as she clapp'd upon a wind, as soon as she descry'd us, and we went upon one mast, we soon met, but were as willing to shake her off, as we had been to speak to her. she proved a forty gun _french_ ship, which handled us without the least ceremony. we began the fight by a broad-side, as we were under her stern, which raked her fore and aft, and must, doubtless, as she was full of men, do great execution. she returned the compliment; and tho' we lost but few men, yet they miserably cut our rigging. our captain found his business was to board, or her weight of metal would soon send us to the bottom. we enter'd the greater number of our men, who were so warmly received, that but few came off; and as she was preparing to board us in her turn, if we had not, by a lucky shot, brought her main-top-mast by the board, by which accident we got off, she had certainly carried us. upon this we got our fore-tack to the cat-head, hoisted our top-sails a-trip, and went away all sails drawing. in few hours we lost sight of her, and then upon the muster, we found that she had kill'd us two and forty of our men, and wounded fifteen, which was a very sensible loss, and made the captain alter his course, and think of lying off _campechy_, in hopes of geting more men. he order'd all the well men upon deck, and proposed it to 'em: they all agreed it was the best course they cou'd take, and many of them advised to quit the ship, for the first good sloop which should fall in their way. the captain answered, it was time enough to think of that when they had met with one for their turn. they now fell to knotting and splicing the rigging, when the day began to be overcast, and threaten dirty weather: the thunder growl'd at a distance, and it began to blow hard; a smart thunder-shower was succeeded by a flash of lightning, which shiver'd our main-mast down to the step. a dreadful peal of thunder follow'd; the sea began to run high, the wind minutely encreas'd, and dark clouds intercepted the day; so that we had little more light, than what the terrifying flashes of lightning afforded us. our captain, who was an able seaman, at the first signal of an approaching storm, handed his top-sails, took a reef in his foresail, and the men were furling the mainsail, when the lightning shiver'd the mast, which was cut away with the utmost expedition. we lay some time under a mizzen-balast, but were at last forc'd to put before the wind, and, for four days, we scudded with the goose-wings of our foresail, in which time we had not the least glimpse of sun or stars, but by very short intervals; nor indeed did i see them, till after we struck, but by slatches. the fifth day, about noon, our foremast came by the board; we broach'd to, and a sea fill'd us; we were at our dying rowls, and every man gave himself for lost. but in this danger, which ought to have awakened those unhappy wretches, to some care of their future happiness, the ship rang with imprecations, and not a word was uttered, not back'd with oaths and curses. however, it pleased the great disposer of life and death, that the ship cleared her self of the water, which had filled the waist to the top of the gunnel. they did all they could to keep her head to the sea, and setting up a small jury-mast, to which they clapp'd a top-gallant-yard, we again scudded, altogether ignorant where we were; for a sea which pooped us the second day, had carried away the binnacle with the two compasses; and they either had not, or knew not, where to find another. we left our selves to the mercy of the sea and wind, for we had no other party to take; and tho' the former run mountain-high, yet finding the ship made no water, the captain apprehended no danger, but that of being drove on some coast. i had not the least compassion for any of the pyrates, he alone excepted; for he was much more humane to us who would not take on with him, than could be expected from one of his profession, which he told me, one day, he had enter'd upon much against his inclinations, and that he would gladly quit that detestable life, were it possible for him: but as he had no hopes of pardon, having, on board a man of war, killed a boatswain, who abused him, he was obliged to continue his villainies for his own security. this man alone shewed some sense of a deity. i never heard him in the storm swear an oath; but, on the contrary, i often heard him, as by stealth, say, _lord have mercy on me! great god forgive me!_ the seventh day, a sea poop'd us, and wash'd away this unhappy man, and the two who were at the wheel, whom we never more set eyes on. two others immediately stepp'd into their places. the loss of the captain was an addition to our misfortune, which together with the violent continuance of the storm, took away all hopes of safety. on the tenth day, about nine in the morning, we struck upon a rock with that violence, that those who were in their hammocks were thrown out, and those who walk'd the deck, were struck off their legs. the pumps were immediately try'd, and some ran into the hold, and found the ship made a great deal of water. they plied the pumps, but in less than ten minutes, she struck again, and a sea coming over us, i saw no more either of the ship or the crew. i rose by the side of a large timber, which i laid hold of, and got upon, heartily recommending my self to my creator, and sincerely endeavouring to reconcile myself to my god, by an unfeigned repentance of the follies of my past life, and by making a very solemn resolution, that if his mercy should preserve me from a danger which none but his omnipotence could draw me out of, to have, for the future, a strict guard upon all my thoughts, words, and actions, and to shew my gratitude, by the purity and uprightness of my future life. the want of an observation for so many days, and the loss of our captain, the only artist on board, with the want of a compass, was the reason of our being altogether ignorant of the coast on which our vessel perish'd. the piece of the wreck which i was upon, was, after being toss'd some hours, thrown ashore, and i got so far on land, that the returning surf did not reach me. what became of the rest of the crew, i know not, but concluded they all perish'd, till some years after, i met in _england_ one of the _englishmen_ who would not take on with the pyrates, and who told me, that, by a peculiar providence, he and the other seven, were, after four days floating on broken pieces of the ship, taken up by some _indian_ canoes; that they were two years among the _indians_, who treated them very humanly; and when they were one day a-fishing with them about three leagues from the shore, they spied a sail at a great distance, and signifying their desire to return to _europe_, the _indians_ very courteously gave them a canoe and eight paddles, with which they reach'd the ship, it being becalm'd, and found her _french_. they were received on board in the latitude of ---- degrees north, and when they arrived at _rochelle_, were kindly used, and sent to _england_. as we naturally are fond of life, i return'd thanks to providence for my escape, and thought myself extreamly happy, tho' thrown on an unknown coast, and destitute of every thing necessary to sustain me: but i trusted in that goodness which had preserved, and which i hoped would provide for me. to despond, i thought, would be mistrusting the bounty of our creator, and might be the ready way to plunge me into the miseries men naturally apprehend in my circumstances. i therefore heartily recommended me to the divine protection, and enter'd the woods which lay along the coast. the storm, which seem'd rais'd for the destruction of those enemies of mankind, and shame of human nature, ceas'd in few hours after the vessel perish'd. i found in the woods all sorts of _indian_ fruits, as, guavers, cushoes, sowresops, oranges, _&c._ with which i appeased my hunger. i was desirous, yet fearful of discovering, whether i was in a desolate or inhabited country, and whether i was on the continent, or some island. i wandered in the woods till sun-set, and then apprehending danger from wild beasts, i climb'd a tall tree, where i sat, tho' i could not sleep, till morning. by the time it had been dark about an hour, i was cruelly terrified by hearing human voices in the air; for tho' i did not understand, i plainly heard these words: _sup gravimiaco caputasco deumorian_; with others which i could not retain. let any man suppose himself in my circumstances, and he will much easier form an idea, than i describe the agony i was in on this surprizing accident. the sun was two hours high before i durst descend; but seeing nothing to apprehend, i came down, prosecuted my journey, as i had begun, eastward. in three hours, or thereabout, i came to the extremity of the wood, which was bounded by a large meadow, enamell'd with the most beautiful-coloured flowers, and hedg'd on the three other sides with limes, and with large orange-trees, placed at equal distances in the fence. this, with the prospect i had of corn fields, made me conclude the country inhabited by a civiliz'd people. i cross'd the meadow, highly delighted with the agreeable prospect which lay before me. to avoid trampling on, and doing damage to the corn, i turn'd a little to the northward, in hopes of falling in with some village, or meeting with some or other of the inhabitants. i found here very rich pastures, and large flocks of sheep, intermix'd with deer; the sheep were, as in _jamaica_, cover'd with short hair, like that of a greyhound; and the deer, which i wonder'd at instead of flying from, came up to me, and gazed, as if i was a creature which they were not accustomed to the sight of. the sheep following their example, i was so hemm'd in, that, had i not made my way with a stick i broke out of a hedge, i don't know how i should have got clear of them. what astonished me, was to see such a number of corn-fields and pasture-grounds, in a flourishing condition, and well fenced, and yet not meet with the least track or path. however, i walk'd on till about three o' clock, as i guess'd by the sun, which, tho' it was excessive hot, was no way uneasy to me, being flickered by the hedges. being come to the banks of a large river, bordered with cedars, the tallest i ever saw, and being under no apprehension of wild beasts in a country so well cultivated, i laid me down under one of the largest, and slept till the sun was near setting; and doubtless, not having closed my eyes the night before, i should have continued my nap, had i not been wakened with the sound of human voices. i started up, and look'd round me, but could perceive nothing like a man. i then holloo'd, and heard somebody say, _quaw shoomaw_: i answered, _quaw shoomaw_; upon which i heard two speak, and answer each other, as i thought, over my head. i look'd up, but could, by reason of the thickness and height of the tree, see nothing. i went some paces from it, and looking up again, i heard a voice, which utered these words hastily, _quaw shoomaw? starts_; which is, having afterwards learned the language, _who art thou? stand_. hardly had these words reached my ears, when i saw a cock and hen fly down from the tree, and light near me; they were about six foot tall, and their bodies somewhat larger than a good weather. the cock who was the larger the two, coming pretty near me, tho' he discover'd in his eyes both fear and astonishment, repeated the words, _quaw shoomaw_. the hen, who kept a greater distance, cried out, _ednu sinvi_, which i since learn'd, is, _whence come you?_ i was as much surprized to hear fowls speak, as they were to see such a monster as i appeared to be. i answer'd in her own words, _ednu sinvi_, upon which she ask'd me, i suppose, a string of questions, with a loquacity common to the sex and then fell a cackling. three or four chickens came running to her, and at the sight of me hid their heads under their mother's wing, as i suppos'd her. one of them, who was a cock not above five foot high, at last took courage to peep out, and said something to his father; and, as i guess taking courage from what answer he return'd, ventured to approach me. he walk'd round me tho' he kept some distance, and spoke in a threatning tone. i answer'd in a melancholy one, and in my own language, that i was an unfortunate shipwreck'd man. the youngster, i suppose, thinking me a harmless animal, ventured to strike at me, and if i had not avoided the stroke, i believe he had split my skull, for his spurrs were about eighteen inches long, near five about, and as sharp as needles. i saw his father angry at this proceeding, and he gave him a terrible cuff with his wing, and sent him home. then speaking to me, he made signs i should follow him; i understood, and obey'd him. after we had pass'd a small copse of about a quarter of a mile, we came into a fine meadow, where we saw several hens milking goats; they sat on their rumps, and were as dextrous with their two feet, as any of our dairy-maids with their hands. they carried two pails a-piece with a yoke, like our tub-women; and indeed there are not in _europe_ any who exceed this nation in mechanicks, as far as they are useful to them. i have seen a _cacklogallinian_ (for so they call themselves) hover with a pair of sheers in his two feet, and cut trees with all the regularity imaginable; for, in a walk of a league long, which is very common before the houses of the nobility, you won't see (not to say a bough, but even) a leaf grow beyond the rest. they are the best weavers in the universe, and make cloath of stript feathers, which they have the art of spinning, and which is the staple commodity of the kingdom; for no feathers are comparable to these for this manufacture. when i pass'd the meadow, every one quitted her employment to come and stare at me; they all spoke together so loud, and with such volubility, that i almost fancied my self among a score of gammers at a country christening. this meadow led to a farm house which belonged to my guide, or more properly, master; for i soon was made sensible, that they look'd upon me as an irrational beast, of a species hitherto unknown to them. we were no sooner within doors, than the family flock'd round to admire me, asking abundance of questions which i did not understand. one of the hens brought me a bowl of goats milk, which i received very thankfully, and drank off. they then offer'd me corn, which i rejecting, one of them went out, and fetch'd me a piece of boil'd mutton; for these _cacklogallinians_, contrary to the nature of _european_ cocks, live mostly on flesh, except the poorer sort, who feed on grain. they do not go to roost, but lye on feather-beds and matrass, with warm coverings; for, at the setting of the sun, there falls so great a dew, that i was, in the night, as sensible of cold, as ever i was in _europe_ in the winter. after i had eat my piece of meat, a bed was made for me in my master's chamber, whither he conducted me. he made signs, that i should lye down, and was not a little astonish'd, i perceived, to see me open the bedding, go into it, and cover my self up. the pulling off my cloaths he did not wonder at, for the rich and great among 'em wear mantles, and cover their legs with fine cloath. i slept very heartily, and very much at my ease. my master, who was a rich farmer, went the next day to _ludbitallya_, the metropolis of the kingdom, about forty miles from his home, to acquaint his landlord who was a minister of state, what a rarity he had in possession. he set out about six in the morning, and returned at noon; for the _cacklogallinians_ will fly at the rate of twenty miles an hour. his landlord came in less than that space after in great state. he was preceded by half a dozen servants, who carried large battens in their right feet, and made no ceremony of knocking any on the head who came in their way. he was in a sort of palanquin, covered with fine cloth, and powdered with silver stars in circles, supported by four _cacklogallinians_ adorn'd with silver chains. as to his person, he was about nine foot high when he stood upright, and very corpulent; for, what is wonderful among these people (if i may be allow'd that term) they grow in bulk, and their appetites increase in proportion to their riches and honour, of which i was an eye-witness in the persons of my master and his male children, for the females are not perceivably affected with a change of fortune. this holds good in its opposite, for adversity will bring down the tallest to the size or a dwarf, that is, to three foot. but to return to this minister, whose name was _brusquallio_. he was cover'd with a rich loose garment embroider'd, and wore on his neck a yellow, green and red ribbon, from which hung a gold medal of a cock trampling on a lion, which is the badge of the greatest honour the emperor of _cacklogallinia_ can bestow on a subject. he had a great number of followers, who paid him a sort of adoration. when he alighted, my master met him on the out-side of the door, threw himself on his belly, and held his beak to the ground, till the other order'd him to rise; for i have since learnt both their customs and language. when he came in, i was brought to him. my master, as i have since learnt, told his lordship, that he fancied i had some glimmerings of reason, notwithstanding the hideous make of my person, and gave for an instance, my getting into my bed as decently as a _cacklogallinian_; and that of my species certainly had a language among 'em, for he had heard me very distinctly utter some unintelligible words, and even repeat some after him. i threw my self on my knees, and in the most humble posture address'd my self to his lordship, telling him in _english_, that i was a harmless unfortunate man, who was cast upon their coast, was an object of compassion, and below their anger; that as i never did, nor meant harm to any, i hoped to experience his lordship's mercy. he seem'd highly delighted to hear me speak, and viewed me with a visible surprize. my master coming to me, said, _ednu sinvi_? which i repeated after him (as i perceiv'd he was desirous i should) to the great satisfaction of the minister, who, as i have since known, desired to purchase, have me taught the _cacklogallinian_ and court language (for the court did not speak that of the country, for a reason hereafter to be mention'd) and present me to his imperial majesty, as the greatest rarity in nature. when he bid my master set a price, he answer'd, that his lordship's doing him the honour to accept such a trifle from his slave, he esteem'd beyond any sum of money, notwithstanding his poverty. well, _says the grandee_, bring him to me to-morrow, i accept the present, and you shall have no reason to repent your trusting to me. the minister got into his palanquin, and his four bearers flew off with him with that incredible swiftness, his attendance had much ado to keep up with it. the next morning, my master taking me by the sleeve with his beak, led me out of doors, and then walk'd forward. i stood still, and he returned, pull'd me by the coat, and walk'd on again; by which i guess'd he would have me follow him, as i accordingly did, accompanied by one of his servants, who kept by my side. he went too fast, for me to keep him company; which he perceiving, spoke to the servant, and they took wing together, and each of them laying hold on an arm, lifted me about thirty foot from the ground, and in four hours, alighted about a quarter of a mile distant from a very large town. i had forgot to acquaint the reader, that before i began this airy journey, my master took a mantle, which his servant carried under his wing, and cover'd me, that i had only an open to see and respire: this was to prevent the impertinence he might expect from the mob at the sight of such a novelty as i was. when we alighted, he made signs to me to lye down, sent his servant to the town, and cover'd me all over. the servant soon returned with a close palanquin, which they made me signs to go into, and i was in an instant hurried thro' the air, and set down in a stable yard, and conducted from thence into a little house, to which this yard afforded the only passage. both the avenue, and the smallness of the house no way answerable to the charge and titles of the minister to whom it belong'd, were matter of surprize to me; tho' i since learnt it was in him policy, that he made no greater figure in town than a private gentleman, not to encrease the number of those who envied him; for tho' he was now nine foot high, yet in a late reign he was dwindled from the height peculiar to the rank of his family, of six foot nine inches, to three foot ten. in the country, i was told his seat far exceeded any of the royal palaces, tho' as yet not finish'd, and both his furniture and equipage were answerable; and he never travelled without a great number of servants, who join'd him a mile or two without the gates. this great person shewed me to his family, every one of which admired me as a most monstrous production of nature. my master was rewarded, by being made _nosocomionarcha_, or paymaster to the invalids, had the title of _quityardo_, which answers to our _squire_, conferred on him, and was ever after a favourite of the minister. he sprung up immediately nine inches higher, grew considerably more bulky, and would eat you three or four _cacklogallinian_ chicks in a day; for the ministers, and those in post, feed on their own species, and not one of the poorer sort is in any security of their lives, in case a hungry grandee sets his eyes on, and has a mind to him. nay, the slavish spirit of the _cacklogallinians_ is such, that many of them, thro' folly or superstition, will come in bodies to the house of a minister, and beg as the greatest favour and honour, they and their families may be served up to his lordship's table; and i have seen the fools, who had thus offered themselves, and been accepted, if there was not immediate occasion for them, strut in the streets with a chain of silver about their necks, which they look'd upon as the greatest honour; and when call'd for by his lordship's cook, run exulting, and offer their throats to his knife; tho' this nation was, in time past, the bravest, and the most tenacious of their liberty, of any of the feather'd race. but i have digress'd too far. my new master, or, more properly, lord, order'd an apartment and a table for me, with a tutor to teach me the languages, by whose diligence, and my own _avidity_ of learning, i began in four months to understand a great part of what was said to me; and my lord was so very much pleased at my progress, that he gave my tutor a post, which raised him about four inches. my lord forbore asking me any questions concerning my self, till i was perfectly master or the languages, which i was in about eleven months. he one day sent for me into his chamber, and accosted me in the following words: probusomo (_which is, monster of nature, the name he gave me_) i have suspended my curiosity of enquiring whence, and how you came into this kingdom, till we could perfectly understand each other, that i might not be troubled with an imperfect relation: now that you are master of our language, tell me of what part of the world you are; whether you are of savage, or a civiliz'd nation? if of the latter, what is your policy, what are your manners and customs, and what accident brought you hither? i threw my self on my face, and kiss'd his right golden spur (for the grandees saw off those which nature has provided them, and substitute these in their places) then rising, i answer'd, that i was of _europe_, a country so distant from _cacklogallinia_, that i was near six moons at sea, before i was cast on its coast. why, _said he_, is it possible you can swim so long? for you being destitute of wings, can have no other method of passing so vast a water. i told him we pass'd the seas in ships, and gave him a description of them, but could not make him have the least idea of what i meant, till the next day, that i hollow'd, shap'd, and rigg'd a piece of cork, made sails of fine linnen, and brought it to his excellency in a bason of water. i told him, we were a civiliz'd nation, and govern'd by a king, who however did nothing without the advice of his great council, which consisted of grandees born to that honour, and _quityardo's_ elected by the people to represent them. that, to these representatives the people had delegated the power of acting for them, and entrusted their liberty and estates to their probity; consequently nothing could be supposed to be done by the prince, but by the universal consent of the nation, and the people could bear no burthens, but what they voluntarily took upon themselves for the common good. i have never, _answer'd he_, read, that any of your species was seen in this kingdom before you; but it is certain you must have copy'd your policy from us. but, said he, are all these representatives publick-spirited, zealous for the common welfare, proof against preferments, titles, and private advantages? have they always the good of the nation at heart so far, as to prefer it to that of their families? do they sollicite the people to chuse them, or are they their free choice? if the latter, what amends do the people make to these representatives, who neglect their private affairs, to apply themselves to those of the publick? i told his excellency, that i did not doubt their being such men as he spoke them; that i was very young when i left my country, and beside i was not born in a rank which, had i been of riper years, permitted me to meddle with state affairs: however, i had heard from my elders, that none were elected, till the king sent his mandates to the several provinces, ordering them to chuse the wisest among them to assist his majesty with their advice: and as the interest of each province in particular, and of the whole nation in general, turn'd upon the probity and judgment of the representatives, to whom an unlimited power was delegated, it did not stand to reason, that they would make choice of any, whose love for his country, whose sagacity and honour they had not made proof of; or at least, whose life did not give them hopes, that he would prove a real patriot. that they were the free choice of the people, was plain, by the backwardness shewn by those elected to undertake so weighty a charge, which had no other recompence than the applause of the publick, for the faithful execution of their trust. another reason which induced me to believe the choice such, was, that the _english_, (of which nation i own'd my self) were any one rich enough to bribe the majority of a province, and are too wise a people to entrust their liberty to such a person; for it's natural to believe, whoever would buy their votes, would sell his own: but, that the majority of a province was to be brib'd, or that a free people would, on any account, risque their liberty, by giving their representatives a power to enslave 'em, either by making the prince absolute, and furnishing him with standing armies, to maintain a despotick power or else by selling them to foreigners, could never enter into the thoughts of a reasonable creature. _has_, said he, (who smiled all the while i held this discourse) _your nation any near neighbours?_ i answer'd, that, by the means of our shipping, we might be said near neighbours to every nation; but that our island was separated but seven leagues from the continent, inhabited by a warlike and powerful people. _have you any commerce with the nations on the continent?_ we are, said i, the greatest dealers in _europe_. _have you any religion among you?_ we have, in the main, i replied, but one, tho' it is branch'd out into a great many sects, differing only in some trifling ceremonies, in essentials we all agree. religion, _answer'd my lord_, is absolutely necessary in a well-govern'd state; but do your great men make any profession of religion? or, to ask a more proper question, do they do more than profess it? my lord, said i, our great men are the brightest examples of piety. their veracity is such, that they would not for an empire falsify their word once given. their justice won't suffer a creditor to go from their gate unsatisfied: their chastity makes them look on adultery and furnication the most abominable crimes; and even the naming of them will make their bloods run cold. they exhaust their revenues in acts of charity, and every great man among us is a husband and father to the widow and orphan. they esteem themselves stewards to the poor, and that in a future state they are accountable for every doit lavish'd in equipage or superfluous dishes. their tables are not nicely, but plentifully served, and always open to the honest needy. at court, as i have learn'd, there is neither envy nor detraction, no one undermines another, nor intercepts the prince's bounty or favour by slandrous reports; and neither interest, riches, nor quality, but merit only recommends the candidate to a post: a bribe was never heard of there; which, together with the exact justice practised, is the reason that a minister, after twelve or fourteen years, shall die not a doit richer than he was at the entrance upon his office: nay, i've been told, that a paymaster general of the army, after he had past his accounts before the grand council of the nation, with a general applause, found his patrimony so impoverish'd by his charity to soldiers widows, he was oblig'd to turn merchant for his support; but being unfortunate, he petition'd for a small government. _as you say you have divers sects of religion, you must have priests among you, pray what sort of men are they?_ i answer'd, their lives and doctrine were of a-piece, their example differing nothing from their precepts: that hypocrisy, avarice, ambition, litigious suits, lying, revenge, and obscenity, were vices known to 'em by name only: that they were a mortify'd set of men, who look'd upon nothing transitory worth their concern; and having their thoughts always employ'd on meditations of a future happiness, neglected every thing on earth but their duty; and for this reason, they often became a prey to knaves, who slipp'd no opportunity of spoiling them, knowing their lenity such, that, if detected, they should not be prosecuted. i have been assured, that a priest being told, such a farmer had stole away a great many tithe sheafs, the good divine answer'd, _if he's poor, it's no theft; what i have belongs to the needy, and he takes but his own_. the day after he sent him all the corn he was master of, and by this act of charity, wou'd have starved before next harvest, if a minister of state, in love with his virtue, had not provided for him. and i myself knew one, who hearing black puddings were a preservative against pestilential infections, and that the plague was within two thousand leagues of our island, laid out his whole patrimony in puddings, and sent 'em to every sea-port in the kingdom. _have you physicians among you?_ we have, said i, men of extensive charity, great humility, profound learning, without the least tincture of vanity. they are so very conscientious, that shou'd they prescribe for a patient, and he recover before he had taken all the druggs brought in, they will pay for those which remain, out of their own pockets. they never take a fee, but when they prescribe, tho' they visit you frequently, and never prescribe, without they see an absolute necessity. they a modest, that they attribute the recovery of a person to divine providence, and are ready to accuse themselves of ignorance or negligence should he die under their hands. _have you any lawyers in your part of the world?_ lawyers, said i, we have, but not more than necessary. _you have then_, said my lord, _very few, or are a litigious people. what sort of creatures are they?_ they are, said i, brought up many years in the study of the laws, and pass a strict examination, not only as to their knowledge, but their morals, before they are admitted to the bar; which is the reason, that we have no tricks, no delays, to weary and ruine the poor client who has a right, but no money; they come directly to the merits of the cause, and never endeavour by their rhetorick to put a fair face on a bad one; and not one, if his client does not deceive him, will appear on the side of oppression or injustice; and if he is himself impos'd upon, when he perceives it, he will not defend the wrong. this care of examining into the probity of the students, and candidates for the bar, is the reason our lawyers are very near in as great reputation as our priests. do you know from what you have said, _probusomo_, that i conclude your statesmen fools, and that you will soon fall a prey to some other nation; or you either very ignorant of your national affairs, or a very great lyar; or otherwise think me easily impos'd upon. i have been many years at the head of the _cacklogallinian_ affairs, under our august master, _hippomina connuferento_, darling of the sun, delight of the moon, terror of the universe, gate of happiness, source of honour, disposer of kingdoms, and high priest of the _cacklogallinian_ church. i have, i say, long, in obedience to this most potent prince, acted as prime minister, and to tell me, that such a one will baulk his master's, or his own interest, on the score of religion; nay, in his publick capacity, that he believes one word of it, or has ears for justice or compassion, wou'd be the same thing as telling me, a flatterer, in his encomiums has a strict eye to truth, or that a poet who writes in praise of great men, believes them really possess'd of the virtues he attributes to 'em, and has no other view in his epistle than that of edifying others, by shewing the bright example of his patrons. my business now calls me to court; the emperor, as yet, has never heard of you: for whoever dares acquaint him with any thing, without my permission, passes his time very ill. to morrow, i'll present you to his majesty. he left the room, and i retired to my apartment, where none cou'd come at me, but who pass'd thro' my lord's, which was death to do, or even to fly within twenty yards of his house, without permission. nay, the proudest among them, and those of the highest rank alight at his outer-gate, and walk into the house. the next morning my lord came into my apartment: "well, _probusomo_, said he, i intend this day to present you to his imperial majesty; and tho' you are of a species hitherto unknown in our parts of the world, and are, for that reason, look'd upon as a kind of monster, as perhaps one of us should be, were we to appear in your nation, yet i have observ'd some points of discretion in your behaviour, and i begin to have a kindness for you, for which reason i intend to instruct you how to demean your self; and if you are wise enough to act and be guided by the counsels i shall prescribe to you, while you are at court, i can, in spite of your awkard form, get you naturalized, and then perhaps may prefer you to some charge in the government, considerable enough to enable you to pass the rest of your days in ease and plenty. "you that don't know what a court is (_proceeded he_) should receive some idea of it before you enter there. you must first be informed, that emperors do not always trouble themselves with the affairs of state; for they sometimes pass their whole lives in a continued round of indolent pleasures, while their favourites govern all. i don't doubt but you have already made your observation upon the servile crowd who attend my motions, who wait upon my commands, with an obsequiousness that perhaps is not practised in your parts of the world, betwixt creatures of the same species, yet many of them hate me, as i do them,--perhaps you'll think this strange; but when the secret springs of this attachment to my interest come to unfold themselves to you, which will soon happen, by the observations i see you are capable of making, your admiration will cease. however, i shall be a little particular in explaining some matters to you, that you may thereby be the better qualified to serve my interest. "you must then know, that all this assiduous court is not paid to my person, but to my place. they know, that i not only hold the reins of the government in my hands, but keep the publick treasure under my own eye, and that the power of giving is only mine. it is not their love, but their avarice, that makes them thus obedient to my nod; and the same respect would be paid to the meanest of my domesticks, were such a one put in my place. "their hatred to me proceeds from various causes. in some it is envy, because they think themselves affronted and injur'd by my great rise, as knowing themselves to be of greater consideration in their country, and fancifying themselves themselves to be as well qualified by their parts. others again are out of humour, because i do not comply with all their unreasonable demands, their luxury always keeping them necessitous. some of these are such as have parts enough to be troublesome; they are hard to be managed, and indeed are the most dangerous creatures i have to deal with. there is a third sort, who hate and oppose me, only because they love their country, but these i don't much fear, for their party is very weak at present. "and since i am upon this subject, i can't forbear observing to you, that were it not for the luxury of some, and the folly of others, i could never have stood my ground so long, and executed those measures which i have brought about; and happy it is for a person in my station (if he has any odd measure in view) that many of the upper rank should happen to be fools; i have myself kept several persons dancing attendance after me, year after year, made them maintain in publick assemblies, that nine was more than fifteen; that black was white and a hundred other things of equal absurdity, only by promising to stick a parti-colour'd feather in their tails; and when this was done, it only made them the scorn and jest of every thing of good sense: yet it answered my purpose, and did not hinder others of equal folly from making court for the same thing. "thus i have accounted with you why these people are subservient to me, while they hate me; but i have not given you the reason on my side for keeping up this correspondence and union with them, for whom i have as little esteem as they can have for me. then, in a word it is, i can't do without them. this you'll easily comprehend when you understand the nature of our government; for you'll know, that this power here is lodged in the many, not in the few: it is they who can abolish old laws, and make new; the power of life and death is in them, and from their decrees there is no appeal; and tho' i do all, and command all, nay, command even them, yet the right is theirs, and they might exert it all times if they had virtue enough to break off their correspondence with me. "things being in this situation, no doubt, you'll think my establishment well fix'd; but i am not without my fears and my dangers, and there is no judging of the power of one in my station, by the flattery that is paid him, for flatterers take things frequently by outward appearances; and notwithstanding my arbitrary manner of treating some persons, my safety is depending upon the breath of others, and i am obliged to pay a more servile court to some behind the curtain, than is paid to me without. "those upon whom my fate and fortune depend, are the _squabbaws_ of the court (the reader is to understand, that this is a name for certain females, who are maintain'd for the emperor's luxury and pleasure, and always sojourn at court) and it is to their avarice that i owe my grandeur, as well as its continuance so long. there was a time, when i foolishly mistook my own interest so far, as by my conduct to give some offence to these _squabbaws_ for which i suffered a severe disgrace: i then endeavour'd to shelter my self among those who are stiled the patriots, but they would neither receive me into their counsels, nor put the least trust in me. i had then leisure to reflect on the folly of this conduct, and had time to compute how much i was a loser, by putting on the mask of the patriot and, i confess, it had such an effect upon me, and gave me such an aversion to patriotism, that i could never prevail upon myself to do any thing for the publick good ever since. "i then immediately apply'd all my thoughts towards making my peace, and there fell out a chain of lucky incidents, which happily brought it about. one of these was the death of several great personages, who were too mighty for me at that time in rank and dignity, and whose parts eclipsed mine in the opinion of the publick, tho' i always thought otherwise. "their deaths were so sudden, that the emperor was puzzled whom to chuse in their places, (it being necessary they should soon be fill'd up) and he had but a very small acquaintance among his people; so that he was under a kind of necessity of throwing his affairs into my hands, i having the reputation of being pretty well practised in certain branches of his revenues. "i had reason to suspect, that this new preferment was not intended as a favour, and that i was to continue no longer in this station, than till some other person more agreeable could be fix'd upon; but in order to improve the opportunity, i apply'd my self strenuously to the avarice of the _squabbaws_, and gave with prodigality; for i bore in mind my former miscarriages. this had all its effect; they had never met with a person so fit for their purpose, and by these arguments they began to be convinc'd, that if another should be preferr'd to my place, they would be no gainers by the change. "since this good understanding betwixt us, matters have been so managed, that no person has had access to the emperor, but thro' my recommendation; so that my enemies cannot fill his ears with complaints of my administration; and whenever i observe any person attempting to lay the state of affairs before his imperial majesty, the _squabbaws_, by my instructions, are to insinuate into the royal ear some jealousies and fears of that person, that the emperor may forbid his admittance; so that he only sees with my eyes, and hears by my report. "as this in a great measure has render'd me safe against the attempts of my enemies, yet i can't deny but that it has encreas'd their number, and furnish'd them with matter to clamour against me; and these clamours have possess'd the publick with a kind of an aversion to my conduct, tho' they have not reach'd the throne. "but as it is not possible, but that the officers of state belonging to a great emperor, of which there must be many in number, must sometimes have opportunities of talking with him, i have taken care to prevent any danger from thence, by chusing for those posts birds of the weakest capacities, altogether ignorant of the affairs of the empire; for one in a high station, who makes the publick interest subservient to his own, will never be safe, unless he takes care, that no creature who acts with him, shall have any sense except himself. i am not the first who have laid this down as a maxim; some of my predecessors began to practise it, as a necessary piece of self-defence. 'tis true i have carried it a little further than they, and with greater reason, because i have not forgot in how bad a light i stood when _fowls_ of parts sway'd the publick counsels, with what sagacity they saw thro' all my private views and designs, and with what facility they brought about my disgrace; and therefore, when i have discover'd in any of those concern'd with me in business, a fine discernment, and a genius for great affairs, i have from that minute look'd upon such as dangerous, and for that reason either procured their disgrace, or under the pretence of doing them honour, prevail'd upon the emperor to confer upon them the government of some distant province, where they are removed too far from the imperial counsels, to be able to do me any harm. "but to come nearer to my present purpose; my design of placing you at court, is to serve as a spy for me upon the _squabbaws_; for my enemies, who have tried in vain all other means to overturn me, may perhaps at last attempt it that way; and the avarice of these _squabbaws_, which has hitherto been my support, may one time or other (if i am not very vigilant) prove my ruine. for if my enemies should bribe them, to be privately introduced to confer with the emperor, there is an end of my reign; for i am not insensible, that his imperial majesty has no personal affection for me, and it is his own ease and indolence that hinders him from looking out for some other servant to supply my place; for alterations cannot be made without some little trouble. "be therefore vigilant for my interest, as you value your own: be always quick in your intelligence, watch every step and motion of the _squabbaws_, and acquaint me with every thing that passes in their most secret transactions. let me know who are their advisers, their favourites, their companions; but above all, be quick in informing me, if any person should be admitted to confer with the emperor; and if possible, hear what is the subject of their discourse. your grotesque form may recommend you to the _squabbaws_; for animals sometimes become favourites amongst us, only for the oddness of their figure. they will say or do any thing before you, because they will never imagine you capable of making any remarks; for the _cacklogallinians_ have such a notion, that no creatures are endued with reason like themselves. "but it will be necessary to instruct you in the manner of making your address, when you enter the court. you must remember then to pay your compliments to the _squabbaws_, before you do to the emperor; and of these the _vultuaquilians_ claim the precedence to those of our own nation, particularly the bulkiest. it is the praftice here to do so, for the emperor, as to what regards himself, is no great lover of ceremony. the form of addressing these _squabbaws_ has something in it very singular; but the servile manners of the _cacklogallinians_ to those in any power has made it necessary to be comply'd with, and is the cause that they now expect it. you must make a low obeisance to the ground, at which time they will turn their backsides upon you, and spreading all the feathers of their tails, give you an opportunity of saluting them behind. you will see the _cacklogallinians_ of figure and rank pressing in, endeavouring who shall be first in kissing the posteriors of these _squabbaws_; and those upon whom they are graciously pleased to turn their backsides, and spread their tails, return highly satisfied, as if some extraordinary honour had been conferr'd upon them; nay, i my self am obliged to do it in as obsequious a manner as any other, every time i approach them." when he had spoke these words, a servant came in to give him notice, that the coach was ready. he ordered me to put on my mantle, and attend him: i did so, and he was pleased to do me the honour to carry me with him in his coach. in the way, he discoursed me upon several subjects. among other things, it came into his head to enquire of me, whether, in the parts of the world from whence i came, there were any such things as poets. i gave him to understand, that we had several who had been famous in my own country. he desired to know what kind of persons they were: i answered him, they were the faithful registers of the glorious actions of great men, whose praises they sung, in order to stir up others, by their examples, to the practice of vertue, and love of their country; and that as it required a great genius, and fine understanding, to be a good poet, they were, for that reason, highly caressed by the great, and their works so well paid for, that it was as rare to see a poet poor, as a minister of state grow rich by his employment. this i said, as well out of regard to truth, as for the honour of my country. he appeared pretty much surpriz'd at this account of our poets, and told me theirs were of a different character, and met with a different fate; for they were but little regarded by any great birds, except the vain and the silly, who wanted a little flattery, for which they paid some small gratuity, while they wou'd not accept of them as companions; for it was not fashionable for those of figure to converse with any thing inferior to them in wealth or quality, which was reputed to have sense: on the contrary, when they receiv'd such for companions, it was upon the account of their being either _buffoons_ or _pandars_; and this he was pleased to say was the fashion. he also confess'd to me, that he himself never had any great regard for that sort of persons, which he own'd he sometimes had reason to repent; for he found that by their verses and discourses, they influenced the publick very much, by whom they were look'd upon with more esteem, than by the courtiers; and that his enemies had made a proper advantage of his contempt of them; for they had taken the most ingenious amongst them into their party, and exasperated them against him; so that their compositions had kept up a spirit against him, and he had the mortification of seeing the people always receive with pleasure any thing that exposed and satyriz'd his conduct. that indeed in his own defence, he had imploy'd some others to chant his praise; but they were such wretched poetasters, and did it so awkardly, that their performances prov'd more bitter invectives than the satyrs of the others; for whenever there happen'd the least flaw in his administration, he was sure to receive congratulatory verses immediately upon it; and that was the time they chose to proclaim the happiness the subject enjoy'd by his wise management: and they carried this matter to such a ridiculous height, that there was not a vice or a folly, that either he or any of his family were remarkable for, but they were prais'd for the contrary vertues and accomplishments. by this time we arriv'd at the gates of the palace; for the coach being drawn by six ostriches, we were but a little time upon the way; and mounting the great stair-case, without being any way molested by the people's curiosity (for the moment my lord appear'd every fowl of what quality soever, clapp'd his beak to the ground, and did not alter that posture till he was past) he bid me stay in the anti-chamber till sent for, and went himself into the presence. he had not been there five minutes, before i heard that door open, and a jay with a strait-body'd coat, which button'd on his breast, and thro' which his wings and legs pass'd, came hopping into the room where i was, surrounded by the courtiers, who view'd me with surprize, but were so well bred as to whisper their sentiments of me. this impertinent jay peck'd 'em by the legs, or pull'd 'em by the crown-feathers, without distinction: nay, i saw some _cacklogallinians_ of the great order, whose heads he could not reach, stoop to him, and beg he would do them the honour to pull their crowns. every one shew'd him respect, and made way for him to come up to me; he view'd me some time, and then peck'd me by the finger; for he did not reach higher than my hand, when it hung down. i returned the compliment with a wherret of my fist, which knock'd him over, and had cost me my life, durst any have struck in the palace. there was a terrible uproar, and i was apprehensive, that i should pay dear for my resentment; but the emperor to whom my lord was then giving an account of me, being inform'd, that the impertinence of the jay had caus'd the disturbance, he order'd him to be carried to the guard, that he should be lock'd up for three days, and take two purges and a vomit (for criminals not guilty of capital crimes, are punish'd by a number of vomits or purges, which are more or less, according to the vileness of the fact) i was called into the presence-chamber, where i made my compliment as instructed, and then address'd my self to the ladies, giving the precedence always to the bulkiest, according to my instructions. the first _squabbaw_ whom i address'd my self to, was about seven foot round; her crop hung within six inches of the floor, which i have since learn'd is a particular beauty; the effluvia of her body were extreamly strong, and oblig'd his imperial majesty, when she spread her tail to me, to smell to an aromatick leaf. this prince, tho' of a very advanced age, has been represented, both by the reports of his ministers, and others, as a person of great incontinency, in which i think he was injured; for tho' he pass'd most of his private hours only in the company of the _vultuaquilian squabbaws_ (so call'd from the province where they were born) he did it, partly because of his long accquaintance with them, and partly to hinder the too frequent visits of the first minister, who scarce ever came into his presence, but to importune him, for new grants and promotions for himself and family; and as to the _cacklogallinian squabbaws_, he sometimes admitted them to please their husbands and relations, who flatter themselves with an imaginary honour, to have their wives and daughters near him. i have good grounds for what i advance; for i was five years in his court, and frequently convers'd with his _squabbaws_. this won't i hope, be thought a piece of vanity in me, when the reader reflects, that i was look'd upon as a monkey is with our ladies. the emperor was highly delighted with the present his minister made him, and order'd all possible care to be taken of me. my lord told him i might be as useful to his majesty as my make was curious, for he found me very intelligent, learning the languages with great facility, and that it was possible i might be serviceable in extending his dominions, by bringing that part of the world, which my species inhabited, in subjection to his imperial majesty. _have they_, said the emperor, _any gold among them?_ i took the liberty of assuring his majesty, that we were the richest nation in the universe; that by our trade, which never was so flourishing as at this time, we brought in immense quantities of that valuable metal, and that we suffer'd none to be exported. _it may then_, replied his majesty, _be worth our while, one day to think of this._ the emperor order'd me to be conducted to an apartment, and leave was given to all the _vultuaquilian_ first, and _cacklogallinian_ quality, to see me the next day. i had every thing i could wish provided for me, and a month after i had been at court, i had the liberty of the palace, and the emperor would often call me into his closet (as he found i was not ignorant in arithmetick) to help him weigh and count his wedges of gold, and set down the number, weight and value of each piece; for this was a diversion in which he amused himself. this prince was not very curious, for in the five years i was in his court, he scarce ever asked me one question concerning the _europeans_; nor was he in one respect the bubble of his favourites, for i never saw him give one piece of gold to any of them, even the _squabbaws_. the grandees, who perceived me grow in favour so far, as that the jay was turn'd out of court for his sawciness to me, which he redoubled after his having been confined, strove who shou'd shew me the most respect, and make me the greatest professions of friendship. they not only offer'd me their purses, but even their wives and daughters, whom they often left with me and whose immodesty has often put me to the blush. nay, a _boutofallalian_, a title answering to our duke, told me, if i continued this shyness, and would not do him the honour to pass now and then an hour with his lady, he shou'd not take me for his friend; and leaving her with me, he lock'd the door. her grace was as generous as her spouse; and when i urg'd the difference of our species, she said, she was satisfied that wou'd be no impediment, by what she had seen, for i had indeed no other covering than a mantle, and both his majesty and his _squabbaws_ took a pleasure to teaze me, by pulling it off, and leaving me naked in a full circle. in short, i was forc'd to save my self by the window being on a ground floor, after all my excuses were to no purpose: but fearing the lady's resentment, i begg'd the minister, exaggerating her husband's merits, to give him a pension, and i my self carried and delivered the grant to her grace, which made my peace with both. one day, an old colonel, who was very poor, accosted me in the emperor's garden. _my lord_, said he, _i beg you will vouchsafe me an audience of quarter of an hour; i shall look upon it as the greatest condescension in you, and as the greatest honour done me._ i told him he mistook my title, and gave me one i never did aspire to; but that i was very ready to hear and serve him, for i had seen him often at court offering petitions, which were always rejected, and i had a compassion for him. "your goodness, _said he_, can alone be equalled by your modesty; give me leave then to tell you, i have served long and faithfully in the late wars against the _owls_ and _magpyes_, but to my great surprize, at my return home; my regiment, without any fault alledg'd, was taken from me, and given to a _valet de chambre_ who had never seen an enemy; his master was a _boutofallalian_, had a mind to reward his pimp, and all that i cou'd say, might as well have been let alone. i had no estate but what i sold, and gave to a courtier to get this regiment, after i had served many years as a captain, without the least blemish in my character. i have since been in almost a starving condition, and have wearied my self out with petitions to no purpose; for if any, as very few, were received, they were never answered, and perhaps never read. i have therefore no hopes but what are founded on your charity: i see it vain to hope for employment, and shall change my suit to that of being put into the hospital of the _meritorians_ (_which in _english_, signifies disabled and superannuated soldiers_) i beg your compassion for a most unfortunate and perishing man, who has served his prince and country with fidelity, and on several occasions has distinguish'd himself, as your honour will be satisfied, if you will take the pains to examine these certificates." he put several into my hands; one mentioned his being the first who broke ranks, and put the right wing of the enemy in disorder, which was followed by a signal victory over the _magpyes_ and _owls_: then another mentioned his taking the royal banner, in the battle of _bellfugaro_: a third certify'd his surprizing a great convoy of provisions, carrying to the enemy's camp, the loss of which, made them break up the siege of _barbaquero_. in short, he had about twenty, signed by the general and chief officers, which spoke him a fool of singular gallantry. when i had return'd them, i ask'd, in what he thought i could serve him? "i beg, _said he_, you wou'd recommend me to the minister to be provided for as a superannuated officer; your honour cannot do an act of greater charity." "sir, _said i_, is it possible you can be so great a stranger to the court, as to imagine merit carries any weight with it. your certificates prove you have done your duty like a gallant officer; but then you have done no more than what was expected from you, and what you were paid for." "i acknowledge what your honour says, _replied the colonel_, but i can name many, who have run away, or been taken violently ill at the time of a battle, and who are not only continued in post, but even advanced." i answer'd, it was very true; but that such fowls were otherwise serviceable in the government, had handsome wives or daughters, or could procure such of their acquaintance, or perhaps were elected into the grand council of the nation, and had a vote to dispose of. but, sir, i will deal with you ingenuously, i can do you no service at all in this affair; for the minister has so many _bable-cypherians (in _english_, members of the great council)_ to oblige, and they have so many _valet de chambres_, butlers, and footmen to provide for in the hospital, that it's more likely the officers and soldiers now there will be turn'd out to make place for them, than any other will be admitted. if you have interest to get a number of these _bable-cypherians_ to back your petition, which you may get, if you can bribe and cajole the attendants of their _squabbaws_, or their own valets, it's possible you may succeed in your pretensions. "i'll sooner, _said he_, starve, than be guilty of so great a condescension, or more properly, so mean an action." this he said with some warmth, and i replied as coolly, it was in his own option. "i find then, _said the colonel_, you won't serve me." i have, _said i_, given you reasons which prove this way i cannot: but if giving your petition and certificates to the emperor will be of use, i'll venture to do it for you. "the emperor, _replied he_, is a good prince, but has little interest with the minister; and to hope any thing, but thro' his canal, is altogether vain." saying this, he took his leave in a very courteous manner. the minister was inform'd, that i had entertain'd a long discourse with this officer, and ask'd me the subject of it. i told him what he desired, but that i declined troubling his excellency with such trifles. "these fowls, _said he_, who build on their own merit, are extremely impertinent. the colonel now in question is one of your fowls who might by his principles have made a fortune, had he lived two or three hundred years ago; but they are now obsolete, and he starves by tenaciously practising his musty morals. why, he'll have the impudence to be always speaking truth; and tho' he has been thrust out of the palace for this vice more than once, he is not to be corrected. he will tell a fowl of quality without ceremony, that he's a pimp, and was raised by the hens of his family: he'll make no bones of telling another, if his prudence made him decline danger, that he's a coward: a third he'll impudently remind of his former livery, tho' his good fortune has raised him to the title of a grandee. nay, he had the face to tell me, upon my refusing to take his petition, that it was great pity, when i was imprisoned for peculation, that the justice of the nation did not first purge, and then hang me; that i was a publick robber, and deserv'd the gallows more richly than a common thief. his poverty and folly made me pity and pardon him, if leaving him to be laugh'd at and starv'd, are to be esteemed no punishment. as i really pity'd the fowl, i found where he lodged, and supplied him with sufficient to keep him above want, tho' i would never trust him with the knowledge of his benefactor, nor would ever after be seen to give him the least countenance." the character of the _cacklogallinians_ in general. the _cacklogallinians_ were, in former ages, a wise and a warlike nation, both fear'd and esteem'd by their neighbours. their blood was pure, without being mix'd with that of the _owls_, _magpies_, _eagles_, _vulturs_, _jays_, _partridges_, _herns_, _hawks_, or any other species; the scum of which nation, by the fertility of the country, and the want of foresight in the _cacklogallinians_, has been allured to, and permitted to settle in _cacklogallinia_, and by their intermarriages has caused the great degeneracy those families, which have kept their blood untainted, complain of. the history of their neighbours are standing witnesses of the worth of their ancestors, and shew the vast difference between the ancient and modern _cacklogallinians_. the former, tho' tenacious of their liberty, were remarkable for their loyalty; and each thought it his peculiar interest zealously to promote that of the publick. but not to be prolix in the character of the old _cacklogallinians_, i shall give it in few words. they were what the _english_ now are, wise, modest, brave, human, loyal, publick-spirited, capable of governing their own, and conquering other kingdoms; hospitable to strangers: they encourag'd merit, and abominated flattery. a pimp in those days wou'd have starv'd, and even the concubine of a prince not been admitted among hens of virtue, tho' to make the fortune of a husband. there was no upstarts among the nobility, and if any were rais'd to titles, it was by force of a conspicuous merit, which gave a lustre to the august assembly in which he was enroll'd. justice was impartially administer'd, and the selling of the people to a prince or minister, was a villainy unknown. none bribed the people to chuse 'em for their representatives; posts in the government were given to fowls capable to serve it, without being burthened with this or that family, nor were their revenues loaded with pensions to worthless and vicious persons, and given for services which would be a disgrace to publish. trade flourish'd, money was plenty, none of their neighbours durst encroach on their commerce; their taxes were inconsiderable: in a word, as i before said, they were what our happy nation now is, admired for the prudence of their administration at home, and the terror of their arms abroad. they are now directly the reverse of what they were, and even in my time, they were sinking in the opinion of their neighbours, who began to consider them as a declining nation, which alteration, i must own (for i love to speak the truth) was not a little owing to the administration of my friend, the first minister, who in taking upon him to manage the interests of nations, went out of his depth, for affairs of that nature seemed to be above his capacity. his education, his study, his practice, were rather mercantile, than otherwise, and all that knowledge which his partizans boast so much in him, was confined to the business of the taxes, a road in which he was (as it were) grown old, and to money-projects, which was owing to a strict correspondence he always kept with certain projecting and mercantile people, and being used to carry all points at home by gold, he knew no other way of doing business abroad; so that when their neighbours used to differ among themselves, about some points of interest, and one side or other stood in need of the assistance of the _cacklogallinians_, they sometimes push'd themselves into the quarrel, and perhaps paid great sums of money for the favour of sending armies to the succour of one side or other, so that they became the tools which other nations work'd with. they are naturally prone to rebellion, have let the _cormorants_ chouse them out of several valuable branches of their commerce; and yet the _cormorants_ are people with whom they have kept the most lasting friendship of all their neighbours. they love war, and rather than not fight, they will give money to be let into the quarrel (as has been hinted before) they know beforehand, however victorious they may prove, nothing but blows will fall to their share. if they are under a mild government, and grow rich, they are always finding fault with their superiors, and ever ready to revolt: but if they are oppress'd and kept poor, like our spaniels, they fawn on their masters, and seem in love with tyranny; which should any dare to speak against, he is esteem'd an enemy to the happiness of his country. they are very proud, yet very mean in some particulars, and will, for their interest, sacrifice the honour of their families. they look upon nothing infamous but poverty, for which reason, the most scandalous methods of procuring riches, such as lying, robbing the publick, cheating orphans, pimping, perjury, _& c._ are not look'd upon with evil eyes, provided they prove successful. this maxim holds with 'em, both in publick and private affairs. i knew one rais'd from a fowl of three foot six inches, to be a _makeseulsibi_, a post which rais'd him to eight foot six, and is one of the greatest in the kingdom. he is to instruct the grandees, when in council, in points of law, and is guardian to all orphans. complaint was made to the emperor, that he converted their estates to his own use, and left them all to starve; he was therefore, by the emperor's consent, and to satisfy the people, brought to a tryal. he answer'd, that he did not deny the charge; but that he wanted the money to make a figure equal to his post: however, the enquiry discover'd his vast acqusitions, and prov'd him to be so rich, that he was look'd upon with respect, and he lived and died in as much grandeur, and tranquillity, as if he had been a patriot, and at his funeral, his great service to his country was blazon'd out in figures and hieroglyphicks by the heralds; which being a thing i seem'd amaz'd at, and enquiring of many, how it came to pass, that a fowl should be treated with honour, who had been esteem'd an oppressor? the common answer was, he died rich, and that was enough for all honours. the religion of the _cacklogallinians_. this nation pretends to believe a first being, and to worship one god, tho' i confess, when i was first amongst them, i thought otherwise; for i found the people of the best rank amongst them always ridiculing religion. they had formerly a globe of pure gold in their temples, an emblem of eternity: it was inscribed with unintelligible characters, by which they figured the inscrurability of his decrees. this some call'd superstitious, and were for having razed, and the ball, which was, in their opinion, too big, new melted, and cast into a different form. some were for a square, to give an emblem, of justice; others would have it, an octogon, by which they would shadow his ubiquity. another party insisted upon its being cast again, but in no regular form; for all forms and regularity they look'd upon superstitious. their disputes on this subject ran so high, that they came to blows, and each party, as it was victorious, modelled the globe to his own humour or caprice. but the ball being so often melted, and part of the gold being lost in each fusion, it was at last almost imperceivable. these bickerings shed a great deal of blood, and being at length tired with worrying each other upon this account, a new globe was cast, but not exactly round, to satisfy tender consciences. in process of time, it was thought that a brazen globe might do as well as one of gold, and new disputes beginning to arise, it was decreed, that this globe should stand in the temple, but that every one in particular should have at home an idol after his own fashion provided they wou'd only bow to this, and the revenues were continued to the priests to furnish sacrifices. the heads of the priests at last thinking these sacrifices altogether needless, and a very great expence, dropp'd 'em by degrees: however, some say this was done by some of the grandees, as a means to make the priests less respected, and put the money in their own coffers, which has made them both rich and insolent. they were formerly a cunning set, but they are not look'd upon as such now, for they take but little care, either to cultivate the interest, or support the credit and dignity of their order; and as some of them are given to luxury, which they have not taken due care to conceal, the common sort do not entertain the same respect for them they did in former times. however, the poor clergy (for they are not all rich, affairs of religion being modell'd after those of the state, the great devouring the small) lead moral lives, and there is a sect amongst them which keeps up the golden ball, continues the sacrifices, and detests perjury; but these are obliged to perform their ceremonies by stealth, and are prosecuted as an obstinate ill-designing people. the grandees have no statues in their houses; they own indeed a deity, some of them at least, but don't think the worshipping that deity of any consequence. the meaner people began to be as polite as the courtiers, and to have as little religion, before i left _cacklogallinia_. this irreligion i can attribute to nothing so much as the contempt of the clergy, whom some of the nobility, especially of the court, have endeavour'd to render hateful and ridiculous to the people, by representing them as a lazy, useless, order of birds, no better than the drones. they also chufe out now and then, some to place at their head, who had distinguish'd themselves for their infidelity, and had declared themselves enemies to the religion of the country, by which means the whole order lost their sway with the people; besides which, the richer sort amongst them were generally reputed to be much addicted to gluttony. of the policy and government of the _cacklogallinians_. the _cacklogallinians_ boast mightily of their being the only nation in the world which enjoys liberty, and therefore, upon all occasions, they talk of, and treat the rest of the world as slaves. they pretend to maintain, that their monarchy being elective, their emperors are no more than their servants, and that they can exercise no longer a power, than they are pleas'd to give it them, which is just as much as will serve to put the laws in execution, and keep the great machine of government in good order; and that whenever he attempts to transgress those bounds, they make no ceremony of turning him out, and setting up another in his room. but, by what i could judge by my own proper observation, this appeared to me, to be no more than an empty boast (for indeed the _cacklogallinians_ are apt to run into an extravagance of vanity, whenever they speak of themselves) for in my time my friend and patron the first minister acted as absolutely, and dependently of all creatures (except of the _squabbaws_) as the most arbitrary prince, who acknowledges no law but his own will and pleasure. it is, true there is a council consisting of a great number of persons, in whose name all great affairs relating to the civil government are transacted, the members of which council are call'd _bable-cypherians_; but it is no secret, that the first minister causes whom he pleases to sit in this council, as well as turns out any person he dislikes; and while i was amongst them, there happen'd some instances of what i maintain; and he contrived to have several whom he suspected of being enemies to his family, or to his administration, to be disgraced from the said council, and others appointed in their places: nay, i have often seen several worthless birds paying their court to the first minister, and solliciting him to be admitted into the great council, in the same manner that they begg'd for an employment; yet at the same time, if you were to talk to a _cacklogallinian_, he wou'd pretend to persuade you, that no fowl of any rank or quality whatsoever can ever sit in the said council, but by the majority of free voices of persons who are his equals. but as i oserv'd before, they are so possess'd with a spirit of boasting, that when they talk of themselves, there is no regard to be had to any thing they say. what is most remarkable is, that hens as well as cocks frequently stand candidates to be members of the said council, and especially those who are distinguish'd by the name of _squabbaws_; and tho' the important affairs of managing their amours takes up so much of their time, that they have but little leisure to attend such publick affairs, yet they very much influence what passes there, especially the court _squabbaws_, whom i have frequently seen to receive presents from persons who had matters to lay before the said council. when this happened, it was their custom to send for my friend the first minister, and instruct him how they would have the thing done; upon which occasions they designedly absented themselves from the said council, that by their not appearing to favour or oppose such things, the bribery might not be suspected; and it generally pass'd as well without them, for my good patron who carried it so loftily to the rest of the world, was nevertheless extreamly their slave. as to their laws, which they pretend to be the best and wisest of any in the world, they are, in effect, a source of continual plague and vexation to the subject, which is owing to many causes, but principally to this, that when a new law is agreed to pass, the great council generally appoint such amongst them as are lawyers by profession, to word it, or (as we say) to draw it up, who always, in order to promote the business of their own profession, contrive it in ambiguous terms; so that there is a double meaning runs thro' every sentence. this furnishes eternal matter of dispute betwixt party and party, and at the same time gives the _caja_ (for so they call a judge) a power of putting what construction he pleases upon the law. i have my self been frequently present, when the _caja_ has been sitting to hear and determine causes, and have observ'd, that when the _cacklogallinian_ advocates have been setting forth the merit of their cause, and one of them has produced a precedent, to shew, that such a _caja_ in former times, put such a construction upon such a law, yet the _caja_ then presiding has determined the thing quite otherwise, giving for a reason, _that might be his opinion, but this is ours._ upon the whole, the property of private birds, which they would make you believe was much safer amongst them, than under any other government in the world, appeared to me to stand upon a very precarious foot, since it was always at the mercy of the law, and the most cunning and sagacious amongst them could never pretend to be sure what law was: nay, it was often found by experience, that what was law one day amongst them, was not so another; so that i could not help thinking, that whenever party and party differr'd concerning matters of property, the least expensive, and most prudent method would have been, to have referr'd the decision of the cause to some game of hazard. this ambiguity of the law makes a corrupt _caja_ a terrible plague to the subject; and it is a plague which they have often felt, as i found, by consulting their annals; for frequently, under bad ministers, birds have been chosen out for _caja_'s, not for their integrity or knowledge, but for their obsequiousness to the commands of those who chose them; and my patron, the first minister, was censured for endeavouring to corrupt, and making them as bad as he could. by which means, and by retaining spies in the houses of all fowl of great interest and figure in their country, it was reported he awed them from attempting any measures against his interest, or that of his family, and that he had threaten'd several with confiscation and banishment, when he found them attempting to introduce better schemes than his own, because such proceedings might tend to overthrow him. but this i speak from common report; for i cannot give any instances of corruption in any of the _caja_'s from my own personal knowledge; for i conceived so dreadful a notion of their laws, that i endeavoured to avoid all converse with any who belong'd to it. how often have i reflected on the happiness of my dear country, in that liberty there enjoy'd, where none are oppress'd by force, or allured by bribes, to give up their native freedom; where a self-interested and designing minister is sure to answer for his administration to a parliament freely chosen, consisting of gentlemen of publick spirits, honour, known probity and wisdom; whose fortunes put them above a servile dependence; who have an eye to nothing but the publick good, and exact from the ministers a just account of the _publick treasure_! when i have seen the fowl of honour thrust out to make place for a sycophant, court paid to pandars and lewd hens, and no posts disposed of, but thro' the interest of lust; how often, _britain_, have i congratulated thy happiness, where virtue is rewarded, vice discountenanc'd and punish'd; where the man of merit is provided for, and not oblig'd to pay a levee to the kept mistress of a statesman; and where the ignorant, pusillanimous, and vicious, however distinguish'd by birth and fortune, are held in contempt, and never admitted to publick employment! when among the _cacklogallinians_ taxes are laid, the money is brought into the publick treasury, of which the minister keeps the keys: he lets this money out upon pawns, at an exorbitant interest. if an inferior agent is to pass his accounts, he must share the pillage with the minister, and some few heads of the grand council. i knew one paid him three hundred thousand _rackfantassines_, equal to a hundred thousand pounds sterling, which he computed was about one third of his acquisition; and birds of most abandon'd reputations are sometimes put into places of profit, which, like spunges, suck all they can, and are easily squeezed again. as to their trade, they have, of late years, lost some of the most advantageous parts of it to the _cormorants_, which perhaps might be brought about by several that were _cormorants_ by birth, who found means of working themselves into the management of their publick affairs. they seem to endeavour all they can, (for what policy i know not) to encourage the young _cacklogallinian_ nobility and gentry, in a contempt of religion, and in all debauchery, perhaps to render them supine and thoughtless; and bringing them up without principle, they may be fit tools to work the enslaving their country. they are extremely severe in their military discipline: a soldier, for a trifling fault, shall have all the feathers stripp'd off his back, and a corroding plaister clapp'd on, which will eat to the bones in a small space of time. for a capital crime, every one in the regiment is ordered to peck him as he's ty'd to a post, till he dies. i have seen one who was condemn'd to this death have part of his entrails torn out of his side in a few pecks. whoever speaks against the ministry, is purged or vomited so severely, that he sometimes dies. even want of complaisance to any menial servant of a minister, is esteem'd an affront to his master, and punish'd by a year's imprisonment; but a slight put on any of the _squabbaws_, is so heinous, that the offender is punish'd, as for the highest scandal. sometimes it has happened, that persons question'd and convicted for fraud, bribery, or other crimes, by some turn of fortune having better'd their circumstances, have afterwards been raised to posts of honour and trust, and afterwards growing more wealthy, have been look'd upon with the same esteem as the most worthy. i've known a sharper, who could neither write nor read, made a _battano_, in _english_, a judge advocate; and what rais'd him was his dexterity at _gestaro_, which is like the play our school-boys divert themselves with, call'd _hussle-cap_. tho' they have a standing army, yet the _cacklogallinians_ are all inlisted, and obliged to serve (in case of an invasion) without pay. they have no fortify'd places, they being look'd upon as a refuge for malecontents, except only the imperial palace. the reader may wonder how any place can be fortified against those who can fly over the highest walls; i must therefore inform him, that their strong holds have all the open places cover'd with canvass stretch'd from side to side; upon which is strew'd an herb so venemous, that, in six hours after it has been expos'd to the sun, it emits so pestiferous a stench, that no fowl can approach it by many yards, but what will fall dead; and this stench, by the effluvia mounting, is no way offensive to those below. this is the reason their sieges are rather blockades, and no fortify'd town was ever taken but by starving. for tho' i have said, the _cacklogallinians_ have no such, yet their neighbours have this canvass, and plenty of the herb in and about most of their towns, and can, in twenty four hours, put them in a posture of defence. upon the decease of any party, his estate goes to the eldest of his children, whether male or female; for the others, the cocks are put into the army, or to trades; the hens are married to the next relations, who are obliged to take them, or allow them a pension for life, according to their quality. polygamy is forbid, tho' universally practised among the better sort. there were publick colleges erected for the education and provision of poor chickens; but as there is a strong party, which takes them to be of ill consequence; they are discountenanc'd so much, that it is thought they must fall some time or other. the customs, manners, dress, and diversions of the _cacklogallinians_. the _cacklogallinians_ value themselves on being a polite nation; and indeed those amongst them who have travell'd, are very complaisant, full of their professions of friendship, and offers of service, tho' it's the first time they ever set eyes on the party to whom they make them; but if he takes this for any more than the effects of good breeding, and reminds a courtier of his promise, he is look'd upon as one who wants education, and treated as a peasant. they are not at all sociable, tho' they frequently visit each other, which is with much ceremony amongst the better sort; for he who makes the visit, sends before him a servant to give notice, that he intends to do himself the honour to kiss the spur of the master of the house. if he is, or will be at home, answer is made, that he returns thanks for the honour intended him, which he will expect with impatience. when the visiter arrives, notice is given to the family by one of his servants, who strikes a brass pan (hung at the doors of all persons of distinction) so long, and with such violence, that were it in _england_, he'd be indicted for a common disturber. after this peal, the door is opened, and the visiter received according to his quality, either at the street door, parlour door, or in the hall. he's led in, and seated on a carpet, enquires after the welfare of the family, after which he takes notice of the weather, and then with great ceremony takes his leave, conducted as he was received. none visit the minister of state, neither is there any thing like the _english_ hospitality seen in the visits of private persons; for they never present you any refreshment, not even that of cold water, except at a formal invitation, or a wedding. at the latter they are very profuse. when a young couple is married, for a week they are never seen asunder; but after that, it is look'd upon indecent to be seen with a wife in any publick company; and one would think they married to be reveng'd on each other for some former injuries; for the wife takes care to shew her contempt of her husband, and he his aversion to his wife. they are great admirers of puppet-shews and other spectacles, and will let their families at home want necessaries, rather than not be seen at the booth. what they most delight in is bloody spectacles. there are poor _cacklogallinians_, who fight on stages for money; if they cut one another to pieces, the spectators go away highly satisfied; but if their art prevents their shedding much blood, the combatants are poorly rewarded, and look'd upon as a couple of cheats or cowards. a goat had (as tradition says) done formerly great damage to the corn of _danafalio_, a saint in great veneration amongst them, who lived about twelve hundred years ago; for which reason, every family, on a certain day, diverts it self by breaking the legs and ribs of a goat, and flaying it alive. their burial of the dead is so expensive, that it often ruines the heir. when the corpse is carried out of the house, a herald goes before, who proclaims the titles of the deceas'd: if he has none, he has three days notice to make a genealogy for him. i saw the burial of a _quondam_ taylor, who was nearly ally'd to a first minister, and heard the herald's oration, which was as near as i remember, in these words. see, fellow-citizens, the vanity of all sublunary things! and lament your own hard fate in the loss of the illustrious _evanosmador_. if virtue, if art, if nobility of blood, could any way have influenc'd the tyrant death, who could boast a greater soul! who exceed him in the mysteries of his art! or lastly, whose veins were fill'd with a more noble blood! here he repeated his genealogy, which spoke him descended from a number of sovereign princes, grandees, _caja_'s, &c. when the corpse arrives at the great market-place, where all the dead are burnt, a priest makes a funeral oration; which done, a great number of mourners, hired for that purpose, begin their lamentations, which last till the body is entirely consum'd. the fire is made with billets, on which the arms of the deceased are either carv'd or painted, which cannot cost less than an _english_ crown each. every one of the company is presented with two of these billets; one he lays on the pile, the other he carries home, and hangs up in his house. after the consumption of the corpse, the picture of the deceas'd is hung over the door for the space of twelve moons. their ceremonies in marshalling the company are tedious, and therefore i shall not mention them; i shall only take notice, that the dead are drawn by six, or eight ostriches, cover'd with cloath of gold, upon an open chariot. when any begins to sicken, a physician is sent for, who, after having examin'd the patient, sends for a _venenugallpotior_, something like our apothecary, and gives him his direction, takes his fee, which is extravagant enough, and goes into his _palanquin_; for a physician, let him be a second _hermes_, or _galen_, will never get bread, if he does not make a figure. he's sure to repeat his visits, morning and even, if the patient as often repeats his fees; but whenever he finds any symptoms of a weak purse, he sets a mark on that house, and no intreaties will prevail with him to go under that roof. when the relations of the sick perceive him past hopes of recovery, they fall to plundering his house, neglect him entirely, and very often fall together by the ears, begin with blows, and end with a law-suit, which seldom fails ruining both plaintiff and defendant; for their lawyers rarely bring a suit to issue, till their clients are brought to beggary; and tho' they all know this to be the consequence of their litigation, yet is there no nation so fond of going to law. when any one falls into poverty, he's look'd upon as infected; for all his acquaintance shun him; nay, very often his own children will not own him, if in happier circumstances: and what will seem wonderful to a _briton_, who esteems merit in rags, and contemns the vicious, tho' encompass'd with a crowd of servants, and distinguish'd by the glaring titles of his family; no sooner does a _cacklogollinian_ grow rich, but all the world courts him, tho' sprung from a dunghill: and even those who can never hope any thing from him, shew him a profound respect. ask who such a one is, and they never tell you, that he is such a fowl of honour, or of such good qualities, but answer, he is worth so much: nay, riches give a man such superiority, that a merchant, the son of a butcher, presum'd so much upon the immense sums he possess'd, that he had the boldness to tell the emperor to his face, if he did not prohibit the importation of corn (which was then very much wanted) he having a great quantity by him, would draw his money out of the publick treasury, and then his majesty might see who was able to supply him. the emperor was advised to lay him by the heels for his sawciness, but the good prince forgave him. their dress is a close doublet, and a a loose mantle, which is either rich or plain, fine or coarse, not according to the quality, but according to the ability of the wearer; for very often you can't distinguish, in respect of dress, the grandee from the merchant, or the _squabbaw_ from her attendant; for the meaner sort lay all on their backs. their necks are adorned with ribbons, bells, medals, _&c._ and their tail-feathers are beautify'd with additional ones from the peacock, or figures painted with various colours, which must be by the emperor's permission, as has been before observ'd. their exercises are pretty violent, and they are great lovers of a play for which i can find no name in _english_. they begin with giving their next neighbour a great bang with the wing, which is return'd by a kick or peck, or stroke with the spur; you would imagine they were so many engaged in a battle, for they strike without fear or wit, and never mind on whom the strokes light; for every one deals them about promiscuously, and as thick as he can lay them on. they will continue this diversion, till they are not able to stand, or till some of the company gets a wing, a leg, or a head broke, or some other damage, which the party hurt never takes ill. this play is indeed practised only among the younger, or the meaner sort. they are mighty fond of the _cuckoo_, and will sit two hours upon a stretch to hear a set of them exercise their natural talent, for which they are paid and caress'd. i knew a lady of quality who gave a pension of five thousand _spasma_'s, each _spasma_ worth two shillings sterling, to one of these birds to sing her to sleep every night. the air of this country is too cold for these _cuckoo_'s, who come from a more southern clime, which is the reason they stay not above three years before they wing their flight home, where they build palaces with the profits of their journey: but as those who return send others in their stead, the _cacklogallinians_ are never long deprived of the entertainment these birds afford 'em. another diversion they have, is the making the ostriches run races: the feeding, training, and betting upon these birds, have ruined many of the noblest families. they are also mightily addicted to dice, and will set and lose their wives and children, which they sometimes see eaten by the winner, if he is of quality. this small sketch of the _cacklogallinians_ i thought necessary, that the reader might have some idea of them. i happen'd to be cast on their coast, just after they had made a peace with the _magpyes_, a puissant and neighbouring nation, after a long, sanguine, and expensive war, which had well nigh exhausted the forces and treasure of both parties, occasioned by the _cacklogallinians_ pretending they had a right to nominate a successor to the emperor _chuctinio_, who was in an advanced age, and without issue; and the _magpyes_ pretended their king, as a relation to that emperor, had a right to succeed to the throne of the _bubohibonians_, which is the nation of _owls_. all the neighbouring states join'd the _cacklogallinians_, in endeavouring to prevent this vast increase of power to the _magpyes_, since it must necessarily destroy the balance of power; and as their prince was both powerful and ambitious, they apprehended he would aim at an universal monarchy: but then they would not allow the _cacklogallinians_ had any more right than their neighbours, to name a successor; and if that monarchy were to fall to the share of any powerful prince, it might be as dangerous to the common good, as if yielded to the _magpyes_; they therefore would have it divided. the peacock, who pretends to be the high-priest of all nations, and exacts on that account tributes from them, and calls himself the disposer of kingdoms, had his tributes stopp'd by the _magpyes_, about the same time; and complaining of this injury, he invited _bigoteasy_ to declare war against _gripeallyominte_, king of the _magpyes_, which, on account of former friendship, he absolutely refused. this so enraged the good high priest, that he raised a rebellion against him; he was dethron'd, taken prisoner by his subjects, and died in confinement, and his kingdom given by the peacock, and the unanimous consent of the people, to the greatest prince that history ever mention'd, either for wisdom or bravery. these wars lasted sixty and seven years, and the _cacklogallinians_ bore the greatest share of the expence; which had so far indebted them, that every brain was at work to project methods for raising money to pay the interest. these schemes, which were every day presented to the minister, grew so numerous, that, had he applied himself to nothing else but their examination, it would have taken up a great part of his time: and, indeed, i must own, that my friend, the first minister, gave himself but very little trouble in things of this nature, for all his schemes, and all his thoughts center'd in himself; and when i have gone to carry him intelligence in a morning, and all the great fowl that came to pay their levee, have been answer'd, that he was busy in his closet upon affairs of importance to the state, and saw no company, i have found him (for there were orders for admitting me) either writing directions concerning his ostriches, or his country sports, or his buildings, or examining his private accounts; and tho' i often thought but meanly of my own species, yet i began to think, from the conduct of this great minister, that a cock was a far more selfish, and more worthless animal than man; insomuch, that i have so despised them ever since, as to think them good for nothing but the spit. the schemes which he put in practice were all the invention of others, tho' he assum'd the credit of them; and i will be bold to say, that, before my time, amongst numbers that were offer'd to him, he generally chose the worst. i was therefore order'd, after i had been two years at court, to take this business upon me, with the title of _castleairiano_, or project examiner, and a salary of thirty thousand _spasma_'s. the first project offer'd me, was the laying a tax on cloath, and all manner of stuffs. this i rejected, because it being the chief manufacture of the country, it would, by raising the price abroad, be a hindrance to the commerce of the nation, and give the _cormorants_ who made it, tho' nothing so fine as the _cacklogallinians_, an opportunity, by under-selling them, to become the chief merchants in this branch of trade. but it would be tedious to mention the many offers, with my reasons for accepting or rejecting them, which i once a week gave a list of to the minister, who was often so good as to approve my judgment. there were projects for taxing soot, corn, ribbons, for coining all the plate of the nobility, for prohibiting the wearing of gold or silver. some were for the government's taking all the torchtrees (which gave a light, and are used like our candles) and dispose of them, by which great sums might be raised. some were for laying a tax on all who kept coaches; others upon all who wore silver or gold spurs: but these touching only the rich, the minister would not listen to. the tax which he approved of most, was on the light of the sun, according to the hours it was enjoy'd; so that the poor peasant, who rose with it, paid for twelve hours day-light, and the nobility and gentry, who kept their beds till noon, paid only for six. another tax was laid upon those who drank only spring water. this fell altogether on the poor, for the better sort drank the juice of a certain tree imported from the _bubohibonians_. whoever had not an estate in land of an hundred _spasma_'s was also tax'd ten _spasma_'s a year, to be paid out of their day labour. he who deliver'd a project of fetching gold from the moon, was caress'd prodigiously, and his way of reasoning approved; tho' i gave it in with a [+] as rejected by me, yet he was rewarded, and preparation order'd for the journey, in which i was commanded to accompany him: for, he insinuated to the minister, that it was possible the inhabitants might be of my species; nay, that i myself might have dropp'd out of that world, which was more reasonable than to believe the story i told, of having pass'd so great a sea; and that i very likely had form'd this story out of a tenderness to my country lest his imperial majesty should attempt its conquest. he had so possess'd the minister with this notion, that my arguing against it was to no purpose. he told me one day, that all the philosophers allow'd, nay, maintain'd, that both animals, vegetables, and minerals, were generated, grew, and were nourished, by the spirit of the world: a quintessence partaking of all the four elements, tho' it was no one, might be called air, and was not; fire, and was not fire, _&c._ that this spirit was assisted by the influence of the planets, and tended to the highest perfection of purity. that all metals were generated by the said spirit, and differ'd from one another, but according to the purity or impurity of the _matrices_ which receiv'd it. that as the planets influence was necessary, that of the moon must, as the nearest to the earth, be the most efficacious: that as it was visible to the eye, the moon was more depurated than the earth; was surrounded by a thinner air, in which the spirit of the world is more abundant, and was nearer to the other planets, he naturally concluded, that it must abound in gold mines; and this conclusion was strengthened by the mountains discernible in the moon; and mountains being mostly rocky, afforded the purest _matrice_ for the universal spirit; so that it seem'd to him impossible, that any other metal, less pure, could be generated in that world. that such metals, for their use, were often preferable to gold, and that in denying my descent from thence, i was in fact, doing an injury to those i wish'd to serve, since by intercourse with those inhabitants, both worlds might find their advantage. i answered his excellency, that i wished he might ever find his and his country's good, in all his undertakings, since i had so great obligations to both; but that what i had told him of my self was every way consonant to truth; that i was so far from being an inhabitant of the moon, that i did not believe it habitable; and if it were, i did not think a voyage thither practicable, for reasons i wou'd give the projector, whenever his excellency would condescend to hear my objections and his answers: that if he, after that, would persist in the undertaking, she should find me ready to sacrifice that life in the attempt, which i held from his goodness. well, _return'd he_, to morrow i will have him at my house, don't fail being there at dinner; i will be denied to every one else, and hope his reasons will convince you; for i have, i own, a greater opinion of your veracity, in what relates to this affair, than of your judgment. the next day i waited on his excellency, where i found the projector mention'd. he began the discourse, addressing himself to me, after the usual ceremonies. "i am sorry, _said he_, to find what i propos'd meet with any objection from one whose penetration makes me fear some obstacle considerable, which has escaped my scrutiny. however, if i have the mortification to have my views baffled, yet shall i reap the advantage of being instructed in what i am ignorant of. his excellency has commanded me to lay before you what my reasons are, for supposing the moon an inhabited globe. i shall therefore, with all possible brevity, obey his excellency's commands. i shall not name the ancient sages, both of this and the neighbouring nations, who have been of the same opinion, because i have already cited them in my memorial; but shall first offer you some principles on which i have, beside the authorities mention'd, founded my own. "first, i esteem the moon an opaque solid body, as is our earth, and consequently adapted for the entertainment and nourishment of its inhabitants. now, that it is a solid body, is evident by the repercussion of the light which it receives from the sun." "sir, _said i_, you are here begging the question; for it is possible, that the moon of itself is a luminous body; and i am apt to believe it such for this reason: its light is seen in more than one place at a time, whereas a body which gives a light by reflection only, that light is perceivable in that point alone, where the angle of reflection is equal to that of incidence." he answer'd, my objection did not hold good in regard to a body whose surface is rugged and uneven, as is that of the moon. that it is an opaque and solid body, is visible by the eclipses of the sun; for a pellucid body could not deprive us of the light of that glorious planet. that the moon does eclipse the sun in the same manner as our earth eclipses the moon (as all know it does) makes me conclude these two bodies of a nature, since the like interposition produces the like effect. when i say they are of a nature, i mean opaque, which to prove, i argue thus: if this planet be of it self luminous, it must appear much brighter when eclips'd in its _perigée_, or nearest distance from the earth, and its light must be less consequently when in its _apogée_, or greatest distance from it; for the nearer a luminous body approaches the eye, the stronger impression it makes upon the sight. beside, the shadow of the earth, had the moon any innate and peculiar light, cou'd not obscure it, but, on the contrary, would render it more conspicuous, as is evident to reason. "now experience shews us, that the moon appears with the greater light eclips'd in its _apogée_, or greater distance, and more obscure when in its _perigée_, or nearer distance, consequent has no peculiar light of its own. that a shadow could obscure its inherent light, had it any, would be making a body of a shadow, which is so far from being corporeal, that it is nothing but a deprivation of the light of the sun, by the interposition of the opaque body of the earth. "i could give many more reasons, but to avoid prolixity, i refer you to my memorial, knowing how precious time is to your excellency. "i shall now speak of the principal and constituent parts of this planet; to wit, the sea, the firm land; its extrinsicks, as meteors, seasons, and inhabitants." "i find, _said his excellency_, you have forgot what you promised, the being concise; you have already couch'd what you are going to repeat, in writing. i am satisfied that you have in your memorial demonstrated, that the moon is like ours, a world, and this earth, like that, a planet; i would willingly hear if _probusomo_ can bring any objection of weight to the undertaking the journey; for i look upon the distance which you have computed to be about _lapidians_ (answerable to so many _english_ miles) to be none at all, since we have _cacklogallinians_, who, with provisions for a week, will fly _lapidians_ a day, and hold it for many days. but this swiftness, as you have made appear, is not requisite, since you judge, that in ascending some five _lapidians_, you will have reach'd the atmosphere, and the rest will be attended by no other fatigue, than that of preventing too swift a descent. propose what you have to object, _probusomo_, for i will provide you able bearers, who shall carry you, and with the strength of theirs, supply your defect of wings." i answer'd, that since his excellency commanded, i would give in those objections which occurr'd: the first was the extream coldness of the air; the second its great subtlety, which to me made this undertaking impracticable; besides, the distance is such, by the learned gentleman's calculation, that could the _cacklogallinians_, without resting, fly at the rate of _lapidians_ a day, the journey could not be ended in less than six moons: that there were no inns in the way, nor places to rest in; and supposing we could carry provisions for that length of time, i could not perceive how they could be always on wing, and subsist without sleep. his excellency seem'd to think the difficulties i rais'd merited consideration, and after some pause, asked the projector, if he could solve them. "as to the first objection, my lord, _said he_, i answer, that altho' the second region may be endow'd with coldness proper for the production of meteors, yet may it not be unsupportable; neither can we suppose, that the air above, which if not destin'd to the same end, is of the same nature, but on the contrary, we may rather suppose it exempt from all extremes, consequently our passage thro' this cold region being performed, which we have reason to conclude but short, for this condens'd air which encompasses the earth on every part, weighs about _liparia_'s on a square inch (_liparia_ is near a sixth of our pound) and we may very easily compute from thence, what space of this air we have to pass, by computing what is necessary to support this globe of earth, we shall find the Ætherial altogether temperate. "as to the second objection, i anwer, that the subtlety of the air i look upon no obstacle; for the air near the earth, especially in dry places, where there are no impure exhalations, by the intense heat of the sun, it is perhaps as thin, and as much rarified, as the Ætherial. this i suppose from the tenuity of the air on the top of the mountain _tenera_, where 'tis said none can inhabit on that account. but i have my self flown to the top of this mountain, and carry'd with me a wet spunge, thro' which i drew my breath for some time, but by degrees i became habituated to this tenuity, and respired with ease; nay, after staying there some few days, i found the denser air, on my descent, caus'd a difficulty in my respiration: from whence i concluded, that, by degrees, the thinnest air may become natural; and as i felt no hunger while on the mountain, i may suppose the same air we breathe may also nourish us. and this is no vain imagination, for the _aker_ (that is, viper) we see live by the spirit included in the air, which is the principle of life in all; but in case i am out in this conjecture, we may carry provisions with us. "as to the resting our selves, i affirm from the principles of sound philosophy, that when once out of the reach of the magnetick power of the earth, we shall no longer gravitate, for what we call gravity, is no other than attraction, consequently we may repose our selves in the air, if there is occasion, which i believe there will not; for as we shall then have no weight to exhaust the spirits, there can be no need of refreshing them either with meat or sleep." the minister rose up, and said he was fully satisfied with his answers; the only thing gave him uneasiness, was the length of time i said was requisite to make this journey. "my lord, _replied the projector_, i can't agree that such a time is necessary; for being above the attraction of the earth, which is the only laborious part of our passage, we may go with an inconceivable swiftness, especially when we come within the attraction of the moon, which will certainly be encreas'd by the weight of provisions, which we shall by way of precaution carry with us, and which will be no burthen after we have pass'd the atmosphere; so that what weight a thousand _cacklogallinians_ can hardly raise to that heighth, one might support, the rest of the journey." his excellency perceiv'd by my countenance i was not satisfied, and therefore bid me take heart, he wou'd send a number of _palanquins_ with us, and if we found the second region impervious by reason of the cold, we shou'd have the liberty to return. the only talk now in town was our designed journey to the moon, for which a great many of the swiftest flyers were inlifted with promises of great reward. _palanquins_ were made sharp at each end, to cut the air; the warmest mantles and hoods were made for the bearers, and the projector's and my _palanquin_ were close, and lined with down. a company was erected, shares sold of the treasure we were to bring back; and happy was he who could first subscribe. these subscriptions were sold at _per cent._ advantage, and in less than two months, the time spent in preparing for our journey, i saw at least five hundred lacqueys, who had fallen into the trade of buying and selling these subscriptions in their gilt _palanquins_, and train of servants after them. the _squabbaws_, the _vultuaquilians_, the minister, and some of the grand council, shared amongst them fifty millions of _spasma_'s, ready money, for what they sold of this chimerical treasure. this open'd my eyes, and i found i had been very short-sighted, in condemning the minister for giving ear to a project so contrary to reason: but when i saw the noblest families, and such whose ruine was necessary to his own support, sell their estates to buy shares, i look'd upon him as the wisest minister in the known world; and was lost in wonder, when i confider'd the depth of his designs. i took the liberty, once to mention my astonishment to him, with all the deference due to his exalted quality, and with the praises he justly deserved. he answer'd me, that he fear'd i saw farther than was either convenient, or safe for me, if my taciturnity did not equal my penetration. this he spoke in a tone which gave me apprehension of danger; i threw my self at his feet, and begg'd he would rather kill me, than suspect my zeal for his service; that what i had taken the liberty of saying to his excellency, i had never the imprudence to mention to any other; and that i hop'd the experience he had of me would assure him of my secrecy. _learn_, said he, _that ministers work like moles, and it's as dangerous to shew them you can enter into their views, as to attempt their lives: i have a confidence in you; but had any other held me the same discourse, i would have put it out of his power to have repeated it to a third person._ the author begins his journey to the moon. all things necessary being provided, and the _palanquins_ of provisions being sent before to join us at the mountain _tenera_, i had an audience of leave of his imperial majesty and his _squabbaws_; after which, i went to receive my last instructions from his excellency. he gave me a paper, with orders not to open it, till i was arrived at the mountain, which was about a thousand miles from the city. he having wish'd me a good journey, said he had given orders to six lusty _cacklogallimans_ to obey those i should give them; that he depended on my fidelity and prudence, and therefore, as i would find, had reposed a great trust in me. i made him a suitable answer, and retired to my apartment in the palace, where i found the projector, who told me we were to set out the next morning before day. i asked him, in case we succeeded in our journey, and found the riches we coveted, how we should bring away any quantity? "if, _said he_, that happens, we shall, in a second journey, be provided with vehicles, if there is occasion; but i propose to extract such a quantity of the soul of gold, which i can infuse into lead at our return, that we may be rich enough to pave the streets with that valuable metal; for a grain will, infused into lead, make an ounce of pure gold. now, if a penny-weight of the soul will make twenty four ounces, or two pound of gold, consider what immense treasure we may bring back with us, since the _palanquineers_ can fly with five hundred weight in a _palanquin_." the next morning we set forward at about three o' clock, and reach'd the mountain in about forty six hours. we first refresh'd our selves, and when i was alone, i open'd my instructions, which ran thus: as experience proves you are not to be led by chimerical notions, and that your capacity and fidelity render you fit to undertake the most difficult and secret affairs, his imperial majesty thought none so fit as yourself to be entrusted in the management of the present scheme; which that you may do to his majesty's satisfaction, and your own interest and credit, you are to observe the following instructions. "you are to order _volatilio_, the first proposer of the journey now undertaken, to go to the top of the hill a day before you, and from thence to acquaint you with the nature of the air; and if you find it practicable, you are to follow him. if you gain the summit, and that the air is too thin for respiration, you are to descend again, dispatch an express to his majesty, and clap _volatilio_ in irons, then dispatch away one of the six messengers whom i ordered to attend you: they, _volatilio_, and the whole caravan, are to obey you, till you have pass'd the atmosphere, when you and they are to follow the directions of _volatilio_, in what regards the way only; but, in case that you can respire on the top of the mountain, order _volatilio_ to precede you a day's ascent, return the next, and immediately dispatch a second messenger with the account he gives, and continue on the mountain for farther instructions, before you proceed, should it prove practicable. i need not tell you the publick must be amused with hopes of success, tho' you have reason to despair of it; nor need i even hint to you what method you ought to take. i wish you health, and that your conduct may answer my expectations." i acted pursuant to these instructions, and sent _volatilio_ forward, who reach'd the top of the hill; but finding the air too thin to continue there, without the help of humected spunges, he therefore sent those back he carried with him to the mid space of the mountain, and an express to me, by which he informed me what he had done; that he resolved to continue there a natural day, and then join me where he had sent his followers, to which place he desired i would ascend, and defer the dispatching any express to his majesty, till he saw me again. i ascended to the mid-space, and found a vast alteration in the air, which even here was very sensibly rarified. my projector came to me at his appointed time, and told me he did not question the success of our enterprize, since he imagined the air above the second region rather denser than that near the earth, and hoped the cold was not more intense than on the mountain's top; and that if this prov'd so, we cou'd breathe and support the cold with little difficulty. i answer'd, that it was natural to conclude the air next the earth more dense than that above it, as the weightiest always descends the first. "that reason, _said he_, is not conclusive, for the air immediately encompassing the earth, is more sensible of its attractive power, than that at a greater distance, as you may be satisfied, in placing two pieces of iron, one near, and the other at a distance from the loadstone; the nearest piece will be strongly attracted, while that at a greater distance is but weakly affected. now supposing the air only of an equal density thro'out when we have left the earth, (which, by the reflection of heat from the mountains, rarifies the circumambient air, and renders it more subtle than that above it) we may respire without pain; for in less than six hours i, by degrees, withdrew my spunge." i dispatch'd an express with the account i had received, and set forward, resolving to wait for further instructions on the top of the mountain. i was at a good distance from the summit, when i was obliged, by the thinness of the air, to have recourse to my wet spunge, and was four and twenty hours before i could intirely remove it. the _cacklogallinians_ found less difficulty than i in their respiration, but more in supporting the rigid cold, especially at night, when the damps fell. we staid here eight days, that the subtlety of the air might become habitual to us. on the seventh day, the messenger return'd with credentials for _volatilio_ and my self, to the potentate in whose dominions we might happen, and orders to proceed on our journey. this messenger told me, that on the contents of my letter being publish'd, the town was illuminated throughout, and such a number of coaches and _palanquins_ bespoke, that he believed, at our return, we should find none out of them but the ostriches. our credentials ran thus. "hippomene-connuferento, emperor and absolute monarch of the greatest empire in the terrestrial globe, disposer of kingdoms, judge of kings, dispenser of justice, light of the world, joy of the sun, darling of mortals, scourge of tyrants, and refuge of the distress'd, to the puissant monarch of that kingdom in the moon, to which our ambassadors shall arrive: or, to the mighty and sole lord of that beautiful planet, sends greeting. "dearly beloved brother, and most mighty prince, as it has been long doubted by our ancestors, as well as by those of our time, whether the moon were, or were not inhabited, we, who have ever encouraged those who seek the universal good of mortals, supposing it possible, if that planet were possess'd by such, that an intercourse between the two worlds might be of mutual advantage to both, have sent our two ambassadors, _volatilio_ and _probusomo_, to attempt a passage to your world, and to assure you, if they succeed, of the great desire we have of entertaining with you a reciprocal friendship, of giving all possible demonstrations of our affection, and to invite you to send to our world your ambassadors, with whom we may consult our common interest. so recommending ours to your protection, we heartily bid you farewell. "given at our court, _&c._" according to the orders we receiv'd, _volatilio_ took his flight in an oblique ascent, without a _palanquin_, but wrapt up as warm as possible, accompanied by two servants. he parted with great alacrity, and we soon lost sight of him. some half a score, in complaisance, took a flight of three hours to see him part of his way towards his discovery. he went off at break of day, to avoid those vapours which the heat of the sun exhales, and which by night would have rendered his passage, he thought, impossible; for he hoped, in a small space to gain beyond the heighth they rise to. at the return of those who convoy'd him, i sent away an express, to acquaint the emperor with their report, which was, that they found no sensible alteration as to the rarefaction of the air, and that the cold was rather less intense. this news at court made every one run mad after shares, which the proprietors sold at what rate they pleas'd. the next day in the even, we saw _volatilio_ on his return: his first salutation was, courage my friend, i have pas'd the atmosphere, and, by experience, have found my conjecture true; for being out of the magnetick power of the earth, we rested in the air, as on the solid earth, and in an air extreamly temperate, and less subtle than what we breathe. i sent again this account to court, but the courtiers having no more shares to sell, gave out, that _volatilio_ did not return as he promis'd, and it was expected, that i despair'd of the undertaking, and believ'd him lost. this was such a damp to the town; that shares fell to half value, and none of the courtiers would buy, sell they cou'd not, having (i mean those let into the secret) already dispos'd of all by their agents, tho' they pretended the contrary. the express return'd, with private orders for me to confirm this report, which i was oblig'd to do, and stay eight days longer, as the publick instructions to us both commanded. this was a great mortification to _volatilio_, and, i own, the report he made had rais'd my curiosity so much, that i was uneasy at this delay; but we were to obey, and not to enquire into the reasons of it. the messenger returning, told me, that my last letter had fallen the shares to five _per cent._ under _par_, nothing but lamentations eccho'd thro' the streets, and it was impossible to give an idea of the change it had occasion'd. the letter the minister sent me order'd me to write him word, that _volatilio_ was returned, had found no obstacles, and that i was preparing to depart. that the court had bought up a vast number of shares, and that he took care of my interest in particular; that i need stay for no farther instructions, but make the best of my way. i gave notice to the caravan, that we would set forward the next morning, which we accordingly did, and as near as i could compute, we flew that day, miles. what surpriz'd me was, that in less than an hour and half's ascent, _volatilio_, who would not go in his _palanquin_, folded his wings, and came to me on foot, and told me i might get out and stretch my limbs. my _palanquineers_ stood still, and confirm'd what he said; and more, that they had not for a quarter of an hour past been sensible of my weight, which had lessen'd by degrees, so as not to be felt at all. i left my _palanquin_, and found what _volatilio_ had conjectur'd, and his report verified; for i could with as much ease lift a _palanquin_ of provisions, which did not on earth weigh less than weight, as i could on our globe raise a feather. the cold was very much abated, and i found my spirits rais'd. i would here have sent back half the _palanquin_-bearers, but _volatilio_ was of opinion we should keep them a day longer; for, perhaps, said he, we may send them all (except those which carry you) away; for if the universal spirit included in the air should suffice for our nourishment, we have no business with provisions. i approv'd his reason, and we proceeded on, sure of falling first into the attraction of the moon, it being the nearest planet to us. i shall not detain the reader with my observations in this aerial journey; _gallileus_, who by his writings gives me room to believe he had, before me, visited this planet, whatever were his reasons for not owning it, having left nothing, which is not mentioned in his _systema mundi_. i observ'd only, which i take notice of for those who have not read him, that when the moon has but a small part of his body enlighten'd, that the earth, the other moon, has a proportionable part of its hemisphere visibly darken'd; i mean a part in proportion to that of the moon which is enlighten'd; and that both these moons, of which ours is much the larger, mutually participate the same light of the sun, and the same obscurity of the eclipses, and mutually assist each other: for when the moon is in conjunction with the sun, and its _pars superior_ receives all the light, then its inferior hemisphere is enlighten'd by the earth's reflecting the rays of the sun, otherwise it would be intirely dark; and when those two planets are in opposition, then that part of the earth which is deprived of the rays of the sun, is enlighten'd by a full moon. the next day _volatilio_ was for sending back the provisions, but i judg'd it proper not to go forward, but to stay the space of a natural day, in the same situation, because in that time, or in no other in the journey, we should require sustenance, and also because their return would be easier, than if we carried them still forward. this was agreed to, and none of us finding any appetite, weakness, or sinking of our spirits, dismiss'd all but those who carried my _palanquin_, and proceeded forward with an incredible swiftness. we were about a month before we came into the attraction of the moon, in all which time none of us had the least inclination to sleep or meat, or found our selves any way fatigued, nor, till we reach'd that planet, did we close our eyes; the attraction was so great, that it was all the bearers and _volatilio_ could do to prevent our being dash'd to pieces on a mountain; we descended with that inconceivable swiftness, that i apprehended it impossible, in our return, to avoid that misfortune in the world we left; since the attraction, if its virtue was augmented in proportion to its magnitude, must be much stronger. this thought made me very uneasy for those who return'd. i spoke of it to _volatilio_ who bid me apprehend nothing; for, said he, the magnetick virtue of the load-stone is so far from being in proportion to its size, that the very large ones have less attractive power than those which are middling. when i had recover'd from the fright, which the rapidity of our descent had put me into, i view'd the circumjacent country with equal wonder and delight; nature seem'd here to have lavish'd all her favours; on whatsoever side i turn'd my eye, the most ravishing prospect was offer'd to my sight. the mountain yielded a gradual descent to most beautiful meadows, enamell'd with cowslips, roses, lilies, jessamines, carnations, and other fragrant flowers, unknown to the inhabitants of our globe, which were as grateful to the smell, as entertaining to the eye. the chrystal rivulets which smoothly glided thro' these inchanting meads, seem'd so many mirrors reflecting the various beauties of those odoriferous flowers which adorn'd their banks. the mountain, which was of considerable height, afforded us a great variety in our prospect, and the woods, pastures, meads, and small arms of the sea, were intermingled with that surprizing beauty and order, that they seem'd rather dispos'd by art, than the product of nature; the earth it self yielded a grateful and enlivening scent, and is so pure, that it does not sully the hands. the cedars, which cloath'd the middle part of the summit, were streight, tall, and so large, that seven men would hardly fathom the bowl of one; round these twin'd the grateful honey-suckle, and encircling vine, whose purple grapes appearing frequent from among the leaves of the wide extended branches, gave an inconceivable pleasure to the beholder. the lily of the valley, violet, tuberose, pink, julip and jonquil, cloath'd their spacious roots, and the verdant soil afforded every salutiferous herb and plant, whose vertues diffus'd thro' the ambient air (without the invenom'd and the griping fist of the _cacklogallinian_ empiricks) preservatives to the blessed inhabitants of the lunar world. the heavens here were ever serene; no thunder-bearing cloud obscur'd the sky; the whispering zephyrs wanton'd in the leaves, and gently bore along the enchanting musick of the feather'd choir: the sea here knew no storms, nor threatning wave, with mountain swell, menaced the ships, which safely plough'd the peaceful bosom of the deep. _Æolus_ and all his boisterous sons were banish'd from these happy seats, and only kindly breezes fann'd the fragrant air. in short, all was ravishing, and nature seem'd here to have given her last perfection to her works, and to rejoice in her finish'd labours. i found my spirits so invigorated by the refreshing odours, of this paradice, so elated with the serenity of the heavens, and the beauties which every where entertained and rejoiced my sight, that in extasy i broke out into this grateful soliloquy. o source of wisdom, eternal light of the universe! what adorations can express the grateful acknowledgments of thy diffusive bounty! who can contemplate the beauty of thy works, the product of thy single _fiat_, and not acknowledge thy omnipotence, omniscience, and extensive goodness! what tongue can refrain from singing thy praise! what heart so hard, but must be melted into love! oh eternal creator, pity my weakness, and since i cannot speak a gratitude adequate to thy mercies, accept the fulness of my heart, too redundant for expression. as i spoke this, in the _cacklogallinian_ tongue, _volatilio_ came up to me, and said, "alas! _probusomo_, how can a finite being return praises adequate to infinite mercies! let us return such as we are capable of; let the probity of our lives speak our gratitude; by our charity for each other endeavour to imitate the divine goodness, and speak our love to him, by that we shew to mortals, the work of his divine will, however they may differ from us, and from one another, in their species. i am glad i am not deceived in my opinion of you. i believed from the observation i made of your life in a corrupt and dissolute court, that you fear'd the first being of beings, and for that reason chose you companion of this hitherto unattempted journey; for i expected a blessing would attend my undertaking, while such a one was embark'd with me: for to the shame of our nation, we own a deity in words, but deny him in our actions: we acknowledge this divine being must be pure and just, and that our lives (as he must abominate all impurity and injustice) ought to be conformable to his attributes, wou'd we hope his favour and protection, notwithstanding we act diametrically opposite, as the most ready method to procure our happiness." finding our selves press'd by hunger, we descended the mountain, at the foot of which we found a plantation of olive trees, and abundance of pear, standing apricock, nectarn, peach, orange, and lemon trees, interspers'd. we satisfied our craving appetites with the fruit we gather'd, and then getting into my _palanquin_, _volatilio_ leading the way, we went in search of the inhabitants. our flight was little better than a soar, that we might with more advantage view the country. after a couple of hours, he saw a house, but of so great a height, and so very large, i who was short-sighted in comparison of the _cacklogallinians_, took it for a great hill; i told him my opinion, but he assured me i was mistaken. we therefore urg'd forward, and i alighted not far from this palace, for i could term it no other, from the largeness and beauty of its structure. we had been discover'd, as i had reason to believe, some time, and a number of people about thirty, at our alighting, immediately encompass'd me. the gigantick make of these inhabitants struck me with a panick fear, which i also discover'd in the eyes of the _cacklogallinians_. they were of different statures, from thirty to an hundred and fifty foot high, as near as i cou'd guess; some of them were near as thick as long, some proportionable, and others shap'd like a pine, being no thicker than my self, tho' tall of an hundred foot. i resolv'd however to conceal, if possible, the terror i was in, and coming out of my _palanquin_, i went to salute the company, when i observ'd they retired from me in proportion as i advanced, and like a vapour, or an _ignis fatuus_, the air being mov'd by my motion, drove those which were directly opposite still before me. i stood still, they did the same; if i was astonish'd at their make, and at what other things i had observ'd, i was more so, when i saw one of the tallest, dwindle in the twinkling of an eye, to a pigmy, fly into the air without wings, and carry off a giant in each hand by the hair of the head. they were all differently dress'd at their first appearance; some like generals in armour, some were in ecclesiastical, and some in gowns not unlike our barristers at law. some were dress'd as fine as imagination could make 'em, but with the quickness of thought, these dresses were all changed, who was cover'd with rags one moment, the next was in purple, with a crown on his head; the beau in rags; the priest assum'd the air and dress of a bully, and the general was turn'd into a demure figure resembling a _quaker_. i was struck dumb with amazement, and while i was considering with my self what this should mean, i observ'd a man riding up to us, mounted on a lion; when he came to the others, i found him of the common size with the inhabitants of our globe; he had on his head a crown of bays, which in an instant chang'd to a fool's cap, and his lion to an ass. he drew from his breast a rowl like a quire of written paper, which using as a sword, he set upon the others, and dispers'd them. some ran over the sea, as on dry ground; others flew into the air, and some sunk into the earth. then alighting from his ass, he opened the jaws of the animal, went down his throat, and they both vanish'd. after i had recover'd my fright, i told _volatilio_, that i fear'd this planet was inhabited by evil spirits. he answered, that what we had seen, was sufficient to induce us to believe so. we look'd for the house, which we saw rise into the air, and vanish in flame and smoke, which strengthen'd our opinion. however, we resolv'd to go forward, when one of the _palanquineers_ said he saw a house on the left, and people of my size and species making towards us. we determin'd therefore to wait their arrival, which was in less than a quarter of an hour. they accosted me very courteously, as i could gather from their gestures, tho' they seem'd surprized at the size of the _cacklogallinians_. i was not less amaz'd at the beauty of their persons, and the becomingness of their dress, either of which i can give no just idea of. let it suffice, that i seem'd both in my own, and in the eyes of the _cacklogallinians_, something of the same species, but frightfully ugly. these people are neither a corporeal, nor an aerial substance, but (i know not how otherwise to express my self) between both. they spoke to me in a language i did not understand, but the tone of their voices, and the smoothness of their syllables, were divinely harmonious. i bow'd my body to the ground three times, and offer'd my credentials, which one of them took, but by the shaking of his head, i found understood nothing of the contents. _volatilio_ then address'd himself to them, which made them look on one another, as people who hardly believed their senses. as i had address'd these _selenites_ in the _cacklogallinian_ language, i had a mind to try, if speaking in those of the _europeans_ (for i understood, beside my own, the _french_ and _spanish_) i should have any better success. i therefore spoke in _english_, and, to my great joy, one of the company answer'd me. he ask'd me, whether i came from the world? if so, how i durst undertake so perilous a journey? i told him, i would satisfy his curiosity in answering all his questions, but desired he would give me some time; for i had been so terrified by phantoms, since my arrival, that i was hardly capable of recollection. while i was speaking, a man on horseback ran full speed upon me with a drawn sabre, to cleave me down; but the _selenite_ waving his hand, he soon vanish'd. "you need, _said he_, apprehend nothing from these shades; they are the souls of the inhabitants of your world, which being loos'd from the body by sleep, resort here, and for the short space allotted them, indulge the passions which predominate, or undergo the misfortunes they fear while they are in your globe. look ye, _said he_, yonder is a wretch going to the gallows, and his soul feels the same agony, as if it was a real sentence to be executed on him. our charity obliges us, when we see those imaginary ills, to drive the soul back to its body, which we do, by waving our hand in the air, and the agonizing dreamer wakes. we do also retain them by a virtue peculiar to the _selenites_, and as they sometimes administer a great deal of diversion, we do it for our entertainment, which is the reason of those long naps of two or three days, nay, of as many weeks, which cause the wonder of your world. the souls of your impure dreamers never reach beyond the middle region. but we delay too long inviting you to our habitations, where you shall have all possible care taken of you. but by what art have you taught fowls articulate sounds? and where could you possibly find them of that size?" i told him they were rational beings, but that the story was now too long to tell him; he presented me to the rest of the company, and, at my request, the _cacklogallinians_ were humanly treated, whom otherwise they had look'd upon as overgrown dunghill fowls. _volatilio_ did not appear much surpriz'd at this, who had once esteem'd me a prodigy of nature. as we walk'd to the house, one of the _selenites_ address'd me in the _spanish_ language, with the known affiability and gravity of that nation. "sir, _said he_, i cannot consider you as other, than the bravest and wisest of all mortals, who could find the way to reach our world, and had the courage to undertake the journey; for it's certain, none cloath'd in flesh ever (before you) made so bold an attempt, or at least succeeded in it: tho' i have read the chimera's of _dominick gonzales_. while you stay amongst us, you may depend upon our treating you with all the respect answerable to so great merit, and in every thing endeavour, as far as the power we have will permit, that the design of your journey may not be frustrated, which i am apt to believe, is no other than to extend your knowledge." i return'd him many thanks for his humanity, but told him i durst not attribute to my self the character he gave me; that i was a lover of truth, and would not, on any account, disguise the real motive which sent me on an undertaking i look'd upon impossible to go thro' with, and which i very unwillingly embark'd in: but since, contrary to my expectations, providence has guided me to this terrestrial paradice, i should esteem my self extreamly happy, if i might be permitted to ask such questions as my curiosity might prompt me to. he answer'd, that nothing i desir'd to know should be kept from me. we soon reach'd the house, which was regular, neat, and convenient. we all sat down in an inner hall, and he who spoke _english_, desired i would give an account, both of the motives, the manner, and accidents of my journey, which i did as succinctly as possible, interpreting the credentials, when i gave them. he was astonish'd at the account i gave him of the _cacklogallinians_, and said, if my account was not back'd with ocular demonstration, he should take their story for the ravings of a distemper'd brain. "i find, _said he_, you begin to be drowzy; i would therefore have you and your rational fowls (as you call them) repose your selves, while i in the _vernacular_ language, repeat to my companions the wonders i have heard from you." we were indeed very sleepy, and i was heartily glad of the proposal, as were also the _cacklogallinians_, when i mention'd it to them. they, as well as my self, were provided each of them with a bed, in very handsome and commodious rooms. these beds were so very soft, that i seem'd to lye on a couch of air. when we awak'd, the _selenites_ came into my chamber, and told me it was time to take some nourishment; that they had provided corn for my companions, and desir'd i would sit down to supper with them, it being their usual time. "why, sir, _said i_, to our _english_ interpreter, do you sup by day-light? you mistake, _said he_, it is now night; your world to the inhabitants of this hemisphere (which is always turn'd to it, this planet moving in an epicycle) reflects so strong the sun's light, that your error is excusable. what then, _said i_, do those of the other hemisphere for light? they have it, _said he_, from the planets." i went with them into a parlour, where, after a hymn was sung, we sat down to a table cover'd with sallets and all sorts of fruits. "you must, _said the selenite_, content your self with what we can offer you, which is nothing but the spontaneous products of the earth: we cannot invite you to other, since the eating any thing that has had life, is look'd upon with abhorrence, and never known in this world: but i am satisfied you will easily accommodate your self to our diet, since the taste of our fruits is much more exquisite than yours, since they fully satisfy, and never cloy:" which i found true by experience, and i was so far from hankering after flesh, that even the thoughts of it were shocking and nauseous to me. we drank the most delicious wine, which they press'd from the grape into their cups, and which was no way intoxicating. after supper, the _selenite_ address'd himself to me in words to this effect. "i have acquainted my friends here present, who are come to pass some days with me, both with the contents of the _cacklogallinian_ emperor's letter, and the reasons which mov'd this prince to desire an intercourse between the two worlds, and we will all of us wait on you to our prince's court, tho' strictly speaking, we neither have, nor need a governour; and we pay the distant respect due to your princes to the eldest among us, as he is the nearest to eternal happiness. but that i may give you some idea, both of this world, and its inhabitants, you must learn, that men in yours are endued with a soul and an understanding; the soul is a material substance, and cloathes the understanding, as the body does the soul; at the separation of these two, the body is again resolved into earth, and the soul of the virtuous is placed in this planet, till the understanding being freed from it by a separation we may call death, tho' not attended with fear or agony, it is resolved into our earth, and its principle of life, the understanding, returns to the great creator; for till we have here purg'd off what of humanity remains attach'd to the soul, we can never hope to appear before the pure eyes of the deity. "we are here, _said he_, in a state of ease and happiness, tho' no way comparable to that we expect at our dissolution, which we as earnestly long for, as you mortals carefully avoid it. we forget nothing that pass'd while we were cloath'd in flesh, and inhabitants of your globe, and have no other uneasiness, than what the reflection of our ingratitude to the eternal goodness, while in life, creates in us, which the eternal lessens in proportion to our repentance, which is here very sincere. this will cease your wonder at hearing the sublunary languages. "we have here no passions to gratify, no wants to supply, the roots of vice, which under no denomination is known among us; consequently no laws, nor governours to execute them, are here necessary. "had the _cacklogallinian_ prince known thus much, he would have been sensible how vain were his expectations of getting from us the gold he thirsts after: for were we to meet with the purest veins of that metal, by removing only one turf, not a _selenite_ would think it worth his while. "this is a place of peace and tranquillity, and this world is exactly adapted to the temper of its inhabitants: nature here is in an eternal calm; we enjoy an everlasting spring; the soil yields nothing noxious, and we can never want the necessaries of life, since every herb affords a salubrious repast to the _selenites_. "we pass our days without labour, without other anxiety, than what i mention'd, and the longing desire we have for our dissolution, makes every coming day encrease our happiness. "we have not here, as in your world, distinction of sexes; for know, all souls are masculine (if i may be allow'd that term, after what i've said) however distinguish'd in the body; and tho' of late years the number of those which change your world for this (especially of the _european_ quarter) is very small; yet we do not apprehend our world will be left unpeopled." "you say, _replied i_, that none but the virtuous soul reaches these blissfull seats; what then becomes of the vicious? and how comes it, that the soul, when loosed by sleep, i suppose without distinction, retires hither?" "the decrees, _said he_, of the almighty are inscrutable, and you ask me questions are not in my power to resolve you." "have not, _said i_, the _cacklogallinians_ souls, think you, since they're endued with reason?" "if they have, _said he_, they never are sent hither." i repeated this discourse to the _cacklogallinians_, which made _volatilio_ extreamly melancholly. happy men! _said he,_ to whose species the divine goodness has been so indulgent! miserable _cacklogallinians_! if destin'd, after bearing the ills of life, to annihilation. let us, _probusomo_, never think of returning, but beg we may be allow'd to end our days with these favourites of heaven. i interpreted this to the _selenite_, who shook his head, and said it was, he believ'd, impossible. that he did not doubt but providence would reward the virtuous of his species; that his mercy and justice were without bound, which ought to keep him from desponding. the next day a great number of _selenites_ came to see me, and entertain'd me with abundance of candour. i seeing no difference in dress, nor any deference paid to any, as distinguish'd by a superior rank, i took liberty to ask my _english selenite_, if all the inhabitants were upon a level, and if they had no servants nor artificers? "we have, _said he_, no distinctions among us; who in your world begg'd alms, with us, has the same respect as he who govern'd a province: tho', to say truth, we have but few of your sublunary quality among us. we have no occasion for servants; we are all artificers, and none where help is necessary, but offers his with alacrity. for example, would i build a house, every one here, and as many more as were wanting, would take a pleasure to assist me." he told me, that the next day they intended to present me to _abrahijo_, the oldest _selenite_. accordingly, we set out at sun-rising, and entered a bark about a league from the house, and having pass'd about four leagues on a river which ran thro' a valley beautiful beyond description, we went ashore within an hundred yards _abrahijo_'s place of abode. when we came in, the venerable old man, whose compos'd and chearful countenance spoke the heaven of his mind, rose from his chair, and came to meet us; he was of a great age, but free from the infirmities which attend it in our world. the _english selenite_ presented me to him with few words, and he received me with tenderness. after he was inform'd of my story, he spoke to me by our interpreter, to this effect. "my son, i hope you will reap a solid advantage from the perilous journey you have made, tho' your expectation of finding riches among us is frustrated. all that i have to give you, is my advice to return to your world, place your happiness in nothing transitory; nor imagine that any riches, but those which are eternal, which neither _thief can carry away, nor rust corrupt_, are worthy of your pursuit. keep continually in your eye the joys prepared for those who employ the talents they are entrusted with, as they ought: reflect upon the little content your world can afford you: consider how short is life, and that you have but little time to spare for trifles, when the grand business, the securing your eternal rest, ought to employ your mind. you are there in a state of probation, and you must there chuse whether you will be happy or miserable; you will not be put to a second trial; you sign at once your own sentence, and it will stand irrevocable, either for or against you. weigh well the difference between a momentary and imperfect, and an eternal and solid happiness, to which the divine goodness invites you; nay, by that calmness, that peace of mind, which attends a virtuous life, bribes you to make choice of, if you desire to be among us, be your own friend, and you will be sure to have those desires gratify'd. but you must now return, since it was never known, that gross flesh and blood ever before breath'd this air, and that your stay may be fatal to you, and disturb the tranquillity of the _selenites_. this i prophesy, and my compassion obliges me to warn you of it." i made him a profound reverence, thank'd him for his charitable admonition, and told him i hoped nothing should win me from the performance of a duty which carry'd with it such ineffable rewards. that if no greater were promised, than those indulged to the _selenites_, i would refuse no misery attending the most abject life, to be enrolled in the number of the inhabitants of that happy region. "i wish, _replied he_, the false glare of the world does not hinder the execution of these just resolutions: but that i may give you what assistance is in our power, in hopes of having you among us, we will shew the world unmask'd; that is, we will detain some time the souls of sleepers, that you may see what man is, how false, how vain, in all he acts or wishes. know, that the soul loos'd by sleep, has the power to call about it all the images which it would employ, can raise imaginary structures, form seas, lands, fowls, beasts, or whatever the rational faculty is intent upon. you shall now take some refreshment, and after that we will both divert and instruct you." the table was spread by himself and the other _selenites_, the _cacklogallinians_ and my self invited, and i observ'd it differ'd nothing, either in quality or quantity, from that of my _english_ host. after a solemn adoration of the ineffable creator, each took his place; having finish'd our meal, at which a strict silence was observed, _abrahijo_ took me by the hand, and led me into a neighbouring field, the beauty of which far excell'd that of the most labour'd and artificial garden among us. "here, _said he_, observe yon shade; i shall not detain it, that you may see the care and uneasiness attending riches." the shade represented an old withered starv'd carcass, brooding over chests of money. immediately appeared three ill-look'd fellows; want, despair, and murder, were lively-pictur'd in their faces; they were taking out the iron bars of the old man's window, when all vanish'd of a sudden. i ask'd the meaning of it; he told me, the terror the dream of thieves put him into, had awaken'd him; and the minute he slept again, i should see again his shade. hardly had _abrahijo_ done speaking, when i again saw the old man, with a young well-dress'd spark standing by him, who paid him great respect. i heard him say very distinctly, "sir, do you think i am made of money, or can you imagine the treasure of a nation will supply your extravagance? the value i have for you on account of your father, who was my good friend, has made me tire all my acquaintance, by borrowing of them to furnish your pockets: however, i'll try, if i cannot borrow one thousand more for you, tho' i wish your estate will bear it, and that i don't out of my love to you, rashly bring myself into trouble. you know i am engaged for all; and if the mortgage you have given should not be valid, i am an undone man. i can't, i protest, raise this money under fifteen _per cent_, and it's cheap, very cheap, considering how scarce a commodity it is grown. it's a pity so generous a young gentleman should be straiten'd. i don't question a pair of gloves for the trouble i have. i know you too well to insist on't: i am old and crazy, coach-hire is very dear, i can't walk, god help me, and my circumstances won't afford a coach. a couple of guineas is a trifle with you: i'll get you the thousand pound, if i can, at fifteen _per cent._ but if my friend should insist on twenty (for money is very hard to be got with the best security) must i refuse it? yes; i can't suffer you to pay such an exorbitant premium; it is too much, too much in conscience; i can't advise you to it." the young gentleman answer'd, he was sensible of his friendship, and left all to him. "well, well, _said the miser_, come again two hours hence, i'll see what's to be done." he went away, t'other barr'd the door after him, and falls to rummaging his bags, and telling out the sum to be lent to the young gentleman: when, on a sudden, his doors flew open, and a couple of rogues bound him in his bed, and went off laden with baggs. soon after, a meagre servant comes in, and unbinds him; he tears his hair, raves, stamps, and has all the gestures of a madman; he sends the servant out, takes a halter, throws it over a beam, and going to hang himself, vanishes. soon after, he appeared again with officers, who hurry the young gentleman to goal. he follows him, gets his estate made over to him, and then sets his prisoner at liberty: the scene of the goal vanishes, and he's in a noble mansion-seat with the young gentleman in rags, who gives him possession, and receives a trifle from him for that consideration. he turns away all the servants, and in a palace he is alone roasting an egg over a handful of fire for his dinner. his son comes in, as he is by himself, goes to murder him, and he vanishes again. he returns to our sight, digging in his garden, and hiding money, for soldiers appear in the neighbouring village: he has scarce buried it, when they rifle his house; this makes us lose him again for a little space. his coachman comes to him, tells him his son is kill'd; he answers, "no matter, he was a great expence, i shall save at least forty pounds a year by his death, it's a good legacy, _tom_." he tells him a lord offer'd him five hundred pounds to carry off his young lady, but that he refused it, and thought himself obliged to acquaint him with his lordship's design. "you are a fool, _replies the old man_; take the money, i'll consent, we'll snack it--quit of another. my lord shan't have a groat with her. what a charge are children! this lord is the best friend i have, to take her off my hands. to be sure bring the money, carry her to my lord, and bring the money; go take time by the fore-lock, he may recant, then so much money's lost. go, run to my lord, tell him you'll do it." here he thrust the fellow out, and appear'd with a smiling countenance. a man comes in, and tells him the exchequer is shut up, stocks are fallen, a war declar'd, and a new tax laid on land; he beats his breast, groans aloud, and vanishes. "by this wretch, _said abrahijo_, you see the care and anxiety wait on the miserable. the love of gold in him has extinguish'd nature; nay, it predominates over self-love; for he hastens his end, by not allowing his body either rest, or sufficient nourishment, only that he may encrease the number of his coffers." another shade appear'd with a great crowd of people, huzzaing, a _venditor_, a _venditor_; he goes before them, steps into every shop, enquires after the health of each family, kisses the wives, and out of his thrusts gold into their mouths. here he bows to a tinker, there embraces a cobler, shakes a scavinger by the hand, stands bare-headed, and compliments an ale-wife, invites a score of shoemakers, taylors, pedlars, weavers, and hostlers, to do him the honour of their company to dinner. the scene changes; he's at court, the ministers repay him his servile cringes by theirs; one comes up to him, and says, he hopes, when the bill comes into the house, he will favour him with his vote for its passing: he answers, he shall discharge the trust reposed in him, like a man of honour, in forwarding what is for the good of his country, and opposing the contrary, tho' the consequence were his own ruin: that he begg'd his lordship's pardon, if he dissented from him in opinion, and did not think what he required warrantable in a man of honour. "you are not well inform'd, _replied the nobleman_, but we'll talk of that another day, when i hope i shall convince you, that you did not well understand me; my present business is to wish you joy, _courvite_'s regiment is vacant, and tho' you have never serv'd, your personal bravery and good conduct in the senate have spoke so much in your behalf, that you will to morrow have the commission sent you." "my lord, _replied the patriot_, this is an unexpected favour, and i am satisfied i owe it to your lordship's goodness. i hope an opportunity to speak my gratitude, will present it self; in the mean while count upon me, in whatever i can serve your interest." at these words, with a visible joy in his looks, he vanish'd. three dirty mechanicks appeared in a shoemaker's shop, who was a dreamer. he was declaiming to his companions over a pot of beer, after the following manner. "look ye, neighbours, there's an old proverb says, _it is not the hood which makes the monk_; the being born a gentleman does not make a man of sense; and the being bred a tradesman, does not deprive us of it; for how many great men have leap'd from the shop-board, sprung up from the stall, and have, by patching and heel-piecing religion and the state, made their names famous to after-ages? i can name many, but i shall mention only _john_ of _leyden_. now, i see no reason, why meanness of birth should be an obstacle to merit, and i am resolved, as i find a great many things which ought to be redress'd both in church and state, if you my friends will stand by me, to aim at the setting both upright: for you must own, they are basely trod awry. trade is dead, money is scarce, the parsons are proud, rich and lazy; war is necessary for the circulation of money; and an honest man may starve in these times of peace and beggary. "there are a great many mysteries in religion, which, as we don't know what to make of them, are altogether unnecessary, and ought to be laid aside, as well as a great many ceremonies, which ought to be lopp'd off for being chargeable." the rest gave their assenting nod, and seem'd to wonder at, and applaud his eloquency. in a moment, i saw him preaching to a mobb against the luxury of the age, and telling them it shew'd a meanness of spirit to want necessaries, while the gentry, by force of long usurpations on their rights, rioted in all manner of excess. that providence brought none into the world that he might starve; but that all on earth had a right to what was necessary to their support, which they ought to sieze, since the rich refus'd to share with them. from a preacher i saw him a captain of a rabble, plundering the houses of the nobility, was terrible to all; and tho' he declared for levelling, would be serv'd with the pomp and delicacy of a prince; marries his daughters to lords, hoards an immense treasure, and wakes from his golden dream. another shade i saw suborning witnesses, giving them instructions what to swear, packing juries, banishing, hanging and beheading all his enemies, sending immense sums to foreign courts, to support his power at home, bribing senates, and carrying all before him without controul, when he vanish'd. my _english_ friend told me, that soul belong'd to the body of a money-scrivener, who almost crack'd his brain with politicks, and thought of nothing less than being a prime minister. i knew him while i was in the world; his whole discourse always ran on liberty, trade, free elections, _&c._ and constantly inveigh'd against all corrupt and self-interested practices. i saw persons descended from the ancient nobility fawning on valets who were arrived to great preferment for pimping; i beheld others contriving schemes, to bring their wives and daughters into the company of persons in power, and aiming to gain preferment for themselves, at the expence of the vertue of their families; nor was there a vice, a folly or a baseness, practised in this world below, tho' ever so secret, which i did not see there represented, the particulars of which being too long for this place, i must beg leave to refer them to the second volume of my voyages. in the mean time i was allow'd a week to satisfy my curiosity, and make my observations on all the strange things which were there to be seen, which i may justly reckon the most agreeable part of my whole life; and also a further time to refresh my self: which being done, we prepared for our journey, being provided with all things necessary for that purpose. as i found in my self that longing desire (which is natural to all men, who have been long absent from home) of returning to see my own country; and being besides unwilling to go back to _cacklogallinia_, the actions and designs of the first minister, to which i was privy, having made such impressions upon me, that i was prejudic'd against their whole nation; nor was that prejudice remov'd, by being acquainted with their laws, customs and manners, some of which appeared to me unreasonable, and others barbarous. i say, upon the aforesaid considerations, i apply'd my self to some of the _selenites_, whose courtesy i had already experienced, asking them, whether they could direct me to find out some part of the terrestrial world, known and frequented to by _europeans_: they were so good to give me full and plain instructions what course to steer thro' the air for that purpose, which i was very well able to follow, having a pocket compass about me, which i brought from _england_, it having long been my custom never to stir any where without one. it being necessary to bring _volatilio_ into the design, i went to him and told him, that as we were so unfortunate not to succeed in finding out the country of gold, it would be adviseable to return home some other way, in hopes of better success in going back; otherwise we might, in all probability, meet with a disagreeable welcome from the emperor and the whole court. _volatilio_ hearken'd to these reasons, and besides having the true spirit of a projector in him, which is, not to be discouraged at disappointments, he consented to my proposal. accordingly we set out, and after some days travelling, we meeting with little or nothing in our journey differing from our former, we lighted safely upon the _blue mountain_ in _jamaica_. here i was within my own knowledge; for having formerly made several voyages to _jamaica_, was no stranger to the place. now therefore i thought it time to acquaint the _cacklogallinians_ with the innocent fraud i had put upon them; they seem'd frighted and surprized, as not knowing how to get home to their own country: for _volatilio_ apear'd to be quite out of his element. however, i directed them which way to steer, which was directly southward; and having rested for some time, they took their leave of me, and _volatilio_, with his _palanquineers_, began their flight, as i had directed them, and i never saw them more. as for my part, i made the best of my way to _kingston_, where coming acquainted with one captain _madden_, commander of the _london frigate_, he was so kind, upon hearing my story, to offer to give me my passage _gratis_, with whom having embark'd at _port royal_, i reach'd my native country, after a passage of nine weeks. _finis._ * * * * * thranscriber's note: the following corrections were made: p. xi retold by firdausi in the _shaknameh_, of kavi usan _spelling as in original, but no comma_ p. latitude of ---- degrees north _original has blank space_ p. - he put several into my hands _to end of chapter_ _original has entire text in one paragraph_ p. is altogether vain _original reads_ altoherget p. allured to... _not an error_ p. and new disputes _original reads_ and and new... the poor clergy (for they are not all rich, _original reads_ are not all rich) _with extra parenthesis_ p. it is, true there is a council _comma in original_ p. shares sold of the treasure _original reads_ teasure p. julip and jonquil _so in original_: tulip? p. end ...and view the country. _original has comma at end of paragraph_ p. affiability and gravity _spelling as in original_ p. i went with them... _original has paragraph in quotation marks_ p. i repeated... _original has beginning of paragraph in quotation marks_ p. ...to assist me." he told me... _original continues quotation marks to end of paragraph_ p. goal (twice) _spelling as in original_ (gaol) p. _courvite_'s regiment _original has_ reigment ] stand by for mars! [illustration] a tom corbett space cadet adventure stand by for mars! by carey rockwell willy ley _technical adviser_ grosset & dunlap _publishers_ new york copyright, , by rockhill radio all rights reserved printed in the united states of america stand by for mars! [illustration: _the scarlet-clad figure stood before them_] chapter "stand to, you rocket wash!" a harsh, bull-throated roar thundered over the platform of the monorail station at space academy and suddenly the lively chatter and laughter of more than a hundred boys was stilled. tumbling out of the gleaming monorail cars, they froze to quick attention, their eyes turned to the main exit ramp. they saw a short, squat, heavily built man, wearing the scarlet uniform of the enlisted solar guard, staring down at them, his fists jammed into his hips and his feet spread wide apart. he stood there a moment, his sharp eyes flicking over the silent clusters, then slowly sauntered down the ramp toward them with a strangely light, catfooted tread. "form up! column of fours!" almost before the echoes of the thunderous voice died down, the scattered groups of boys had formed themselves into four ragged lines along the platform. the scarlet-clad figure stood before them, his seamed and weather-beaten face set in stern lines. but there was a glint of laughter in his eyes as he noticed the grotesque and sometimes tortuous positions of some of the boys as they braced themselves in what they considered a military pose. every year, for the last ten years, he had met the trains at the monorail station. every year, he had seen boys in their late teens, gathered from earth, mars and venus, three planets millions of miles apart. they were dressed in many different styles of clothes; the loose flowing robes of the lads from the martian deserts; the knee-length shorts and high stockings of the boys from the venusian jungles; the vari-colored jacket and trouser combinations of the boys from the magnificent earth cities. but they all had one thing in common--a dream. all had visions of becoming space cadets, and later, officers in the solar guard. each dreamed of the day when he would command rocket ships that patrolled the space lanes from the outer edges of pluto to the twilight zone of mercury. they were all the same. "all right now! let's get squared away!" his voice was a little more friendly now. "my name's mckenny--mike mckenny. warrant officer--solar guard. see these hash marks?" he suddenly held out a thick arm that bulged against the tight red sleeve. from the wrists to the elbow, the lines of boys could see a solid corrugation of white v-shaped stripes. "each one of these marks represents four years in space," he continued. "there's ten marks here and i intend making it an even dozen! and no bunch of earthworms is going to make me lose the chance to get those last two by trying to make a space monkey out of me!" mckenny sauntered along the line of boys with that same strange catlike step and looked squarely into the eyes of each boy in turn. "just to keep the record straight, i'm your cadet supervisor. i handle you until you either wash out and go home, or you finally blast off and become spacemen. if you stub your toe or cut your finger, come to me. if you get homesick, come to me. and if you get into trouble"--he paused momentarily--"don't bother because i'll be looking for _you_, with a fist full of demerits!" mckenny continued his slow inspection of the ranks, then suddenly stopped short. at the far end of the line, a tall, ruggedly built boy of about eighteen, with curly brown hair and a pleasant, open face, was stirring uncomfortably. he slowly reached down toward his right boot and held it, while he wriggled his foot into it. mckenny quickly strode over and planted himself firmly in front of the boy. "when i say stand to, i mean stand to!" he roared. the boy jerked himself erect and snapped to attention. "i--i'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "but my boot--it was coming off and--" "i don't care if your pants are falling down, an order's an order!" the boy gulped and reddened as a nervous titter rippled through the ranks. mckenny spun around and glared. there was immediate silence. "what's your name?" he turned back to the boy. "corbett, sir. cadet candidate tom corbett," answered the boy. "wanta be a spaceman, do ya?" asked mike, pushing his jaw out another inch. "yes, sir!" "been studying long hard hours in primary school, eh? talked your mother and father deaf in the ears to let you come to space academy and be a spaceman! you want to feel those rockets bucking in your back out in the stars? _eh?_" "yes, sir," replied tom, wondering how this man he didn't even know could know so much about him. "_well, you won't make it_ if i ever catch you disobeying orders again!" mckenny turned quickly to see what effect he had created on the others. the lines of bewildered faces satisfied him that his old trick of using one of the cadets as an example was a success. he turned back to corbett. "the only reason i'm not logging you now is because you're not a space cadet yet--and won't be, until you've taken the academy oath!" "yes, sir!" mckenny walked down the line and across the platform to an open teleceiver booth. the ranks were quiet and motionless, and as he made his call, mckenny smiled. finally, when the tension seemed unbearable, he roared, "at ease!" and closed the door of the booth. the ranks melted immediately and the boys fell into chattering clusters, their voices low, and they occasionally peered over their shoulders at corbett as if he had suddenly been stricken with a horrible plague. brooding over the seeming ill-fortune that had called mckenny's attention to him at the wrong time, tom sat down on his suitcase to adjust his boot. he shook his head slowly. he had heard space academy was tough, tougher than any other school in the world, but he didn't expect the stern discipline to begin so soon. "this could be the beginning of the end," drawled a lazy voice in back of tom, "for some of the more enthusiastic cadets." someone laughed. tom turned to see a boy about his own age, weight and height, with close-cropped blond hair that stood up brushlike all over his head. he was lounging idly against a pillar, luggage piled high around his feet. tom recognized him immediately as roger manning, and his pleasant features twisted into a scowl. "about what i'd expect from that character," he thought, "after the trick he pulled on astro, that big fellow from venus." tom's thoughts were of the night before, when the connecting links of transportation from all over the solar alliance had deposited the boys in the central station at atom city where they were to board the monorail express for the final lap to space academy. manning, as tom remembered it, had taken advantage of the huge venusian by tricking him into carrying his luggage. reasoning that since the gravity of venus was considerably less than that of earth, he convinced astro that he needed the extra weight to maintain his balance. it had been a cheap trick, but no one had wanted to challenge the sharpness of manning's tongue and come to astro's rescue. tom had wanted to, but refrained when he saw that astro didn't mind. finishing his conversation on the teleceiver, mckenny stepped out of the booth and faced the boys again. "all right," he bawled. "they're all set for you at the academy! pick up your gear and follow me!" with a quick light step, he hopped on the rolling slidewalk at the edge of the platform and started moving away. "hey, astro!" roger manning stopped the huge boy about to step over. "going to carry my bags?" the venusian, a full head taller, hesitated and looked doubtfully at the four suitcases at roger's feet. "come on," prodded roger in a tone of mock good nature. "the gravity around here is the same as in atom city. it's the same all over the face of the earth. wouldn't want you to just fly away." he snickered and looked around, winking broadly. astro still hesitated, "i don't know, manning. i--uhh--" "by the rings of saturn! what's going on here?" suddenly from outside the ring of boys that had gathered around, mckenny came roaring in, bulling his way to the center of the group to face roger and astro. "i have a strained wrist, sir," began roger smoothly. "and this cadet candidate"--he nodded casually toward astro--"offered to carry my luggage. now he refuses." mike glared at astro. "did you agree to carry this man's luggage?" "well--i--ah--" fumbled astro. "well? did you or didn't you?" "i guess i sorta did, sir," replied astro, his face turning a slow red. "i don't hold with anyone doing another man's work, but if a solar guard officer, a space cadet, or even a cadet candidate gives his word he'll do something, he does it!" mckenny shook a finger in astro's face, reaching up to do it. "is that clear?" "yes, sir," was the embarrassed reply. mckenny turned to manning who stood listening, a faint smile playing on his lips. "what's your name, mister?" "manning. roger manning," he answered easily. "so you've got a strained wrist, have you?" asked mike mockingly while sending a sweeping glance from top to bottom of the gaudy colored clothes. "yes, sir." "can't carry your own luggage, eh?" "yes," answered roger evenly. "i could carry my own luggage. i thought the candidate from venus might give me a helping hand. nothing more. i certainly didn't intend for him to become a marked man for a simple gesture of comradeship." he glanced past mckenny toward the other boys and added softly, "and comradeship _is_ the spirit of space academy, isn't it, sir?" his face suddenly crimson, mckenny spluttered, searching for a ready answer, then turned away abruptly. "what are you all standing around for?" he roared. "get your gear and yourselves over on that slidewalk! blast!" he turned once again to the rolling platform. manning smiled at astro and hopped nimbly onto the slidewalk after mckenny, leaving his luggage in a heap in front of astro. "and be careful with that small case, astro," he called as he drifted away. "here, astro," said tom. "i'll give you a hand." "never mind," replied astro grimly. "i can carry 'em." "no, let me help." tom bent over--then suddenly straightened. "by the way, we haven't introduced ourselves. my name's corbett--tom corbett." he stuck out his hand. astro hesitated, sizing up the curly-headed boy in front of him, who stood smiling and offering friendship. finally he pushed out his own hand and smiled back at tom. "astro, but you know that by now." "that sure was a dirty deal manning gave you." "ah, i don't mind carrying his bags. it's just that i wanted to tell him he's going to have to send it all back. they don't allow a candidate to keep more than a toothbrush at the academy." "guess he'll find out the hard way." carrying manning's luggage as well as their own, they finally stepped on the slidewalk and began the smooth easy ride from the monorail station to the academy. both having felt the sharpness of manning's tongue, and both having been dressed down by warrant officer mckenny, they seemed to be linked by a bond of trouble and they stood close together for mutual comfort. as the slidewalk whisked them silently past the few remaining buildings and credit exchanges that nestled around the monorail station, tom gave thought to his new life. ever since jon builker, the space explorer, returning from the first successful flight to a distant galaxy, came through his home town near new chicago twelve years before, tom had wanted to be a spaceman. through high school and the new chicago primary space school where he had taken his first flight above earth's atmosphere, he had waited for the day when he would pass his entrance exams and be accepted as a cadet candidate in space academy. for no reason at all, a lump rose in his throat, as the slidewalk rounded a curve and he saw for the first time, the gleaming white magnificence of the tower of galileo. he recognized it immediately from the hundreds of books he had read about the academy and stared wordlessly. "sure is pretty, isn't it?" asked astro, his voice strangely husky. "yeah," breathed tom in reply. "it sure is." he could only stare at the shimmering tower ahead. "it's all i've ever wanted to do," said tom at length. "just get out there and--be _free_!" "i know what you mean. it's the greatest feeling in the world." "you say that as if you've already been up there." astro grinned. "yup. used to be an enlisted space sailor. bucked rockets in an old freighter on the luna city--venusport run." "well, what are you doing here?" tom was amazed and impressed. "simple. i want to be an officer. i want to get into the solar guard and handle the power-push in one of those cruisers." tom's eyes glowed with renewed admiration for his new friend. "i've been out four or five times but only in jet boats five hundred miles out. nothing like a jump to luna city or venusport." by now the slidewalk had carried them past the base of the tower of galileo to a large building facing the academy quadrangle and the spell was broken by mckenny's bull-throated roar. "haul off, you blasted polliwogs!" as the boys jumped off the slidewalk, a cadet, dressed in the vivid blue that tom recognized as the official dress of the senior cadet corps, walked up to mckenny and spoke to him quietly. the warrant officer turned back to the waiting group and gave rapid orders. "by twos, follow cadet herbert inside and he'll assign you to your quarters. shower, shave if you have to and can find anything to shave, and dress in the uniform that'll be supplied you. be ready to take the academy oath at"--he paused and glanced at the senior cadet who held up three fingers--"fifteen hundred hours. that's three o'clock. all clear? blast off!" just as the boys began to move, there was a sudden blasting roar in the distance. the noise expanded and rolled across the hills surrounding space academy. it thundered over the grassy quadrangle, vibrating waves of sound one on top of the other, until the very air quivered under the impact. mouths open, eyes popping, the cadet candidates stood rooted in their tracks and stared as, in the distance, a long, thin, needlelike ship seemed to balance delicately on a column of flame, then suddenly shoot skyward and disappear. "pull in your eyeballs!" mckenny's voice crackled over the receding thunder. "you'll fly one of those firecrackers some day. but right now you're _earthworms_, the lowest form of animal life in the academy!" as the boys snapped to attention again, tom thought he caught a faint smile on cadet herbert's face as he stood to one side waiting for mckenny to finish his tirade. suddenly he snapped his back straight, turned sharply and stepped through the wide doors of the building. quickly the double line of boys followed. "did you see that, astro?" asked tom excitedly. "that was a solar guard patrol ship!" "yeah, i know," replied astro. the big candidate from venus scratched his chin and eyed tom bashfully. "say, tom--ah, since we sort of know each other, how about us trying to get in the same quarters?" "o.k. by me, astro, if we can," said tom, grinning back at his friend. the line pressed forward to cadet herbert, who was now waiting at the bottom of the slidestairs, a mesh belt that spiraled upward in a narrow well to the upper stories of the building. speaking into an audioscriber, a machine that transmitted his spoken words into typescript, he repeated the names of the candidates as they passed. "cadet candidate tom corbett," announced tom, and herbert repeated it into the audioscriber. "cadet candidate astro!" the big venusian stepped forward. "what's the rest of it, mister?" inquired herbert. "that's all. just astro." "no other names?" "no, sir," replied astro. "you see--" "you don't say 'sir' to a senior cadet, mister. and we're not interested in why you have only one name!" herbert snapped. "yes, sir--uhh--mister." astro flushed and joined tom. "cadet candidate philip morgan," announced the next boy. herbert repeated the name into the machine, then announced, "cadet candidates tom corbett, astro, and philip morgan assigned to section -d." turning to the three boys, he indicated the spiraling slidestairs. "forty-second floor. you'll find section d in the starboard wing." astro and tom immediately began to pile manning's luggage to one side of the slidestairs. "take your luggage with you, misters!" snapped herbert. "it isn't ours," replied tom. "isn't yours?" herbert glanced over the pile of suitcases and turned back to tom. "whose is it then?" "belongs to cadet candidate roger manning," replied tom. "what are you doing with it?" "we were carrying it for him." "do we have a candidate in the group who finds it necessary to provide himself with valet service?" herbert moved along the line of boys. "will cadet candidate roger manning please step forward?" roger slid from behind a group of boys to face the senior cadet's cold stare. "roger manning here," he presented himself smoothly. "is that your luggage?" herbert jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "it is." roger smiled confidently, but herbert merely stared coldly. "you have a peculiar attitude for a candidate, manning." "is there a prescribed attitude, mr. herbert?" roger asked, his smile broadening. "if there is, i'll be only too glad to conform to it." herbert's face twitched almost imperceptibly. then he nodded, made a notation on a pad and returned to his post at the head of the gaping line of boys. "from now on, candidate manning, you will be responsible for your own belongings." tom, astro, and philip morgan stepped on the slidestairs and began their spiraling ascent to the forty-second floor. "i saw what happened at the monorail station," drawled the third member of section -d, leaning against the bannister of the moving belt. "by the craters of luna, that manning felluh sure is a hot operator." "we found out for ourselves," grunted astro. "say, since we're all bunkin' togethuh, let's get to knowin' each othuh. my name's phil morgan, come from georgia. where you all from?" "new chicago," replied tom. "name's tom corbett. and this is astro." "hiya." astro stuck out a big paw and grinned his wide grin. "i guess you heard. astro's all the name i've got." "how come?" inquired the southerner. "i'm from venus and it's a custom from way back when venus was first colonized to just hand out one name." "funny custom," drawled phil. astro started to say something and then stopped, clamping his lips together. tom could see his face turn a slow pink. phil saw it too, and hastily added: "oh--i didn't mean anything. i--ah--" he broke off, embarrassed. "forget it, phil." astro grinned again. "say," interjected tom. "look at that!" they all turned to look at the floor they were passing. near the edge of the step-off platform on the fourth floor was an oaken panel, inscribed with silver lettering in relief. as they drew even with the plaque, they caught sight of someone behind them. they turned to see manning, the pile of suitcases in front of him, reading aloud. " ... to the brave men who sacrificed their lives in the conquest of space, this galaxy hall is dedicated...." "say, this must be the museum," said tom. "here's where they have all the original gear used in the first space hops." "absolutely right," said manning with a smile. "i wonder if we could get off and take a look?" astro asked. "sure you can," said roger. "in fact, the academy regs say every cadet must inspect the exhibits in the space museum within the first week." the members of section -d looked at roger questioningly. "i don't know if we have time." tom was dubious. "sure you have--plenty. i'd hop off and take a look myself but i've got to get this junk ready to ship home." he indicated the pile of bags in front of him. "aw, come on, tom, let's take a look!" urged astro. "they have the old _space queen_ in here, the first ship to clear earth's gravity. boy, i'd sure like to see her!" without waiting for the others to agree, the huge candidate stepped off the slidestairs. "hey, astro!" yelled tom. "wait! i don't think--" his voice trailed off as the moving stair carried him up to the next floor. but then a curious thing happened. as other boys came abreast of the museum floor and saw astro they began to get off and follow him, wandering around gazing at the relics of the past. soon nearly half of the cadet candidates were standing in silent awe in front of the battered hull of the _space queen_, the first atomic-powered rocket ship allowed on exhibition only fifty years before because of the deadly radioactivity in her hull, created when a lead baffle melted in midspace and flooded the ship with murderous gamma rays. they stood in front of the spaceship and listened while astro, in a hushed voice, read the inscription on the bronze tablet. "--earth to luna and return. th march . in honor of the brave men of the first atomic-powered spaceship to land successfully on the planet moon, only to perish on return to earth...." "candidates--staaaaaaaaannnnnd _too_!" like a clap of thunder warrant officer mckenny's voice jarred the boys out of their silence. he stepped forward like a bantam rooster and faced the startled group of boys. "i wanna know just _one_ thing! who stepped off that slidestairs _first_?" the boys all hesitated. "i guess i was the first, sir," said astro, stepping forward. "oh, you guess you were, eh?" roared mckenny. taking a deep breath mckenny launched into a blistering tirade. his choice of words were to be long remembered by the group and repeated to succeeding classes. storming against the huge venusian like a pygmy attacking an elephant, mckenny roared, berated and blasted. later, when astro finally reached his quarters and changed into the green coveralls of the cadet candidates, tom and phil crowded around him. "it was roger, blast him!" said tom angrily. "he was getting back at you because cadet herbert made him carry his own gear." "i asked for it," grumbled astro. "ah, i should've known better. but i just couldn't wait to see the _queen_." he balled his huge hands into tight knots and stared at the floor. "now hear this!!!" a voice suddenly rasped over the pa system loud-speaker above the door. "all cadet candidates will come to attention to receive the space academy oath from commander walters." the voice paused. "_at-tent-shun!_ cadet candidates--staaaaannnnd _to_!" "this is commander walters speaking!" a deep, powerful voice purred through the speaker. "the academy oath is taken individually. "it is something each candidate locks in his spirit, his mind and his heart. that is why it is taken in your quarters. the oath is not a show of color, it is a way of life. each candidate will face as closely as possible in the direction of his home and swear by his own individual god as he repeats after me." astro stepped quickly to the window port and gazed into the blue heavens, eyes searching out the misty planet venus. phil morgan thought a moment, and faced toward the wall with the inlaid star chart of the sky, thinking of sun-bathed georgia. tom corbett stared straight at a blank wall. each boy did not see what was in front of him yet he saw further, perhaps, than he had ever seen before. he looked into a future which held the limitlessness of the universe and new worlds and planets to be lifted out of the oblivion of uncharted depths of space to come. they repeated slowly.... " ... i solemnly swear to uphold the constitution of the solar alliance, to obey interplanetary law, to protect the liberties of the planets, to safeguard the freedom of space and to uphold the cause of peace throughout the universe ... to this end, i dedicate my life!" chapter tom corbett's first day at space academy began at hours with the blaring of the _cadet corps song_ over the central communicators: "_from the rocket fields of the academy to the far-flung stars of outer space, we're space cadets training to be ready for dangers we may face._ _up in the sky, rocketing past higher than high, faster than fast, out into space, into the sun look at her go when we give her the gun._ _from the rocket fields of the_...." within sixty seconds, the buildings of the academy rocked with the impact of three thousand voices singing the last stanza. lights flashed on in every window. cadets raced through the halls and across the quadrangle. the central communicator began the incessant mustering of cadets, and the never-ending orders of the day. " ... unit -z report to captain edwards for astrogation. unit -e report to commander walters for special assignments." on and on, down the list of senior cadets, watch officers, and the newly arrived earthworms. units and individuals to report for training or study in everything from ground assembly of an atomic rocket motor, to the history of the founding of the solar alliance, the governing body of the tri-planet civilization. tom corbett stepped out of the shower in section -d and bellowed at the top of his voice. "hit the deck, astro! make use of the gravity!" he tugged at an outsized foot dangling over the side of an upper bunk. "uhhhh-ahhhh-hummmmm," groaned the cadet from venus and tried to go back to sleep. philip morgan stepped into the shower, turned on the cold water, screeched at the top of his voice, gradually trailing off into countless repetitions of the last verse of the academy song. "damp your tubes, you blasted space monkey," roared astro, sitting up bleary-eyed. "what time do we eat?" asked tom, pulling on the green one-piece coverall of the earthworm cadet candidates. "i don't know," replied astro, opening his mouth in a cavernous yawn. "but it'd better be soon. i like space, but not between my backbone and my stomach!" warrant officer mckenny burst into the room and began to compete with the rest of the noise outside the buildings. "five minutes to the dining hall and you'd better not be late! take the slidestairs down to the twenty-eighth floor. tell the mess cadet in charge of the hall your unit number and he'll show you to the right table. remember where it is, because you'll have to find it yourself after that, or not eat. finish your breakfast and report to the ninety-ninth floor to dr. dale at seven hundred hours!" and as fast as he had arrived, he was gone, a flash of red color with rasping voice trailing behind. exactly one hour and ten minutes later, promptly at seven o'clock, the three members of unit -d stood at attention in front of dr. joan dale, along with the rest of the green-clad cadets. when the catcalls and wolf whistles had died away, dr. dale, pretty, trim, and dressed in the gold and black uniform of the solar guard, held up her hand and motioned for the cadets to sit down. "my answer to your--" she paused, smiled and continued, "your enthusiastic welcome is simply--thank you. but we'll have no further repetitions. this is space academy--not a primary school!" turning abruptly, she stood beside a round desk in the well of an amphitheater, and held up a thin tube about an inch in diameter and twelve inches long. "we will now begin your classification tests," she said. "you will receive one of these tubes. inside, you will find four sheets of paper. you are to answer all the questions on each paper and place them back in the tube. take the tube and drop it in the green outline slot in this wall." she indicated a four-inch-round hole to her left, outlined with green paint. beside it, was another slot outlined with red paint. "remain there until the tube is returned to you in the red slot. take it back to your desk." she paused and glanced down at her desk. "now, there are four possible classifications for a cadet. control-deck officer, which includes leadership and command. astrogation officer, which includes radar and communications. and power-deck officer for engine-room operations. the fourth classification is for advanced scientific study here at the academy. your papers are studied by an electronic calculator that has proven infallible. you must make at least a passing grade on each of the four classifications." dr. dale looked up at the rows of upturned, unsmiling faces and stepped from the dais, coming to a halt near the first desk. "i know that all of you here have your hearts set on becoming spacemen, officers in the solar guard. most of you want to be space pilots. but there must be astrogators, radar engineers, communication officers and power-deck operators on each ship, and," she paused, braced her shoulders and added, "some of you will not be accepted for any of these. some of you will wash out." dr. dale turned her back on the cadets, not wanting to look at the sudden pallor that washed over their faces. it was brutal, she thought, this test. why bring them all the way to the academy and then give the tests? why not start the entrance exams at the beginning with the classification and aptitude? but she knew the answer even before the thoughtful question was completed. under the fear of being washed out, the weaker ones would not pass. the solar guard could not afford to have cadets and later solar guard officers who could not function under pressure. she began handing out the tubes and, one by one, the green-clad candidates stepped to the front of the room to receive them. "excuse me, ma'am," said one cadet falteringly. "if--if--i wash out as a cadet--as a solar guard officer cadet"--he gulped several times--"does that mean there isn't any chance of becoming a spaceman?" "no," she answered kindly. "you can become a member of the enlisted solar guard, if you can pass the acceleration tests." "thank you, ma'am," replied the boy and turned away nervously. tom corbett accepted the tube and hurried back to his seat. he knew that this was the last hurdle. he did not know that the papers had been prepared individually, the tests given on the basis of the entrance exams he had taken back at new chicago primary space school. he opened the tube, pulling out the four sheets, printed on both sides of the paper, and read the heading on the first: astrogation, communications, signals (_radar_) he studied the first question. " ... what is the range of the mark nine radar-scope, and how far can a spaceship be successfully distinguished from other objects in space?..." he read the question four times, then pulled out a pencil and began to write. only the rustle of the papers, or the occasional sigh of a cadet over a problem, disturbed the silence in the high-ceilinged room, as the hundred-odd cadets fought the questions. there was a sudden stir in the room and tom looked up to see roger manning walk to the slot and casually deposit his tube in the green-bordered slot. then he leaned idly against the wall waiting for it to be returned. as he stood there, he spoke to dr. dale, who smiled and replied. there was something about his attitude that made tom boil. so fast? he glanced at his own papers. he had hardly finished two sheets and thought he was doing fine. he clenched his teeth and bent over the paper again, redoubling his efforts to triangulate a fix on regulus by using dead reckoning as a basis for his computations. suddenly a tall man, wearing the uniform of a solar guard officer, appeared in the back of the room. as dr. dale looked up and smiled a greeting, he placed his finger on his lips. steve strong, captain in the solar guard, gazed around the room at the backs bent over busy pencils. he did not smile, remembering how, only fifteen years before, he had gone through the same torture, racking his brains trying to adjust the measurements of a magnascope prism. he was joined by a thin handsome young man, lieutenant judson saminsky, and finally, warrant officer mckenny. they nodded silently in greeting. it would be over soon. strong glanced at the clock over the desk. another ten minutes to go. the line of boys at the slots grew until more than twenty stood there, each waiting patiently, nervously, for his turn to drop the tube in the slot and receive in return the sealed cylinder that held his fate. still at his desk, his face wet with sweat, astro looked at the question in front of him for the fifteenth time. " ... estimate the time it would take a -ton rocket ship with half-filled tanks, cruising at the most economical speed to make a trip from titan to venusport. (a) estimate size and maximum capacity of fuel tanks. (b) give estimate of speed ship would utilize...." he thought. he slumped in his chair. he stared at the ceiling. he chewed his pencil.... five seats away, tom stacked his examination sheets neatly, twisted them into a cylinder and inserted them in the tube. as he passed the line of desks and headed for the slot, a hand caught his arm. tom turned to see roger manning grinning at him. "worried, spaceboy?" asked roger easily. tom didn't answer. he simply withdrew his arm. "you know," said roger, "you're really a nice kid. it's a shame you won't make it. but the rules specifically say 'no cabbageheads.'" "no talking!" dr. dale called sharply from her desk. tom walked away and stood in the line at the slots. he found himself wanting to pass more than anything in the world. "please," he breathed, "please, just let me pass--" a soft gong began to sound. dr. dale stood up. "time's up," she announced. "please put your papers in the tubes and drop them in the slot." tom turned to see astro stuffing his papers in the thin cylinder disgustedly. phil morgan came up and stood in back of tom. his face was flushed. "everything o.k., phil?" inquired tom. "easy as free falling in space," replied the other cadet, his soft georgian drawl full of confidence. "how about you?" "i'm just hoping against hope." the few remaining stragglers hurried up to the line. "think astro'll make it?" asked phil. "i don't know," answered tom, "i saw him sweating over there like a man facing death." "i guess he is--in a way." astro took his place in line and shrugged his shoulders when tom leaned forward to give him a questioning look. "go ahead, tom," urged phil. tom turned and dropped his tube into the green-bordered slot and waited. he stared straight at the wall in front of him, hardly daring to breathe. presently, the tube was returned in the red slot. he took it, turned it over in his hands and walked slowly back to his desk. "you're washed out, cabbagehead!" manning's whisper followed him. "let's see if you can take it without bawling!" tom's face burned and he fought an impulse to answer manning with a stiff belt in the jaw. but he kept walking, reached his desk and sat down. astro, the last to return to his desk, held the tube out in front of him as if it were alive. the room was silent as dr. dale rose from her desk. "all right now, boys," she announced. "inside the tubes you will find colored slips of paper. those of you who have red slips will remain here. those who find green slips will return to their quarters. blue will go with captain strong, orange with lieutenant saminsky, and purple with warrant officer mckenny. now--please open the tubes." there was a tinkling of metal caps and then the slight rustle of paper as each boy withdrew the contents of the tube before him. tom took a deep breath and felt inside for the paper. he held his breath and pulled it out. it was green. he didn't know what it meant. he looked around. phil was signaling to him, holding up a blue slip. tom's heart skipped a beat. whatever the colors meant, he and phil were apart. he quickly turned around and caught astro's eye. the big venusian held up a green slip. tom's heart then nearly stopped beating. phil, who had breezed through with such confidence, held a blue slip, and astro, who hadn't even finished the test, held up the same color that he had. it could only mean one thing. failure. he felt the tears welling in his eyes, but had no strength left to fight them back. he looked up, his eyes meeting the insolent stare of roger manning who was half turned in his seat. remembering the caustic warning of the confident cadet, tom fought back the flood in his eyes and glared back. what would he tell his mother? and his father? and billy, his brother, five years younger than himself, whom he had promised to bring a flask of water from the grand canal on mars. and his sister! tom remembered the shining pride in her eyes when she kissed him good-bye at the stratoport as he left for atom city. from the front of the room, mckenny's rasping voice jarred him back to the present. "cadets--staaaaaaaand _to!_" there was a shuffle of feet as the boys rose as one. "all the purple slips follow me," he roared and turned toward the door. the cadets with purple slips marched after him. lieutenant saminsky stepped briskly to the front of the room. "cadets with orange slips will please come with me," he said casually, and another group of cadets left the room. from the rear of the room captain strong snapped out an order. "blue slips will come with me!" he turned smartly and followed the last of lieutenant saminsky's cadets out of the room. tom looked around. the room was nearly empty now. he looked over at astro and saw his big friend slumped moodily over against his desk. then, suddenly, he noticed roger manning. the arrogant cadet was not smiling any longer. he was staring straight ahead. before him on the desk, tom could see a green slip. so he had failed too, thought tom grimly. it was poor solace for the misery he felt. dr. dale stepped forward again. "will the cadets holding green slips return to their quarters. those with red slips will remain in their seats," she announced. tom found himself moving with difficulty. as he walked through the door, astro joined him. a look more eloquent than words passed between them and they made their way silently up the slidestairs back to their quarters. lying in his bunk, hands under his head, eyes staring into space, tom asked, "what happens now?" sprawled on his bunk, astro didn't answer right away. he merely gulped and swallowed hard. "i--i don't know," he finally stammered. "i just don't know." "what'll you do?" "it's back to the hold of a venusport freighter, i guess. i don't know." astro paused and looked at tom. "what'll you do?" "go home," said tom simply. "go home and--and find a job." "ever think about the enlisted solar guard? look at mckenny--" "yeah--but--" "i know how you feel," sighed astro. "being in the enlisted section--is like--well, being a passenger--almost." the door was suddenly flung open. "haul off them bunks, you blasted earthworms!" mckenny stood in the doorway in his usual aggressive pose, and tom and astro hit the floor together to stand at attention. "where's the other cadet?" "he went with captain strong, sir," answered tom. "oh?" said mike. and in a surprisingly soft tone he added, "you two pulled green slips, eh?" "yes, sir," they replied together. "well, i don't know how you did it, but congratulations. you passed the classification tests. both of you." tom just looked at the scarlet-clad, stumpy warrant officer. he couldn't believe his ears. suddenly he felt as if he had been lifted off his feet. and then he realized that he _was_ off his feet. astro was holding him over his head. then he dumped him in his bunk as easily as if he had been a child. and at the same time, the big venusian let out a loud, long, earsplitting yell. mckenny matched him with his bull-like roar. "plug that foghorn, you blasted earthworm. you'll have the whole academy in here thinking there's a murder." by this time tom was on his feet again, standing in front of mckenny. "you mean, we made it? we're really in? we're cadets?" "that's right." mckenny looked at a clip board in his hand and read, "cadet corbett, tom. qualified for control deck. cadet astro. power deck." astro took a deep breath and started another yell, but before he could let go, mckenny clamped a big hand over his mouth. "you bellow like that again and i'll make meteor dust out of you!" astro gulped and then matched tom's grin with one that spread from ear to ear. "what happened to philip morgan?" asked tom. "what color slip did he have?" "blue." "anything besides green washed out," replied mike quickly. "now let's see, you have a replacement for morgan in this unit. an astrogator." "greetings, gentlemen," drawled a voice that tom recognized without even looking. "allow me to introduce myself to my new unit-mates. my name is manning--roger manning. but then, we're old friends, aren't we?" "stow that rocket wash, manning," snapped mike. he glanced at the clock over the door. "you have an hour and forty-five minutes until lunch time. i suggest you take a walk around the academy and familiarize yourselves with the arrangement of the buildings." and then, for the first time, tom saw the hard little spaceman smile. "i'm glad you made it, boys. all three of you." he paused and looked at each of them in turn. "and i can honestly say i'm looking forward to the day when i can serve under you!" he snapped his back straight, gave the three startled boys a crisp salute, executed a perfect about-face and marched out of the room. "and that," drawled roger, strolling to the bunk nearest the window, "is the corniest bit of space gas i've ever heard." "listen, manning!" growled astro, spinning around quickly to face him. "yeah," purred roger, his eyes drawn to fine points, hands hanging loosely at his sides. "what would you like me to listen to, cadet astro?" the hulking cadet lunged at manning, but tom quickly stepped between them. "stow it, both of you!" he shouted. "we're in this room together, so we might as well make the best of it." "of course, corbett--of course," replied manning easily. he turned his back on astro, who stood, feet wide apart, neck muscles tight and hands clenched in hamlike fists. "one of these days i'll break you in two, manning. i'll close that fast-talking mouth of yours for good!" astro's voice was a low growl. roger stood near the window port and appeared to have forgotten the incident. the light shining in from the hallway darkened, and tom turned to see three blue-clad senior cadets arranged in a row just inside the door. "congratulations, gentlemen. you're now qualified cadets of space academy," said a redheaded lad about twenty-one. "my name is al dixon," he turned to his left and right, "and these are cadets bill houseman and rodney withrop." "hiya," replied tom. "glad to know you. i'm tom corbett. this is astro--and roger manning." astro shook hands, the three senior cadets giving a long glance at the size of the hand he offered. roger came forward smartly and shook hands with a smile. "we're sorta like a committee," began dixon. "we've come to sign you up for the academy sports program." they made themselves comfortable in the room. "you have a chance to take part in three sports. free-fall wrestling, mercuryball and space chess." dixon glanced at houseman and withrop. "from the looks of cadet astro, free-fall wrestling should be child's play for him!" astro merely grinned. "mercuryball is pretty much like the old game of soccer," explained houseman. "but inside the ball is a smaller ball filled with mercury, making it take crazy dips and turns. you have to be pretty fast even to touch it." "sounds like you have to be a little mercurian yourself," smiled tom. "you do," replied dixon. "oh, yes, you three play as a unit. competition starts in a few days. so if you've never played before, you might go down to the gym and start practicing." "you mentioned space chess," asked roger. "what's that?" "it's really nothing more than maneuvers. space maneuvers," said dixon. "a glass case, a seven-foot cube, is divided by light shafts into smaller cubes of equal shape and size. each man has a complete space squadron. three model rocket cruisers, six destroyers and ten scouts. the ships are filled with gas to make them float, and your power is derived from magnetic force. the problem is to get a combination of cruisers and destroyers and scouts into a space section where it could knock out your opponent's ships." "you mean," interrupted astro, "you've got to keep track of all those ships at once?" "don't worry, astro," commented roger quickly. "you use your muscles to win for dear old -d in free-fall wrestling. corbett here can pound down the grassy field for a goal in mercuryball, and i'll do the brainwork of space chess." the three visiting cadets exchanged sharp glances. "everybody plays together, manning," said dixon. "you three take part in each sport as a unit." "of course," nodded roger. "of course--as a unit." the three cadets stood up, shook hands all around and left. tom immediately turned to manning. "what was the idea of that crack about brains?" manning slouched over to the window port and said over his shoulder, "i don't know how you and your king-sized friend here passed the classifications test, corbett, and i don't care. but, as you say, we're a unit. so we might as well make adjustments." he turned to face them with a cold stare. "i know this academy like the palm of my hand," he went on. "never mind how, just take it for granted. _i know it._ i'm here for the ride. for a special reason i wouldn't care to have you know. i'll get my training and then pull out." he took a step forward, his face a mask of bitterness. "so from now on, you two guys leave me alone. you bore me to death with your emotional childish allegiance to this--this"--he paused and spit the last out cynically--"space kindergarten!" chapter "i just can't understand it, joan," said captain steve strong, tossing the paper on his circular desk. "the psychographs of corbett, manning and astro fit together like gears. and yet--" the solar guard officer suddenly rose and walked over to a huge window that filled the entire north wall of his office, a solid sheet of glass that extended from the high domed ceiling to the translucent flooring. through the window, he stared down moodily toward the grassy quadrangle, where at the moment several hundred cadets were marching in formation under a hot sun. "--and yet," continued strong, "every morning for the last three weeks i've got a report from mckenny about some sort of friction between them!" "i think it'll work out, steve," answered the pretty girl in the uniform of the solar guard, seated in an easy chair on the other side of the desk. joan dale held the distinction of being the first woman ever admitted into the solar guard, in a capacity other than administrative work. her experiments in atomic fissionables was the subject of a recent scientific symposium held on mars. over fifty of the leading scientists of the solar alliance had gathered to study her latest theory on hyperdrive, and had unanimously declared her ideas valid. she had been offered the chair as master of physics at the academy as a result, giving her access to the finest laboratory in the tri-planet society. now facing the problem of personality adjustment in unit -d, she sat across the desk from her childhood friend, steve strong, and frowned. "what's happened this time?" "manning." he paused. "it seems to be all manning!" "you mean he's the more aggressive of the three?" "no--not necessarily. corbett shows signs of being a number-one spaceman. and that big cadet, astro"--strong flashed a white smile that contrasted with his deep space tan--"i don't think he could make a manual mistake on the power deck if he tried. you know, i actually saw him put an auxiliary rocket motor together blindfolded!" the pretty scientist smiled. "i could have told you that after one look at his classification tests." "how?" "on questions concerning the power-deck operations, he was letter perfect--" "and on the others? astrogation and control deck?" "he just skimmed by. but even where the problem involved fuel, power, supply of energy, he offered some very practical answer to the problem." she smiled. "astro is as much an artist on that power deck as liddy tamal doing juliet in the stereos." "yes," mused strong. "and corbett is the same on the control deck. good instinctive intelligence. that boy soaks up knowledge like a sponge." "facile mind--quick to grasp the essentials." she smiled again. "seems to me i remember a few years back when a young lieutenant successfully put down a mutiny in space, and at his promotion to captain, the citation included the fact that he was quick to grasp the essentials." strong grinned sheepishly. a routine flight to titan had misfired into open rebellion by the crew. using a trick picked up in ancient history books of sea-roving pirates in the seventeenth century, he had joined the mutiny, gained control of the ship, sought out the ring-leaders and restored discipline. "and manning," asked strong. "what about manning?" "one of the hardest, brightest minds i've come across in the academy. he has a brain like a steel trap. he never misses." "then, do you think he's acting up because corbett is the nominal head of the unit? does he feel that he should be the command cadet in the control deck instead of corbett?" "no," replied dr. dale. "not at all. i'm sure he intentionally missed problems about control deck and command in his classification test. he concentrated on astrogation, communications and signal radar. he wanted to be assigned to the radar deck. and he turned in the best paper i've ever read from a cadet to get the post." strong threw up his hands. "then what is it? here we have a unit, on paper at least, that could be number one. a good combination of brains, experience and knowledge. everything that's needed. and what is the result? friction!" suddenly a buzzer sounded, and on steve strong's desk a small teleceiver screen glowed into life. gradually the stern face of commander walters emerged. "sorry to disturb you, steve. can you spare me a minute?" "of course, commander," replied strong. "is anything wrong?" "very wrong, steve. i've been looking over the daily performance reports on unit -d." "dr. dale and i have just been discussing that situation, sir." a relieved expression passed over the commander's face. "good! i wanted to get your opinions before i broke up the unit." "no, sir!" said strong quickly. "don't do that!" "oh?" replied the commander. on the screen he could be seen settling back in his chair. "and why not?" "well, joan--er--dr. dale and myself feel that the boys of unit -d make it potentially the best in the academy--if they stay together, sir." walters considered this for a moment and then asked thoughtfully, "give me one good reason why the unit shouldn't be washed out." "the academy needs boys like this, sir," steve answered flatly. "needs their intelligence, their experience. they may be a problem now, but if they're handled right, they'll turn out to be ace spacemen, they'll--" the commander interrupted. "you're pretty sold on them, aren't you, steve?" "yes, sir, i am." "you know, tomorrow all the units will be assigned to their personal instructors." "yes, sir. and i've selected lieutenant wolcheck for this unit. he's tough and smart. i think he's just the man for the job." "i don't agree, steve. wolcheck is a fine officer and with any other unit there'd be no question. but i think we have a better man for the job." "whom do you suggest, sir?" the commander leaned forward in his chair. "you, steve." "me?" "what do you think, joan?" "i wanted to make the same suggestion, commander," smiled joan. "but i didn't know if steve really would want the assignment." "well, what about it, steve?" asked the commander. "this is no reflection on your present work. but if you're so convinced that -d is worth the trouble, then take them over and mold them into spacemen. otherwise, i'll have to wash them out." strong hesitated a moment. "all right, sir. i'll do my best." on the screen the stern lines in commander walters' face relaxed and he smiled approvingly. "thanks, steve," he said softly. "i was hoping you'd say that. keep me posted." the screen blacked out abruptly and captain strong turned to joan dale, a troubled frown wrinkling his brow. "huh. i really walked into that one, didn't i?" he muttered. "it isn't going to be easy, steve," she replied. "easy!" he snorted and walked over to the window to stare blankly at the quadrangle below. "i'd almost rather try a landing on the hot side of mercury. it would be icy compared to this situation!" "you can do it, steve. i know you can." joan moved to his side to place a reassuring hand on his arm. the solar guard officer didn't answer immediately. he kept on staring at the academy grounds and buildings spread out before him. when he finally spoke, his voice rang with determination. "i've got to do it, joan. i've got to whip those boys into a unit. not only for their sakes--but for the sake of the academy!" chapter the first three weeks of an earthworm's life at space academy are filled with never-ending physical training and conditioning to meet the rigors of rocket flight and life on distant planets. and under the grueling pressure of fourteen-hour days, filled with backbreaking exercises and long forced marches, very few of the boys can find anything more desirable than sleep--and more sleep. under this pressure the friction in unit -d became greater and greater. roger and astro continually needled each other with insults, and tom gradually slipped into the role of arbiter. returning from a difficult afternoon of endless marching in the hot sun with the prospect of an evening of free-fall wrestling before them, the three cadets dragged themselves wearily onto the slidestairs leading to their quarters, their muscles screaming for rest. "another day like this," began astro listlessly, "and i'm going to melt down to nothing. doesn't mckenny have a heart?" "no, just an asteroid," tom grumbled. "he'll never know how close he came to getting a space boot in the face when he woke us up this morning. oh, man! was i tired!" "stop complaining, will you?" snarled roger. "all i've heard from you two space crawlers is gripes and complaints." "if i wasn't so tired, roger," said astro, "i'd give you something to gripe about. a flat lip!" "knock it off, astro," said tom wearily. the role of keeping them apart was getting tiresome. "the trouble with you, astro," pursued roger, "is that you think with your muscles instead of your head." "yeah, i know. and you've got an electronic calculator for a brain. all you have to do is push a button and you get the answers all laid out for you." they had reached their quarters now and were stripping off their sweat-soaked uniforms in preparation for a cool shower. "you know, roger," continued astro, "you've got a real problem ahead of you." "any problem you think i have is no problem at all," was the cool reply. "yes, it is," insisted astro. "when you're ready for your first hop in space, you won't be able to make it!" "why not?" "they don't have a space helmet in the academy large enough to fit that overinflated head of yours!" roger turned slowly and spoke to tom without looking at him. "close the door, corbett!" "why?" asked tom, puzzled. "because i don't want any interruptions. i'm going to take that big hunk of venusian space junk apart." "anything you say, you bigmouthed squirt!" roared astro. "hey--knock it off!" yelled tom, jumping between them and grabbing astro's arm. "if you guys don't lay off each other, you're going to be thrown out of the academy, and i'll be thrown out with you! i'll be blasted if i'll suffer for your mistakes!" "that's a very interesting statement, corbett!" a deep voice purred from the doorway and the three boys whirled to see captain strong walk into the room, his black and gold uniform fitting snugly across the shoulders betraying their latent strength. "stand to--all of you!" as the boys quickly snapped to attention, strong eyed them slowly and then moved casually around the room. he picked up a book, looked out of the window port, pushed a boot to one side and, finally, removed tom's sweat-stained uniform from a chair and sat down. the cadets held their rigid poses, backs stiff, eyes looking straight ahead. "corbett?" snapped strong. "yes, sir?" "what was the meaning of that little speech i heard a moment ago?" "i--ah--don't quite understand what you mean, sir," stumbled tom. "i think you do," said strong. "i want to know what provoked you to make such a statement." "i'd rather not answer that, sir." "don't get cute, corbett!" barked strong. "i know what's going on in this unit. were manning and astro squaring off to fight?" "yes, sir," replied tom slowly. "all right. at ease all of you," said strong. the three boys relaxed and faced the officer. "manning, do you want to be a successful cadet here at space academy?" "yes, sir," answered roger. "then why don't you act like it?" asked strong. "is there something wrong with my work, sir?" tom recognized the smooth manning confidence begin to appear, and he wondered if captain strong would be taken in. "everything's wrong with your work," barked strong. "you're too smart! know too much!" he stopped short and then added softly with biting sarcasm, "why do you know so much, cadet manning?" roger hesitated. "i've studied very hard. studied for years to become a space cadet," he replied. "just to be a cadet or a successful cadet _and_ a solar guard officer?" "to be successful at both, sir." "tell me, manning, do you have any ideas on life?" "that's a pretty general question, sir. do you mean life as a whole or a specific part of life?" they're fencing with each other, thought tom. he held his breath as strong eyed the relaxed, confident cadet. "a spaceman is supposed to have but one idea in life, manning. and that idea is _space_!" "i see, sir," replied roger, as a faraway look came into his eyes. "yes, sir, i have some ideas about life in space." "i'd like to hear them!" requested strong coldly. "very well, sir." roger relaxed his shoulders and leaned against the bunk. "i believe space is the last frontier of man--earthman. it's the last place for man to conquer. it is the greatest adventure of all time and i want to be a part of that adventure." "thank you, manning." strong's voice was even colder than before. "but as it happens, i can read too. that was a direct quote from the closing paragraph of jon builker's book on his trip to the stars!" he paused. "couldn't you think of anything original to say?" roger flushed and gritted his teeth. tom could hardly keep himself from laughing. captain strong had scored heavily! the solar guard officer then turned his attention to astro. "astro, where in the name of the universe did you get the idea you could be an officer in the solar guard?" "i can handle anything with push in it, sir!" astro smiled his confidence. "know anything about hyperdrive?" "uhh--no, sir." "then you can't handle everything with, as you say, push in it!" snapped strong. "er--no, sir," answered astro, his face clouding over. there was a long moment of silence while strong lifted one knee, swung it over the arm of his chair, and looked steadily at the two half-naked boys in front of him. he smiled lazily. "well, for two earthworms, you've certainly been acting like a couple of space aces!" he let that soak in while he toyed with the gleaming academy ring on his finger. he allowed it to flash in the light of the window port, then slipped it off and flipped it over to corbett. "know what that is?" he asked the curly-haired cadet. "yes, sir," replied tom. "your academy graduation ring." "uh-huh. now give it to our friend from venus." tom gingerly handed astro the ring. "try it on, astro," invited strong. the big cadet tried it on all of his fingers but couldn't get it past the first joint. "give it to manning." roger accepted the ring and held it in the palm of his hand. he looked at it with a hard stare, then dropped it in the outstretched hand of the solar guard officer. replacing it on his finger, strong spoke casually. "all units design their own rings. there are only three like this in the universe. one is drifting around in space on the finger of sam jones. another is blasting a trail to the stars on the finger of addy garcia." he held up his finger. "this is the third one." strong got up and began to pace in front of the boys. "addy garcia couldn't speak a word of english when he first came to the academy. and for eight weeks sam and i sweated to figure out what he was talking about. i think we spent over a hundred hours in the galley doing kp because addy kept getting us fouled up. but that didn't bother us because we were a unit. unit -v. class of ." strong turned to face the silent cadets. "sam jones was pretty much like you, astro. not as big, but with the same love for that power deck. he could always squeeze a few extra pounds of thrust out of those rockets. what he knew about astrogation and control, you could stick on the head of a pin. on long flights he wouldn't even come up to the control deck. he just sat in the power hole singing loud corny songs about the arkansas mountains to those atomic motors. he was a real power-deck man. but he was a _unit_ man first! the only reason i'm here to tell you about it is because he never forgot the unit. he died saving addy and myself." the room was still. down the long hall, the lively chatter of other cadets could be heard as they showered and prepared for dinner. in the distance, the rumble of the slidewalks and test firing of rockets at the spaceport was dim, subdued, powerful. "the unit is the backbone of the academy," continued strong. "it was set up to develop three men to handle a solar guard rocket cruiser. three men who could be taught to think, feel and act as one intelligent brain. three men who would respect each other and who could depend on each other. tomorrow you begin your real education. you will be supervised and instructed personally. "many men have contributed to the knowledge that will be placed in front of you--brave, intelligent men, who blasted through the atmosphere with a piece of metal under them for a spaceship and a fire in their tail for rockets. but everything they accomplished goes to waste if the unit can't become a single personality. it must be a single personality, or it doesn't exist. the unit is the ultimate of hundreds of years of research and progress. but you have to fight to create it and keep it living. either you want it, or you get out of the academy!" captain strong turned away momentarily and tom and astro looked at roger significantly. "stand to!" the three boys snapped to attention as the wide-shouldered captain addressed them again. "tomorrow you begin to learn how to think as a single brain. to act with combined intelligence as one person. you either make up your minds to start tomorrow or you report to commander walters and resign. there isn't any room here for individuals." he stepped to the door and paused. "one more thing. i've been given the job of making you over into spacemen. i'm your unit commander. if you're still here in the morning, i'll accept that as your answer. if you think you can't take"--he paused--"what i'm going to dish out, then you know what you can do. and if you stay, you'll _be_ the best unit, or i'll break you in two in the attempt. unit dis ... missed!" and he was gone. the three cadets stood still, not knowing quite what to do or say. finally tom stepped before astro and roger. "well," he said quietly, "how about it, you guys? are you going to lay off each other now?" astro flushed, but roger eyed corbett coolly. "were you really taken in with that space gas, tom?" he turned to the shower room. "if you were, then you're more childish than i thought." "a man died to save another man's life, roger. sam jones. i never knew him. but i've met captain strong, and i believe that he would have done the same thing for jones." "very noble," commented roger from the doorway. "but i'll tell you this, manning," said tom, following him, fighting for self-control, "i wouldn't want to have to depend on you to save my life. and i wouldn't want to be faced with the situation where i would have to sacrifice mine to save yours!" roger turned and glared at tom. "the academy regs say that the man on the control deck is the boss of the unit. but i have my private opinion of the man who has that job now!" "what's that supposed to mean?" asked tom. "just this, spaceboy. there's a gym below where i'll take you _or_ your big friend on--together--or one at a time." he paused, a cold smile twisting his lips. "and that offer is good as of right now!" tom and astro looked at each other. "i'm afraid," began astro slowly, "that you wouldn't stand much of a chance with me, manning. so if tom wants the chore of buttoning your lip, he's welcome to it." "thanks, astro," said tom evenly. "it'll be my pleasure." without another word, the three cadets walked out of the door. chapter "will this do, manning?" asked tom. the three boys were in a secluded corner of the gym, a large hall on the fourteenth floor of the dormitory building. at the far end of the gym, a group of cadets had just finished a game of mercuryball and were sauntering to the showers. when the last boy had disappeared, the floor was deserted except for tom, roger and astro. "this will do fine, corbett," said roger. the boxing ring had been taken down the week before to make room for drills and the physical exercises of the earthworms, so the three boys had to improvise a ring. they dragged four large tumbling mats together, spreading them side by side to form a square close to the size of an actual ring. astro went to one of the small lockers under the balcony and returned with two pairs of boxing gloves. "here," offered astro, "put these on." "gloves?" asked roger, in a voice of mock surprise. "i thought this was going to be a battle of blood." "any way you want it, manning. any way at all," said tom. "you're going to use gloves," growled astro. "i don't want anybody killed." he threw a pair at each of them. "there'll be three-minute rounds, with one minute rest," he continued. "go off the mats and you'll be counted out. usual rules otherwise. any questions?" "clear to me, astro," said tom. "let's go," nodded roger. "one more thing," said astro. "i hope tom pins your ears back, manning. but i'm going to see that both of you get a fair deal. so keep the punches up--and fight it out. all right--time!" the two boys moved carefully to the center of the improvised ring, their guards up, while astro stood off the edge of the mat and watched the sweeping second hand of his wrist chronograph. shuffling forward tom pushed out a probing left and then tried to cross his right, but manning stepped back easily, countering with a hard left to tom's heart. "i forgot to tell you, corbett," he called out, "i'm considered a counterpuncher. i always--" he was cut off with a sharp left to the face that snapped his head back, and his lips curled in a smile of condescension. "good--very good, corbett." then with lightning speed and the grace of a cat, roger slipped inside tom's guard, punching hard and true. a left, a right and a left pounded into tom's mid-section, and as he gave way momentarily tom's face clouded over. they circled. tom kept leading with sharp lefts that popped in and out like a piston, always connecting and keeping roger off balance. roger concentrated on penetrating tom's defense, methodically pounding his ribs and heart and trying to wear him down. "time!" bawled astro. the two boys dropped their hands and turned back to their corners. they squatted on the floor breathing slowly and easily. astro stood in the middle of the ring, glaring at both of them in turn and shaking his head. "huh. i expected to see you two try to wallop each other into meteor dust! keep fighting like that and we'll be here all night!" "talk to corbett," sneered roger. "looks like he's afraid to mix it up!" "you fight your way, roger, and i'll fight mine," replied tom, his voice cold and impersonal. "time!" suddenly yelled astro and stepped back off the mat. the two cadets jumped to their feet and met in the center of the ring again. with a bull-like rush, roger changed tactics and began to rain punches all over tom's body, but the curly-haired cadet stood his ground coolly, picking some off in mid-air with his gloves and sliding under the others. then, as roger slowed down, tom took the offensive, popping his left into his opponent's face steadily and methodically, while keeping his right cocked for a clear opening to the chin. roger danced in and out, watching tom's left as though it was a snake and trying unsuccessfully to get through his guard. but the sharp lefts kept snapping his head back and his face began to redden, not only from the sting of the blows but with the mounting fury of his frustration. suddenly, as astro raised his arm to call time for the end of the round, roger jumped forward and rained another series of harmless blows on tom's shoulders and arms. but then, as the big venusian called time, he stepped back and tom dropped his guard. instantly, roger threw a right with all his weight behind it. it landed flush on tom's jaw and he dropped, sprawling full length on the mats and lying still. smiling, roger sauntered to his corner while astro charged in and bent over the fallen cadet. "none of that, astro!" snapped roger. "since when does a referee take sides? leave him alone! if he doesn't come out for the next round, you have to count him out!" the big venusian straightened and walked menacingly toward roger's corner. "you hit him after i called time," he growled. "so i have to take you on too, huh?" roger jumped to his feet. "all right--come on, you big blast of space gas!" "wait, astro ... wait!" astro suddenly wheeled around to see tom shaking his head weakly and trying to rise up on his elbows. he rushed back to the fallen boy's side. roger shouted at him angrily, "leave him alone!" "ahhh--go blow your jets!" was astro's snarling reply as he bent over tom, who was now sitting up. "tom, are you o.k.?" "yeah--yeah," he replied weakly. "but stay out of this. you're the referee. how much time left?" "twenty seconds," said astro. "roger smacked you after i called time." "if he did, i didn't know a thing about it. i was out." tom managed a cold smile. "nice punch, roger." "ten seconds," said astro, stepping back off the mat. "thanks for the compliment, corbett." roger eyed the other cadet speculatively. "but are you sure you want to go on?" "i was saved by the bell, wasn't i?" "yeah--sure--but if you'd rather quit--" "time!" cried astro. tom rose to his feet--shook his head--and brought up his hands. he wasn't a moment too soon. roger had rushed across the mat, trying to land another murderous right. tom brought up his shoulder just in time, slipping with the punch, and at the same time, bringing up a terrific left to roger's open mid-section. manning let out a grunt and clinched. tom pursued his advantage, pumping rights and lefts to the body, and he could feel the arrogant cadet weakening. suddenly, roger crowded in close, wrestling tom around so that astro was on the opposite side of the mat, then brought up his head under tom's chin. the pop of tom's teeth could be heard all over the great hall. roger quickly stepped back, and back-pedaled until astro called time. "thanks for teaching me that one, roger. learned two tricks from you today," said tom, breathing heavily, but with the same cold smile on his face. "that's all right, corbett. any time," said manning. "what tricks?" asked astro. he looked suspiciously at manning, who was doubled over, finding it hard to breath. "nothing i can't handle in time," said tom, looking at roger. "time!" called astro and stepped off the mat. the two boys got to their feet slowly. the pace was beginning to show on them and they boxed carefully. the boys were perfectly matched, tom constantly snapping roger's head back with the jolting left jabs and following to the head or heart with a right cross. and roger counterpunching, slipping hooks and body punches in under tom's long leads. it was a savage fight. the three weeks of hard physical training had conditioned the boys perfectly. at the end of the twelfth round, both boys showed many signs of wear. roger's cheeks were as red as the glow of a jet blast deflector from the hundreds of lefts tom had pumped into his face, while tom's ribs and mid-section were bruised and raw where roger's punches had landed successfully. it couldn't last much longer, thought astro, as he called time for the beginning of the thirteenth round. roger quickened his pace, dancing in and out, trying to move in under tom's lefts, but suddenly tom caught him with a right hand that was cocked and ready. it staggered him and he fell back, covering up. tom pressed his advantage, showering rights and lefts everywhere he could find an opening. in desperation, his knees buckling, roger clinched tightly, quickly brought up his open glove and gouged his thumb into tom's eyes. tom pulled back, instinctively pawing at his eye with his right glove. roger, spotting the opening, took immediate advantage of it, shooting a hard looping right that landed flush on tom's jaw. tom went down. unaware of roger's tactics, astro jumped into the ring and his arm pumped the deadly count. "one--two--three--four--" it was going to be tough if roger won, astro thought, as he counted. "five--six--" arrogant enough now, he would be impossible to live with. "seven--eight--" tom struggled up to a sitting position and stared angrily at his opponent in the far corner. "nine--" with one convulsive effort, tom regained his feet. his left eye was closed and swollen, his right bleary with fatigue. he wobbled drunkenly on his feet. but he pressed forward. this was one fight he had to win. roger moved in for the finish. he slammed a left into tom's shell, trying to find an opening for the last finishing blow. but tom remained in his shell, forearms picking off the smashes that even hurt his arms, as he waited for the strength to return to his legs and arms and his head to clear. he knew that he couldn't go another round. he wouldn't be able to see. it would have to be this round, and he had to _beat_ roger. _not_ because he wanted to, but because roger was a member of the unit. and he had to keep the unit together. he circled his unit-mate with care, shielding himself from the shower of rights and lefts that rained around him. he waited--waited for the one perfect opening. "come on! open up and fight, corbett," panted roger. tom snapped his right in reply. he noticed that roger moved in with a hook every time he tried to cross his right. he waited--his legs began to shake. roger circled and tom shot out the left again, dropped into a semicrouch and feinted with the right cross. roger moved in, cocking his fist for the left hook and tom was ready for him. he threw the right, threw it with every ounce of strength left in his body. roger was caught moving in and took the blow flush on the chin. he stopped as if poleaxed. his eyes turned glassy and then he dropped to the mat. he was out cold. astro didn't even bother to count. tom squatted on the mat beside roger and rubbed the blond head with his glove. "get some water, astro," he said, gasping for breath. "i'm glad i don't have to fight this guy again. and i'll tell you something else--" "what?" asked astro. "anybody that wants to win as much as this guy does, is going to win, and i want to have him on my side!" astro merely grunted as he turned toward the water cooler. "maybe," he called back. "but he ought to read a book of rules first!" when he came back to the mat with the water, roger was sitting up, biting the knots of the laces on his gloves. tom helped him, and when the soggy leather was finally discarded, he stuck out his hand. "well, roger, i'm ready to forget everything we've said and start all over again." roger looked at the extended hand for a moment, his eyes blank and expressionless. then, with a quick movement, he slapped it away and lurched to his feet. "go blow your jets," he snarled, and turning his back on them, stumbled across the gym. tom watched him go, bewilderment and pain mirrored on his face. "i thought sure this would work, astro," he sighed. "i thought he'd come to his senses if--" "nothing'll make that space creep come to his senses," astro broke in disgustedly. "at least, nothing short of an atomic war head! come on. let's get you cleaned up!" putting his arm around tom's shoulder, the big venusian led him across the floor of the deserted gym, and as they disappeared through the automatic sliding doors, a tall figure in the uniform of the solar guard stepped out of the shadows on the balcony above. it was captain strong. he stood silently at the rail, looking down at the mats and the soggy discarded boxing gloves. tom had won the fight, he thought, but he had lost the war. the unit was now farther apart than it had ever been. [illustration] chapter "well, steve, how's everything going?" captain steve strong didn't answer right away. he returned the salute of a space cadet passing on the opposite slidewalk and then faced commander walters who stood beside him, eyeing him quizzically. "things are shaping up pretty well, commander," he replied, finally, with an air of unconcern. "the earthworm units buckling down to business?" commander walters' voice matched strong's in nonchalance. "yes, i'd say so, sir. speaking generally, of course." strong felt the back of his neck begin to flush as walters kept eyeing him. "and--speaking specifically, steve?" "why--ah--what do you mean, sir?" "let's stop fencing with each other, steve." walters spoke kindly but firmly. "what about manning and unit -d? are those boys learning to work together or not? and i want facts, not hopes!" strong hesitated, trying to word his reply. in these weeks that had followed tom's fight with roger in the gym, there had been no further incidents of open warfare. roger's attitude, once openly defiant, had now subsided into a stream of never-ending sarcasm. the sting had been taken out of his attack and he seemed satisfied merely to annoy. astro had withdrawn into a shell, refusing to allow roger to bother him and only an occasional rumble of anger indicated his true feelings toward his troublesome unit-mate. tom maintained his role of peacemaker and daily, in many ways, showed his capacity for leadership by steering his unit-mates away from any storm-provoking activities. strong finally broke the silence. "it's difficult to answer that question with facts, commander walters." "why?" insisted walters. "well, nothing's really happened," answered steve. "you mean, nothing since the fight in the gym?" "oh--" strong flushed. "you know about that?" commander walters smiled. "black eyes and faces that looked like raw beef don't go unnoticed, steve." "uhh--no, sir," was strong's lame reply. "what i want to know is," pursued walters, "did the fight prove anything? did the boys get it out of their systems and are they concentrating on becoming a unit?" "right now, commander, they're concentrating on passing their manuals. they realize that they have to work together to get through this series of tests. why, dr. dale told me the other day that she's sure tom's been giving roger a few pointers on control-deck operation. and one night i found manning giving astro a lecture in compression ratios. of course, manning's way of talking is a way that would confuse the venusian more than it would help him, but at least they weren't snarling at each other." "hmm," walters nodded. "sounds hopeful, but still not conclusive. after all, they have to help each other in the manuals. if one member of the unit fails, it will reflect on the marks of the other two and they might be washed out too. even the deadliest enemies will unite to save their lives." "perhaps, sir," replied strong. "but we're not dealing with deadly enemies now. these are three boys, with three distinct personalities who've been lumped together in strange surroundings. it takes time and patience to make a team that will last for years." "you may have the patience, steve, but the academy hasn't the time." commander walters was suddenly curt. "when does unit -d take its manuals?" "this afternoon, sir," replied strong. "i'm on my way over to the examination hall right now." "very well. i won't take any action yet. i'll wait for the results of the tests. perhaps they will solve both our problems. see you later, steve." turning abruptly, commander walters stepped off the slidewalk onto the steps of the administration building and rapidly disappeared from view. left alone, strong pondered the commander's parting statement. the implication was clear. if the unit failed to make a grade high enough to warrant the trouble it took keeping it together, it would be broken up. or even worse, one or more of the boys would be dismissed from the academy. a few minutes later strong arrived in the examination hall, a large, barren room with a small door in each of the three walls other than the one containing the entrance. tom corbett was waiting in the center of the hall and saluted smartly as strong approached. "cadet corbett reporting for manual examination, sir!" "stand easy, corbett," replied strong, returning the salute. "this is going to be a rough one. are you fully prepared?" "i believe so, sir." tom's voice wasn't too steady. a fleeting smile passed over strong's lips, then he continued. "you'll take the control-deck examination first. manning will be next on the radar bridge and astro last on the power deck." "they'll be here according to schedule, sir." "very well. follow me." strong walked quickly to the small door in the left wall, tom staying a respectful step behind. when they reached the door, the officer pressed a button in the wall beside it and the door slid open. "all right, corbett. inside." strong nodded toward the interior of the room. the boy stepped in quickly, then stopped in amazement. all around him was a maze of instruments and controls. and in the center, twin pilot's chairs. "captain strong!" tom was so surprised that he could hardly get the words out. "it's--it's a real control deck!" strong smiled. "as real as we can make it, corbett, without allowing the building to blast off." he gestured toward the pilot's chairs. "take your place and strap in." "yes, sir." his eyes still wide with wonder, tom stepped over to the indicated chair and strong followed him, leaning casually against the other. he watched the young cadet nervously adjust his seat strap and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "nervous, corbett?" "yes, sir--just a little," replied tom. "don't worry," said strong. "you should have seen the way i came into this room fifteen years ago. my cadet officer had to help me into the control pilot's seat." tom managed a fleeting smile. "now, corbett"--strong's voice became businesslike--"as you know, these manual tests are the last tests before actually blasting off. in the past weeks, you cadets have been subjected to every possible examination, to discover any flaw in your work that might later crop up in space. this manual operations test of the control board, like manning's on the radar bridge and astro's on the power deck, is designed to test you under simulated space conditions. if you pass this test, your next step is real space." "yes, sir." "i warn you, it isn't easy. and if you fail, you personally will wash out, and if other members of the unit do not get a high enough mark to average out to a passing grade for all of you, you fail as a unit." "i understand, sir," said tom. "all right, then we'll begin. your crew is aboard, the air lock is closed. what is the first thing you do?" "adjust the air circulating system to ensure standard earth conditions." "how do you do that?" "by pressing this button which will activate the servo units. they automatically keep the circulating pumps in operation, based on thermostatic readings from the main gauge." tom pointed to a black clock face, with a luminous white hand and numbers. "all right, carry on," said strong. tom reached over the huge control board that extended around him for some two feet on three sides. he placed a nervous finger on a small button, waited for the gauge below to register with a swing of the hand, and then released it. "all pressures steady, sir." "what next?" "check the crew, sir--all departments--" replied tom. "carry on," said strong. tom reached out and pulled a microphone toward him. "all hands! station check!" said tom, and then was startled to hear a metallic voice answer him. "power deck, ready for blast-off!" and then another voice: "radar deck, ready for blast-off!" tom leaned back in the pilot's seat and turned to the captain. "all stations ready, sir." "good! what next?" asked strong. "ask spaceport tower for blast-off clearance--" strong nodded. tom turned back to the microphone, and without looking, punched a button in front of him. "rocket cruiser--" he paused and turned back to strong. "what name do i give, sir?" strong smiled. "_noah's ark_--" "rocket cruiser _noah's ark_ to spaceport control! request blast-off clearance and orbit." once again a thin metallic voice answered him and gave the necessary instructions. on and on, through every possible command, condition or decision that would be placed in front of him, tom guided his imaginary ship on its imaginary flight through space. for two hours he pushed buttons, snapped switches and jockeyed controls. he gave orders and received them from the thin metallic voices. they answered him with such accuracy, and sometimes with seeming hesitation, that tom found it difficult to believe that they were only electronically controlled recording devices. once, when supposedly blasting through space at three-quarters space speed, he received a warning from the radar bridge of an approaching asteroid. he asked for a course change, but in reply received only static. believing the recording to have broken down, he turned inquiringly to captain strong, but received only a blank stare in return. tom hesitated for a split second, then turned back to the controls. he quickly flipped the teleceiver button on and began plotting the course of the approaching asteroid, ignoring for the moment his other duties on the control deck. when he had finished, he gave the course shift to the power deck and ordered a blast on the starboard jet. he waited for the course change, saw it register on the gauges in front of him, then continued his work. strong suddenly leaned over and clapped him on the back enthusiastically. "good work, corbett. that broken recording was put there intentionally to trap you. not one cadet in twenty would have had the presence of mind you showed in plotting the course of that asteroid yourself." "thank you, sir," stammered tom. "that's all--the test is over. return to your quarters." he came over and laid a hand on tom's shoulder. "and don't worry, corbett. while it isn't customary to tell a cadet, i think you deserve it. you've passed with a perfect score!" "i have, sir? you mean--_i really passed?_" "next step is manning," said strong. "you've done as much as one cadet can do." "thank you, sir"--tom could only repeat it over and over--"thank you, sir--thank you." dazed, he saluted his superior and turned to the door. two hours in the pilot's chair had made him dizzy. but he was happy. five minutes later he slammed back the sliding door and entered the quarters of -d with a lusty shout. "meet space cadet corbett--an earthworm who's just passed his control-deck manual operations exam!" astro looked up from a book of tables on astrogation and gave tom a wan smile. "congratulations, tom," he said, and turned back to his book, adding bitterly, "but if i don't get these tables down by this afternoon for my power-deck manual, you're sunk." "say--what's going on here?" asked tom. "where's roger? didn't he help you with them?" "he left. said he had to see someone before taking his radar-bridge manual. he helped me a little. but when i'd ask him a question, he'd just rattle the answer off so fast--well, i just couldn't follow him." suddenly slamming the book shut, he got up. "me and these tables"--he indicated the book--"just don't mix!" "what's the trouble?" "ah--i can get the easy ones about astrogation. they're simple. but it's the ones where i have to _combine_ it with the power deck." "well--i mean--what specifically?" asked tom softly. "for instance, i've got to find the ratio for compression on the main firing tubes, using a given amount of fuel, heading for a given destination, and taking a given time for the passage." "but that's control-deck operations--as well as astrogation and power!" exclaimed tom. "yeah--i know," answered astro, "but i've still got to be able to do it. if anything happened to you two guys and i didn't know how to get you home, then what?" tom hesitated. astro was right. each member of the unit had to depend on the other in any emergency. and if one of them failed...? tom saw why the ground manuals were so important now. "look," offered tom. "suppose we go over the whole thing again together. maybe you're fouled up on the basic concept." tom grabbed a chair, hitched it close to the desk and pulled astro down beside him. he opened the book and began studying the problem. "now look--you have twenty-two tons of fuel--and considering the position of your ship in space--" as the two boys, their shoulders hunched over the table, began reviewing the table of ratios, across the quadrangle in the examination hall roger manning stood in a replica of a rocket ship's radar bridge and faced captain strong. "cadet manning reporting for manual examination, sir." roger brought up his arm in a crisp salute to captain strong, who returned it casually. "stand easy, manning," replied strong. "do you recognize this room?" "yes, sir. it's a mock-up of a radar bridge." "a workable mock-up, cadet!" strong was vaguely irritated by roger's nonchalance in accepting a situation that tom had marveled at. "you will take your manuals here!" "yes, sir." "on these tests you will be timed for both efficiency and speed and you'll use all the tables, charts and astrogation equipment that you'd find in a spaceship. your problems are purely mathematical. there are no decisions to make. just use your head." strong handed roger several sheets of paper containing written problems. roger shuffled them around in his fingers, giving each a quick glance. "you may begin any time you are ready, manning," said strong. "i'm ready now, sir," replied roger calmly. he turned to the swivel chair located between the huge communications board, the adjustable chart table and the astrogation prism. directly in front of him was the huge radar scanner, and to one side and overhead was a tube mounted on a swivel joint that looked like a small telescope, but which was actually an astrogation prism for taking sights on the celestial bodies in space. roger concentrated on the first problem. " ... you are now in the northwest quadrant of mars, chart m, area twenty-eight. you have been notified by the control deck that it has been necessary to jettison three quarters of your fuel supply. for the last five hundred and seventy-nine seconds you have been blasting at one-quarter space speed. the four main drive rockets were cut out at thirty-second intervals. making adjustment for degree of slip on each successive rocket cutout, find present position by using cross-fix with regulus as your starboard fix, alpha centauri as your port fix." suddenly a bell began to ring in front of roger. without hesitation he adjusted a dial that brought the radar scanner into focus. when the screen remained blank, he made a second adjustment, and then a third and fourth, until the bright white flash of a meteor was seen on the scanner. he quickly grabbed two knobs, one in each hand, and twisted them to move two thin, plotting lines, one horizontal and one vertical, across the surface of the scanner. setting the vertical line, he fingered a tabulating machine with his right hand, as he adjusted the second line with his left, thus cross-fixing the meteor. then he turned his whole attention to the tabulator, ripped off the answer with lightning moves of his fingers and began talking rapidly into the microphone. "radar bridge to control deck! alien body bearing zero-one-five, one-point-seven degrees over plane of the ecliptic. on intersecting orbit. change course two degrees, hold for fifteen seconds, then resume original heading. will compensate for change nearer destination!" roger watched the scanner a moment longer. when the rumbling blast of the steering jets sounded in the chamber and the meteor flash shifted on the scanner screen, he returned to the problem in his hand. seven minutes later he turned to strong and handed him the answer. "present position by dead reckoning is northwest quadrant of mars, chart o, area thirty-nine, sir," he announced confidently. [illustration: "_i was unable to get a sight on alpha centauri_"] strong tried to mask his surprise, but a lifted eyebrow gave him away. "and how did you arrive at this conclusion, manning?" "i was unable to get a sight on alpha centauri due to the present position of jupiter, sir," replied roger easily. "so i took a fix on earth, allowed for its rotational speed around the sun and took the cross-fix with regulus as ordered in the problem. of course, i included all the other factors of the speed and heading of our ship. that was routine." strong accepted the answer with a curt nod, motioning for roger to continue. it would not do, thought strong, to let manning know that he was the first cadet in thirty-nine years to make the correct selection of earth in working up the fix with regulus, and still have the presence of mind to plot a meteor without so much as a half-degree error. of course the problem varied with each cadet, but it remained essentially the same. "seven-and-a-half minutes. commander walters will be surprised, to say the least," thought steve. forty-five minutes later, roger, as unruffled as if he had been sitting listening to a lecture from a sound slide, handed in the rest of his papers, executed a sharp salute and walked out. "two down and one to go," thought strong, and the toughest one of them all coming up. astro. the big venusian was unable to understand anything that couldn't be turned with a wrench. the only thing that would prevent unit -d from taking academy unit honors over unit -k, the unit assigned to lieutenant wolcheck, would be astro. while none of the members of the other units could come up to the individual brilliance of corbett or manning, they worked together as a unit, helping one another. they might make a higher unit rating, simply because they were better balanced. he shrugged his shoulders and collected the papers. it was as much torture for him, as it was for any cadet, he thought, and turned to the door. "all right, astro," he said to himself, "in ten minutes it'll be your turn and i'm going to make it tough!" back in the quarters of unit -d, tom and astro still pored over the books and papers on the desk. "let's try again, astro," sighed tom as he hitched his chair closer to the desk. "you've got thirty tons of fuel--you want to find the compression ratio of the number-one firing-tube chamber--so what do you do?" "start up the auxiliary, burn a little of the stuff and judge what it'll be," the big cadet replied. "that's the way i did it on the space freighters." "but you're not on a space freighter now!" exclaimed tom. "you've got to do things the way they want it done here at the academy. by the book! these tables have been figured out by great minds to help you, and you just want to burn a little of the stuff and guess at what it'll be!" tom threw up his hands in disgust. "seems to me i heard of an old saying back in the teen centuries about leading a horse to water, but not being able to make him drink!" drawled roger from the doorway. he strolled in and kicked at the crumpled sheets of paper that littered the floor, stark evidence of tom's efforts with astro. "all right, wise guy," said tom, "suppose you explain it to him!" "no can do," replied roger. "i tried. i explained it to him twenty times this morning while you were taking your control-deck manual." he tapped his head delicately with his forefinger. "can't get through--too thick!" astro turned to the window to hide the mist in his eyes. "lay off, roger," snapped tom. he got up and walked over to the big cadet. "come on, astro, we haven't got much time. you're due in the examination hall in a few minutes." "it's no good, tom, i just can't understand that stuff." astro turned and faced his unit-mates, his voice charged with sudden emotion. "just fifteen minutes on the power deck of anything with rockets in her and i'll run her from here to the next galaxy. i--i can't explain it, but when i look at those motors, i can read 'em like you read an astrogation chart, roger, or you the gauges on the control deck, tom. but i just can't get those ratios out of a book. i gotta put my hands on those motors--touch 'em--i mean really _touch 'em_--then i know what to do!" as suddenly as he had started, he stopped and turned, leaving tom and roger staring at him, startled by this unusual outburst. "cadets--stand _to!_" roared a voice from the doorway. the three cadets snapped to attention and faced the entrance. "take it easy, earthworms!" said tony richards. a tall cadet with closely cut black hair and a lazy, smiling face stood in the doorway. "lay off, richards," said tom. "we haven't time for gags now. astro's going to take his power-deck manual in a few minutes and we're cramming with him." "o.k.--o.k.--don't blow your jets," said richards. "i just wanted to see if there were any bets on which unit would cop honors in the manuals this afternoon." "i suppose you think your unit -k will finish on top?" drawled roger. "i'd like to bet all the galley demerits we have in -k against yours." "with astro on our team?" complained roger. "what's the matter with astro?" asked richards. "from what i hear, he's hot stuff!" it wasn't a compliment, but a sharp dig made with a sly smile. astro balled his huge hands into fists. "astro," said roger, "is the type that can smell out trouble on any power deck. but today he came down with a cold. no, i'm afraid it's no bet, richards." "i'll give you two to one," richards offered. "nothing doing," replied roger. "not even at five to one. not with astro." richards grinned, nodded and disappeared. roger turned to face the hard stare of tom. "that was the dirtiest sellout i've ever heard, manning," tom growled. "sorry, corbett," said roger. "i only bet on sure things." "that's o.k. with me, manning," said astro, "but i'm afraid you sold yourself a hot rocket, because i'm going to pass!" "who are you kidding?" roger laughed and sprawled on his bunk. astro took a quick step forward, his fists clenched, his face a mask of burning anger, but tom quickly jumped in front of him. "you'll be late for the exam, astro!" he shouted. "get going or it'll count against your mark!" "huh. what's a few points more or less when you're going to fail anyway," snorted roger from the bunk. again, astro started to lunge forward and tom braced himself against the venusian's charge, but suddenly the burly cadet stopped. disengaging tom's restraining arms, he spoke coldly to the sneering boy on the bed. "i'm going to pass the exam, manning. get that? i'm going to pass and then come back and beat your head off!" turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room. tom immediately wheeled to face roger, fire in his eyes, and the arrogant cadet, sensing trouble, jumped to his feet to meet him. "what's the idea of giving astro a hard time?" demanded tom. "cool off, corbett," replied roger warily. "you're fusing your tubes you're so hot." "you bet i'm hot! hot enough to blast you--again!" tom deliberately spat out the last word. roger flushed and brought his fists up quickly as though to charge in, then suddenly dropped them again. he turned to the door and slowly walked out. "go blow your jets," his voice drifted back to tom as he disappeared. tom stood there, looking at the empty door, almost blind with rage and frustration. he was failing in the main job assigned to him, that of keeping the unit on an even keel and working together. how could he command a crew out in space if he couldn't keep the friction of his own unit under control? slowly, he left the room to wait for astro in the recreation hall where the results of the manuals would be announced. he thought of astro, now probably deep in his exam, and wondered how bad it would be for him. then another thought crossed his mind. roger had said nothing of his own test and neither he nor astro had even inquired. he shook his head. no matter where the unit placed in the manuals, it just couldn't stay together. [illustration] chapter it was customary for all earthworm cadets to gather in the main recreation hall to wait for the results of the manuals which would be announced on the huge teleceiver screen. since all the units were taking their tests that afternoon, the hall was crowded with green-clad cadets, talking in low murmurs and waiting tensely for the outcome of the exam. tom entered the huge room, looked around and then drifted toward al dixon, the senior cadet who had greeted them as a unit after passing classification tests. the blue-clad cadet was listening to a story spool, a device that told a story, rather than let the person read it from a book. "hiya, corbett," said dixon, smiling. "drag up a chair. listening to a terrific yarn about a guy stranded on an asteroid and then he finds--" the redheaded cadet's voice trailed off when he noticed that tom wasn't listening. "say, what's the matter with you? you look like you just lost your best friend." "not yet, but it won't be long now," commented tom, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice. "astro's taking his power-deck manual. what he knows about those compression ratios just isn't known. but he just can't get it on paper." "don't sell your unit-mate short," said dixon, sensing something beneath tom's comment. "i've heard that big fellow knows more about a rocket deck than mckenny." "yeah, that's true," said tom, "but--" "you know, corbett," said dixon, switching off the story spool, "there's something screwy in that outfit of yours." "you can say that again," agreed tom bitterly. "you come in here with a face dragging on the floor, and manning--" tom's head jerked up. "manning! what about that space-gassing hot-shot?" "--manning just tore through the rec hall trying to get some of the other earthworm units to bet their galley demerits against your outfit." tom's mouth sagged open. "you mean, he actually wanted to bet that astro would pass?" "not just pass, corbett, but he wanted to bet that your unit would be top rocket of the earthworms! the head of the list!" "but he told astro that--" he stopped. "told him what?" dixon asked. "ah--nothing--nothing--" said tom. he jumped up and headed for the door. "hey, where are you going?" "to find manning. there are a couple of things i want to clear up." tom left dixon shaking his head in bewilderment and jumped on the slidestairs. he was going to have it out with roger once and for all. hopping off the slidestairs onto the forty-second floor, he started down the long hall to his quarters. nearing the door, he heard roger's laugh, and then his lazy voice talking to someone inside. "sure, they're dumb, but they're not bad guys," said roger. tom walked into the room. roger was sitting on the side of his bunk facing tony richards. "hiya, corbett," said roger, "did you hear how astro made out yet?" tom ignored the question. "i want to talk to you, roger." roger eyed him suspiciously. "sure, corbett, go ahead." "well, i'll be going along," said richards. he had heard about the previous fight between manning and corbett and didn't want to be hauled up as a witness later if they started again. "remember, manning," he called from the doorway, "the bet is two to one, and are you going to get tired of washing pots and pans!" he waved his hand at corbett and disappeared. "all right, corbett," roger turned to tom. "what's frying you?" "i just saw al dixon down in the rec hall," answered tom. "he told me you were looking for bets on the unit ratings. is that why richards was here?" "that's right," nodded roger. "what made you say the things you did to astro before he went for his manual?" "very simple. i wanted to make him pass and that was the only way." "you're pretty sure of yourself, roger." "i'm always sure of myself, corbett. and the sooner you learn that, the easier it'll be for all of us. i never bet unless it's in the bag. i know astro's going to pass. some guys have to have a fire built under them before they get moving. astro's one of them." "that doesn't answer my question," said tom. "why did you say the things you did before a guy goes to take an exam?" "i said what i did to make tony richards give me odds. _and_ to make astro mad enough to pass. we're a cinch to win and richards' outfit will be indebted to us for a year's worth of galley demerits." he smiled easily. "smooth, huh?" "i think it's rotten," said tom. "astro left here feeling like a plugged credit! and if he does fail, it'll be because you made him think he was the dumbest guy in the universe!" "he probably is," mused roger, "but he still won't fail that manual." from the hallway behind them, a loud blasting yell was suddenly heard, echoing from somewhere on the lower floors. tom and roger waited, their eyes wide and hopeful. there was only one person at space academy capable of making such a noise. "he made it!" tom exclaimed. "of course he made it," said roger casually. astro tore into -d with a mad rush. "yeeeoooooowwww!" he grabbed the two cadets and picked them up, one in each hand. "i made it--hands down--i handled those rocket motors like they were babes in arms! i told you that all i had to do was touch them and i'd know! i told you!" "congratulations, astro," said tom with a wide grin. "i knew you'd do it." "put me down, you oversized venusian jerk," said roger, almost good-naturedly. astro released the smaller cadet and faced him. "well, hot-shot, i promised you something when i got back, didn't i?" "make it later, will you, and i'll be glad to oblige." he walked toward the door. "i've got to go down and collect a bet." "what bet?" asked astro. "with tony richards." "but i thought you were afraid to bet on me!" "not at all, astro. i just wanted to make you mad enough to ensure my winning." "that sounds like you were more worried about your bet than you were about astro passing," snapped tom. "you're exactly right, spaceboy," purred roger, standing in the doorway. "that's our boy, manning," growled astro. "the great team man!" "team?" roger took a step back into the room. "don't make me laugh, astro. for your information, tomorrow morning i'm putting in for a transfer to another unit!" "what!" exclaimed tom. "you can't trans--" "yes, i can," interrupted roger. "read your academy regs. anyone can request a transfer once the unit has passed its manuals." "and what excuse are you going to use," snapped astro bitterly. "that you can't take it?" "a personality difference, astro, my boy. you hate me and i hate you. it's a good enough reason, i think." "it's just as well, hot-shot," replied astro. "because if you don't transfer, we will!" roger merely smiled, flipped his fingers to his forehead in an arrogant gesture of farewell and turned to leave again. but his path was blocked by the sudden appearance of captain steve strong. the three cadets quickly braced. the solar guard officer strode into the room, his face beaming. he looked at each of the boys, pride shining out of his eyes, and then brought his hand up and held it in salute. "i just want to tell you boys one thing," he said solemnly. "it's the highest compliment i can pay you, or anyone." he paused. "all three of you are real spacemen!" tom and astro couldn't repress smiles, but roger's expression never changed. "then we passed as a unit, sir?" asked tom eagerly. "not only passed, corbett"--strong's voice boomed in the small room--"but with honors. you're the top rockets of this earthworm group! i'm proud to be your commanding officer!" again tom and astro fought back smiles of happiness and even roger managed a small grin. "this is the fightingest group of cadets i've ever seen," strong continued. "frankly, i was a little worried about your ability to pull together but the results of the manuals showed that you have. you couldn't have made it without working as a unit." strong failed to notice roger's face darken, and tom and astro look at each other meaningfully. "my congratulations for having solved that problem too!" strong saluted them again and walked toward the door, where he paused. "by the way, i want you to report to the academy spaceport tomorrow at eight hundred hours. warrant officer mckenny has something out there he wants to show you." tom's eyes bugged out and he stepped forward. "sir," he gasped, scarcely able to get the question past his lips, "you don't mean we're--we're going to--" "you're absolutely right, corbett. there's a brand-new rocket cruiser out there. your ship. your future classroom. you'll report to her in the blues of the space cadets! and from now on your unit identification is the name of your ship! the rocket cruiser _polaris_!" a second later, strong had vanished down the corridor, leaving tom and astro hugging each other and clapping each other on the back in delirious joy. roger merely stood to one side, a sarcastic smile on his face. "and now, as we prepare to face the unknown dangers of space," he said bitingly, "let us unite our voices and sing the academy hymn together! huh!" he strode toward the door. "don't they ever get tired of waving that flag around here?" before tom and astro could reply, he had disappeared. the big venusian shrugged his shoulders. "i just don't understand that guy!" but tom failed to reply. he had turned toward the window and was staring out past the gleaming white tower of galileo into the slowly darkening skies of evening to the east. for the moment, the problems of roger manning and the unit were far away. he was thinking of the coming morning when he would dress in the blues of a space cadet for the first time and step into his own ship as command pilot. he was thinking of the morning when he would be a real spaceman! [illustration] chapter the campus of space academy was quiet that evening. only a few cadets were still out on the quadrangle, lounging around in the open before returning to their quarters for bed-check. on the forty-second floor of the dormitory building, two thirds of the newly formed _polaris_ unit, tom and astro, were in heated argument. "all right, all right, so the guy is brilliant," said astro. "but who can live with him? not even himself!" "maybe he is a little difficult," replied tom, "but somehow, we've got to adjust to him!" "how about him adjusting to us? it's two against one!" astro shambled to the window and looked out moodily. "besides, he's putting in for a transfer and there's nothing we can do about it!" "maybe he won't now--not after that little speech captain strong made this afternoon." "if he doesn't, then, blast it, i will!" "aw, now take it easy, astro!" "take it easy, nothing!" astro was building up a big head of steam. "where is that space crawler right now?" "i don't know. he never came back. wasn't even down at mess tonight." "there, that's just what i mean!" astro turned to tom to press his point. "it's close to bed-check and he isn't in quarters yet. if the mp's catch him outside after hours, the whole unit will be logged and there goes our chance of blasting off tomorrow!" "but there's still time, astro," replied tom lamely. "not much there isn't. it just shows you what he thinks of the unit! he just doesn't care!" astro paced the floor angrily. "there's only one thing to do! he gets his transfer--or we do! or--" he paused and looked at tom meaningfully, "or i do." "you're not thinking, astro," argued tom. "how will that look on your record? every time there's a trip into deep space, they yank out your file to see how you operate under pressure with other guys. when they see that you asked for a transfer from your unit, that's it!" "yeah--yeah--i know--incompatible--but honest, tom--" the curly-haired cadet felt his big friend weaken and he pressed his advantage. "it isn't every day that a unit gets a ship right after finishing ground manuals. captain strong said he waited for four months after manuals before getting his first hop into space." "yeah--but what do you think it's going to be like out in space with manning making sour cracks all the time?" tom hesitated before answering his venusian friend. he was fully aware that roger was going to play a lone hand. and that they would never really have unity among them until some drastic measure was taken. after all, tom thought, some guys don't have good hearts, or eyes, a defect to prevent them from becoming spacemen. roger is just mixed up inside. and the handicap is just as real as if he had a physical flaw. "well, what do you want to do?" asked tom finally. "go see captain strong. give it to him straight. tell him we want a transfer." "but tomorrow we blast off. we might not have another chance for months! certainly not until we get a new astrogator." "i'd rather wait and have a guy on the radar bridge i know isn't going to pull something behind my back," said astro, "than blast off tomorrow with manning aboard." again tom hesitated. he knew what astro was saying was the truth. life, so far, at the academy had been tough enough, but with mutual dependence and security even more important out in space, the danger of their constant friction was obvious. "o.k.," he relented, "if that's the way you really want it. come on. we'll go see captain strong now." "you go," said astro. "you know how i feel. whatever you say goes for me too." "are you sure you want to do it?" asked tom. he knew what such a request would mean. a black mark against roger for being rejected by his unit-mates and a black mark against astro and himself for not being able to adjust. regardless of who was right and who was wrong, there would always be a mark on their records. "look, tom," said astro, "if i thought it was only me i'd keep my mouth shut. but you'd let manning get away with murder because you wouldn't want to be the one to get him into trouble." "no, i wouldn't," said tom. "i think roger would make a fine spaceman; he's certainly smart enough, and a good unit-mate if he'd only snap out of it. but i can't let him or anyone else stop me from becoming a spaceman or a member of the solar guard." "then you'll go see captain strong?" "yes," said tom. if he had been in doubt before, now that he had made the decision, he felt relieved. he slipped on his space boots and stood up. the two boys looked at each other, each realizing the question in the other's mind. "no!" said tom decisively. "it's better for everyone. even roger. he might find two other guys that will fit him better." he walked from the room. the halls were silent as he strode toward the slidestairs that would take him to the nineteenth floor and captain strong's quarters. passing one room after another, he glanced in and saw other units studying, preparing for bed, or just sitting around talking. there weren't many units left. the tests had taken a toll of the earthworms. but those that remained were solidly built. already friendships had taken deep root. tom found himself wishing he had become a member of another unit. where the comradeship was taken for granted in other units, he was about to make a request to dissolve his because of friction. completely discouraged, tom stepped on the slidestairs and started down. as he left the dormitory floors, the noise of young cadet life was soon lost and he passed floors containing offices and apartments of the administration staff of the solar guard. as he drew level with the floor that was galaxy hall, he glanced at the lighted plaque and for the hundredth time reread the inscription-- " ... to the brave men who sacrificed their lives in the conquest of space, this galaxy hall is dedicated...." something moved in the darkness of the hall. tom strained his eyes for a closer look and just managed to distinguish the figure of a cadet standing before the wreckage of the _space queen_. funny, thought tom. why should anyone be wandering around the hall at this time of night? and then, as the floor slipped past, the figure turned slightly and was illuminated by the dim light that came from the slidestairs. tom recognized the sharp features and close-cropped blond hair of roger manning! [illustration: _roger was still standing in front of the_ space queen!] quickly changing over to the slidestairs going up, tom slipped back to the hall floor and stepped off. roger was still standing in front of the _space queen_! tom started to speak, but stopped when he saw roger take out a handkerchief and dab at his eyes. the movements of the other boy were crystal-clear to tom. roger was crying! standing in front of the _space queen_ and crying! he kept watching as roger put away the handkerchief, saluted sharply and turned toward the slidestairs. ducking behind a glass case that held the first space suit ever used, tom held his breath as roger passed him. he could hear roger mumble. "they got you--but they won't get me with any of that glory stuff!" tom waited, heart racing, trying to figure out what roger meant, and why he was here alone in galaxy hall. finally the blond cadet disappeared up the moving stair. tom didn't go to see captain strong. instead, he returned to his room. "so quick?" asked astro. tom shook his head. "where's roger?" he asked. "in the shower." astro gestured to the bathroom, where tom could hear the sound of running water. "what made you change your mind about seeing captain strong?" asked astro. "i think we've misjudged roger, astro," said tom slowly. and then related what he had seen and heard. "well, blast my jets!" exclaimed astro, when tom had finished. "what's behind it, do you think?" "i don't know, astro. but i'm convinced that any guy that'll visit galaxy hall by himself late at night--and _cry_--well, he couldn't be entirely off base, regardless of what he does." astro studied his work-hardened palms. "you wanta keep it this way for a while?" he asked. "i mean, forget about talking to captain strong?" "roger's the best astrogator and radar man in the academy, astro. there's something bothering him. but i'm willing to bet that whatever it is, roger will work it out. and if we're really unit-mates, then we won't sell him out now, when he may need us most." "that's it, then," said astro. "i'll kill him with kindness. come on. let's turn in. we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow!" the two boys began to prepare for bed. roger came out of the shower wearing pajamas. "all excited, spacemen?" he drawled, leaning against the wall, brushing his short hair. "about as excited as we can get, roger," smiled tom. "yeah, you space-blasting jerk!" growled astro good-naturedly. "turn out the lights before i introduce you to my space boot." roger eyed the two cadets quizzically, puzzled by the strange good humor of both boys. he shrugged his shoulders, flipped out the light and crawled into bed. but if he could have seen the satisfied smile of tom corbett, roger would have been even more puzzled. "we'll just kill him with kindness," thought tom, and fell fast asleep. [illustration] chapter the three members of the _polaris_ unit stepped off the slidewalk at the academy spaceport and stood before warrant officer mckenny. "there she is," said the stubby spaceman, pointing to the gleaming spaceship resting not two hundred feet away. "rocket cruiser _polaris_. the newest and fastest ship in space." he faced the three boys with a smile. "and she's all yours. you earned her!" mouths open, tom, roger and astro stood gaping in fascination at the mighty spaceship resting on the concrete ramp. her long two-hundred-foot polished beryllium steel hull mirrored the spaceport scene around them. the tall buildings of the academy, the "ready" line of space destroyers and scouts, and the hundreds of maintenance noncoms of the enlisted solar guard, their scarlet uniforms spotted with grime, were all reflected back to the _polaris_ unit as they eyed the sleek ship from the needlelike nose of her bow to the stubby opening of her rocket exhausts. not a seam or rivet could be seen in her hull. at the top of the ship, near her nose, a large blister made of six-inch clear crystal indicated the radar bridge. twelve feet below it, six round window ports showed the position of the control deck. surrounding the base of the ship was an aluminum scaffold with a ladder over a hundred feet high anchored to it. the top rung of the ladder just reached the power-deck emergency hatch which was swung open, like a giant plug, revealing the thickness of the hull, nearly a foot. "well," roared the red-clad spaceman, "don't you want to climb aboard and see what your ship looks like inside?" "do we!" cried tom, and made a headlong dash for the scaffold. astro let out one of his famous yells and followed right at his heels. roger watched them running ahead and started off at a slow walk, but suddenly, no longer able to resist, he broke into a dead run. those around the _polaris_ stopped their work to watch the three cadets scramble up the ladder. most of the ground crew were ex-spacemen like mckenny, no longer able to blast off because of acceleration reaction. and they smiled knowingly, remembering their reactions to their first spaceship. inside the massive cruiser, the boys roamed over every deck, examining the ship excitedly. "say look at this!" cried tom. he stood in front of the control board and ran his hands over the buttons and switches. "this board makes the manual we worked on at the academy look like it's ready for galaxy hall!" "yeeeooooooww!" three decks below, astro had discovered the rocket motors. four of the most powerful ever installed on a spaceship, enabling the _polaris_ to outrace any ship in space. roger stuck his head through the radar-bridge hatch and gazed in awe at the array of electronic communicators, detection radar and astrogation gear. with lips pulled into a thin line, he mumbled to himself: "too bad they didn't give _you_ this kind of equipment." "what'd you say, roger?" asked astro, climbing alongside to peer into the radar bridge. startled, roger turned and stammered, "ah--nothing--nothing." looking around, astro commented, "this place looks almost as good as that power deck." "of course," said roger, "they could have placed that astrogation prism a little closer to the chart table. now i'll have to get up every time i want to take sights on stars!" "don't you ever get tired of complaining?" asked astro. "ah--rocket off," snarled roger. "hey, you guys," yelled tom from below, "better get down here! captain strong's coming aboard." climbing back down the ladder to the control deck, astro leaned over his shoulder and asked roger, "do you really think he'll let us take this baby up for a hop, manning?" "get your head out of that cloud, astro. you'll pull about three weeks of dry runs before this baby gets five inches off the ground." "i wouldn't be too sure of that, manning!" strong's voice boomed out as he climbed up through the control-deck hatch. the three boys immediately snapped to attention. strong walked around the control deck, fingering the controls lightly. "this is a fine ship," he mused aloud. "one of the finest that scientific brains can build. she's yours. the day you graduate from the academy, _if_ you graduate, and i can think of about a thousand reasons why you won't, you'll command an armed rocket cruiser similar to this. as a matter of fact, the only difference between this ship and those that patrol the space lanes now is in the armament." "don't we have any arms aboard at all, sir?" asked tom. "small arms, like paralo-ray pistols and paralo-ray rifles. plus four atomic war heads for emergency use," replied strong. seeing a puzzled expression cross astro's face, the solar guard officer continued, "you haven't studied armament yet, astro, but paralo rays are the only weapons used by law-enforcement agencies in the solar alliance. they work on a principle of controlled energy, sending out a ray with an effective range of fifty yards that can paralyze the nervous system of any beast or human." "and it doesn't kill, sir?" inquired astro. "no, astro," replied strong. "paralyzing a man is just as effective as killing him. the solar alliance doesn't believe you have to kill anyone, not even the most vicious criminal. freeze him and capture him, and you still have the opportunity of making him a useful citizen." "but if you can't?" inquired roger dryly. "then he's kept on the prison asteroid where he can't harm anyone." strong turned away abruptly. "but this isn't the time for a general discussion. we've got work to do!" he walked over to the master control panel and switched the teleceiver screen. there was a slight buzz, and a view of the spaceport outside the ship suddenly came into focus, filling the screen. strong flipped a switch and a view aft on the _polaris_ filled the glowing square. the aluminum scaffolding was being hauled away by a jet truck. again the view changed as strong twisted the dials in front of him. "just scanning the outside, boys," he commented. "have to make sure there isn't anyone near the ship when we blast off. the rocket exhaust is powerful enough to blow a man two hundred feet, to say nothing of burning him to death." "you mean, sir--" began tom, not daring to hope. "of course, corbett," smiled strong. "take your stations for blast-off. we raise ship as soon as we get orbital clearance from spaceport control!" without waiting for further orders, the three boys scurried to their stations. soon the muffled whine of the energizing pumps on the power deck began to ring through the ship, along with the steady beep of the radar scanner on the radar bridge. tom checked the maze of gauges and dials on the control board. air locks, hatches, oxygen supply, circulating system, circuits, and feeds. in five minutes the two-hundred-foot shining steel hull was a living thing as her rocket motors purred, warming up for the initial thrust. tom made a last sweeping check of the complicated board and turned to captain strong who stood to one side watching. "ship ready to blast off, sir," he announced. "shall i check stations and proceed to raise ship?" "carry on, cadet corbett," strong replied. "log yourself in as skipper with me along as supercargo. i'll ride in the second pilot's chair." tom snapped a sharp salute and added vocally, "aye, aye, sir!" he turned back to the control board, strapped himself into the command pilot's seat and opened the circuit to the spaceport control tower. "rocket cruiser _polaris_ to spaceport control," he droned into the microphone. "check in!" "spaceport control to _polaris_," the voice of the tower operator replied. "you are cleared for blast-off in two minutes. take out--orbit ... repeat ... ...." "_polaris_ to spaceport control. orders received and understood. end transmission!" tom then turned his attention to the station check. "control deck to radar deck. check in." "radar deck, aye! ready to raise ship." roger's voice was relaxed, easy. tom turned to the board to adjust the teleceiver screen for a clear picture of the stern of the ship. gradually it came up in as sharp detail as if he had been standing on the ground. he checked the electric timing device in front of him that ticked off the seconds, as a red hand crawled around to _zero_, and when it swept down to the thirty-second mark, tom pulled the microphone to his lips again. "control deck to power deck. check in!" "power deck, aye?" "energize the cooling pumps!" "cooling pumps, aye!" repeated astro. "feed reactant!" "reactant at d- rate." from seventy feet below them, strong and tom heard the hiss of the reactant mass feeding into the rocket motors, and the screeching whine of the mighty pumps that kept the mass from building too rapidly and exploding. the second hand swept up to the twenty-second mark. "control deck to radar deck," called tom. "do we have a clear trajectory forward?" "all clear forward and overhead," replied roger. tom placed his hand on the master switch that would throw the combined circuits, instruments and gauges into the single act of blasting the mighty ship into space. his eyes glued to the sweeping hand, he counted past the twelve-second mark--eleven--ten--nine-- "stand by to raise ship," he bawled into the microphone. "minus--five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!" tom threw the master switch. there was a split-second pause and then the great ship roared into life. slowly at first, she lifted her tail full of roaring jets free of the ground. ten feet--twenty--fifty--a hundred--five hundred--a thousand--picking up speed at an incredible rate. tom felt himself being pushed deeper and deeper into the softness of the acceleration cushions. he had been worried about not being able to keep his eyes open to see the dwindling earth in the teleceiver over his head, but the tremendous force of the rockets pushing him against gravity to tear the two hundred tons of steel away from the earth's grip held his eyelids open for him. as the powerful rockets tore deeper into the gap that separated the ship from earth, he saw the spaceport gradually grow smaller. the rolling hills around the academy closed in, and then the academy itself, with the tower of galileo shrinking to a white stick, was lost in the brown and green that was earth. the rockets pushed harder and harder and he saw the needle of the acceleration gauge creep slowly up. four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten miles a second! when the awful crushing weight on his body seemed unbearable, when he felt as though he would never be able to draw another breath, suddenly the pressure lifted and tom felt amazingly and wonderfully buoyant. he seemed to be floating in mid-air, his body rising against the webbed straps of his chair! with a start and a momentary wave of panic, he realized that he _was_ floating! only the straps kept him from rising to the ceiling of the control room! recovering quickly, he realized that he was in free fall. the ship had cleared the pull of earth's gravity and was out in space where everything was weightless. reaching toward the control panel, he flipped the switch for the synthetic-gravity generator and, seconds later, felt the familiar and reassuring sensation of the chair under him as the generator supplied an artificial-gravity field to the ship. as he loosened the straps in his chair, he noticed captain strong rising from his position beside him and he grinned sheepishly in answer to the twinkle in strong's eye. "it's all right, tom," reassured strong. "happens to everyone the first time. carry on." "aye, aye, sir," replied tom and he turned to the microphone. "control deck to all stations! we are in space! observe standard cruise procedure!" "power deck, aye!" was astro's blasting answer over the loud-speaker. "yeeeoooww! out where we belong at last." "radar bridge here," roger's voice chimed in softly on the speaker. "everything under control. and, astro, you belong in a zoo if you're going to bellow like that!" "ahhh--rocket off, bubblehead!" the big venusian's reply was good-natured. he was too happy to let roger get under his skin. "all right, you two," interrupted tom. "knock it off. we're on a ship now. let's cut the kindergarten stuff!" "aye, aye, skipper!" astro was irrepressible. "yes, _sir_!" roger's voice was soft but tom recognized the biting edge to the last word. turning away from the controls, he faced captain strong who had been watching quietly. "_polaris_ space-borne at nine hundred thirty-three hours, captain strong. all stations operating efficiently." "very competent job, corbett," nodded strong in approval. "you handled the ship as if you'd been doing it for years." "thank you, sir." "we'll just cruise for a while on this orbit so you boys can get the feel of the ship and of space." the solar guard officer took tom's place in the command pilot's chair. "you knock off for a while. go up to the radar bridge and have a look around. i'll take over here." "yes, sir." tom turned and had to restrain himself from racing up the ladder to the radar bridge. when he climbed through the hatch to roger's station, he found his unit-mate tilted back in his chair, staring through the crystal blister over his head. "hiya, spaceboy," smiled roger. he indicated the blister. "take a look at the wide, deep and high." tom looked up and saw the deep blackness that was space. "it's like looking into a mirror, roger," he breathed in awe. "only there isn't any other side--no reflection. it just doesn't stop, does it?" "nope," commented roger, "it just goes on and on and on. and no one knows where it stops. and no one can even guess." "ah--you've got a touch of space fever," laughed astro. "you'd better take it easy, pal." tom suppressed a smile. now, for the first time, he felt that there was a chance to achieve unity among them. kill him with kindness, he thought, that's the way to do it. "all right, boys!" captain strong's voice crackled over the speaker. "time to pull in your eyeballs and get to work again. we're heading back to the spaceport! take your stations for landing!" tom and astro immediately jumped toward the open hatch and started scrambling down the ladder toward their respective stations while roger strapped himself into his chair in front of the astrogation panel. within sixty seconds the ship was ready for landing procedure and at a nod from captain strong, who again strapped himself into the second pilot's chair, tom began the delicate operation. entering earth's atmosphere, tom gave a series of rapid orders for course changes and power adjustments, and then, depressing the master turn control, spun the ship around so that she would settle stern first toward her ramp at the academy spaceport. "radar deck to control deck," called roger over the intercom. "one thousand feet to touchdown!" "control deck, aye," answered tom. "control deck to power deck. check in." "power deck, aye," replied astro. "stand by to adjust thrust to maximum drive at my command," ordered tom. "power deck, aye." the great ship, balanced perfectly on the hot exhaust, slowly slipped toward the ground. "five hundred feet to touchdown," warned roger. "main rockets full blast," ordered tom. the sudden blast of the powerful jets slowed the descent of the ship, and finally, fifty feet above the ground, tom snapped out another order. "cut main rockets! hold auxiliary!" a moment later there was a gentle bump and the _polaris_ rested on the ramp, her nose pointed to the heavens. "_touchdown!_" yelled tom. "cut everything, fellas, and come up and sign the log. we made it--our first hop into space! we're spacemen!" chapter "the next event will be," warrant officer mckenny's voice boomed over the loud-speaker and echoed over the academy stadium, "the last semifinal round of mercuryball. _polaris_ unit versus _arcturus_ unit." as two thousand space cadets, crowded in the grandstands watching the annual academy tournament, rose to their feet and cheered lustily, tom corbett turned to his unit-mates astro and roger and called enthusiastically, "o.k., fellas. let's go out there and show them how to play this game!" during the two days of the tournament, tom, roger and astro, competing as a unit against all the other academy units, had piled up a tremendous amount of points in all the events. but so had unit -k, now known as the _capella_ unit. now with the _capella_ unit already in the finals, the _polaris_ crew had to win their semifinal round against the _arcturus_, in order to meet the _capella_ in the final round for academy honors. "this is going to be a cinch," boasted astro. "i'm going to burn 'em up!" "save it for the field," said tom with a smile. "yeah, you big venusian ape," added roger. "make points instead of space gas." stripped to the waist, wearing shorts and soft, three-quarter-length space boots, the three boys walked onto the sun-baked field amid the rousing cheers from the stands. across the field, the cadets of the _arcturus_ unit walked out to meet them, stopping beside mckenny at the mid-field line. mike waited for the six boys to form a circle around him, while he held the mercuryball, a twelve-inch plastic sphere, filled with air and the tricky tube of mercury. "you all know the rules," announced mckenny abruptly. "head, shoulders, feet, knees, or any part of your body except your hands, can touch the ball. _polaris_ unit will defend the north goal," he said, pointing to a white chalk line fifty yards away, "_arcturus_ the south," and he pointed to a line equally distant in the opposite direction. "five-minute periods, with one-minute rest between. all clear?" as captain of the _polaris_ unit, tom nodded, while smiling at the captain of the _arcturus_ team, a tow-headed boy with short chunky legs named schohari. "all clear, mike," said tom. "all clear here, mike," responded schohari. "all right, shake hands and take your places." the six boys shook hands and jogged toward respective opposite lines. mike waited for them to reach their goal lines, and then placed the ball in the middle of a chalk-drawn circle. toeing the line, tom, roger and astro eyed the _arcturus_ crew and prepared for the dash to the ball. "all right, fellas," urged tom, "let's show them something!" "yeah," breathed astro, "just let me get my size thirteens on that pumpkin before it starts twisting around!" astro wanted the advantage of the first kick at the ball while the mercury tube inside was still quiet. once the mercury was agitated, the ball would be as easy to kick as a well-greased eel. "we'll block for you, astro," said tom, "and you put every ounce of beef you've got into that first kick. if we're lucky, we might be able to get the jump on them!" "cut the chatter," snapped roger nervously. "baldy's ready to give us the go ahead!" standing on the side lines, warrant officer mckenny slowly raised his hand, and the crowd in the grandstand hushed in eager anticipation. a second passed and then there was a tremendous roar as he brought his hand down and blew heavily on the whistle. running as if their lives depended on it, the six cadets of the two units raced headlong toward the ball. tom, just a little faster than roger or astro, flashed down the field and veered off to block the advancing schohari. roger, following him, charged into swift, the second member of the _arcturus_ crew. astro, a few feet in back of them, running with surprising speed for his size, saw that it was going to be a close race between himself and allen, the third member of the _arcturus_ unit. he bowed his head and drove himself harder, the roar of the crowd filling his ears. " ... go astro!... go astro!..." pounding down for the kick, astro gauged his stride perfectly and with one last, mighty leap swung his right foot at the ball. there was a loud thud drowned by a roar from the crowd as the ball sailed off the ground with terrific force. and then almost immediately there was another thud as allen rose in a desperate leap to block the ball with his shoulder. it caromed off at a crazy angle, wobbling in its flight as the mercury within rolled from side to side. swift, of the _arcturus_ crew, reached the ball first and sent it sailing at an angle over tom's head to bounce thirty feet away. seeing astro charge the ball, tom threw a block on allen to knock him out of the play. the big venusian, judging his stride to be a little off, shortened his steps to move in for the kick. but just as he brought his foot forward to make contact, the ball spun away to the left. astro's foot continued in a perfect arc over his head, throwing him in a heap on the ground. two thousand voices from the stands roared in one peal of laughter. while astro lay on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, schohari and swift converged on the ball. with astro down and tom out of position, the _arcturus_ unit seemed certain of scoring. but again the ball rolled crazily, this time straight to roger, the last defender. he nudged it between his opponents toward tom, who, in turn, kicked it obliquely past allen back to roger again. running with the grace and speed of an antelope, the blond cadet met the ball in mid-field, and when it dropped to the ground in front of him, sent it soaring across the goal with one powerful kick! as the cadets in the stands sent up a tumultuous cheer for the perfectly executed play, the whistle blew, ending the period and the _polaris_ unit led, one to nothing. breathing deeply, astro and roger flopped down near tom and stretched full length on the grass. "that was a beautiful shot, roger," said tom. "perfectly timed!" "yeah, hot-shot," agreed astro, "i'm glad to see that big head of yours is good for something!" "listen, fellas," said roger eagerly, ignoring astro, "to go into the finals against richards and the _capella_ unit, we've got to beat the _arcturus_ crew, right?" "yeah," agreed tom, "and it won't be easy. we just happened to get the breaks." "then why don't we put the game on ice?" said roger. "freeze the ball! we got 'em one to nothing, that's enough to beat them. when the whistle blows and it's over, we win!" astro looked at tom, who frowned and replied, "but we've still got three periods left, roger. it isn't fair to freeze this early in the game. if it was the last minute or so, sure. but not so early. it just isn't fair." "what do you want to do?" snarled roger. "win, or play fair?" "win, of course, but i want to win the right way," said tom. "how about you, astro?" asked roger. "i feel the same way that tom does," said the big cadet. "we can beat these guys easily--and on the square." "you guys make it sound like i was cheating," snapped roger. "well," said tom, "it sure isn't giving the _arcturus_ guys a break." the whistle blew for them to return to the goal line. "well," asked roger, "do we freeze or don't we?" "i don't want to. but majority always rules in this unit, roger." tom glanced at astro. "how about it, astro?" "we can beat 'em fair and square. we play all out!" answered astro. roger didn't say anything. he moved to one side and took his position for the dash down field. the whistle blew again and the crowd roared as the two teams charged toward the ball. the cadets were eager to see if the _arcturus_ crew could tie the score or if the crew of the _polaris_ would increase its lead. but after a few moments of play, their cries of encouragement subsided into rumbles of discontent. in its eagerness to score, the _arcturus_ unit kept making errors and lost the ball constantly but the crew of the _polaris_ failed to capitalize. the second period ended with the score unchanged. as he slumped to the ground for the rest period, astro turned on roger bitterly. "what's the idea, manning? you're dogging it!" "you play your game, astro," replied roger calmly, "i'll play mine." "we're playing this game as a team, roger," chimed in tom heatedly. "you're kicking the ball all over the lot!" "yeah," added astro. "in every direction except the goal!" "i was never clear," defended roger. "i didn't want to lose possession of the ball!" "you sure didn't," said tom. "you acted as if it was your best friend and you never wanted to be separated from it!" [illustration] "we said we didn't want to freeze this game, roger, and we meant it!" astro glowered at his unit-mate. "next period you show us some action! if you don't want to score, feed it to us and we'll save you the trouble!" but the third period was the same. while tom and astro dashed up and down the field, blocking out the members of the _arcturus_ crew to give roger a clear shot, he simply nudged the ball back and forth between the side lines, ignoring his teammates' pleas to drive forward. as the whistle sounded for the end of the period, boos and catcalls from the grandstand filled the air. tom's face was an angry red as he faced roger again on the side lines during the rest period. "you hear that, roger?" he growled, nodding his head toward the stands. "that's what they think of your smart playing!" "what do i care?" replied the blond cadet arrogantly. "they're not playing this game! i am!" "and we are too!" astro's voice was a low rumble as he came up behind manning. "if you don't give us a chance, so help me, i'll use your head for a ball!" [illustration] "if you're so interested in scoring, why don't you go after the ball yourselves then?" said roger. "because we're too busy trying to be a team!" snapped tom. "we're trying to clear shots for you!" "don't be so generous," sneered roger. "i'm warning you, roger"--astro glared at the arrogant cadet--"if you don't straighten out and fly right--" mckenny's whistle from the far side lines suddenly sounded, interrupting the big cadet, and the three boys trooped back out on the field again. again the air was filled with boos and shouts of derision and tom's face flushed with shame. this time, when mckenny's hand flashed downward, tom streaked for the ball, instead of schohari, his usual opponent. he measured his stride carefully and reached the ball in perfect kicking position. he felt the satisfying thud against his foot, and saw the ball shoot out high in front of him and head for the goal line. it was a beautiful kick. but then, the ball suddenly sank, its flight altered by the action of the mercury. running down field, tom saw swift and allen meet the ball together. allen blocked it with his chest and caromed it over to swift. swift let the ball drop to the ground, drawing his foot back to kick. but again, the mercury changed the ball's action, twisting it to one side and swift's kick caught it on the side. instead of the ball going down field, it veered to the left, in the path of astro. quickly getting his head under it, he shifted it to roger, who streaked in and stopped it with his hip. but then, instead of passing ahead to tom, who by now was down field and in the open, roger prepared to kick for the goal himself. tom shouted a warning but it was too late. schohari came rushing in behind him, and at running stride, met the ball squarely with his right foot. it sailed high in the air and over the _polaris_ goal line just as the whistle blew. the game was tied. "that was some play, manning," said astro, when they were lined up waiting for the next period to begin. "you asked for it," snapped roger, "you were yapping at me to play, and now look what's happened!" "listen, you loudmouthed punk!" said astro, advancing toward the smaller cadet, but just then the whistle blew and the three boys ran out onto the field. the _arcturus_ crew swept down the field quickly, heading for the ball and seemingly ignoring the _polaris_ unit. but schohari slipped and fell on the grass which gave tom a clear shot at the ball. he caught it with the side of his boot and passed it toward roger. but allen, at full speed, came in and intercepted, sending the ball in a crazy succession of twists, turns and bounces. the crowd came to its feet as all six cadets made desperate attempts to clear the skittering ball with none of them so much as touching it. this was the part of mercuryball that pleased the spectator. finally, schohari managed to get a toe on it and he sent it down field, but astro had moved out to play defense. he stopped the ball on his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. steadying it there, he waited until tom was in the clear and kicked it forty yards to the mid-field stripe. the crowd came to its feet, sensing this final drive might mean victory for the _polaris_ crew. the boys of the _arcturus_ swarmed in--trying to keep tom from scoring. with a tremendous burst of speed, tom reached the ball ahead of schohari, and with the strength of desperation, he slammed his foot against it. the whistle blew ending the game as the ball rose in an arc down the field and fell short of the goal by ten feet. there was a groan from the crowd. but suddenly the ball, still reacting to the mercury inside, spun like a top, rolled sideways, and as if it were being blown by a breeze, rolled toward the goal line and stopped six inches inside the white chalk line. there was a moment's pause as the crowd and the players, stunned by the play, grasped what had happened. then swelling into a roar, there was one word chanted over and over--"_polaris--polaris--polaris_...." the _polaris_ unit had reached the finals of the academy tournament. * * * * * during the intermission charlie wolcheck, unit commander of the _capella_ crew, walked over to the refreshment unit behind the grandstand where steve strong, dr. dale and commander walters were drinking martian water and eating spaceburgers. "afternoon, commander," saluted wolcheck. "hello, joan, steve. looks as though your boys on the _polaris_ are going to meet their match this afternoon. i've got to admit they're good, but with tony richards feeding passes to al davison and with the blocking of scott mcavoy--" the young officer broke off with a grin. "i don't know, charlie," commander walters said with a wink to dr. dale. "from the looks of cadet astro, if he ever gets his foot on the ball, your _capella_ unit will have to go after it with a jet boat." "why, commander," replied wolcheck, laughing good-naturedly, "tony richards is one of the finest booters i've ever seen. saw him make a goal from the sixty-yard line from a standstill." steve strong waved a martian water pop bottle at young wolcheck in a gesture of friendly derision. "did you happen to see the play in the first period?" he boasted. "manning took a perfect pass from astro and scored. you're finished, wolcheck, you and your _capella_ unit won't even come close." "from what i hear and see, manning seems to be a little sore that he can't make all the scores himself," grinned wolcheck slyly. "he wants to be the whole show!" strong reddened and turned to put the empty bottle on the counter, using it as an excuse to hide his feelings from the commander and joan. so wolcheck had observed manning's attitude and play on the field too. before strong could reply, a bugle sounded from the field and the group of solar guard officers returned to their seats for the final game of the tournament between the _capella_ and the _polaris_ units. out on the field mike made his usual speech about playing fair and gave the cadets the routine instructions of the game, reminding them that they were spacemen first, unit-members second, and individuals third and last. the six boys shook hands and jogged down the field to take up their positions. "how about concentrating on the passes richards is going to feed to davison," tom asked his unit-mates. "never mind blocking out richards and mcavoy." "yeah," agreed astro, "play for the ball. sounds good to me." "how about it, roger?" asked tom. "just play the game," said roger. and then added sarcastically, "and don't forget to give them every chance to score. let's play fair and square, the way we did with the _arcturus_ unit." "if you feel that way, manning," answered astro coldly, "you can quit right now! we'll handle the _capella_ guys ourselves!" before roger could answer, mckenny blew the ready whistle and the three boys lined up along the white chalk line preparing for the dash to the waiting ball. the cadets in the stands were hushed. mckenny's hand swept up and then quickly down as he blew the whistle. the crowd came to its feet, roaring, as tom, five steps from his own goal line, tripped and fell headlong to the grass, putting him out of the first play. astro and roger charged down the field, with astro reaching the ball first. he managed a good kick, but richards, three feet away, took the ball squarely on his chest. the mercuryball fell to the ground, spun in a dizzy circle and with a gentle tap by richards, rolled to davison, who took it in stride and sent it soaring for a forty-five-yard goal. the _capella_ unit had drawn first blood. "well, hot-shot," snarled roger back on the starting line, "what happened to the big pass-stealing idea?" "i tripped, manning," said tom through clenched teeth. "yeah! tripped!" sneered roger. the whistle blew for the next goal. tom, with an amazing burst of speed, swept down the field, broke stride to bring him in perfect line with the ball and with a kick that seemed almost lazy, sent the ball from a dead standstill, fifty yards over the _capella_ goal before any of the remaining players were within five feet of it, and the score was tied. the crowd sprang to its feet again and roared his name. "that was terrific!" said astro, slapping tom on the back as they lined up again. "it looked as though you hardly kicked that ball at all." "yeah," muttered roger, "you really made yourself the grandstand's delight!" "what's that supposed to mean, manning?" asked astro. "superman corbett probably burned himself out! let's see him keep up that speed for the next ten minutes!" the whistle blew for the next goal, and again the three boys moved forward to meet the onrushing _capella_ unit. richards blocked astro with a twist of his body, and without stopping his forward motion, kicked the ball squarely toward the goal. it stopped ten feet short, took a dizzying spin and rolled away from the goal line. in a flash, the six boys were around the ball, blocking, shoving, and yelling instructions to each other while at the same time kicking at the unsteady ball. with each grazing kick, the ball went into even more maddening spins and gyrations. at last richards caught it with the side of his foot, flipped it to mcavoy who dropped back, and with twenty feet between him and the nearest _polaris_ member, calmly booted it over the goal. the whistle blew ending the first period, and the _capella_ unit led two to one. during the next three periods, the _capella_ unit worked like a well-oiled machine. richards passed to davison or mcavoy, and when they were too well guarded, played brilliantly alone. the _polaris_ unit, on the other hand, appeared to be hopelessly outclassed. tom and astro fought like demons but roger's lack of interest gave the _capella_ unit the edge in play. at the end of the fourth period, the _capella_ team led by three points, seven to four. while the boys rested before the fifth and final period, captain strong, having watched the play with keen interest, realized that roger was not playing up to his fullest capabilities. suddenly he summoned a near-by earthworm cadet, scribbled a message on a slip of paper and instructed the cadet to take it directly to roger. "orders from the coach on the side lines?" asked wolcheck as he noticed strong's action. "you might call it that, charlie," answered steve blandly. on the field, the cadet messenger handed roger the slip of paper, not mentioning that it was from strong, and hurried back to the stands. "getting fan mail already?" asked astro. roger ignored the comment and opened the slip of paper to read: " ... it might interest you to know that the winning team of the mercuryball finals is to be awarded a first prize of three days' liberty in atom city...." there was no signature. roger stared up into the stands and searched vainly for some indication of the person who might have sent him the note. the crowd hushed as mckenny stepped forward for the starting of the last period. "what was in the note, roger?" asked tom. "the winning combination," smiled roger lazily. "get set for the fastest game of mercuryball you've ever played, corbett! we've got to pull this mess out of the fire!" bewildered, tom looked at astro who merely shrugged his shoulders and took his place ready for the whistle. roger tucked the note into his shorts and stepped up to the line. "listen, corbett," said roger, "every time richards gets the ball, he kicks it to his left, and then mcavoy feints as if to get it, leaving davison in the open. when you go to block davison, you leave richards in the clear. he just keeps the ball. he's scored three times that way!" "yeah," said tom, "i noticed that, but there was nothing i could do about it, the way you've been playing." "kinda late in the game for any new ideas, manning," growled astro. "just get the ball and pass it to me." "that's my whole idea! play back, astro. move like you're very tired, see? then they'll forget about you and play three on two. you just be ready to kick and kick hard!" "what's happened to you, roger?" asked tom. "what was in that note?" before roger could answer, the whistle and the roar from the crowd signaled the beginning of the last period. the cadets raced down the field, roger swerving to the left and making a feint at blocking richards. he missed intentionally and allowed richards to get the ball, who immediately passed to the left. mcavoy raced in on the ball, tom made a move as if to block him, reversed, and startled the onrushing richards with a perfect block. the ball was in the clear. roger gave it a half kick and the ball landed two feet in front of astro. the big cadet caught it perfectly on the first bounce and kicked it on a line across the goal, seventy yards away. up in the stands, steve strong smiled as he watched the score change on the board: "_capella_ seven--_polaris_ five!" in rapid succession, the _polaris_ unit succeeded in intercepting the play of the _capella_ unit and rolling up two goals to an even score. now, there were only fifty-five seconds left to play. the cadets in the stands roared their approval of the gallant effort made by the three members of the _polaris_ crew. it had been a long time since mercuryball had been played with such deadly accuracy at space academy and everyone who attended the game was to remember for years to come the last play of the game. mckenny blew the whistle again and the boys charged forward, but by now, aware of the sudden flash of unity on the part of the opposing team, the _capella_ unit fought desperately to salvage at least a tie. tom managed to block a kick by richards, and the ball took a dizzy hop to the left, landing in front of astro. he was in the clear. the stands were in an uproar as the cadets saw that the game was nearly over. astro paused a split second, judged the ball and stepped forward to kick. but the ball spun away, just as astro swung his leg. and at that instant, mcavoy came charging in from the left, only to be blocked by roger. but the force of mcavoy's charge knocked roger back into astro. instead of kicking the ball, astro caught roger on the side of the head. roger fell to the ground and lay still. he was knocked cold. astro lost his balance, twisted on one leg unsteadily, and then fell to the ground. when he tried to get up, he couldn't walk. he had twisted his ankle. the _capella_ unit members stood still, confused and momentarily unable to take advantage of their opportunity. without a moment's hesitation, tom swept in and kicked the ball before his opponents realized what had happened. the ball drifted up in a high arc and landed with several bounces, stopping five feet from the goal. suddenly richards, mcavoy and davison came alive and charged after tom, who was running for the ball as fast as his weary legs would carry him. he saw richards pull up alongside of him, then pass him. then davison and mcavoy closed in on either side to block and give richards a clear shot back down the field and a certain score. richards reached the ball, stopped and carefully lined up his kick, certain that his teammates could block out tom. but the young cadet, in a last desperate spurt, outraced both mcavoy and davison. then, as richards cocked his foot to kick, tom jumped. with a mighty leaping dive, he sent his body hurtling headlong toward richards just as he kicked. tom's body crashed into the ball and richards. the two boys went down in a heap but the ball caromed off his chest and rolled over the goal line. the whistle blew ending the game. in an instant, two thousand officers, cadets and enlisted men went wild as the ball rolled across the goal line. the _polaris_ crew had won eight goals to seven! from every corner of the field, the crowd cheered the cadets who had finished the game, had won it in the final seconds with two of them sprawled on the field unconscious and a third unable to stand on his feet. up in the stands, captain strong turned to commander walters. he found it hard to keep his eyes from filling up as he saluted briskly. "captain strong reporting, sir, on the success of the _polaris_ unit to overcome their differences and become a fighting unit! and i mean _fight_!" [illustration] chapter "atom city express now arriving on track two!" the voice boomed over the loud-speaker system; and as the long, gleaming line of monorail cars eased to a stop with a soft hissing of brakes, the three cadets of the _polaris_ unit moved eagerly in that direction. "atom city, here we come," cried astro. "we and a lot of others with the same idea," said tom. and, in fact, there were only a few civilians in the crowd pressing toward the car doors. uniforms predominated--the blue of the cadets, enlisted men in scarlet, even a few in the black and gold uniforms which identified the officers of the solar guard. "personally," whispered tom to his friends, "the first thing i want to do at atom city is take a long walk--somewhere where i won't see a single uniform." "as for me," drawled roger, "i'm going to find a stereo studio where they're showing a liddy tamal feature. i'll sit down in a front-row seat and just watch that girl act for about six hours." he turned to astro. "and how about you?" "why ... why ... i'll string along with you, roger," said the cadet from venus. "it's been a long time since i've seen a--a--" tom and roger laughed. "a what?" teased tom. "a--a--girl," sputtered astro, blushing. "i don't believe it," said roger in mock surprise. "i never--" "come on," interrupted tom. "time to get aboard." they hurried across the platform and entered the sleek car. inside they found seats together and sank into the luxurious chairs. astro sighed gently, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes blissfully for a few moments. "don't wake me till we get started," he said. "we already have," returned tom. "take a look." astro's eyes popped open. he glanced through the clear crystal glass at the rapidly moving landscape. "these express jobs move on supercushioned ball bearings," explained tom. "you can't even feel it when you pull out of the station." "blast my jets!" marveled astro. "i'd sure like to take a look at the power unit on this baby." "even on a vacation, all this guy can think about is power!" grumbled roger. "how about building up our own power," suggested tom. "it's a long haul to atom city. let's get a bite to eat." "o.k. with me, spaceboy!" astro grinned. "i could swallow a whole steer!" "that's a great idea, cadet," said a voice from behind them. it came from a gray-haired man, neatly dressed in the black one-piece stylon suit currently in fashion, and with a wide red sash around his waist. "beg pardon, sir," said tom, "were you speaking to us?" "i certainly was," replied the stranger. "i'm asking you to be my guests at dinner. and while i may not be able to buy your friend a whole steer, i'll gladly get him a piece of one." "hey," said astro, "do you think he means it?" "he seems to," replied tom. he turned to the stranger. "thanks very much, sir, but don't think astro was just kidding about his appetite." "i'm sure he wasn't." the gray-haired man smiled, and came over and stretched out his hand. "then it's a deal," he said. "my name's joe bernard." "bernard!" exclaimed roger. he paled and glanced quickly at his two friends, but they were too busy looking over their new friend to notice. "glad to know you, sir," said tom. "i'm tom corbett. this is astro, from venus. and over here is--" "roger's my name," the third cadet said quickly. "won't you sit down, sir?" "no use wasting time," said bernard. "let's go right into the dining car." the cadets were in no mood to argue with him. they picked up the small microphones beside their chairs and sent food orders to the kitchen; and by the time they were seated in the dining car, their orders were ready on the table. mr. bernard, with a twinkle in his eye, watched them enjoy their food. in particular, he watched astro. "i warned you, sir," whispered tom, as the venusian went to work on his second steak. "i wouldn't have missed this for anything," said bernard. he smiled, lit a cigar of fine mercurian leaf tobacco and settled back comfortably. "and now," he said, "let me explain why i was so anxious to have dinner with you. i'm in the import-export business. ship to mars, mostly. but all my life i've wanted to be a spaceman." "well, what was the trouble, mr. bernard?" asked roger. the man in black sighed. "couldn't take the acceleration, boys. bad heart. i send out more than five hundred cargoes a year, to all parts of the solar system; but myself, i've never been more than a mile off the surface of the earth." "it sure must be disappointing--to want to blast off, and know that you can't," said tom. "i tried, once," said bernard, with a rueful smile. "yup! i tried." he gazed thoughtfully out the window. "when i was your age, about twenty, i wanted to get into space academy worse than anybody i'd ever met." he paused. "except for one person. a boyhood buddy of mine--named kenneth--" "excuse me, sir," cut in roger quickly, "but i think we'd better get back to our car. with this big liberty in front of us, we need a lot of rest." "but, roger!" exclaimed tom. bernard smiled. "i understand, roger. sometimes i forget that i'm an old man. and when you've already tasted the excitement of space travel, talk like mine must seem rather dull." he stood up and faced the three cadets. "it's been very pleasant, corbett, astro, roger. now run along and get your rest. i'll just sit here for a while and watch the scenery." "thank you, sir," said tom, "for the dinner--your company--and everything," he finished lamely. there was a chorus of good-byes and the boys returned to their car. but there was little conversation now. gradually, the lights in the cars dimmed to permit sleep. but tom kept listening to the subdued click of the monorail--and kept wondering. finally roger, sleeping next to him, wakened for a moment. "roger," said tom, "i want to ask you something." "wait'll the mornin'," mumbled roger. "wanta sleep." "the way you acted with bernard," tom persisted. "you ate his dinner and then acted like he was poison. why was that, roger?" the other sat bolt upright. "listen," he said. "listen!" then he slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. "lemme sleep, corbett. lemme sleep, i tell you." he turned his back and in a moment was making sounds of deep slumber, but tom felt sure that roger was not asleep--that he was wide awake, with something seriously bothering him. tom leaned back and gazed out over the passing plains and up into the deep black of space. the moon was full, large and round. he could distinguish _mare imbrium_, the largest of luna's flat plains visible from earth, where men had built the great metropolis of luna city. farther out in the deep blackness, he could see mars, glowing like a pale ruby. before long he would be up there again. before long he would be blasting off in the _polaris_ with astro and with roger-- roger! why had he acted so strangely at dinner? tom remembered the night he saw roger in galaxy hall alone at night, and the sudden flash on the field a few days before when they had won the mercuryball game. was there some reason behind his companion's strange actions? in vain, tom racked his brain to find the answer. there had to be some explanation. yet what could it possibly be? he tossed and turned and worried and finally--comfortable as the monorail car was--he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. * * * * * atom city! built of the clear crystal mined so cheaply on titan, moon of saturn, atom city had risen from a barren north american wasteland to become a show place of the universe. here was the center of all space communications--a proud city of giant crystal buildings. here had been developed the first slidewalks, air cars, three-dimensional stereos and hundreds of other ideas for better living. and here at atom city was the seat of the great solar alliance, housed in a structure which covered a quarter of a mile at its base and which towered three thousand noble feet into the sky. the three cadets stepped out of the monorail and walked across the platform to a waiting air car--jet-powered, shaped like a teardrop and with a clear crystal top. "we want the best hotel in town," said astro grandly to the driver. "and get this speed bug outa here in a hurry," roger told him. "there's a lot we want to do." the driver couldn't help smiling at the three cadets so obviously enjoying their first leave. "we've got three top hotels," he said. "one's as good as the other. they're the earth, the mars and the venus." "the earth," voted tom. "the mars," shouted roger. "the _venus_!" roared astro. "all right," said the driver with a laugh, "make up your minds." "which of 'em is nearest the center of the city?" tom asked. "the mars." "then blast off for mars!" ordered tom, and the air car shot away from the station and moved up into the stream of expressway traffic fifty feet above the ground. as the little car sped along the broad avenue, tom remembered how often, as a boy, he'd envied the space cadets who'd come to his home town of new chicago on leave. now here _he_ was--in uniform, with a three-day pass, and all of atom city to enjoy it in. a few minutes later the air car stopped in front of the mars hotel. the cadets saw the entrance loom before them--a huge opening, with ornate glass and crystal in many different colors. they walked across the high-ceilinged lobby toward the desk. all around them, the columns that supported the ceiling were made of the clearest crystal. their feet sank into soft, lustrous deep-pile rugs made of venusian jungle grass. the boys advanced toward the huge circular reception desk where a pretty girl with red hair waited to greet them. "may i help you?" she asked. she flashed a dazzling smile. "you're a lucky girl," said roger. "it just so happens you _can_ help me. we'll have dinner together--just the two of us--and then we'll go to the stereos. after which we'll--" the girl shook her head sadly. "i can see your friend's got a bad case of rocket shock," she said to tom. "that's right," tom admitted. "but if you'll give us a triple room, we'll make sure he doesn't disturb anybody." "ah," said roger, "go blow your jets!" "i have a nice selection of rooms here on photo-slides if you'd care to look at them," the girl suggested. "how many rooms in this hotel, beautiful?" asked roger. "nearly two thousand," answered the girl. "and you have photo-slides of all two thousand?" "why, yes," answered the girl. "why do you ask?" "you and astro go take a walk, corbett," said roger with a grin. "i'll select our quarters!" "you mean," asked the girl, a little flustered, "you want to look at all the slides?" "sure thing, lovely!" said roger with a lazy smile. "but--but that would take three hours!" "exactly my idea!" said roger. "just give us a nice room, miss," said tom, cutting in. "and please excuse manning. he's so smart, he gets a little dizzy now and then. have to take him over to a corner and revive him." he glanced at astro, who picked roger up in his arms and walked away with him as though he were a baby. "come on, you space romeo!" said astro. "hey--ouch--hey--lemme go, ya big ape. you're killing your best friend!" roger twisted around in astro's viselike grasp, to no avail. "space fever," explained tom. "he'll be o.k. soon." "i think i understand," said the girl with a nervous smile. she handed tom a small flashlight. "here's your photoelectric light key for room f. that's on the two hundred thirtieth floor." tom took the light key and turned toward the slidestairs where astro was holding roger firmly, despite his frantic squirming. "hey, tom," cried roger, "tell this venusian ape to let me go!" "promise to behave yourself?" asked tom. "we came here to have fun, didn't we?" demanded roger. "that doesn't mean getting thrown out of the hotel because you've got to make passes at every beautiful girl." "what's the matter with beautiful girls?" growled roger. "they're official equipment, like a radar scanner. you can't get along without them!" tom and astro looked at each other and burst out laughing. "come on, you jerk," said astro, "let's get washed up. i wanta take a walk and get something to eat. i'm hungry again!" an hour later, showered and dressed in fresh uniforms, the _polaris_ crew began a tour of the city. they went to the zoo and saw dinosaurs, a tyrannosaurus, and many other monsters extinct on earth millions of years ago, but still breeding in the jungles of tara. they visited the council chamber of the solar alliance where delegates from the major planets and from the larger satellites, such as titan of saturn, ganymede of jupiter, and luna of earth made the laws for the tri-planetary league. the boys walked through the long halls of the alliance building, looking at the great documents which had unified the solar system. they reverently inspected original documents of the universal bill of rights and the solar constitution, which guaranteed basic freedoms of speech, press, religion, peaceful assembly and representative government. and even brash, irrepressible roger manning was awestruck as they tiptoed into the great chamber of the galactic court, where the supreme judicial body of the entire universe sat in solemn dignity. later, the boys visited the plaza de olympia--a huge fountain, filled with water taken from the martian canals, the lakes of venus and the oceans of earth, and ringed by a hundred large statues, each one symbolizing a step in mankind's march through space. but then, for the space cadets, came the greatest thrill of all--a trip through the mighty hall of science, at once a museum of past progress and a laboratory for the development of future wonders. thousands of experiments were being conducted within this crystal palace, and as space cadets, the boys were allowed to witness a few of them. they watched a project which sought to harness the solar rays more effectively; another which aimed to create a new type of fertilizer for mars, so people of that planet would be able to grow their own food in their arid deserts instead of importing it all from other worlds. other scientists were trying to adapt venusian jungle plants to grow on other planets with a low oxygen supply; while still others, in the medical field, sought for a universal antibody to combat all diseases. evening finally came and with it time for fun and entertainment. tired and leg weary, the cadets stepped on a slidewalk and allowed themselves to be carried to a huge restaurant in the heart of atom city. "food," exulted astro as the crystal doors swung open before them. "smell it! real, honest-to-gosh food!" he rushed for a table. "hold it, astro," shouted tom. "take it easy." "yeah," added roger. "it's been five hours since your last meal--not five weeks!" "meal!" snorted the venusian cadet. "call four spaceburgers a meal? and anyway, it's been six hours, not five." laughing, tom and roger followed their friend inside. luckily, they found a table not far from the door, where astro grabbed the microphone and ordered his usual tremendous dinner. the three boys ate hungrily as course after course appeared on the middle of the table, via the direct shaft from the kitchen. so absorbed was manning that he did not notice the approach of a tall dark young man of about his own age, dressed in the red-brown uniform of the passenger space service. but the young man, who wore a captain's high-billed hat, suddenly caught sight of roger. "manning," he called, "what brings you here?" "al james!" cried roger and quickly got up to shake hands. "of all the guys in the universe to show up! sit down and have a bite with us." the space skipper sat down. roger introduced him to tom and astro. there was a round of small talk. "whatever made you become a space cadet, roger?" asked james finally. "oh, you know how it is," said roger. "you can get used to anything." astro almost choked on a mouthful of food. he shot a glance at tom, who shook his head as though warning him not to speak. james grinned broadly. "i remember how you used to talk back home. the space cadets were a bunch of tin soldiers trying to feel important. the academy was a lot of space gas. i guess, now, you've changed your mind." "maybe i have," said roger. he glanced uneasily at his two friends, but they pretended to be busy eating. "maybe i have." roger's eyes narrowed, his voice became a lazy drawl. "at that it's better'n being a man in a monkey suit, with nothing to do but impress the passengers and order around the crew." "wait a minute," said james. "what kind of a crack is that?" "no crack at all. just the way i feel about you passenger gents who don't know a rocket tube from a ray-gun nozzle." "look, manning," returned james. "no need to get sore, just because you couldn't do any better than the space cadets." "blast off," shouted roger, "before i fuse your jets." tom spoke up. "i think you'd better go, captain." "i've got six men outside," sneered the other. "i'll go when i'm ready." "you're ready now," spoke up astro. he stood up to his full height. "we don't want any trouble," the cadet from venus said, "but we're not braking our jets to get away from it, either." james took a good look at astro's powerful frame. without another word he walked away. tom shook his head. "that pal of yours is a real space cadet fan, isn't he, roger?" "yeah," said astro. "just like manning is himself." "look," said roger. "look, you guys--" he hesitated, as though intending to say something more, but then he turned back to his dinner. "go on--finish your food," he growled. he bent over his plate and ate without lifting his eyes. and not another word was spoken at the table until a young man approached, carrying a portable teleceiver screen. "pardon me," he said. "is one of you cadet tom corbett?" "why--i am," acknowledged tom. "there's a call for you. seems they've been trying to reach you all over atom city." he placed the teleceiver screen on the table, plugged it into a floor socket and set the dials. "hope's there's nothing wrong at home," said tom to his friends. "my last letter from mom said billy was messing around with a portable atom reactor and she was afraid he might blow himself up." a picture began to take shape on the screen. "migosh," said astro. "it's captain strong." "it certainly is," said the captain's image. "having dinner, eh, boys? ummmm--those baked shrimps look good." "they're terrific," said astro. "wish you were here." "wish you could stay there," said captain strong. "oh, no!" moaned astro. "don't tell me!" "sorry, boys," came the voice from the teleceiver. "but that's it. you've got to return to the academy immediately. the whole cadet corps has been ordered into space for special maneuvers. we blast off tomorrow morning at six hundred." "but, sir," objected tom, "we can't get a monorail until morning!" "this is an official order, corbett. so you have priority over all civilian transportation." the solar guard captain smiled. "i've tied up a whole bank of teleceivers in atom city searching for you. get back to space academy fast--commandeer an air car if you must, but be here by six hundred hours!" the captain waved a cheery good-bye and the screen went dark. "space maneuvers," breathed astro. "the real thing." "yeah," agreed tom. "here we go!" "our first hop into deep space!" said roger. "let's get out of here!" [illustration] chapter "the following ships in squadron a will blast off immediately," roared commander walters over the teleceiver. he looked up alertly from a chart before him in the academy spaceport control tower. he began to name the ships. "_capella_, orbital tangent-- , _arcturus_, orbital tangent-- , _centauri_, orbital tangent-- , _polaris_, orbital tangent-- !" aboard the space cruiser _polaris_, tom corbett turned away from the control board. "that's us, sir," he said to captain strong. "very well, corbett." the solar guard captain walked to the ship's intercom and flipped on the switch. "astro, roger, stand by!" astro and roger reported in. strong began to speak. "the cadet corps has been divided into squadrons of four ships each. we are command ship of squadron a. when we reach free-fall space, we are to proceed as a group until eight hundred hours, when we are to open sealed orders. each of the other seven squadrons will open their orders at the same time. two of the squadrons will then act as invaders while the remaining six will be the defending fleet. it will be the invaders' job to reach their objective and the defenders' job to stop them." "spaceport control to rocket cruiser _polaris_, your orbit has been cleared for blast-off...." the voice of commander walters interrupted strong in his instructions and he turned back to tom. "take over, corbett." tom turned to the teleceiver. "rocket cruiser _polaris_ to spaceport control." " ... blast off minus two--six hundred forty-eight...." "i read you clear," said tom. he clicked off the teleceiver and turned back to the intercom. "stand by to raise ship! control deck to radar deck. do we have clear trajectory forward and up, roger?" "all clear forward and up," replied roger. "control deck to power deck ... energize the cooling pumps!" "cooling pumps, aye," came from astro. the giant ship began to shudder as the mighty pumps on the power deck started their build. tom strapped himself into the pilot's seat and began checking the dials in front of him. satisfied, he fastened his eyes on the sweep hand of the time clock. above his head, the teleceiver screen brought him a clear picture of the academy spaceport. he watched the giant cruisers take to the air one by one and rocket into the vastness of space. the clock hand reached the ten-second mark. "stand by to raise ship!" tom called into the intercom. the red hand moved steadily, inexorably. tom reached for the master switch. "blast off minus--five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!" tom threw the switch. the great ship hovered above the ground for a few moments. then it heaved itself skyward, faster and ever faster, pushing the earthmen deep into their acceleration cushions. reaching free-fall space, tom flipped on the artificial-gravity generator. he felt its pull on his body, quickly checked all the instruments and turned to captain strong. "ship space-borne at six hundred fifty-three, sir." "very well, corbett," replied strong. "check in with the _arcturus_, _capella_ and the _centauri_, form up on one another and assume a course that will bring you back over academy spaceport at eight hundred hours, when we will open orders." "yes, sir," said tom, turning back eagerly to the control board. for nearly two hours the four rocket ships of squadron a moved through space in a perfect arc, shaping up for the deadline. strong made use of the time to check a new astrogation prism perfected by dr. dale for use at hyperspace speeds. tom rechecked his instruments, then prepared hot tea and sandwiches in the galley for his shipmates. "this is what i call service," said astro. he stood stripped to the waist, a wide leather belt studded with assorted wrenches of various shapes and sizes strapped around his hips. in one hand he carried a wad of waste cotton with which he continually polished the surfaces of the atomic motors, while his eyes constantly searched the many gauges in front of him for the slightest sign of engine failure. "never mind bringing anything up to manning. i'll eat his share." astro had deliberately turned the intercom on so roger on the radar deck might hear. the response from that corner was immediate and emphatic. "listen, you rocket-headed grease monkey," yelled roger. "if you so much as smell that grub, i'll come down and feed you into the reactant chamber!" tom smiled at astro and turned to the ladder leading up from the power deck. passing through the control deck on the way to the radar bridge, he glanced at the clock. it was ten minutes to eight. "only one thing i'm worried about, corbett," said roger through a mouthful of sandwich. "what's that?" asked tom. "collision!" said roger. "some of these space-happy cadets might get excited, and i for one don't want to wind up as a flash in earth's atmosphere!" "why, you have radar, to see anything that goes on." "oh, sure," said roger, "i can keep this wagon outa their way, but will they stay outa mine? why my father told me once--" roger choked on his food and turned away to the radar screen. "well," said tom after a moment, "what _did_ your father tell you?" "ah--nothing--not important. but i've got to get a cross-fix on regulus before we start our little games." tom looked puzzled. here was another of roger's quick changes of attitude. what was it all about? but there was work to do, so tom shrugged his shoulders and returned to the control deck. he couldn't forget what roger had said about a collision, though. "excuse me, captain," said tom, "but have there been any serious collisions in space between ships?" "sure have, tom," replied strong. "about twenty years ago, maybe less, there was a whole wave of them. that was before we developed superrebound pulse radar. the ships were faster than the radar at close range." strong paused. "why do you ask?" before tom could answer, there was a sharp warning from the captain. "eight o'clock, corbett!" tom ripped open the envelope containing the sealed orders. "congratulations," he read. "you are in command of the defenders. you have under your command, squadrons a--b--c--d--e--f. squadrons g and h are your enemies, and at this moment are on their way to attack luna city. it is your job to protect it and destroy the enemy fleet. spaceman's luck! walters, commander space academy, senior officer solar guard." "roger," yelled tom, "we've been selected as flagship for the defenders! get me a course to luna city!" "good for us, spaceboy. i'll give you that course in a jiffy!" " ... _capella_ to _polaris_--am standing by for your orders...." tony richards' voice crackled over the teleceiver. one by one the twenty-three ships that made up the defender's fleet checked in for orders. "astro," shouted tom, "stand by for maneuver--and be prepared to give me every ounce of thrust you can get!" "ready, willing and able, tom," replied astro. "just be sure those other space jockeys can keep up with me, that's all!" tom turned to captain strong. "what do you think of approaching--" strong cut him off. "corbett, you are in complete command. take over--you're losing time talking to me!" "yes, sir!" said tom. he turned back to the control board, his face flushed with excitement. twenty-four ships to maneuver and the responsibility all his own. via a chart projected on a screen, he studied various approaches to the moon and luna city. what would he do if he were in command of the invading fleet? he noticed the moon was nearing a point where it would be in eclipse on luna city itself. he studied the chart further, made several notations and turned to the teleceiver. "attention--attention--flagship _polaris_ to squadrons b and c--proceed to chart seven--sectors eight and nine. you will patrol those sectors. attention squadrons d and f--proceed to luna city at emergency space speed, hover at one hundred thousand feet above luna city spaceport and wait for further orders. attention, ships three and four of squadron f--you will proceed to chart six--sectors sixty-eight through seventy-five. cut all rockets and remain there until further orders. the remainder of squadron f--ships one and two--will join squadron a. squadron a will stand by for further orders." tom glanced at the clock and punched the intercom button. [illustration: _"attention squadrons d and f--proceed to luna city"_] "have you got that course, roger?" "three degrees on the starboard rockets, seventy-eight degrees on the up-plane of the ecliptic will put you at the corner of luna drive and moonset land in the heart of luna city, spaceboy!" answered roger. "get that, astro?" asked tom on the intercom. "all set," replied astro. "attention all ships in squadron a--this is flagship--code name starlight--am changing course. stand by to form up on me!" tom turned back to the intercom. "power deck, execute!" at more than five thousand miles an hour, the _polaris_ hurtled toward its destination. one by one the remaining ships moved alongside until all six had their needlelike noses pointed toward the pale satellite of the moon. "i'd like to know what your plans are, tom," said strong, when the long haul toward the moon had settled down to a routine. "just idle curiosity, nothing more. you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." "golly, yes," said tom, "i'd be very grateful for your opinion." "well, let's have it," said the captain. "but as for my opinion--i'll listen, but i won't say anything." tom grinned sheepishly. "well," he began, "if i were in command of the invading fleet, i would strike in force--i'd have to, to do damage with only eight ships. there are three possible approaches to luna city. one is from the earth side, using the eclipse corridor of darkness as protection. to meet that, i've stationed two ships at different levels and distances in that corridor so that it would be impossible for an invasion to pass unnoticed." "you mean, you'd be willing to give up two ships to the invader to have him betray his position. is that right?" "yes, sir. but i've also sent squadrons b and c to sectors eight and nine on chart seven. so i have a roving squadron to go to their aid, should the invader strike there. and on the other hand, should he manage to get through my outer defense, i have squadrons d and e over luna city itself as an inner defense. as for squadron a, we'll try to engage the enemy first and maybe weaken him; at least reduce the full force of his attack. and then have squadrons b, c, d and e finish him off, by attack from three different points." strong nodded silently. the young cadet was shaping up a defensive strategy with great skill. if he could only follow through on his plans, the invaders of luna city wouldn't have much chance of success--even if willing to take heavy losses. roger's voice came on. "got a report for you, tom. from command ship, squadron b. they've sighted the invaders and are advancing to meet them." tom checked his charts and turned to the intercom. "send them this message, roger," he said. "from starlight, to command ship, squadrons b and c--approach enemy ships from position of chart nineteen, sections one through ten." "right!" said roger. strong smiled. tom was driving his heaviest force between the invading fleet and its objective--forcing the aggressors into a trap. tom gave more crisp orders to his squadrons. he asked roger for an estimated range, and then, rechecking his position, turned again to the intercom. "astro, how much could you get out of this baby by opening the by-pass between the cooling pumps and the reactant chamber? that'd mean feeding the stuff into the motors only half cooled." strong turned, started to speak, then clamped his lips together. "another quarter space speed, roughly," replied astro, "about fifteen hundred miles more an hour. do you want me to do that?" "no, not now," replied tom. "just wanted to know what i could depend on, if i get stuck." "o.k.," said astro. "let me know!" "why use emergency speed, corbett?" asked strong. "you seem to have your enemy right where you want him now." "yes, sir," replied tom. "and the enemy knows i have him. he can't possibly attack luna city now. but he can still run away. he can make his escape by this one route." tom walked to the chart and ran his finger on a line away from the invader's position into the asteroid belt. "i don't want him to get away," tom explained. "and with the extra speed, we can cut him off, force him to turn into a position where the remainder of my fleet would finish him off." "you'll do this with just the _polaris_?" "oh, no, sir," said tom. "i'd use the _arcturus_, _capella_ and the _centauri_, as well." "are you sure those other ships can equal your speed?" "they've got exactly the same type engines as we have here on the _polaris_, sir. i'm sure they could--and with perfect safety." strong hesitated a moment, started to ask a question, then stopped and walked to the chart screen. he checked the figures. he checked them four times, then turned to tom with a grin and an outstretched hand. "i've got to offer my congratulations, tom. this maneuver would wipe them out. and i've got a notion that you'd come off without the loss of a single ship, plus, and it is a big plus, keeping the invaders more than fifty thousand miles away from their objective!" the captain turned to the teleceiver. "rocket cruiser _polaris_ to control tower at space academy--" there was a crackle of static and then the deep voice of commander walters boomed from the speaker. "spaceport control to _polaris_. come in, steve." in a few brief sentences, strong outlined tom's plan of action to the academy commander. the commander's face on the teleceiver widened into a grin, then broke out in a hearty laugh. "what's that, sir?" asked captain strong. "very simple, steve. all of us--all the academy top brass--develop a foolproof test for cadet maneuvers. and then your young corbett makes us look like amateurs." "but didn't you expect one side or the other to win?" asked strong. "of course, but not like this. we've been expecting a couple of days of maneuver, with both sides making plenty of mistakes that we could call them on. but here corbett wraps the whole thing up before we can get our pencils sharpened." "better stuff cotton in corbett's ears before he hears all this," rasped roger manning over the intercom. "or his head'll be too big to go through the hatch." "quiet, manning," came astro's voice from the power deck. "your mouth alone is bigger than tom's head'll ever be." "look, you venusian ape--" began roger, but commander walters' voice boomed out again. his face on the teleceiver screen was serious now. "attention! attention all units! the battle has been fought and won on the chart screen of the rocket cruiser _polaris_. the luna city attack has been repelled and the invading fleet wiped out. all units and ships will return to space academy at once. congratulations to all and end transmission." the commander's face faded from the screen. captain strong turned to tom. "good work," he said. he was interrupted by a crackle of static from the teleceiver. a face suddenly appeared on the screen--a man's face, frightened and tense. "s o s." the voice rang out through the control deck. "this is an s o s. space passenger ship _lady venus_ requests assistance immediately. position is sector two, chart one hundred three. emergency. we must have--" the screen went blank, the voice stopped as though cut off by a knife. strong frantically worked the teleceiver dials to re-establish contact. "_polaris_ to _lady venus_," he called. "come in _lady venus_. rocket cruiser _polaris_ calling _lady venus_. come in! come in!" there was no answer. the passenger ship's instruments had gone dead. chapter "_polaris_ to commander walters at space academy--come in, commander walters!" captain strong's voice was urgent in the teleceiver. "just worked up an assumed position on the _lady venus_," said roger over the intercom. "i think she's bearing about seventeen degrees to port of us, and about one-twenty-eight on the down-plane of the ecliptic." "o.k., roger," said tom. "captain strong's trying to reach commander walters now." he made a quick mental calculation. "golly, roger--if you've figured it right, we're closer to the _lady venus_ than anyone else!" the teleceiver audio crackled. "commander walters at space academy to captain strong on the _polaris_. come in, steve!" "commander!" strong's voice sounded relieved. "did you get that emergency from the _lady venus_--the s o s?" "yes, we did, steve," said the commander. "how far away from her are you?" without a word, tom handed strong the position that roger had computed. strong relayed the information to the commander. "if you're that close, go to her aid in the _polaris_. you're nearer than any solar guard patrol ship and you can do just as much." "right, sir," replied steve. "i'll report as soon as i get any news. end transmission!" "spaceman's luck, end transmission!" said the commander. "have you got a course for us, roger?" asked strong. "yes, sir!" "then let's get out of here. i have a feeling there's something more than just the usual emergency attached to that s o s from the _lady venus_." in twenty seconds the mighty cruiser was blasting through space to the aid of the stricken passenger ship. "better get the emergency equipment ready, tom," said strong. "space suits for the four of us and every spare space suit you have on the ship. never can tell what we might run into. also the first-aid surgical kit and every spare oxygen bottle. oh, yeah, and have astro get both jet boats ready to blast off immediately. i'll keep trying to pick them up again on the teleceiver." "yes, sir," replied tom sharply. "what's going on up there?" asked astro, when tom had relayed the orders from captain strong. tom quickly told him of the emergency signal from the _lady venus_. "_lady--venus--_" said the big cadet, rolling the name on his tongue, "i know her. she's one of the martian city--venusport jobs--an old-timer. converted from a chemical burner to atomic reaction about three years ago!" "any ideas what the trouble might be?" asked tom. "i don't know," replied astro. "there are a hundred and fifty things that could go wrong--even on this wagon and she's brand new. but i wouldn't be surprised if it was on the power deck!" "and what makes you think so?" asked tom. "i knew a spaceman once that was on a converted tub just like the _lady venus_ and he had trouble with the reaction chamber." "wow!" exclaimed tom. "let's hope it isn't that now!" "you can say that again," said astro grimly. "when this stuff gets out of control, there's very little you can do with it, except leave it alone and pile out!" the _polaris_, rocketing through space at full space speed, plunged like a silver bullet through the vastness of the black void, heading for what strong hoped to be the _lady venus_. tom prepared the emergency equipment, doubling all the reserves on the oxygen bottles by refilling the empties he found on the ship and making sure that all space suits were in perfect working order. then he opened the emergency surgical kit and began the laborious task of examining every vial and drug in the kit to acquaint himself with what there was to work with just in case. he brought all the stores of jelly out for radiation burns and finally opened a bottle of special sterilization liquid with which to wipe all the instruments and vials clean. he checked the contents of the kit once more, and, satisfied that everything was as ready as he could make it, he went up to the control deck. "any other message from them yet, sir?" asked tom. "nothing yet," answered strong. "if i could pick them up on the teleceiver, maybe they could tell us what the trouble is and then we could more or less be prepared to help them." he bent over the teleceiver screen and added grimly, "if there is anything left to help!" "radar deck to control deck!" roger's voice was tense. "i think i've picked them up on the radar scanner, captain strong!" "relay it down here to control-deck scanner, manning," ordered strong. "ummmh!" murmured the captain when the screen began to glow. "i'm pretty sure that's her. here's that assumed position roger worked up, tom. check it against this one here on the scanner." tom quickly computed the position of the object on the scanner and compared it to the position roger had given them previously. "if roger's positioning was correct, sir," said tom, "then that's the _lady venus_. they both check out perfectly!" strong, bent over the radar scanner, didn't answer. finally he turned around and flipped off the scanner. "that's her," he announced. "congratulations, roger. you hit it right on the nose!" "how shall we approach her, sir?" asked tom. "we'd better wait until she sends up her flares." "you mean the identification flares for safety factors?" "that's right," replied strong. "a white flare means it's all right to come alongside and couple air locks. a red one means to stand off and wait for instructions." strong turned to the intercom. "control deck to power deck. reduce thrust to one quarter space speed!" "power deck, aye," answered astro. "we'll wait until we're about two miles away from her and then use our braking jets in the bow of the ship to bring us within a few thousand feet of her," commented strong. "yes, sir," said tom. "work up an estimated range, roger," said strong, "and give me a distance on our approach." "aye, aye, sir," roger replied. "objective four miles away now, sir." "when we hit three miles," said strong to tom, "have astro stand by the forward braking jets." "aye, sir," said tom. "three-and-a-half miles," said roger a few moments later. "closing in fast. _lady venus_ looks like a dead ship." "that could only mean one thing," said strong bitterly. "there has been a power-deck failure of some sort." "three miles to objective, sir," reported roger. "i think i can pick her up on the teleceiver now, but only one way, from us to her." "all right," said strong, "see what you can do." in a few moments the teleceiver screen glowed and then the silver outline of the _lady venus_ appeared on the screen. "i don't see any damage to her hull," said strong half to himself. "so if it was an explosion, it wasn't a bad one." "yes, sir," said tom. "shall i stand by with the flares?" "better send up a yellow identification flare, identifying us as the solar guard. let them know who we are!" tom turned to the yellow button on his left and pressed it. immediately a white flash resembling a meteor appeared on the teleceiver screen. "there should be an answer soon," said strong. "three thousand yards to objective," reported roger. "fire braking rockets one half," ordered strong. tom relayed the order to astro and made the necessary adjustments on the control panel. "stern drive rockets out," ordered strong. once again tom relayed the message to astro and turned to the control board. "cut all rockets!" ordered strong sharply. the great ship, slowed by the force of the braking rockets, became motionless in space a bare five hundred yards from the _lady venus_. "they should be sending up their safety-factor flare soon," said strong. "keep trying to raise them on the teleceiver, roger." strong was peering through a crystal port directly at the ship hanging dead in space opposite them. there wasn't any sign of life. tom stepped to the side of steve strong and looked out at the crippled passenger ship. "why don't we go aboard, sir?" asked tom. "we'll wait a little longer for the flare. if we don't get it soon--" "there it is, sir!" shouted tom at strong's side. from the flare port near the nose of the commercial ship, a ball of fire streaked out. "red!" said strong grimly, "that means we can't go alongside. we'll have to use jet boats." "captain strong," shouted roger from the radar deck, "they're signaling us with a small light from the upper port on the starboard side!" "can you read it?" asked strong quickly. "i think so, sir. they're using standard space code, but the light is very dim." "what do they say?" " ... reaction ... chamber--" said roger slowly as he read the blinking light, " ... radiation ... leaking around ... baffle ... all ... safe...." roger stopped. "that's all, sir. i couldn't get the rest of it." strong turned to the intercom. "astro, get the jet boats ready to blast off immediately. roger, send this message. 'am coming aboard. stand by to receive me on your number-one starboard jet-boat catapult deck, signed, strong, captain, solar guard.'" "yes, sir!" replied roger. "get into your space suit, tom, and give astro a hand with the jet boats. i have to get a message back to space academy and tell them to send out help right away." "aye, sir," said tom. "roger," said strong, "stand by to record this message for the teleceiver in case space academy should call our circuit while we're off the ship." "all set, sir," came the reply from the radar deck. "o.k.--here goes--captain steve strong--solar guard--am boarding passenger ship _lady venus_. secondary communications signal message received indicates it is power-deck failure. am taking cadets corbett, manning and astro and boarding same at"--he paused and glanced at the clock--"thirteen hundred fifty one hours!" "that all, sir?" asked roger. "that's it. get that set on the open circuit for any one calling us, then climb into your space suit!" in a matter of minutes, the four spacemen of the _polaris_ crew were making last-minute adjustments on their space suits. astro picked up his heavy belt of tools and strapped them around his waist. "what's that for, astro?" asked strong. "they'll have tools aboard the ship if we need them." "if that lead baffle in the reaction chamber has worked loose, sir, the odds are ten to one that the control chamber is flooded with radiation. and if it is, the tools are probably so hot you couldn't use them." "that's good thinking, astro," complimented strong. he turned to tom and roger and checked their suits and the oxygen supply and feeder valves on their backs. he then turned his back while tom checked his, and roger adjusted astro's. "all right, turn on your communicators and test them," ordered strong. one by one the boys flipped on the switch of the portable spacephones in their fish-bowl helmets and spoke to each other. strong indicated that he was satisfied and turned toward the jet-boat catapult deck, the three boys following him in single file. "astro, you and roger take number-one boat," said strong. "tom and i will take number two." his voice had a harsh metallic tone through the headset spacephones. roger hurried along with astro to the number-one boat and climbed inside. "jet boat has its own oxygen system," said astro to roger. "better make use of it while we're in here and save our suits' supplies." "good idea," said roger. he locked the clear plastic airtight covering of the jet boat and began flicking at the control buttons. "strap in, you venusian hick. here we go!" roger shoved a lever at his side, making the jet-boat deck airtight from the rest of the _polaris_, and then, by pressing a button on the simple control board, a section of the _polaris_' hull slipped back, exposing them to empty space. the controls of a jet boat were simplicity itself. a half-moon wheel for guiding, up, down and either side, and two pedals on the floor, one for going and one for stopping. roger stepped on the "go" pedal and the small ship flashed out into the darkness of space. almost immediately on the opposite side of the _polaris_, captain strong and tom in the second boat shot away from the rocket cruiser and both boats headed for the stricken spaceship. chapter the hatch clanked shut behind them. inside the huge air lock of the _lady venus_, tom, roger, astro and captain strong waited for the oxygen to equal the pressure in their space suits before removing their fish-bowl space helmets. "o.k., sir," said tom, "pressure's equal." strong stepped to the hatch leading to the inside of the ship and pushed hard. it slid to one side. "how many jet boats do you have?" was the first thing strong heard as he stepped through the door to the interior of the passenger ship. "al james!" cried manning. "so this is your tub?" the startled young skipper, whom tom, roger and astro had met in atom city, turned to face the blond-headed cadet. "manning!" he gasped. "what's your trouble, skipper?" asked strong of the young spaceship captain. before james could answer there was a sudden clamor from beyond the next hatch leading to the main passenger cabin. suddenly the hatch was jerked open and a group of frightened men and women poured through. the first to reach strong, a short fat man with a moonface and wearing glasses, began to jabber hysterically, while clinging to strong's arm. "sir, this ship is going to blow up any moment. you've got to save us!" he turned to face al james. "and he refused to allow us to escape in the jet boats!" he pointed an accusing finger at the young skipper as the other passengers loudly backed him up. "just a moment," snapped strong. "there's a solar guard rocket cruiser only five hundred yards away, so take it easy and don't get hysterical. no one is going to get hurt if you keep calm and obey orders!" he turned to james. "what's the trouble, skipper?" "it's the reaction chamber. the lead baffle around the chamber worked loose and flooded everything with radiation. now the mass in number-three rocket is building and wildcatting itself. if it gets any higher, it'll explode." "why didn't your power-deck man dump the mass?" asked strong. "we didn't know it was wildcatting until after he had tried to repair it. and he didn't tighten the bolts enough to keep it from leaking radiation." the young skipper paused. "he lived long enough to warn us, though." "what's the geiger count on the radiation?" asked strong. "up to twelve thirty-two--about ten minutes ago," answered james. "i pulled everybody out of the power deck and cut all energy circuits, including the energizing pumps. we didn't have any power so i had to use the combined juice of the three jet boats to send out the emergency signal that you picked up." he turned to face the little man with the glasses. "i had a choice of either saving about fifteen passengers on the jet boats, and leaving the others, or take a chance on saving everybody by using the power to send out a message." "ummmmh," said strong to himself. he felt confidence in a young spaceman who would take a decision like that on himself. "what was that geiger count again?" he asked. "must be better than fourteen hundred by now," answered james. strong made a quick decision. "all right," he said, tight-lipped, "abandon ship! how many passengers?" "seventeen women and twenty-three men including the crew," replied james. "does that include yourself?" asked strong. "no," came the reply. strong felt better. any man who would not count himself on a list to survive could be counted on in any emergency. "we'll take four women at a time in each jet boat first," said strong. "james, you and i will operate the jet boats and ferry the passengers to the _polaris_. tom, you and roger and astro get everybody aboard the ship ready to leave." "yes, sir," said tom. "we haven't much time. the reaction mass is building fast. come on, james, we have to rip out the seats in the jet boats to get five people in them." strong turned back into the jet-boat launching well. "may i have the passenger lists, captain?" asked tom, turning to james. the young skipper handed him a clip board with the names of the passengers and crew and followed strong. "we will abandon ship in alphabetical order," announced tom. "miss nancy anderson?" a young girl about sixteen stepped forward. "just stand there by the hatch, miss," said tom. he glanced at the next name. "miss elizabeth anderson?" another girl, looking very much like the first, stepped forward and stood beside her sister. "mrs. john bailey?" called tom. a gray-haired woman of about sixty stepped forward. "pardon me, sir, but i would rather remain with my husband, and go later with him." "no--no, mary," pleaded an elderly man, holding his arm around her shoulder. "go now. i'll be all right. won't i, sir?" he looked at tom anxiously. "i can't be sure, sir," said tom. he found it difficult to control his voice as he looked down at the old couple, who couldn't weigh more than two hundred pounds between them. "i'm going to stay," said the woman firmly. "as you wish, madam," said tom. he looked at the list again. "mrs. helen carson?" a woman about thirty-five, carrying a young boy about four years old, stepped out and took her place beside the two sisters. in a moment, the first eight passengers were assembled into two groups, helped into space suits, with a special portable suit for the little boy, and loaded in the jet boats. the red light over the hatch glowed, then went out. the first load of passengers had left the _lady venus_. "they're pretty jumpy," roger whispered, nodding toward the remaining passengers. "yeah," answered tom. "say, where's astro?" "i don't know. probably went to take a look at the jet boats to see if one could be repaired so we'd have a third ferry running." "good idea," said tom. "see if you can't cheer these people up, roger. tell them stories or sing songs--or better yet, get them to sing. try to make them forget they're sitting on an atom bomb!" "i can't forget it myself," said roger. "how can i make them forget it?" "try anything. i'll go see if i can't give astro a hand!" roger turned to face the assembled passengers and smiled. all around him in the main passenger lounge, the frightened men and women sat huddled together in small groups, staring at him, terror in their eyes. "ladieeees and gentlemen," began roger. "you are now going to be entertained by the loudest, corniest and most miserable voice in the universe. i'm going to _sing_!" he waited for a laugh, but there was only a slight stir as the passengers shifted nervously in their seats. shrugging his shoulders, roger took a deep breath and began to sing. he only knew one song and he sang it with gusto. "from the rocket fields of the academy to the far-flung stars of outer space, we're space cadets training to be...." on the lower deck of the passenger ship, tom smiled as he faintly heard his unit-mate's voice. he made his way to the jet-boat deck of the _lady venus_ and opened the hatch. "hey, astro," he called. there wasn't any answer. he stepped inside and looked around the empty deck. walking over to one of the jet boats, he saw evidence of al james's attempts to send out emergency signal messages. he called again. "hey, astro--where are you?" still no answer. he noticed that one of the jet boats was missing. there were three still on the deck, but an empty catapult for the fourth made tom think that astro might have repaired the fourth and taken it out in space for a test. the light over the escape hatch indicated that someone had gone out. it was odd, thought tom, for astro to go out alone. but then he shrugged, remembering how astro could lose himself in his work and forget everything but the job at hand. he climbed back to the passenger deck. when tom opened the hatch to the main lounge, the sight that filled his eyes was so funny that, even in the face of danger, he had to laugh. roger, with his hands clasped behind his back, was down on his knees trying to push a food pellet across the deck with his nose. the whole passenger lounge echoed with hysterical laughter. suddenly the laughter was stopped by the sound of the bell over the air-lock hatch. strong and james had returned to ferry more passengers to the _polaris_. immediately the fun was forgotten and the passengers crowded around for the roll call. "where's astro?" asked strong, as he reappeared in the lounge. "he's down on the jet-boat deck, sir, trying to fix another one," replied tom. "i think he's out testing one now." "good," said strong. "how're they taking it?" he indicated the passengers. "roger's been keeping them amused with games and songs, sir," said tom proudly. "they'll need it. i don't mind telling you, corbett," said strong, "it's a wonder to me this tub hasn't blown up already." in less than a half hour, the forty passengers and crewmen of the _lady venus_ were transferred in alphabetical order to the waiting _polaris_. roger kept up a continual line of patter and jokes and stories, making a fool of himself, but keeping the remaining passengers amused and their minds off the dangers of the rapidly building reaction mass. "just one passenger left," said strong, "with myself and you three. i think we can squeeze five in that jet boat and get off here." "that's for me," said roger. "i'm the only man in the whole universe that's ever played to a packed house sitting on top of an atomic bomb!" "all right, barrymore," said strong, "get aboard!" "say," asked tom, "where's astro?" "i don't know," replied roger. "i thought you went to find him half an hour ago!" "i did," said tom, "but when i went to the jet-boat deck, one was missing. so i figured he had fixed one and taken it out for a test." "then he's probably outside in space now!" said strong. suddenly the solar guard captain caught himself. "wait a minute! how many jet boats were on the deck, corbett?" "three, sir." "then astro is still aboard the ship," said strong. "he couldn't have taken a boat. james told me he couldn't repeat the message he sent out because he only had the power of _three_ jet boats. one was damaged and left behind at atom city!" "by the rings of saturn," said roger, "a coupla million miles from home, sitting on an atomic bomb and that big venusian hick decides to play hide-and-seek!" "never mind the cracks," said strong. "we've got to find him!" "captain," said the little man with the round face and glasses who had first spoken to strong when he came aboard, "just because my name happens to be zewbriski, and i have to be the very last to get on a jet boat, i don't see why i have to wait any longer. i demand to be taken off this ship immediately! i refuse to risk my life waiting around for some foolish cadet!" "that foolish cadet, mr. zewbriski," said strong coldly, "is a human being like you and we don't budge until we find him!" at that moment the bell began to ring, indicating that the outer hatch to the air lock was opening. "by the craters of luna," said tom, "that must be astro now!" "but if it is," said roger, "how did he get out there?" from behind them, the hatch to the inner air lock opened and al james stepped through. "captain strong," he said excitedly, "you've got to come quickly. some of the crewmen have broken into your arms locker and taken paralo-ray guns. they threaten to leave you here if you don't return to the ship within five minutes. they're afraid the _venus_ might blow up and damage the _polaris_ at this close range." the young skipper, his red-brown uniform torn and dirty, looked at the solar guard captain with wild-eyed desperation. "they can't leave us here," whimpered zewbriski. "we'll all be blown to bits!" "shut up!" barked strong. he turned to tom and roger. "i can do one of two things," he said. "i can order you to return to the _polaris_ now, with james and myself, or you can volunteer to stay behind and search for astro." without looking at roger, tom answered, "we'll stay, sir. and we won't have to search for him. i think i know where he is." "now that i think about it," replied strong, "i guess there is only one place he could be." "yes, sir," said tom, "down on the power deck trying to save this wagon! come on, roger! let's get him!" chapter "what's the reading on the geiger counter now?" asked tom. roger looked down at the face of the radioactive measuring device and answered, "she's been dropping for the last five minutes, tom. looks like the mass in number three is cooling off. fourteen hundred and ten now." "that's not fast enough," said astro, straightening up from tightening a nut on the lead baffle. "she's still plenty hot. that mass should have been dumped out of the rocket exhaust right away. now the whole tube control box is so hot with radiation, it'd burn you to a crisp if you opened the hatch." "good thing you brought along those tools from the _polaris_," said tom. "yeah, greaseball," said roger, "you used your head for once. now let's see you use it again and pile out of this hunk of junk!" "fifteen hundred on the counter is the danger mark, roger, and as long as we keep it under that, i'm going to try and save this wagon!" replied astro. "why? to get yourself a solar medal?" asked roger sarcastically. "what do you think made this tub act up like this, astro?" asked tom, ignoring roger's remark. "using special reactant feed, tom," replied astro. "this is a converted chemical burner--with an old-type cooling pump. it's touchy stuff." "well, couldn't we drive boron rods into the mass and slow down the reaction?" asked tom. "no, tom," answered astro, "the control for the rods are inside the tube control box. we can't reach it." there was a sudden loud ticking from the geiger counter. "astro!" cried roger. "the mass is building!" "here, lemme see!" shouted astro. he took the instrument in his big hand and watched the clocklike face intently. " ... fourteen hundred thirty--fourteen hundred fifty--fourteen hundred seventy--" he faced his unit-mates. "well, that does it. the mass is maintaining a steady reaction without the energizing pumps. it's sustaining itself!" "but how is that possible?" asked tom. "it's one of those freaks, tom. it's been known to happen before. the fuel is just hot enough to sustain a steady reaction because of its high intensity. once that baffle worked loose, the mass started wildcatting itself." "and if it doesn't stop?" asked roger tensely. "it'll reach a point where the reaction comes so fast it'll explode!" "let's pile out of here!" said roger. the three boys made a dash for their space suits and the jet boat. inside the air lock, they adjusted their oxygen valves and waited for pressure to equalize so they could blast off. "blast it," said astro, "there must be some way to get to that rocket tube and dump that stuff!" "impossible, astro," said roger. "the release controls are in the control box, and with all that radiation loose, you wouldn't last half a minute!" tom walked over to the valve that would open the outside hatch. "wonder how captain strong is making out with those tough babies on the _polaris_?" asked tom. "i don't know," replied roger, "but anything would be better than sitting around waiting for this thing to blow up!" "ah--stop griping," said astro, "or i'll shove you up a rocket tube and blast you from here all the way back to atom city!" "hey, wait a minute!" shouted tom. "astro, remember the time we were on the ground crew as extra duty and we had to overhaul the _polaris_?" "yeah, why?" "there was one place you couldn't go. you were too big, so i went in, remember?" "yeah, the space between the rocket tubes and the hull of the ship. it was when we were putting in the new tube. so what?" "so this!" said tom. "when they converted this tub, they had standard exhausts, so it must have the same layout as the _polaris_. suppose i climb in the main exhaust, between the tube and the outer hull, and cut away the cleats that hold the tube to the ship?" "why, then everything would come out in one piece!" astro's face lit up. "reactant mass, tube, control box--the works!" "say, what are you two guys talking about?" asked roger. "saving a ship, roger," said tom. "dumping the whole assembly of the number-three rocket!" "ah--you're space happy!" "maybe," said tom, "but i think it's worth trying. how about it, astro?" "o.k. by me, tom," replied astro. "good. you get the cutting torches rigged, astro. roger, you give him a hand and keep your eye on the counter. then feed the torches to me when i get inside the tube. i'm going outside to get rid of a bad rocket and save a five-million-credit spaceship!" before astro or roger could protest, tom opened the hatch and began to climb out on the steel hull toward the rocket tubes, main exhaust. his magnetic-soled shoes gripping the smooth steel hull, the cadet made his way aft to the stern of the ship and began the climb down around the huge firing tubes and into the tubes themselves. "hey, astro," he yelled into the spacephone, "i'm inside the tubes. how about those torches?" the cadets had adjusted the wave length so that all could hear what was said. "take it easy, spaceboy," said roger, "i'm leaving the hatch now. you and your fatheaded friend from venus are so hopped up for getting a solar medal--" "knock it off, manning!" said astro from inside the ship. "and for your information, i don't want a medal. i don't want anything except for you to stop griping!" roger reached the end of the ship and began to climb down inside the tube where tom was waiting for him. "o.k., spaceboy," said roger, "here're your cutting torches." he started moving back. "i'll see you around. i don't mind being a little hero for saving people and all that stuff. but not for any ship. and the odds against a big hero staying alive are too big!" "roger, wait," shouted tom. "i'll need...." and then the curly-headed cadet clamped his teeth together and turned back to the task at hand. he made adjustments on the nozzle of the cutting torch, and then, focusing his chest light, called to astro. "o.k., astro," he said, "shoot me the juice!" "coming up, tom!" answered astro. "and wait till i get my hands on that manning! i'm going to smear that yellow space crawler from one corner of the universe to another!" "never mind the talk," snarled roger, who at the moment was re-entering the tube. "just get that juice down to this torch and make it fast!" tom turned to see roger crawling back into the tube and adjusting a cutting torch. "glad to have you aboard, roger," said tom with a smile that roger could not see in the darkness of the tube. the two boys went to work. suddenly the torches came to life. and immediately tom and roger began to cut away at the cleats that held the tube lining to the skin of the ship. steadily, the cadets worked their way up toward the center of the ship, cutting anything that looked as though it might hold the giant tube to the ship. "boy," said tom, "it's getting hot in here!" from inside the ship, astro's reassuring voice came back in answer. "you're getting close to the reactant-mass chamber. the last cleat is up by one of the exhaust gratings. think you can last it?" "well, if he can't," snarled roger, "he's sure to get that medal anyway!" he inched up a little. "move over, corbett, i'm skinnier than you are, and i can reach that cleat easier than you can." roger slipped past tom and inched his way toward the last cleat. he pulled his torch up alongside and pulled the trigger. the flame shot out and began eating the steel. in a moment the last cleat was cut and the two boys started their long haul down the tube to the outside of the ship. as they walked across the steel surface, back to the air lock, tom stuck out his hand. "i'm glad you came back, roger." "save it for the boys that fall for that stuff, corbett," said roger sarcastically. "i came back because i didn't want you and that venusian hick to think you're the only ones with guts around here!" "no one has ever accused you of not having guts, roger." "ah--go blast your jets," snarled roger. they went directly to the power deck where astro was waiting for them, the geiger counter in his hand. "all set to get rid of the rotten apple?" he asked with a smile. "all set, astro," said tom. "what's the count?" "she seems to have steadied around fourteen hundred ninety--and believe me, the ten points to the official danger mark of fifteen hundred is so small that we could find out where the angels live any moment now!" "then what're we waiting for," said tom. "let's dump that thing!" "how?" snarled roger. tom and astro looked at him bewilderedly. "what do you mean 'how'?" asked astro. "i mean how are you going to get the tube out of the ship?" "why," started tom, "there's nothing holding that tube assembly to the ship now. we cut all the cleats, remember? we can jettison the whole unit!" "it seems to me," drawled roger lazily, "that the two great heroes in their mad rush for the solar medal have forgotten an unwritten law of space. there's no gravity out here--no natural force to pull or push the tube. the only way it could be moved is by the power of thrust, either forward or backward!" "o.k. then let's push it out, just that way," said astro. "how?" asked roger cynically. "simple, roger," said tom, "newton's laws of motion. everything in motion tends to keep going at the same speed unless influenced by an outside force. so if we blasted our nose rockets and started going backward, everything on the ship would go backward too, then if we reversed--" astro cut in, "yeah--if we blasted the stern rockets, the ship would go forward, but the tube, being loose, would keep going the other way!" "there's only one thing wrong," said roger. "that mass is so hot now, if any booster energy hit it, it would be like a trigger on a bomb. it'd blow us from here to the next galaxy!" "i'm willing to try it," said tom. "how about you, astro?" "i've gone this far, and i'm not quitting now." they turned to face roger. "well, how about it, roger?" asked tom. "no one will think you're yellow if you take the jet boat and leave now." "ah--talk again!" grumbled roger. "we always have to talk. let's be original for a change and just do our jobs!" "all right," said tom. "take an emergency light and signal captain strong. tell him what we're going to do. warn him to stay away--about two hundred miles off. he'll know if we're successful or not within a half hour!" "yeah," said roger, "then we'll send him one big flash to mean we failed! _bon voyage!_" fifteen minutes later, as the _lady venus_ drifted in her silent but deadly orbit, tom, roger and astro still worked feverishly as the geiger counter ticked off the increasing radioactivity of the wildcatting reaction mass in number-three rocket tube. "reading on the counter still's going up, astro," warned roger. "fifteen-o-five." "hurry it up, astro," urged tom. "hand me that wrench, tom," ordered astro. the big cadet, stripped to the waist, his thick arms and chest splattered with grease and sweat, fitted the wrench to the nut and applied pressure. tom and roger watched the muscles ripple along his back, as the big venusian pitted all of his great strength against the metal. "give it all you've got," said tom. "if we do manage to jettison that tube, we've got to keep this part of the power deck airtight!" astro pulled harder. the veins standing out on his neck. at last, easing off, he stood up and looked down at the nut. "that's as tight as i can get it," he said, breathing heavily. "or anyone else," said tom. "all the valve connections broken?" asked astro. "yep," replied roger. "we're sealed tight." "that's it, then," said tom. "let's get to the control deck and start blasting!" astro turned to the power-deck control board and checked the gauges for the last time. from above his head, he heard tom's voice over the intercom. "all your relays to the power deck working, astro?" "ready, tom," answered astro. "then stand by," said tom on the control deck. he had made a hasty check of the controls and found them to be similar enough to those on the _polaris_ so that he could handle the ship. he flipped the switch to the radar deck and spoke into the intercom. "do we have a clear trajectory fore and aft, roger?" "all clear," replied roger. "i sent captain strong the message." "what'd he say?" "the rebellion wasn't anything more than a bunch of badly scared old men. al james just got hysterical, that's all." [illustration: _a low muted roar pulsed through the ship_] "what did he have to say about this operation?" "i can't repeat it for your young ears," said roger. "so bad, huh?" "yeah, but not because we're trying to save the ship." "then why?" asked tom. "he's afraid of losing a good unit!" tom smiled and turned to the control board. "energize the cooling pumps!" he bawled to astro over the intercom. the slow whine of the pumps began to build to a shrieking pitch. "pumps in operation, tom," said astro. "cut in nose braking rockets," ordered tom. a low muted roar pulsed through the ship. "rockets on--we're moving backward, tom," reported astro. and then suddenly astro let out a roar. "tom, the geiger counter is going wild!" "never mind that now," answered tom. "sound off, roger!" he yelled. "ship moving astern--one thousand feet a second--two thousand--four thousand--" "i'm going to let her build to ten, roger," yelled tom. "we've only got one chance and we might as well make it a good one!" "six thousand!" yelled roger. "seven thousand!" "astro," bellowed tom, "stand by to fire stern rockets!" "ready, tom," was astro's reply. "eight thousand," warned roger. "spaceman's luck, fellas!" the silver ship moved through space away from the _polaris_. "nine thousand," reported roger. "and, astro, i really love ya!" "cut nose braking rockets!" ordered tom. there was a sudden hush that seemed to be as loud as the noise of the rockets. the huge passenger ship, _lady venus_, was traveling through space as silent as a ghost. "nine thousand five hundred feet a second," yelled roger. "stand by, astro, roger! hang on tight, and spaceman's luck!" "ten thousand feet a second!" roger's voice was a hoarse scream. "_fire stern rockets!_" bawled tom. [illustration] chapter under the tremendous drive of the stern rockets, the silver ship suddenly hurtled forward as if shot out of a cannon. the dangerous tube slid out of the stern of the ship and was quickly left behind as the _lady venus_ sped in the opposite direction. "that's it," yelled tom, "hold full space speed! we dumped the tube, but we're still close enough for it to blow us from here to pluto!" "i tracked it on the radar, tom," yelled roger. "i think we're far enough away to miss--" at that moment a tremendous flash of light filled the radar scanner as the mass exploded miles to the rear of the _lady venus_. "there it goes!" shouted roger. "great jumping jupiter," yelled tom, "and we're still in one piece! we did it!" from the power deck, astro's bull-like roar could be heard through the whole ship. "gimme an open circuit, tom," said astro. "i want to operate the air blowers down here and try to get rid of some of that radiation. i have to get into the control chamber and see what's going on." tom flipped a switch on the board and set the ship on automatic flight. then, turning to the teleceiver, he switched the set on. "_lady venus_ to _polaris_--" said tom, "come in, _polaris_--come in!" " ... strong here on the _polaris_!" the officer's voice crackled over the speaker. "by the rings of saturn, i should log you three space-brained idiots for everything in the book!" strong's face gradually focused on the teleceiver screen and he stared at tom coldly. "that was the most foolish bit of heroics i've ever seen and if i had my way i'd--i'll--well--" the captain's glare melted into a smile. "i'll spend the rest of my life being known as the skipper of the three heroes! well done, corbett, it was foolish and dangerous, but well done!" tom, his face changing visibly with each change in strong's attitude, finally broke out into a grin. "thank you, sir," said tom, "but astro and roger did as much as i did." "i'm sure they did," replied strong. "tell them i think it was one of the--the--" he thought a moment and then added, "darndest, most foolish things--most--" "yes, sir," said tom, trying hard to control his face. he knew the moment for disciplining had passed, and that captain strong was just overwhelmed with concern for their safety. "stand by the air locks, corbett, we're coming aboard again. we're pretty cramped for space here on the _polaris_." just then astro yelled up from the power deck. "hey, tom!" he called. "if captain strong is thinking about putting those passengers back aboard, i think you'd better tell him about the radiation. i haven't been able to flush it all out yet. and since we only have three lead-lined suits...." he left the statement unfinished. "i get you, astro," replied tom. he turned back to the teleceiver and faced strong. "astro says the ship is still hot from radiation, sir. and that he hasn't been able to flush it out with the blowers." "ummmmh," mused strong thoughtfully. "well, in that case, stand by, corbett. i'll get in touch with commander walters right away." "very well, sir," replied tom. he turned from the teleceiver and climbed up to the radar deck. "well, hot-shot," said roger, "looks like you've made yourself a hero this trip." "what do you mean by that, roger?" "first, you run off with top honors on the space maneuvers, and now you save the ship and have strong eating out of your hand!" "that's not very funny, roger," said tom. "i think it is," drawled roger. tom studied the blond cadet for a moment. "what's eating you, roger? since the day you came into the academy, you've acted like you hated every minute of it. and yet, on the other hand, i've seen you act like it was the most important thing in your life. why?" "i told you once, corbett," said roger with the sneering air which tom knew he used when he was on the defensive, "that i had my own special reasons for being here. i'm _not_ a hero, corbett! never was and never will be. you're strictly the hero type. tried and true, a thousand just like you all through the academy and the solar guard. strong is a hero type!" "then what about al james?" asked tom. "what about that time in atom city when you defended the academy?" "uh-uh," grunted roger, "i wasn't defending the academy. i was just avoiding a fight." he paused and eyed tom between half-closed lids. "you'll never do anything i can't, or won't do, just as well, tom. the difference between us is simple. i'm in the academy for a reason, a special reason. you're here, like most of the other cadets, because you believe in it. that's the difference between you, me and astro. you believe in it. i don't--i don't believe in anything but roger manning!" tom faced him squarely. "i'm not going to buy that, roger! i don't think that's true. and the reasons i don't believe it are many. you have a chip on your shoulder, yes. but i don't think you're selfish or that you only believe in manning. if you did, you wouldn't be here on the _lady venus_. you had your chance to escape back in the rocket tube, but you _came back_, roger, and you made a liar out of yourself!" "hey, you guys!" yelled astro, coming up behind them. "i thought we left that stuff back at the academy?" tom turned to face the power-deck cadet. "what's cooking below, astro? were you able to get rid of the radiation?" "naw!" replied the cadet from venus. "too hot! couldn't even open the hatch. it'll take a special job with the big equipment at the space shipyards. we need their big blowers and antiradiation flushers to clean this baby up." "then i'd better tell captain strong right away. he's going to get in touch with commander walters at the academy for orders." "yeah, you're right," said astro. "there isn't a chance of getting those people back aboard here now. once we opened up that outer control deck to dump that tube, the whole joint started buzzing with radioactive electrons." tom turned to the ladder leading to the control deck and disappeared through the hatch, leaving astro and roger alone. "what was that little bit of space gas about, roger?" "ah--nothing," replied roger. "just a little argument on who was the biggest hero." roger smiled and waved a hand in a friendly gesture. "tom won, two to one!" "he sure handled that control deck like he had been born here, all right," said astro. "well, i've got to take a look at those motors. we'll be doing something soon, and whatever it is, we'll need those power boxes to get us where we want to go." "yeah," said roger, "and i've got to get a course and a position." he turned to the chart screen and began plotting rapidly. down on the control deck, strong was listening to tom. " ... and astro said we'd need the special equipment at the space shipyards to clean out the radiation, sir. if we took passengers aboard and it suddenly shot up--well, we only have the three lead-lined suits to protect us." "very well, corbett," replied strong. "i've just received orders from commander walters to proceed to mars with both ships. i'll blast off now and you three follow along on the _lady venus_. any questions?" "i don't have any, sir," tom said, "but i'll check with roger and astro to see if they have any." tom turned to the intercom and informed the radar and power-deck cadets of their orders, and asked if there were any questions. both replied that everything on the ship was ready to blast off immediately. tom turned back to the teleceiver. "no questions, sir," reported tom. "we're all set to blast off." "very well, corbett," said strong. "i'm going to make as much speed as possible to get these people on mars. the crew of the _lady venus_ will take over the radar and power decks." "o.k., sir, and spaceman's luck!" said tom. "we'll see you on mars!" tom stood beside the crystal port on the control deck and watched the rocket cruiser _polaris_' stern glow red from her jets, and then quickly disappear into the vastness of space, visible only as a white blip on the radar scanner. "get me a course to mars, roger," said tom. "astro, stand by to blast off with as much speed as you can safely get out of this old wagon, and stand by for mars!" the two cadets quickly reported their departments ready, and following the course roger plotted, astro soon had the _lady venus_ blasting through space, heading for mars! mars, fourth planet in order from the sun, loomed like a giant red gem against a perfect backdrop of deep-black space. the _lady venus_, rocketing through the inky blackness, a dull red glow from her three remaining rockets, blasted steadily ahead to the planet that was crisscrossed with wide spacious canals. "last time i was on mars," said astro to tom and roger over a cup of tea, "was about two years ago. i was bucking rockets on an old tub called the _space plunger_. it was on a shuttle run from the martian south pole to venusport, hauling vegetables. what a life! burning up on venus and then freezing half to death at the south pole on mars." astro shook his head as the vivid memory took him back for a moment. "from what i hear," said tom, "there isn't much to see but the few cities, the mountains, the deserts and the canals." "yeah," commented roger, "big deal! rocket into the wild depths of space and see the greatest hunk of wasteland in the universe!" the three boys were silent, listening to the steady hum of the rockets, driving them forward toward mars. for four days they had traveled on the _lady venus_, enjoying the many luxuries found on the passenger ship. now, with their destination only a few hours away, they were having a light snack before making a touchdown on mars. "you know," said tom quietly, "i've been thinking. as far back as the twentieth century, earthmen have wanted to get to mars. and finally they did. and what have they found? nothing but a planet full of dry sand, a few canals and dwarf mountains." "that's exactly what i've been saying!" said roger. "the only man who ever got anything out of all this was the first man to make it to mars and return. he got the name, the glory, and a paragraph in a history book! and after that, nothing!" he got up and climbed the ladder to the radar deck, leaving astro and tom alone. suddenly the ship lurched to one side. "what's that?" cried tom. a bell began to ring. then another--and then three more. finally the entire ship was vibrating with the clanging of emergency bells. astro made a diving leap for the ladder leading down to the power deck, with tom lunging for the control board. quickly tom glanced about the huge board with its many different gauges and dials, searching for the one that would indicate the trouble. his eye spotted a huge gauge. a small light beside it flashed off and on. "by the moons of jupiter, we've run out of reactant fuel!" "tom!--tom!" shouted astro from the power deck. "we're smack out of reactant feed!" "isn't there any left at all?" asked tom. "not even enough to get us into marsopolis?" "we haven't enough left to keep the generator going!" said astro. "everything, including the lights and the teleceiver, will go any minute!" "then we can't change course!" "right," drawled roger. "and if we can't change course, the one we're on now will take us straight into mars's gravity and we crash!" "send out an emergency call right away, roger," said tom. "can't, spaceboy," replied roger in his lazy drawl. "not enough juice to call for help. or haven't you noticed you're standing in the dark?" "but how--how could this happen?" asked tom, puzzled. "we were only going at half speed and using just three rockets!" "when we got rid of that hot tube back in space," explained astro grimly, "we dumped the main reactant mass. there isn't a thing we can do!" "we've got one choice," said tom hollowly. "we can either pile out now, in space suits and use the jet boat, and hope for someone to pick us up before the oxygen gives out, or we can ride this space wagon right on in. make up your minds quick, we're already inside mars's gravity pull!" there was a pause, then astro's voice filled the control deck. "i'll ride this baby right to the bottom. if i'm going to splash in, i'll take it on solid ground, even if it is mars and not venus. i don't want to wash out in space!" "that goes for me, too," said roger. "o.k.," said tom. "here we go. just keep your fingers crossed that we hit the desert instead of the mountains, or we'll be smeared across those rocks like applesauce. spaceman's luck, fellas!" "spaceman's luck, both of you," said astro. "just plain ordinary luck," commented roger, "and plenty of it!" the three boys quickly strapped themselves into acceleration seats, with tom hooking up an emergency relay switch that he could hold in his hand. he hoped he would remain conscious long enough to throw the switch and start the water sprinkler in case the ship caught fire. the _lady venus_ flashed into the thin atmosphere from the void of space and the three cadets imagined that they could hear the shriek of the ship as it cut through the thin air. tom figured his speed rapidly, and counting on the thinness of the atmosphere, he estimated that it would take eleven seconds for the ship to crash. he began to count. " ... one--two--three--four--five--" he thought briefly of his family and how nice they had been to him " ... six--seven--eight--nine--ten--" the ship crashed. [illustration] chapter "astro! roger!" yelled tom. he opened his eyes and then felt the weight on his chest. a section of the control board had fallen across him pinning his left arm to his side. he reached for the railing around the acceleration chair with his right and discovered he still held the switch for the water sprinkler. he started to flip it on, then sniffed the air, and smelling no trace of smoke, dropped the switch. he unstrapped himself from the acceleration chair with his right hand and then slowly, with great effort, pushed the section of the control board off him. he stood up rubbing his left arm. "astro? roger?!" he called again, and scrambled over the broken equipment that was strewn over the deck. he stumbled over more rubble that was once a precision instrument panel and climbed the ladder leading to the radar deck. "roger!" he yelled. "roger, are you all right?" he pushed several shattered instruments out of the way and looked around the shambles that once had been a room. he didn't see roger. he began to scramble through the litter on the deck, kicking aside instruments that were nearly priceless, so delicately were they made. suddenly a wave of cold fear gripped him and he began tearing through the rubble desperately. from beneath a heavy tube casing, he could see the outstretched arm of roger. he squatted down, bending his legs and keeping his back straight. then gripping the heavy casing on one side, he tried to stand up. it was too much for him. he lifted it three inches and then had to let go. "tom! roger!" tom heard the bull-like roar of astro below him and stumbled over to the head of the ladder. "up here, astro," he yelled, "on the radar deck. roger's pinned under the radar scanner casing!" tom turned back to the casing, and looking around the littered deck desperately, grabbed an eight-foot length of steel pipe that had been snapped off like a twig by the force of the crash. barely able to lift it, he shoved it with all his strength to get the end of the pipe beneath the casing. "here, let me get at that thing," growled astro from behind. tom stepped back, half falling out of the venusian's way, and watched as astro got down on his hands and knees, putting his shoulder against the case. he lifted it about three inches, then slowly, still balancing the weight on his shoulder, shifted his position, braced it with his hands and began to straighten up. the casing came up from the floor as the huge cadet strained against it. "all--right--tom--" he gasped, "see if you can get a hold on roger and pull him out!" tom scrambled back and grabbed roger's uniform. he pulled, and slowly the cadet's form slid from beneath the casing. "all right, astro," said tom, "i've got 'im." astro began to lower the casing in the same manner in which he had lifted it. he eased it back down to the floor on his knees and dropped it the last few inches. he sat on the floor beside it and hung his head between his knees. "are you all right, astro?" asked tom. "never mind me," panted astro between deep gasps for breath, "just see if hot-shot is o.k." tom quickly ran his hands up and down roger's arms and legs, his chest, collarbone and at last, with gently probing fingers, his head. "no broken bones," he said, still looking at roger, "but i don't know about internal injuries." "he wasn't pinned under that thing," said astro at last. "it was resting on a beam. no weight was on him." "uh--huh--ahhh--uhhhh," moaned roger. "roger," said tom gently, "roger, are you all right?" "uh--huh?--ohhhh! my head!" "take it easy, hot-shot," said astro, "that head of yours is o.k. nothing--but _nothing_ could hurt it!" "ooohhhh!" groaned roger, sitting up. "i don't know which is worse, feeling the way i do, or waking up and listening to you again!" tom sat back with a smile. roger's remark clinched it. no one was hurt. "well," said astro at last, "where do we go from here?" "first thing i suggest we do is take a survey and see what's left," said tom. "i came up from the power deck," said astro, "all the way through the ship. you see this radar deck?" he made a sweeping gesture around the room that looked like a junk heap. "well, it's in good shape, compared to the rest of the ship. the power deck has the rocket motors where the master panel should be and the panel is ready to go into what's left of the reactant chamber. the jet boat is nothing but a worthless piece of junk!" the three boys considered the fate of the jet boat soberly. finally astro broke the silence with a question. "where do you think we are?" "somewhere in the new sahara desert," answered tom. "i had the chart projector on just before we splashed in, but i can't tell you any more than that." "well, at least we have plenty of water," sighed roger. "you _had_ plenty of water. the tanks were smashed when we came in. not even a puddle left in a corner." "of course it might rain," said roger. tom gave a short laugh. "the last time it rained in this place dinosaurs were roaming around on earth!" "how about food?" asked roger. "plenty of that," answered astro. "this is a passenger ship, remember! they have everything you could ask for, including smoked venusian fatfish!" "then let's get out of here and take a look," said tom. the three bruised but otherwise healthy cadets climbed slowly down to the control deck and headed for the galley, where tom found six plastic containers of martian water. "spaceman, this is the biggest hunk of luck we've had in the last two hours," said roger, taking one of the containers. "why two hours, roger?" asked astro, puzzled. "two hours ago we were still in space expecting to splash in," said tom. he opened one of the containers and offered it to astro. "take it easy, astro," said tom. "unless we find something else to drink, this might have to last a long time." "yeah," said roger, "a _long_ time. i've been thinking about our chances of getting out of this mess." "well," asked astro, "what has the great manning brain figured out?" "there's no chance at all," said roger slowly. "you're wrong, corbett, about this being midday. it's early morning!" he pointed to a chronometer on the bulkhead behind astro. "it's still running. i made a mental note before we splashed in, it was eight-o-seven. that clock says nine-o-three. it doesn't begin to get hot here until three o'clock in the afternoon." "i think you're wrong two ways," said tom. "in the first place, captain strong probably has a unit out looking for us right now. and in the second place, as long as we stay with the ship, we've got shade. that sun is only bad because the atmosphere is thinner here on mars, and easier to burn through. but if we stay out of the sun, we're o.k. just sit back and wait for strong!" roger shrugged his shoulders. "well," commented astro with a grin, "i'm not going to sit around waiting for strong without eating!" he tore open a plastic package of roast-beef sandwiches and began eating. tom measured out three small cups of martian water. "after we eat," suggested roger, "i think we ought to take a look around outside and try to set up an identification signal." "that's a good idea," said tom, "but don't you think the ship itself is big enough for that?" "yeah," answered roger, "i guess you're right." "boy!" said astro. "we sure are lucky to still be able to argue." "that's about all you can call it. luck! spaceman's luck!" said tom. "the only reason i can figure why we didn't wind up as permanent part of the scenery around here is because of the course we were on." "how do you figure that?" asked astro. "luckily--and i _mean_ luckily, we were on a course that took us smack onto the surface of mars. and our speed was great enough to resist the gravity pull of the planet, keeping us horizontal with the surface of the desert. we skidded in like a kid does on a sled, instead of coming in on our nose!" "well, blast my jets!" said astro softly. "in that case," said roger, "we must have left a pretty long skid mark in back of us!" "that should be easy to see when the jet scouts come looking for us," commented astro. "i wonder if we could rig up some sort of emergency signal so we could send out a relative position?" "how are you going to get the position?" asked astro. "i can give you some sort of position as soon as i get outside and take a sight on the sun," replied roger. "can you do it without your astrogation prism?" asked astro. "navigation, not astrogation, astro," said roger. "like the ancient sailors used on the oceans back on earth hundreds of years ago. only thing is, i'll have to work up the logarithms by hand, instead of using the computer. might be a little rough, but it'll be close enough for what we want." the three cadets finished the remaining sandwiches and then picked their way back through the ship to the control deck. there, they rummaged through the pile of broken and shattered instruments. "if we could find just one tube that hasn't been damaged, i think i might be able to rig up some sort of one-lung communications set," said roger. "it might have enough range to get a message to the nearest atmosphere booster station." "nothing but a pile of junk here, roger," said tom. "we might find something on the radar deck." the three members of the _polaris_ unit climbed over the rubble and made their way to the radar deck, and started their search for an undamaged tube. after forty-five minutes of searching, roger stood up in disgust. "nothing!" he said sourly. "that kills any hope of getting a message out," said tom. "by the craters of luna," said astro, wiping his forehead. "i didn't notice it before, but it's getting hotter here than on the power deck on a trip to mercury!" "do we have any flares?" asked roger. "naw. al james used them all," answered tom. "that does it," said roger. "in another couple of hours, when and if anyone shows up, all they'll find is three space cadets fried on the half shell of a spaceship!" "listen, roger," said tom, "as soon as we fail to check in, the whole mars solar guard fleet will be out looking for us. our last report will show them we were heading in this direction. it won't take captain strong long to figure out that we might have run out of fuel, and, with that skid mark in the sand trailing back for twenty miles, all we have to do is stick with the ship and wait for them to show up!" "what's that?" asked astro sharply. from a distance, the three cadets could hear a low moaning and wailing. they rushed to the crystal port and looked out on the endless miles of brown sand, stretching as far as the horizon and meeting the cloudless blue sky. shimmering in the heat, the new sahara desert of mars was just beginning to warm up for the day under the bleaching sun. the thin atmosphere offered little protection against the blazing heat rays. "nothing but sand," said tom. "maybe something is still hot on the power deck." he looked at astro. "i checked it before i came topside," said astro. "i've heard that noise before. it can only mean one thing." "what's that?" asked roger. astro turned quickly and walked to the opposite side of the littered control deck. he pushed a pile of junk out of the way for a clear view of the outside. "there's your answer," said astro, pointing at the port. "by the rings of saturn, look at that!" cried tom. "yeah," said roger, "black as the fingernails of a titan miner!" "that's a sandstorm," astro said finally. "it blows as long as a week and can pile up sand for two hundred feet. sometimes the velocity reaches as much as a hundred and sixty miles an hour. once, in the south, we got caught in one, and it was so bad we had to blast off. and it took all the power we had to do it!" the three cadets stood transfixed as they gazed through the crystal port at the oncoming storm. the tremendous black cloud rolled toward the spaceship in huge folds that billowed upward and back in three-thousand-foot waves. the roar and wail of the wind grew louder, rising in pitch until it was a shrill scream. "we'd better get down to the power deck," said tom, "and take some oxygen bottles along with us, just in case. astro, bring the rest of the martian water and you grab several of those containers of food, roger. we might be holed in for a long time." "why go down to the power deck?" asked roger. "there's a huge hole in the upper part of the ship's hull. that sand will come in here by the ton and there's nothing to stop it," tom answered roger, but kept his eyes on the churning black cloud. already, the first gusts of wind were lashing at the stricken _lady venus_. [illustration] chapter "you think it'll last much longer?" asked astro. "i don't know, old fellow," replied tom. "you know, sometimes you can hear the wind even through the skin of the ship," commented roger. for two days the cadets of the _polaris_ unit had been held prisoner in the power deck while the violence of the new sahara sandstorm raged around them outside the ship. for a thousand square miles the desert was a black cloud of churning sand, sweeping across the surface of mars like a giant shroud. after many attempts to repair a small generator, astro finally succeeded, only to discover that he had no means of running the unit. his plan was to relieve the rapidly weakening emergency batteries with a more steady source of power. while astro occupied himself repairing the generator, tom and roger had slept, but after the first day, when sleep would no longer come, they resorted to playing checkers with washers and nuts on a board scratched on the deck. "think it's going to let up soon?" asked roger. "they've been known to last for a week or more," said astro. "wonder if strong has discovered we're missing?" mused roger. "sure he has," replied tom. "he's a real spaceman. can smell out trouble like a telemetered alarm system." astro got up and stretched. "i'll bet we're out of this five hours after the sand settles down." the big venusian walked to the side of the power deck and pressed his ear against the hull, listening for the sound of the wind. after a few seconds he turned back. "i can't hear a thing, fellas. i have a feeling it's about played itself out." "of course," reasoned tom, "we have no real way of knowing when it's stopped and when it hasn't." "want to open the hatch and take a look?" asked astro. tom looked questioningly at roger, who nodded his head in agreement. tom walked over to the hatch and began undogging the heavy door. as the last of the heavy metal bars were raised, sand began to trickle inside around the edges. astro bent down and sifted a handful through his fingers. "it's so fine, it's like powder," he said as it fell to the deck in a fine cloud. "come on," said tom, "give me a hand with this hatch. it's probably jammed up against sand on the other side." tom, roger and astro braced their shoulders against the door, but when they tried to push, they lost their footing and slipped down. astro dragged over a section of lead baffle, jammed it between the rocket motors and placed his feet up against it. tom and roger got on either side of him and pressed their shoulders against the door. "all right," said tom. "when i give the word, let's all push together. ready?" "all set," said astro. "let's go," said roger. "o.k.--then--one--two--three--_push_!" together, the three cadets strained against the heavy steel hatch. the muscles in astro's legs bulged into knots as he applied his great weight and strength against the door. roger, his face twisted into a grimace from the effort, finally slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. "roger," asked tom quickly, "are you all right?" roger nodded his head but stayed where he was, breathing deeply. finally recovering his strength, he rose and stood up against the hatch with his two unit-mates. "you and roger just give a steady pressure, tom," said astro. "don't try to push it all at once. slow and steady does it! that way you get more out of your effort." "o.k.," said tom. roger nodded. again they braced themselves against the hatch. "one--two--three--_push_!" counted tom. slowly, applying the pressure evenly, they heaved against the steel hatch. tom's head swam dizzily, as the blood raced through his veins. "keep going," gasped astro. "i think it's giving a little!" tom and roger pushed with the last ounce of strength in their bodies, and after a final desperate effort, slumped to the floor breathless. astro continued to push, but a moment later, relaxed and slipped down beside tom and roger. they sat on the deck for nearly five minutes gasping for air. "like--" began roger, "like father--like son!" he blurted the words out bitterly. "like who?" asked astro. "like my father," said roger in a hard voice. he got up and walked unsteadily over to the oxygen bottle and kicked it. "empty!" he said with a harsh laugh. "empty and we only have one more bottle. empty as my head the day i got into this space-happy outfit!" "you going to start that again!" growled astro. "i thought you had grown out of your childish bellyaching about the academy." astro eyed the blond cadet with a cold eye. "and now, just because you're in a tough spot, you start whining again!" "knock it off, astro," snapped tom. "come on. let's give this hatch another try. i think it gave a little on that last push." "never-say-die corbett!" snarled roger. "let's give it the old try for dear old space academy!" tom whirled around and stood face to face with manning. "i think maybe astro's right, roger," he said coldly. "i think you're a foul ball, a space-gassing hot-shot that can't take it when the chips are down!" "that's right," said roger coldly. "i'm just what you say! go ahead, push against that hatch until your insides drop out and see if you can open it!" he paused and looked directly at tom. "if that sand has penetrated inside the ship far enough and heavily enough to jam that hatch, you can imagine what is on top, outside! a mountain of sand! and we're buried under it with about eight hours of oxygen left!" tom and astro were silent, thinking about the truth in roger's words. roger walked slowly across the deck and stood in front of them defiantly. "you were counting on the ship being spotted by captain strong or part of a supposed searching party! ha! what makes you think three cadets are so important that the solar guard will take time out to look for us? and if they _do_ come looking for us, the only thing left up there now"--he pointed his finger over his head--"is a pile of sand like any other sand dune on this crummy planet. we're stuck, corbett, so lay off that last chance, do-or-die routine. i've been eating glory all my life. if i do have to splash in now, i want it to be on my own terms. and that's to just sit here and wait for it to come. and if they pin the medal--the solar medal--on me, i'm going to be up there where all good spacemen go, having the last laugh, when they put my name alongside my father's!" "your father's?" asked tom bewilderedly. "yeah, my father. kenneth rogers manning, captain in the solar guard. graduate of space academy, class of , killed while on duty in space, june . awarded the solar medal _posthumously_. leaving a widow and one son, _me_!" astro and tom looked at each other dumfounded. "surprised, huh?" roger's voice grew bitter. "maybe that clears up a few things for you. like why i never missed on an exam. i never missed because i've lived with academy textbooks since i was old enough to read. or why i wanted the radar deck instead of the control deck. i didn't want to have to make a decision! my father had to make a decision once. as skipper and pilot of the ship he decided to save a crewman's life. he died saving a bum, a no good space-crawling rat!" tom and astro sat stupefied at roger's bitter tirade. he turned away from them and gave a short laugh. "i've lived with only one idea in my head since i was big enough to know why other kids had fathers to play ball with them and i didn't. to get into the academy, get the training and then get out and cash in! other kids had fathers. all i had was a lousy hunk of gold, worth exactly five hundred credits! a solar medal. and my mother! trying to scrape by on a lousy pension that was only enough to keep us going, but not enough to get me the extra things other kids had. it couldn't bring back my father!" "that night--in galaxy hall, when you were crying--?" asked tom. "so eavesdropping is one of your talents too, eh, corbett?" asked roger sarcastically. "now, wait a minute, roger," said astro, getting up. "stay out of this, astro!" snapped roger. he paused and looked back at tom. "remember that night on the monorail going into atom city? that man bernard who bought dinner for us? he was a boyhood friend of my father's. he didn't recognize me, and i didn't tell him who i was because i didn't want you space creeps to know that much about me. and remember, when i gave al james the brush in that restaurant in atom city? he was talking about the old days, and he might have spilled the beans too. it all adds up, doesn't it? i had a reason i told you and it's just this! to make space academy pay me back! to train me to be one of the best astrogators in the universe so i could go into commercial ships and pile up credits! plenty of credits and have a good life, and be sure my mother had a good life--what's left of it. and the whole thing goes right back to when my father made the decision to let a space rat live, and die in his place! so leave me alone with your last big efforts--and grandstand play for glory. from now on, keep your big fat mouth shut!" "i--i don't know what to say, roger," began tom. "don't try to say anything, tom," said astro. there was a coldness in his voice that made tom turn around and stare questioningly at the big venusian. "you can't answer him because you came from a good home. with a mom and pop and brother and sister. you had it good. you were lucky, but i don't hold it against you because you had a nice life and i didn't." astro continued softly, "you can't answer mr. hot-shot manning, but i can!" "what do you mean?" asked tom. "i mean that manning doesn't know what it is to really have it tough!" "you got a _real_ hard luck story, eh, big boy?" snarled roger. "yeah, i have!" growled astro. "i got one that'll make your life look like a spaceman's dream. at least you _know_ about your father. and you lived with your mother. i didn't have _anything--nothing_! did you hear that, manning? i didn't even have a pair of shoes, until i found a kid at the venusport spaceport one day and figured his shoes would fit me. i beat the space gas out of him and took his shoes. and then they were so tight, they hurt my feet. i don't know who my father was, nothing about him, except that he was a spaceman. a rocket buster, like me. and my mother? she died when i was born. since i can remember, i've been on my own. when i was twelve, i was hanging around the spaceport day and night. i learned to buck rockets by going aboard when the ships were cradled for repairs, running dry runs, going through the motions, i talked to spacemen--all who would listen to me. i lied about my age, and because i was a big kid, i was blasting off when i was fifteen. what little education i've got, i picked up listening to the crew talk on long hops and listening to every audioslide i could get my hands on. i've had it tough. and because i _have_ had it tough, i want to forget about it. i don't want to be reminded what it's like to be so hungry that i'd go out into jungles and trap small animals and take a chance on meeting a tyrannosaurus. so lay off that stuff about feeling sorry for yourself. and about tom being a hero, because with all your space gas you still can't take it! and if you don't want to fight to live, then go lie down in the corner and just keep your big mouth shut!" tom stood staring at the big cadet. his head jutted forward from his shoulders, the veins in his neck standing out like thick cords. he knew astro had been an orphan, but he had never suspected the big cadet's life had been anything like that which he had just described. roger had stood perfectly still while astro spoke. now, as the big cadet walked back to the hatch and nervously began to examine the edges with his finger tips, roger walked over and stood behind him. "well, you knuckle-headed orphan," said roger, "are you going to get us out of here, or not?" astro whirled around, his face grim, his hands balled into fists, ready to fight. "what's that, mann--?" he stopped. roger was smiling and holding out his hand. "whether you like it or not, you poor little waif, you've just made yourself a friend." tom came up to them and leaned against the door casually. "when you two stop gawking at each other like long-lost brothers," he said lazily, "suppose we try to figure a way out of this dungeon." [illustration] chapter "tom--roger!" shouted astro. "i think i've got it!" astro, on his knees, pulled a long file blade away from the hatch and jumped to his feet. "did you cut all the way through?" asked tom. "i don't know--at least i'm not sure," astro replied, looking down at the hole he had made in the hatch. "but let's give it a try!" "think we can force it back enough to get a good hold on it?" asked roger. "we'll know in a minute, roger," said astro. "get that steel bar over there and i'll try to slip it in between the hatch and the bulkhead." roger rummaged around in the jumble of broken parts and tools on the opposite side of the power deck and found the steel bar astro wanted. after several attempts to force the hatch open had proven futile, tom suggested that they try to file the hinges off the hatch, and then attempt to slide it sideways. after much effort, and working in shifts, they had filed through the three hinges, and now were ready to make a last desperate attempt to escape. astro took the steel bar from roger and jammed it between the bulkhead wall and the hatch. "no telling what we'll find on the other side," said astro. "if the sand has covered up the ship all the way down to here, then we'll never get out!" "couldn't we tunnel through it to the top, if it has filled the ship down as far as here?" asked roger. "not through this stuff," said tom. "it's just like powder." "tom's right," said astro. "as soon as you dig into it, it'll fall right back in on you." he paused and looked at the hatch thoughtfully. "no. the only way we can get out of here is if the sand was only blown into the deck outside and hasn't filled the rest of the ship." "only one way to find out," said tom. "yeah," agreed roger. "let's get that hatch shoved aside and take a look." astro jammed the heavy steel bar farther into the space between the hatch and the bulkhead, and then turned back to his unit-mates. "get that piece of pipe over there," he said. "we'll slip it over the end of the bar and that'll give us more leverage." tom and roger scrambled after the length of pipe, slipped it over the end of the bar, and then, holding it at either end, began to apply even pressure against the hatch. gradually, a half inch at a time, the heavy steel hatch began to move sideways, sliding out and behind the bulkhead. and as the opening grew larger the fine powderlike sand began to fall into the power deck. "let's move it back about a foot and a half," said tom. "that'll give us plenty of room to get through and see what's on the other side." astro and roger nodded in agreement. once more the three boys exerted their strength against the pipe and applied pressure to the hatch. slowly, grudgingly it moved back, until there was an eighteen-inch opening, exposing a solid wall of the desert sand. suddenly, as if released by a hidden switch, the sand began to pour into the power deck. "watch out!" shouted tom. the three boys jumped back and looked on in dismay as the sand came rushing through the opening. gradually it slowed to a stop and the pile in front of the opening rose as high as the hatch itself. "that does it," said tom. "now we've got to dig through and find out how deep that stuff is. and spacemen, between you and me, i hope it doesn't prove too deep!" "i've been thinking, tom," said roger, "suppose it's as high as the upper decks outside? all we have to do is keep digging it out and spreading it around the power deck here until we can get through." "only one thing wrong with that idea, roger," said tom. "if the whole upper part of the ship is flooded with that stuff, we won't have enough room to spread it around." "we could always open the reaction chamber and fill that," suggested astro, indicating the hatch in the floor of the power deck that lead to the reactant chamber. "i'd just as soon take my chances with sand," said roger, "as risk opening that hatch. the chamber is still hot from the wildcatting reaction mass we had to dump back in space." "well, then, let's start digging," said tom. he picked up an empty grease bucket and began filling it with sand. "you two get busy loading them, and i'll dump," said astro. "o.k.," replied tom and continued digging into the sand with his hands. "here, use this, tom," said roger, offering an empty martian water container. slowly, the three cadets worked their way through the pile on the deck in front of the hatch opening and then started on the main pile in the opening itself. but as soon as they made a little progress on the main pile, the sand would fall right in again from the open hatch, and after two hours of steady work, the sand in front of the hatch still filled the entire opening. their work had been all for nothing. they sat down for a rest. "let's try it a little higher up, tom," suggested roger. "maybe this stuff isn't as deep as we think." tom nodded and stepped up, feeling around the top of the opening. he began clawing at the sand overhead. the sand still came pouring through the opening. "see anything?" asked astro. "i--don't--know--" spluttered tom as the sand slid down burying him to his waist. "better back up, tom," warned roger. "might be a cave-in and you'll get buried." "wait a minute!" shouted tom. "i think i see something!" "a light?" asked astro eagerly. "careful, tom," warned roger again. tom clawed at the top of the pile, ignoring the sand that was heaped around him. "i've got it," shouted tom, struggling back into the power deck just in time to avoid being buried under a sudden avalanche. "there's another hatch up there, just behind the ladder that leads into the passenger lounge. that's the side facing the storm! and as soon as we dig a little, the sand falls from that pile. but the opposite side, leading to the jet-boat deck, is free and clear!" "then all we have to do is force our way through to the top," said astro. "that's all," said tom. "we'd be here until doomsday digging our way clear." "i get it!" said roger. "the storm filled up the side of the ship facing that way, and that is where the passenger lounge is. i remember now. i left the hatch open when we came down here to the power deck, so the sand just kept pouring in." he smiled sheepishly. "i guess it's all my fault." "never mind that now!" said tom. "take this hose and stick it in your mouth, astro. breath through your mouth and plug up your nose so you won't get it all stopped up with sand while you pull your way through." "i'll take this rope with me too," said astro. "that way i can help pull you guys up after me." "good idea," said roger. "as soon as you get outside the hatch here," said tom, "turn back this way. keep your face up against the bulkhead until you get to the top. right above you is the ladder. you can grab it to pull yourself up." [illustration] "o.k.," said astro and took the length of hose and put it in his mouth. then, taking a piece of waste cotton, he stopped up his nose and tested the hose. "can you breathe o.k.?" asked tom. astro signaled that he could and stepped through the hatch. he turned, and facing backward, began clawing his way upward. "keep that hose clear, roger!" ordered tom. "there's about five feet of sand that he has to dig through and if any of it gets into the hose--well--" "don't worry, tom," interrupted roger. "i've got the end of the hose right next to the oxygen bottle. he's getting pure stuff!" soon the big cadet was lost to view. only the slow movement of the hose and rope indicated that astro was all right. finally the hose and rope stopped moving. tom and roger looked at each other, worried. "you think something might be wrong?" asked tom. "i don't know--" roger caught himself. "say, look--the rope! it's jerking--astro's signaling!" [illustration] "he made it!" cried tom. "i wonder if--" roger suddenly picked up the end of the hose and spoke into it. "astro? hey, astro, can you hear me?" "sure i can." astro's voice came back through the hose. "don't shout so loud! i'm not on earth, you know. i'm just ten feet above you!" roger and tom clapped each other on the shoulders in glee. "all set down there?" called astro, through the hose. "o.k." replied tom. "listen," said astro, "when you get outside the hatch, you'll find a pipe running along the bulkhead right over your head. grab that and pull yourself up. tie the rope around your shoulder, but leave enough of it so the next guy can come up. we don't have any way of getting it back down there!" he warned. "who's coming up first?" tom looked at roger. "you're stronger, tom," said roger. "you go up now and then you can give astro a hand pulling me through." "all right," agreed tom. he began pulling the hose back through the sand. he took the end, cleared it out with a few blasts from the oxygen bottle and put it in his mouth. then, after roger had helped him tie the rope around his shoulders, he stuffed his nose with the waste cotton. he stepped to the opening. roger gave three quick jerks on the rope and astro started hauling in. with astro's help, tom was soon free and clear, standing beside astro on the jet-boat deck. "phoooeeeey!" said tom, spitting out the sand that had filtered into his mouth. "i never want to do that again!" he dusted himself off and flashed his emergency light around the deck. "look at that!" he said in amazement. "if we'd kept on digging, we'd have been trapped down there for--" he paused and looked at astro who was grinning--"a long, long time!" he held the light on the sand that was flowing out of the open hatch of the passenger lounge. "come on," urged astro. "let's get roger out of there!" they called to roger through the hose and told him to bring two more emergency lights and the remainder of the martian water. three minutes later the _polaris_ unit was together again. standing on the deck beside his two unit-mates, roger brushed himself off and smiled. "well," he said, "looks like we made it!" "yeah," said tom, "but take a look at this!" he walked across the jet-boat deck to the nearest window port. what should have been a clear view of the desert was a mass of solidly packed sand. "oh, no!" cried roger. "don't tell me we have to go through that again?" "i don't think it'll be so bad this time," said astro. "why not?" asked tom. "the sand is banked the heaviest on the port side of the ship. and the window ports on the starboard side of the control deck were pretty high off the ground." "well, let's not just stand here and talk about it," said roger. "let's take a look!" he turned and walked through the jet-boat deck. tom and astro followed the blond cadet through the darkened passages of the dead ship, and after digging a small pile of sand away from the control-deck hatch, found themselves once more amid the jumble of the wrecked instruments. for the first time in three days, the boys saw sunlight streaking through the crystal port. "i told you," cried astro triumphantly. "but there still isn't any way out of this place!" said roger. "we can't break that port. it's six inches thick!" "find me a wrench," said astro. "i can take the whole window port apart from inside. how do you think they replace these things when they get cracked?" hurriedly searching through the rubble, tom finally produced a wrench and handed it to astro. in a half hour astro had taken the whole section down and had pushed the crystal outward. the air of the desert rushed into the control room in a hot blast. "whew!" cried roger. "it must be at least a hundred and twenty-five degrees out there!" "come on. let's take a look," said tom. "and keep your fingers crossed!" "why?" asked roger. "that we can dig enough of the sand away from the ship to make it recognizable from the air." following tom's lead, roger and astro climbed through the open port and out onto the sand. "well, blast my jets!" said astro. "you can't even tell there was a storm." "you can't if you don't look at the ship," said tom bitterly. "that was the only thing around here of any size that would offer resistance to the sand and make it pile up. and, spaceman, look at that pile!" astro and roger turned to look at the spaceship. instead of seeing the ship, they saw a small mountain of sand, well over a hundred feet high. they walked around it and soon discovered that the window port in the control deck had been the only possible way out. "call it what you want," said roger, "but i think it's just plain dumb luck that we were able to get out!" he eyed the mound of sand. unless one knew there was a spaceship beneath it, it would have been impossible to distinguish it from the rest of the desert. "we're not in the clear yet!" commented astro grimly. "it would take a hundred men at least a week to clear away enough of that sand so search parties could recognize it." he glanced toward the horizon. "there isn't anything but sand here, fellows, sand that stretches for a thousand miles in every direction." "and we've got to walk it," said tom. "either that or sit here and die of thirst," said roger. "any canals around here, tom?" asked astro softly. "there better be," replied tom thoughtfully. he turned to roger. "if you can estimate our position, roger, i'll go back inside and see if i can find a chart to plot it on. that way, we might get a direction to start on at least." astro glanced up at the pale-blue sky. "it's going to be a hot day," he said softly, looking out over the flat plain of the desert, "an awful hot day!" [illustration] chapter "got everything we need?" asked tom. "everything we'll need--and about all we can safely carry without weighing ourselves down too much," answered roger. "enough food for a week, the rest of the martian water, space goggles to protect our eyes from the sun and emergency lights for each of us." "not much to walk a hundred and fifty miles on," offered astro. "too bad the sand got in the galley and messed up the rest of that good food." "we'll have plenty to get us by--if my calculations are right," said tom. "one hundred and fifty-four miles to be exact." "_exact_ only as far as my sun sight told me," said roger. "do you think it's right?" asked tom. "i'll answer you this way," roger replied. "i took that sight six times in a half hour and got a mean average on all of them that came out within a few miles of each other. if i'm wrong, i'm very wrong, but if i'm right, we're within three to five miles of the position i gave you." "that's good enough for me," said astro. "if we're going out there"--he pointed toward the desert--"instead of sitting around here waiting for strong or someone to show up, then i'd just as soon go now!" "wait a minute, fellas. let's get this straight," said tom. "we're all agreed that the odds on captain strong's showing up here before our water runs out are too great to risk it, and that we'll try to reach the nearest canal. the most important thing in this place is water. if we stay and the water we have runs out, we're done for. if we go, we might not reach the canal--and the chance of being spotted in the desert is even smaller than if we wait here at the ship." he paused. "so we move on?" he looked at the others. astro nodded and looked at roger, who bobbed his head in agreement. "o.k., then," said tom, "it's settled. we'll move at night when it's cool, and try to rest during the day when it's the hottest." roger looked up at the blazing white sphere in the pale-blue sky that burned down relentlessly. "i figure we have about six hours before she drops for the day," he said. "then let's go back inside the ship and get some rest," he said. without another word, the three cadets climbed back inside the ship and made places for themselves amid the littered deck of the control room. a hot wind blew out of the new sahara through the open port like a breath of fire. stripped to their shorts, the three boys lay around the deck unable to sleep, each thinking quietly about the task ahead, each remembering stories of the early pioneers who first reached mars. in the mad rush for the uranium-yielding pitchblende, they had swarmed over the deserts toward the dwarf mountains by the thousands. greedy, thinking only of the fortunes that could be torn from the rugged little mountains, they had come unprepared for the heat of the martian deserts and nine out of ten had never returned. each boy thought, too, of the dangers they had just faced. this new danger was different. this was something that couldn't be defeated with an idea or a sudden lucky break. this danger was ever present--a fight against nature, man against the elements on an alien planet. it was a battle of endurance that would wring the last drop of moisture mercilessly from the body, until it became a dry, brittle husk. "getting pretty close to sundown," said tom finally. he stood beside the open port and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, now slowly sinking below the martian horizon. "i guess we'd better get going," said roger. "all set, astro?" "ready, roger," answered the venusian. the three boys dressed and arranged the food packs on their backs. tom carried the remainder of the martian water, two quart plastic containers, and a six-yard square of space cloth, an extremely durable flyweight fabric that would serve as protection from the sun during the rest stop of the day. roger and astro carried the food in compact packs on their backs. each boy wore a makeshift hat of space cloth, along with space goggles, a clear sheet of colored plastic that fitted snugly across the face. all three carried emergency lights salvaged from the wrecked ship. tom walked out away from the ship several hundred yards and studied his pocket compass. he held it steady for a moment, watching the needle swing around. he turned and walked slowly still watching the needle of the compass. he waited for it to steady again, then turned back to roger and astro who stood watching from the window port. "this is the way." tom pointed away from the ship. "three degrees south of east, one hundred and fifty-four miles away, if everything is correct, should bring us smack on top of a major canal." "so long, _lady venus_," said astro, as he left the ship. "don't think it hasn't been fun," added roger, "because it hasn't!" astro fell in behind roger, who in turn followed tom who walked some ten feet ahead. a light breeze sprang up and blew across the surface of the powdery sand. ten minutes later, when they stopped to adjust their shoulder packs, they looked back. the breeze had obliterated their tracks and the mountain of sand covering the spaceship appeared to be no different from any of the other small dunes on the desert. the new sahara desert of mars had claimed another earth-ship victim. "if we can't see the _lady venus_ standing still, and knowing where to look," said astro, "how could a man in a rocket scout ever find it?" "he wouldn't," said roger flatly. "and when the water ran out, we'd just be sitting there." "we're losing time," said tom. "let's move." he lengthened his stride through the soft sand that sucked at his high space boots and faced the already dimming horizon. the light breeze felt good on his face. * * * * * the three cadets had no fear of running into anything in their march through the darkness across the shifting sands. and only an occasional flash of the emergency light to check the compass was necessary to keep them moving in the right direction. there wasn't much talk. there wasn't much to talk about. about nine o'clock the boys stopped and opened one of the containers of food and ate a quick meal of sandwiches. this was followed by a carefully measured ounce of water, and fifteen minutes later they resumed their march across the new sahara. about ten o'clock, deimos, one of the small twin moons of mars, swung up overhead, washing the desert with a pale cold light. by morning, when the cherry-red sun broke the line of the horizon, tom estimated that they had walked about twenty miles. "think we ought to camp here?" asked astro. "if you can show me a better spot," said roger with a laugh, "i'll be happy to use it!" he swung his arm in a wide circle, indicating a wasteland of sand that spread as far as the eyes could see. "i could go for another hour or so," said astro, "before it gets too hot." "and wait for the heat to reach the top of the thermometer? uh-huh, not me," said roger. "i'll take as much sleep as i can get now--while it's still a little cool." "roger's right," said tom. "we'd better take it easy now. we won't be able to get much sleep after noon." "what do we do from noon until evening?" asked astro. "aside from just sitting under this hunk of space cloth, i guess we'll come as close to being roasted alive as a human can get." "you want to eat now?" asked astro. tom and roger laughed. "i'm not hungry, but you go ahead," said tom. "i know that appetite of yours won't wait." "i'm not too hungry either," said roger. "go ahead, you clobber-headed juice jockey." astro grinned sheepishly, and opening one of the containers of food, quickly wolfed down a breakfast of smoked venusian fatfish. tom and roger began spreading the space cloth on the sand that was already hot to the touch. anchoring the four corners in the sand with the emergency lights and one of tom's boots, they propped up the center with the food packs, one on top of the other. a crude tent was the result and both boys crawled in under, sprawling on the sand. astro finished eating, lay down beside his two unit-mates, and in a moment the three cadets were sound asleep. the sun climbed steadily over the desert while the _polaris_ unit slept. with each hour, the heat of the desert rose, climbing past the hundred mark, reaching one hundred and twenty, then one hundred and thirty-five degrees. tom woke up with a start. he felt as if he were inside a blazing furnace. he rolled over and saw astro and roger still asleep, sweat pouring off them in small rivulets. he started to wake them, but decided against it and just lay still under the thin sheet of space cloth that protected him from the sun. as light as the fabric square was, weighing no more than a pound, under the intense heat of the sun it felt like a woolen blanket where it touched him. astro rolled over and opened his eyes. "what time is it, tom?" "must be about noon. how do you feel?" "i'm not sure yet. i had a dream." the big cadet rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "i dreamed i was being shoved into an oven--like hansel and gretel in that old fairy tale." "personally," mumbled roger, without opening his eyes, "i'll take hansel and gretel. they might be a little more tender." "i could do with a drink," said astro, looking at tom. tom hesitated. he felt that as hot as it was, it would get still hotter and there had to be strict control of the remainder of the water. "try to hold out a little longer, astro," said tom. "this heat hasn't really begun yet. you could drink the whole thing and still want more." "that's right, astro," said roger, sitting up. "best thing to do is just wet your tongue and lips a little. drinking won't do much good now." "o.k. by me," said astro. "well, what do we do now?" "we sit here and we wait," answered tom. he sat up and held the space cloth up on his side. "you get in the middle, astro," suggested roger. "your head is up higher than mine and tom's. you can be the tent pole under this big top." astro grunted and changed places with the smaller cadet. "think there might be a breeze if we opened up one side of this thing?" asked roger. "if there was a breeze," answered tom, "it'd be so hot, it'd be worse than what we've got inside." "it sure is going to be a hot day," said astro softly. the thin fabric of the space cloth was enough to protect them from the direct rays of the sun, but offered very little protection against the heat. soon the inside of the tent was boiling under the relentless sun. they sat far apart, their knees pulled up, heads bowed. once when the heat seemed unbearable, tom opened one side of the cloth in a desperate hope that it might be a little cooler outside. a blast of hot air entered the makeshift tent and he quickly closed the opening. about three o'clock roger suddenly slipped backward and lay sprawled on the sand. tom opened one of the containers of water and dipped his shirttail into it. astro watched him moisten roger's lips and wipe his temples. in a few moments the cadet stirred and opened his eyes. "i--i--don't know what happened," he said slowly. "everything started swimming and then went black." "you fainted," said tom simply. "what time is it?" asked astro. "sun should be dropping soon now, in another couple of hours." they were silent again. the sun continued its journey across the sky and at last began to slip behind the horizon. when the last red rays stretched across the sandy desert, the three cadets folded back the space-cloth covering and stood up. a soft evening breeze sprang up, refreshing them a little, and though none of them was hungry, each boy ate a light meal. tom opened the container of water again and measured out about an ounce apiece. "moisten your tongue, and sip it slowly," ordered tom. roger and astro took their share of the water and dipped fingers in it, wiping their lips and eyelids. they continued to do this until finally, no longer able to resist, they took the precious water and swished it around in their mouths before swallowing it. they folded the space cloth, shouldered their packs, and after tom had checked the compass, started their long march toward their plotted destination. they had survived their first twenty-four hours in the barren wastes of the new sahara, with each boy acutely aware that there was at least a week more of the same in front of them. the sky blackened, and soon after deimos rose and started climbing across the dark sky. chapter "how much water left?" asked astro thickly. "enough for one more drink apiece," tom replied. "and then what happens?" mumbled roger through his cracked lips. "you know what will happen, roger--you know and i know and tom knows," muttered astro grimly. for eight days they had been struggling across the blistering shifting sands, walking by night, sweltering under the thin space cloth during the day. their tongues were swollen. scraggly beards covered their chins and jaws. roger's lips were cracked. the back of tom's neck had suffered ten minutes of direct sun and turned into a large swollen blister. only astro appeared to be bearing up under the ordeal. there was no sign of their being close to the canal. "wanta try marching during the day?" asked astro. they had broken camp on the evening of the eighth day and were preparing to move on into the never-changing desert. "if we don't hit the canal sometime during the night, there might be a chance it's close enough to reach in a couple of hours," replied tom. "either that, or we've miscalculated altogether." "how about you, roger?" asked astro. "whatever you guys decide, i'll be right in back of you." roger had grown steadily weaker during the last three days and found it difficult to sleep during the hours of rest. "then we'll keep marching tomorrow," said astro. "let's move out," said tom. roger and astro shouldered the remaining slender food packs, with tom carrying the water and space cloth, and they started out into the rapidly darkening desert. once again, as on the previous eight nights, the little moon, deimos, swung across the sky, casting dim shadows ahead of the three marching boys. tom found it necessary to look at the compass more often. he couldn't trust his sense of direction as much as he had earlier. once, he had gone for two hours in a direction that was fifty degrees off course. the rest stops also were more frequent now, with each boy throwing his pack to the ground and lying flat on his back, to enjoy the cool breeze that never failed to soothe their scorched faces. when the sun rose out of the desert on the morning of the ninth day, they stopped, ate a light breakfast of preserved figs, divided the juice evenly among them, and, ripping the space cloth into three sections, wrapped it around themselves like arabs and continued to walk. by noon, with the sun directly overhead, they were staggering. at two-thirty the sun and the heat were so overpowering that they stopped involuntarily and tried to sit on the hot sand only to find that they couldn't and so they stumbled on. neither roger nor astro asked for water. finally tom stopped and faced his two unit-mates wobbling on unsteady legs. "i've gone as far as i can without water. i--i don't think i can go another step. so come on, we'll finish what we've got." astro and roger nodded in quiet agreement. they watched with dull eyes as tom carefully opened the plastic container of water. he gave each a cup and slowly, cautiously, measured out the remaining water into three equal parts. he held the container up for a full minute allowing the last drop to run out before tossing the empty bottle to one side. "here goes," said tom. he wet his lips, placed a wet finger on his temples and sipped the liquid slowly, allowing it to trickle down his parched throat. roger and astro did the same. after he had wet his lips, astro took the full amount in his mouth and washed it around, before swallowing it. roger brought the cup up slowly to his mouth with trembling hands, tipped it shakily, and then before astro or tom could catch him, fell to the ground. the precious water spilled into the sand. tom and astro watched dumfounded as the dry sand sucked away the water until nothing remained but a damp spot six inches wide. "i guess--" began tom, "i guess that about does it!" "we'll have to carry him," said astro simply. tom looked up into the eyes of his unit-mate. there he saw a determination that would not be defeated. he nodded his head and stooped over to grapple with roger's legs. he got one leg under each arm and then tried to straighten up. he fell to the sand and rolled to one side. astro watched him get up slowly, wearily, his space-cloth covering remaining on the ground, and then, with gritted teeth, try once more to pick roger's legs up. astro put out his hand and touched tom on the shoulder. his voice was low, hardly above a whisper. "you lead the way, tom. i'll carry him." [illustration: "_you lead the way, tom. i'll carry him._"] tom looked up at the big venusian. their eyes locked for a moment and then he nodded his head and turned away. he pulled out the pocket compass and through blurred vision read the course beneath its wavering needle. he waved an arm in a direction to the right of them and staggered off. astro stooped down, picked roger up in his arms and slowly got him across his shoulders. then steadying himself, he walked after tom. suddenly a blast of wind, hot as fire, swept across the sandy plains, whipping the sand up and around the two walking figures, biting into exposed hands and faces. tom tried to adjust his goggles when the sand began to penetrate around the edges but his fingers shook and he dropped them. in a flash, the sand drove into his eyes, blinding him. "i can't see, astro," said tom in a hoarse whisper when astro staggered up. "you'll have to guide." astro took the compass out of tom's hand and then placed his unit-mate's hand on his back. tom gripped the loose folds of the space cloth and uniform beneath and struggled blindly after the big cadet. the hot sun bore down. the wind kept blowing and astro, with roger slung across his back like a sack of potatoes and tom clinging blindly to his uniform, walked steadily on. he felt each step would be his last, but with each step he told himself through gritted teeth that he could do ten more--and then ten more--ten more. he walked, he staggered, and once he fell to the ground, tom slumping behind him and roger being tossed limply to the scorching sand. slowly astro recovered, helped tom to his feet, then with the last of his great strength, picked up roger again. this time, he was unable to get him to his shoulder so he carried him like a baby in his arms. at last the sun began to drop in the red sky. astro felt roger's limp body slipping from his grip. by now, tom had lost all but the very last ounce of his strength and was simply being pulled along. "tom--" gasped astro with great effort, "i'm going to count to a thousand and then--i'm going to stop." tom didn't answer. astro began to count. "one--two--three--four--five--six--" he tried to make each number become a step forward. he closed his eyes. it wasn't important which way he went. it was only important that he walk those thousand steps, "five hundred eleven--five hundred twelve--five hundred thirteen--" involuntarily he opened his eyes when he felt himself climbing up a small rise in the sand. he opened his eyes and ten feet away was the flat blue surface of the canal they had been searching for. "you can let go now, tom," said astro in a voice hardly above a whisper. "we made it. we're on the bank of the canal." * * * * * "hey, roger," yelled astro from the middle of the canal, "ever see a guy make like a submarine?" tom and roger sat on the top of the low bank of the canal drying off from a swim, while astro still splashed around luxuriating in the cool water. "go on," yelled roger, "let's see you drown yourself!" "not me, hot-shot," yelled astro. "after that walk, all i'd have to do is open my mouth and start drinking." finally tiring of his sport, the big venusian pulled himself up onto the bank of the canal and quickly dressed. pulling on his space boots, he turned to tom and roger, who were breaking out the last two containers of food. "you know, astro," said roger quietly, "i'll never be able to repay you for carrying me." tom was quiet for a moment, and then added, "same here, astro." astro grinned from ear to ear. "answer me this one question, both of you. would you have done it for me?" the two boys nodded. "then you paid me. as long as i know i'm backed up by two guys like you, then i'm paid. carrying you, roger, was just something i could do for you at that particular time. one of these days, when we get out of this oven, there'll come a time when you or tom will do something for me--and that's the way it should be." "thanks, astro," said roger. he reached over and put his hand on top of astro's, and then tom placed his hand on top of theirs. the three boys were quiet for a moment. there was an understanding in each of them that they had accomplished more than just survival in a desert. they had learned to respect each other. they were a unit at last. "what do we do next?" asked roger. "start walking that way," said tom, pointing to his left along the bank of the canal that stretched off in a straight line to the very horizon. "if we're lucky, we might be able to find something to use as a raft and then we can ride." "think there are any fish in this canal?" asked astro, gazing out over the cool blue water. "doubt it. at least i've never heard of there being any," replied tom. "well," said roger, standing up, "you can go a lot farther without food than you can without water. and we still have that big container of ham left." "yeah, as soon as it gets hot, we just swim instead of walk," said astro. "and, believe me, there's going to be a lot of swimming done!" "think we might strike anything down that way," asked roger. he looked down the canal in the direction tom had indicated. "that's the direction of the nearest atmosphere booster station. at least that was the way it looked on the chart. all of them were built near the canals." "how far away do you think it is?" asked astro. "must be at least three hundred miles." "let's start moving," said roger, "and hope we can find something that'll float us on the canal." single file, wearing the space cloths once more as protection against the sun, they walked along the bank of the canal. when the heat became unbearable, they dipped the squares of space cloths into the water and wrapped themselves in them. when they began to dry out, they would repeat the process. at noon, when the sun dried the fabric nearly as fast as they could wet it, they stopped and slipped over the edge of the bank into the cool water. covering their heads with the cloths they remained partly submerged until the late afternoon. when the sun had lost some of its power, again they climbed out and continued walking. marching late into the night, they made camp beside the canal, finished the last container of food, and, for the first time since leaving the ship, slept during the night. by the time deimos had risen in the sky, they were sound asleep. [illustration] chapter "eeeeeeoooooooow!" astro's bull-like roar shattered the silence of the desert. "there--up ahead, tom--roger--a building!" tom and roger stopped and strained their eyes in the bright sunshine. "i think you're right," said tom at last. "but i doubt if anyone's there. looks like an abandoned mining shack to me." "who wants to stand here and debate the question?" asked roger, and started off down the side of the canal at a lope, with astro and tom right behind him. during the last three days the boys had been living off the contents of the last remaining food container and the few lichens they found growing along the canal. their strength was weakening, but with an abundant supply of water near at hand and able to combat the sun's heat with frequent swims, they were still in fair condition. tom was the first to reach the building, a one-story structure made of dried mud from the canal. the shutters and the door had long since been torn away by countless sandstorms. the three boys entered the one-room building cautiously. the floor was covered with sand, and sand was piled in heaping drifts in front of the open windows and door. "nothing--not a thing," said roger disgustedly. "this place must be at least a hundred and fifty years old." "probably built by a miner," commented tom. "what do you mean 'nothing'?" said astro. "look!" they followed astro's pointing finger to the ceiling. crisscrossed, from wall to wall, were heavy wooden beams. "raft!" tom cried. "that's right, spaceman," said astro, "a raft. there's enough wood up there to float the _polaris_. come on!" astro hurried outside, with tom and roger following at his heels. they quickly climbed to the roof of the old building and soon were ripping the beams from the crumbling mud. fortunately the beams had been joined by notching the ends of the crosspieces. astro explained that this was necessary because of the premium on nails when the house was built. everything at that time had to be hauled from earth, and no one wanted to pay the price heavy nails and bolts demanded. one by one, they removed the heavy beams, until they had eight of them lined up alongside the edge of the canal. "how do we keep them together?" asked roger. "with this!" said tom. he began ripping his space cloth into long strips. astro and roger tugged at the first beam. at last they had it in the water. "it floats," cried astro. tom and roger couldn't help but shout for joy. they quickly hauled the remaining beams into the water and lashed them together. without hesitation, they shoved the raft into the canal, climbing aboard and standing like conquering heroes, as the raft moved out into the main flow of the canal and began to drift forward. "i dub thee--_polaris the second_," said tom in formal tones and gave the nearest beam a kick. astro and roger gave a lusty cheer. steadily, silently, the raft bore them through the never-changing scene of the canal's muddy banks and the endlessness of the desert beyond. protecting themselves from the sun during the day by repeated dunkings in the water, they traveled day and night in a straight course down the center of the canal. at night, the tiny moon, deimos, climbed across the desert and reflected light upon the satin-smooth water. the third day on the raft they began to feel the pangs of hunger. and where during their march through the desert, their thoughts were of water, now visions of endless tables of food occupied their thoughts. at first, they talked of their hunger, dreaming up wild combinations of dishes and giving even wilder estimates of how much each could consume. finally, discovering that talking about it only intensified their desire, they kept a stolid silence. when the heat became unbearable, they simply took to the water. once tom's grip on the raft slipped and roger plunged in after him without a moment's hesitation, only to have astro go in to save both of them. on and on--down the canal, the three boys floated. days turned into nights, and nights, cooling and refreshing, gave way to the blazing sun of the next day. the silent desert swept past them. one night, when astro, unable to sleep, was staring ahead into the darkness, he heard a rustling in the water alongside the raft. he moved slowly to the edge of the raft and peered down into the clear water. he saw a fish! the big cadet watched it dart around the raft. he waited, his body tense. once the fish came to the edge of the raft, but before astro could move his arm, it darted off in another direction. at last the fish disappeared and astro sank back on the timbers. he trailed one hand over the side in the water, and suddenly, felt the rough scales of the fish brush his fingers. in a flash, astro closed his hand and snatched the wriggling creature out of the water. "tom--roger--" he shouted. "look--look--a fish--i caught a fish with my bare hands!" tom rolled over and opened his eyes. roger sat in bewilderment. "i watched him--i was watching him and then he went away. and then i held my hand over the side of the raft and he came snooping around and--well, i just grabbed him!" he held the fish in the viselike grip of his right hand until it stopped moving. "you know," said tom weakly, "i just remembered. when we were in the science building in atom city, one of their projects was to breed both earth and venus fish in the canals." "i am going to shake, personally, the hand of the man who started this project when we get back to atom city," said astro. suddenly roger gripped tom's arms. he was staring in the direction the raft was going. "tom--" he breathed, "astro--look!" they turned and peered into the dusk. in the distance, not a mile away, was the huge crystal-clear dome of the atmosphere booster station, its roaring atomic motors sending a steady purring sound out across the desert. "we made it," said tom, choking back the tears. "we made it!" "well, blast my jets," said astro. "we sure did!" * * * * * "and you mean to tell me, you _walked_ across that desert?" asked captain strong. tom glanced over at astro and roger. "we sure did, sir." "with astro doing the last stretch to the canal carrying me and dragging tom," said roger as he sipped his hot broth. the room in the chief engineer's quarters at the atmosphere station was crowded with workers, enlisted solar guardsmen and officers of the solar guard. they stood around staring in disbelief at the three disheveled cadets. "but how did you ever survive?" asked strong. "by the craters of luna, that blasted desert was hotter this past month than it has ever been since mars was first colonized by earthmen. why--why--you were walking through temperatures that reached a hundred and fifty degrees!" "you don't have to convince us, sir," said roger with a smile. "we'll never forget it as long as we live." later, when tom, roger and astro had taken a shower and dressed in fresh uniforms, strong came in with an audioscriber and the three cadets gave the full version of their adventure for the official report back to the academy. when they had finished, strong told them of his efforts to find them. "we knew you were in trouble right away," said strong, "and we tracked you on radar. but that blasted storm fouled us all up. we figured that the sand would have covered up the ship, and that the chances of finding you in a scout were very small, so i got permission from commander walters to organize this ground search for you." he paused. "frankly we had just about given up hope. took us three weeks finally to locate the section of desert you landed in." "we knew you would come, sir," said tom, "but we didn't have enough water to wait for you--and we had to leave." "boys," said strong slowly, "i've had a lot of wonderful things happen to me in the solar guard. but i have to confess that seeing you three space-brained idiots clinging to that raft, ready to eat a raw fish--well, that was just about the happiest moment of my life." "thank you, sir," said roger, "and i think i can speak for tom and astro when i say that seeing you here with over a hundred men, and all this equipment, ready to start searching for us in that desert--well, it makes us feel pretty proud to be members of an outfit where the skipper feels that way about his crew!" "what happens now, sir?" asked tom. "aside from getting a well-deserved liberty, it's back to the old grind at the academy. the _polaris_ is at the spaceport at marsopolis, waiting for us." he paused and eyed the three cadets with a smile. "i guess the routine at space academy will seem a little dull now, after what you've been through." "captain strong," said astro formally, "i _know_ i speak for tom and roger when i say that _routine_ is all we want for a long time to come!" "amen!" added tom and roger in unison. "very well," said strong. "_polaris_ unit--staaaaand _to_!" the three boys snapped to attention. "you are hereby ordered to report aboard the _polaris_ at fifteen hundred hours and stand by to raise ship!" he returned their salutes, turned sharply and walked from the room. outside, steve strong leaned against the wall and stared through the crystal shell of the atmosphere station into the endless desert. "thank you, mars," he said softly, "for making spacemen out of the _polaris_ crew!" he saluted sharply and walked away. tom suddenly burst from the room with roger and astro yelling after him. "hey, tom, where you going?" yelled roger. "i've got to get a bottle of that water out of the canal for my kid brother billy!" shouted tom and disappeared down a slidestairs. roger turned to astro and said, "that's what i call a real spaceman." "what do you mean?" asked astro. "after what we've been through, he still remembers that his kid brother wants a bottle of water from a canal as a souvenir!" "yeah," breathed astro, "tom corbett is--is--a real spaceman!" [illustration] [illustration] on the trail of the space pirates a tom corbett space cadet adventure by carey rockwell willy ley _technical adviser_ illustrations by louis glanzman grosset & dunlap _publishers_ new york copyright, , by rockhill radio all rights reserved printed in the united states of america [transcriber's note: this is a rule clearance. pg has not been able to find a copyright renewal for this book.] illustrations hawks stood up and eyed the two men coldly tom saw three pretty girls board the ship the hatch opened again and the two spacemen entered the air lock the scar-faced man obviously wanted something from tom the young cadet timed his move perfectly all solar guard defense measures seemed to be futile astro and coxine were locked in mortal combat on the trail of the space pirates chapter "all aboard!" a metallic voice rasped over the loud-speakers and echoed through the lofty marble and aluminum concourse of the new chicago monorail terminal. "atom city express on track seven! space academy first stop! passengers for space academy will please take seats in the first six cars!" as the crowd of people waiting in the concourse surged through the gate leading to track seven, three boys in the royal-blue uniforms of the space cadet corps slowly picked up their plastic space bags and joined the mass of travelers. wearily, they drifted with the crowd and stepped on the slidestairs leading down to the monorail platform. in the lead, tom corbett, the command cadet of the unit, a tall, curly-haired boy of eighteen, slouched against the handrail and looked back at his two unit-mates, roger manning and astro. manning, a slender cadet, with close-cropped blond hair, was yawning and blinking his eyes sleepily, while astro, the third member of the unit, a head taller than either of his unit-mates and fifty pounds heavier, stood flat-footed on the step, eyes closed, his giant bulk swaying slightly with the motion of the slidestairs. "huh! a real snappy unit!" tom muttered to himself. "hmmm? what?" roger blinked and stared bleary-eyed at tom. "nothing, roger," tom replied. "i only hope you guys can stay awake long enough to get on the monorail." "it's your own fault, tom," rumbled astro in his bull-like voice. "if your family hadn't thrown so many parties for us while we were on leave, we'd have had more sleep." "i didn't hear any complaints then," snorted tom. "just get into the car before you cork off, will you? i'm in no shape to carry you." seconds later, the slidestairs deposited the three boys on the platform and they slowly made their way through the crowd toward the forward cars of the monorail. entering the third car, they found three seats together and collapsed into their luxurious softness. "oh, brother!" tom groaned as he curled himself into the cushions, "i'm going to sleep all the way to the academy." "i'm asleep already," mumbled roger, his voice muffled by his cap pulled low over his face. suddenly astro sat bolt upright. "i'm hungry!" he announced. "oh, no!" moaned tom. "why, you overgrown venusian ape, mrs. corbett gave you dinner less than an hour ago!" roger complained. "steak, french fries, beans, corn, pie, ice cream...." "two helpings," chimed in tom. "and now you're hungry!" roger was incredulous. "can't help it," calmly answered astro. "i'm a big guy, that's all." he began digging through his space bag for an apple mrs. corbett had thoughtfully provided. tom finally stirred and sat up. he had learned a long time ago the futility of trying to deny astro's gargantuan appetite. "there's a dining car on this section of the monorail, astro," he said, slapping a crumpled mass of credits into the venusian's hamlike hand. "here. have yourself a good time." he slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes. "yeah," growled roger, "and when you come back, don't make any noise!" astro smiled. he got up carefully and climbed over his two sleeping mates. standing in the aisle, he counted the credits tom had given him and turned to the front of the car. suddenly a heavy voice growled behind him. "one side, spaceboy!" a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him to one side. caught off balance, astro fell back on his sleeping unit-mates. "hey! what th--" stuttered astro as he sprawled on top of his friends. the two sleepy cadets came up howling. "astro! what in blazes do you think you're doing?" roared tom. "why, you space-brained idiot," yelled roger, "i ought to lay one on your chin!" there was a tangle of arms and legs and finally the three cadets struggled to their feet. astro turned to see who had pushed him. two men standing at the end of the car grinned back at him. "it was those two guys at the end of the car," explained astro. "they pushed me!" he lumbered toward them, followed by tom and roger. stopping squarely in front of them, he demanded, "what's the big idea?" "go back to your beauty rest, spaceboy!" jeered the heavier of the two men and turned to his companion, adding with a snarl, "how do you like his nerve? we not only have to pay taxes to support these lazy kids and teach them how to be spacemen, but they're loud-mouthed and sassy on top of it!" the other man, smaller and rat-faced, laughed. "yeah, we oughta report them to their little soldier bosses at space academy." astro suddenly balled his fists and stepped forward, but tom grabbed his arm and pulled him back while roger eased himself between his mates and the two grinning men. "you know, tom," he drawled, looking the heavier of the two right in the eye, "the only thing i don't like about being a space cadet is having to be polite to _all_ the people, including the space crawlers!" "why, you little punk," sneered the bigger man, "i oughta wipe up the deck with you!" roger smiled thinly. "don't try it, mister. you wouldn't know what hit you!" "come on, wallace," said the smaller man. "leave 'em alone and let's go." astro took another step forward and roared, "blast off. both of you!" the two men turned quickly and disappeared through the door leading to the next monorail car. the three cadets turned and headed back down the aisle to their seats. "let's get some sleep," said tom. "we better be in good shape for that new assignment when we hit the academy. no telling what it'll be, where we'll go, or worse yet, when we'll blast off. and i, for one, want to have a good night's rest under my belt." "yeah," agreed roger, settling himself into the cushions once more. "wonder what the orders will be. got any ideas, tom?" "no idea at all, roger," answered tom. "the audiogram just said report back to the academy immediately for assignment." "hey, astro!" exclaimed roger, seeing the venusian climb back into his seat. "aren't you going to eat?" "i'm not hungry any more," grunted astro. "those guys made me lose my appetite." tom looked at roger and winked. "maybe we'd better tell captain strong about this, roger." "why?" "get astro mad enough and he won't want to eat. the academy can cut down on its food bills." "ah, rocket off, you guys," growled astro sleepily. tom and roger smiled at each other, closed their eyes, and in a moment the three cadets of the polaris unit were sound asleep. * * * * * suspended from a single gleaming rail that stretched across the western plains like an endless silver ribbon, the monorail express hurtled through the early dawn speeding its passengers to their destination. as the gleaming line of streamlined cars crossed the newly developed grazing lands that had once been the great american desert, tom corbett stirred from a deep sleep. the slanting rays of the morning sun were shining in his eyes. tom yawned, stretched, and turned to the viewport to watch the scenery flash past. looming up over the flat grassy plains ahead, he could see a huge bluish mountain range, its many peaks covered with ever-present snow. in a few moments tom knew the train would rocket through a tunnel and then on the other side, in the center of a deep, wide valley, he would see space academy, the university of the planets and headquarters of the great solar guard. he reached over and shook roger and astro, calling, "all right, spacemen, time to hit the deck!" "uh? ah-ummmh!" groaned roger. "ahhhoooohhhhhh!" yawned astro. standing up, he stretched and touched the top of the monorail car. "let's get washed before the other passengers wake up," said tom, and headed for the morning room. astro and roger followed, dragging their feet and rubbing their eyes. five minutes later, as the sleek monorail whistled into the tunnel beneath the mountain range, the boys of the _polaris_ unit returned to their seats. "back to the old grind," sighed roger. "drills, maneuvers, books, lectures. the same routine, day in day out." "maybe not," said tom. "remember, the order for us to report back was signed by commander walters, not the cadet supervisor of leaves. i think that means something special." suddenly the monorail roared out of the tunnel and into brilliant early-morning sun again. the three cadets turned quickly, their eyes sweeping the valley for the first sight of the shining tower of galileo. "there it is," said tom, pointing toward a towering crystal building reflecting the morning light. "we'll be there in a minute." even as tom spoke, the speed of the monorail slackened as it eased past a few gleaming structures of aluminum and concrete. presently the white platform of the academy station drifted past the viewport and all forward motion stopped. the doors opened and the three boys hurried to the exit. all around the cadets, men and women in the vari-colored uniforms of the solar guard hurried through the station. the green of the earthworm cadets, first-year students of the cadet corps; the brilliant rich blue of the senior cadets like the _polaris_ unit; the scarlet red of the enlisted solar guard; and here and there, the black and gold of the officers of the solar guard. the three cadets hurried to the nearest slidewalk, a moving belt of plastic that glided silently across the ground toward space academy. it whisked them quickly past the few buildings nestled around the monorail station and rounded a curve. the three cadets looked up together at the gleaming tower of galileo. made of pure titan crystal, it soared above the cluster of buildings that surrounded the grassy quadrangle and dominated space academy like a translucent giant. the cadets stepped off the slidewalk as it glided past the tower building and ran up the broad marble stair. at the huge main portal, tom stopped and looked back over the academy grounds. all around him lay the evidence of mankind's progress. it was the year , when earthman had long since colonized the inner planets, mars and venus, and the three large satellites, moon of earth, ganymede of jupiter, and titan of saturn. it was the age of space travel; of the solar alliance, a unified society of billions of people who lived in peace with one another, though sprawled throughout the universe; and the solar guard, the might of the solar alliance and the defender of interplanetary peace. all these things tom saw as he stood in the wide portal of the tower building, flanked by astro and roger. turning into the tower, the three cadets went directly to the office of their unit commander. the training program at space academy consisted of three cadets to a unit, with a solar guard officer as their teacher and instructor. steve strong, captain in the solar guard, had been their cadet instructor since the unit had been formed and he now smiled a welcome as the cadets snapped to attention in front of his desk. "_polaris_ unit reporting as ordered, sir," said tom, handing over the audiogram order he had received the day before. "thank you, corbett," said strong, taking the paper. "at ease." the three boys relaxed and broke into wide grins as strong rounded his desk and shook hands with each of them. "glad to have you back, boys," he said. "did you enjoy your leave?" "and how, sir," replied tom. "tom's mother showed us a whale of a good time," chimed in roger. "and how she can cook!" astro licked his lips involuntarily. "well, i hope you had a good rest--" said strong, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a small bell. behind his desk a small teleceiver screen glowed into life to reveal the stern face of commander walters, the commander of space academy. strong turned to the teleceiver and called, "yes, commander walters?" "did the _polaris_ unit arrive yet, steve?" asked the commander. "yes, sir," replied strong. "they're here in my office now, sir." "good," said the commander with a smile. "i just received a report the exposition will open sooner than expected. i suggest you brief the cadets and raise ship as soon as possible." "very well, sir," answered strong. the screen darkened and he turned back to the cadets. "looks like you got back just in time." "what's up, sir?" asked tom. strong returned to his chair and sat down. "i suppose you've all heard about the solar exposition that opens on venus next week?" tom's eyes lit up. "have we! that's all the stereos and visunews and teleceivers have been yacking about for weeks now." "well," said strong with a smile, "we're going!" the three cadets couldn't restrain themselves and burst out in a happy shout. then roger calmed down enough to comment, "sounds more like another vacation than an assignment, sir." "hardly, manning," replied strong. "you see, every industry, society, organization, and governmental agency is setting up exhibits at the exposition to show the people what's taking place in their part of the solar system. there'll also be an amusement section." strong chuckled. "i've seen pictures of some of the tricks and rides they've developed to entertain the younger generation. believe me, i'd rather take full acceleration on a rocket ship than ride on any of them." "but what will we do, sir?" asked tom. "our job is very simple. we're to take the _polaris_ to the exposition and land on the fairgrounds. when the fair opens, we show all the visitors who are interested, everything about her." "you mean we're going to be"--roger swallowed--"guides?" "that's right, manning," said strong. "you three will guide all visitors through the _polaris_." "how long will we be there, sir?" asked tom. "a month or so, i guess. the _polaris_ will be the first academy exhibit. when you leave, another unit will replace you with their ship and do the same thing." "but--but--" stammered astro, "what will we say to them? the visitors, i mean?" "just answer all their questions, astro. also, make up a little speech about the functions of your particular station." strong looked at his watch and rose to his feet. "it's getting late. check the _polaris_ over and stand by to raise ship in an hour." "yes, sir," said tom. the cadets came to attention, preparing to leave. "one thing more! don't get the idea that this is going to be a space lark," said strong. "it's very important for the people of the solar alliance to know what kind of work we're doing here at the academy. and you three have been selected as representatives of the entire cadet corps. so see that you conduct yourselves accordingly. all right, dismissed!" the three cadets saluted sharply and filed out of the room, their skipper's final words ringing in their ears. fifteen minutes later, having packed the necessary gear for the extended trip, the _polaris_ unit rode the slidewalk through the grassy quadrangle and the cluster of academy buildings, out toward the spaceport. in the distance they could see the rocket cruiser _polaris_, poised on the launching ramp, her long silhouette outlined sharply against the blue sky. resting on her four stabilizer fins, her nose pointed toward the stars, the ship looked like a giant projectile poised and ready to blast its target. "look at her!" exclaimed astro. "if she isn't the most beautiful ship in the universe, i'll eat my hat." "don't see how you could," drawled roger, "after the way you put away mrs. corbett's pies!" tom laughed. "i'll tell you one thing, roger," he said, pointing to the ship, "i feel like that baby is as much my home as mom's and dad's house back in new chicago." "all right, all right," said roger. "since we're all getting sloppy, i have to admit that i'm glad to see that old thrust bucket too!" presently the three cadets were scrambling into the mighty spaceship, and they went right to work, preparing for blast-off. quickly, with sure hands, each began a systematic check of his station. on the power deck astro, a former enlisted solar guardsman who had been admitted to the cadet corps because of his engineering genius, stripped to the waist and started working on the ship's massive atomic engines. a heavy rocketman's belt of tools slung around his waist, he crawled through the heart of the ship, adjusting a valve here, turning a screw there, seeing that the reactant feeders were clean and clear to the rocket firing chambers. and last of all he made sure the great rocket firing chambers were secure and the heavy sheets of lead baffling in place to protect him from deadly radioactivity. on the radar bridge in the nose of the ship, roger removed the delicate astrogation prism from its housing and cleaned it with a soft cloth. replacing it carefully, he turned to the radar scanner, checking the intricate wiring system and making sure that the range finders were in good working order. he then turned his attention to the intercom. "radar bridge to control deck," he called. "checking the intercom, tom." immediately below, on the control deck, tom turned away from the control panel. "all clear here, roger. check with astro." "all clear on the power deck!" the big venusian's voice boomed over the loud-speaker. the intercom could be heard all over the ship unless the many speakers were turned off individually. tom turned his attention back to the great control panel, and one by one tested the banks of dials, gauges, and indicators that controlled the rocket cruiser. tom corbett had wanted to be a space cadet as long as he could remember. after taking the entrance exams, he had been accepted for the rigid training that would prepare him to enter the ranks of the great solar guard. he had met his two unit-mates, roger and astro, on his very first day at the academy, and after a difficult beginning, adjusting to each other's personalities and the discipline of the academy routine, the three boys had become steadfast friends. as control-deck cadet and pilot, tom was head of the unit, second-in-command to captain strong. and while he could issue orders to astro and roger and expect to be obeyed, the three cadets all spoke their minds when it came to making difficult decisions. this had solidified the three cadets into a fighting, experienced, dependable unit. tom made a final check on the gravity generator and turned to the intercom. "all departments, report!" he called. "radar bridge checks in o.k.," replied roger. "power deck checks in on the nose, tom," reported astro. "right! stand by! we blast as soon as the skipper gets around." tom turned to the teleceiver and switched it on. the screen blurred and then steadied into a view of the spaceport outside. tom scanned the launching ramp below, and, satisfied it was clear, he switched the teleceiver to the spaceport traffic-control circuit. "rocket cruiser _polaris_ to spaceport control," he called. "come in, spaceport control. request orbit clearance." "spaceport traffic control to _polaris_," reported the traffic officer, his face in focus on the teleceiver screen. "your orbit has been cleared for blast-off. orbit number --repeat, --raise ship when ready!" "orbit ," repeated tom. "end transmission!" "end transmission," said the officer. tom flipped off the teleceiver and the officer's face disappeared. at the rear of the control deck, captain strong suddenly stepped through the hatch and dropped his black plastic space bag on the deck. tom got up and saluted sharply. "_polaris_ ready to blast off, sir," he said. "orbit cleared." "very well, corbett," replied strong, returning the salute. "carry on!" tom turned back to the control board and flipped on the intercom. "control deck to power deck! energize the cooling pumps!" "cooling pumps, aye!" said astro. from the power deck, the massive pumps began their whining roar. the great ship shuddered under the pressure. tom watched the gauge that indicated the pressure control and then called into the intercom. "radar bridge, do we have a clear trajectory?' "all clear forward and up, tom," reported roger from the radar bridge. "strap in for blast-off!" bawled the curly-haired cadet. captain strong took his place in the pilot's chair next to tom and strapping himself in snapped out, "feed reactant!" spinning a small wheel at the side of the control panel, tom reported, "feeders at d- rate, sir!" then, as the hiss of fuel pouring into the mighty engines of the ship blended with the whine of the pumps, tom snapped out a third order. "cut in take-off six yards!" receiving acknowledgment from below, he grasped the master blast-off switch and watched the sweeping hand of the astral chronometer. "stand by to raise ship!" he yelled. "blast off minus--five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!" he pulled the switch. slowly, the rockets blasting evenly, the giant ship lifted itself free of the ground. then, gaining speed, it began rocketing away from the earth. like a giant shining bullet, the great spaceship blasted through the dark void of space, her nose pointed to the distant misty planet of venus. once again tom corbett and his unit-mates had embarked on a mission for the solar guard. chapter "stand by for touchdown!" bellowed captain strong's voice on the big spaceship's intercom. "control deck standing by," replied tom. "corbett," strong continued, "you may take her down as soon as you get clearance from venusport traffic control." tom acknowledged the order with a brisk "aye, sir! in a few moments he received permission to touch down on the newly colonized planet. then, turning his attention to the control board, he requested a ground-approach check from roger. "about two miles to touchdown, tom," reported roger from the radar bridge. "trajectory clear!" "o.k., roger," said tom. glancing quickly at the air speed and rocket thrust indicators, he flipped a switch and sang out, "power deck, reduce thrust on main drive rockets to minimum!" "got ya, tom," boomed astro. "closing in fast, sir," said tom to strong, who had come up from below and now stood at the cadet's shoulder watching as tom maneuvered the big ship through the venusian atmosphere, his keen eyes sweeping the great panel of recording gauges and dials. "one thousand feet to touchdown," intoned roger from the radar bridge. reacting swiftly, tom adjusted several levers, then picking up the intercom microphone, he threw a switch and yelled, "power deck! full braking thrust!" deep inside the _polaris_, astro, who tended the mighty rocket power plant with loving care, eased home the sensitive control mechanism, applying even pressure to the braking rockets. as the giant spaceship settled smoothly to within a few feet of the surface of the concrete spaceport, tom threw the master switch that cut all power. a moment later the huge craft dropped easily, then settled on the landing platform with a gentle thump. "touchdown!" yelled tom. then, glancing at the astral chronometer on the control board, he turned to strong, and saluting smartly, reported, "_polaris_ completes space flight at exactly seven fifty-two-o-two!" strong returned the salute. "very well, tom. now, i want you, roger, and astro to come with me to the exposition commissioner's office for an interview and detailed orders." "yes, sir," said tom. a few minutes later, dressed in fresh uniforms, the three cadets followed their unit commander out of the ship, then stood by as strong ordered the chief petty officer of an enlisted solar guard working party to prepare the _polaris_ for moving to the exposition site. "empty the reactant fuel tanks of all but enough for us to raise ship and touch down over to the fairgrounds," said strong. "better strip her of armament, too. paralo-ray pistols and rifles, the three-inch and six-inch atomic blasters, narco sleeping gas; in fact, everything that could possibly cause any trouble." "yes, sir," replied the scarlet-clad enlisted spaceman. "one thing more," added strong. "there will be a crew living aboard, so please see that the galley is stocked with a full supply of both fresh and synthetic foods. that's about all, i guess." "very well, sir," replied the petty officer with a crisp salute. he turned and began bawling orders to a squad of men behind him and immediately they were swarming over the great ship like ants. fifteen minutes later, a jet cab swerved to a stop in front of the tallest of the venusport buildings, the solar alliance chamber. strong paid the driver, adding a handsome tip, and flanked by his three cadets strode briskly into the building. crossing a high-ceilinged lobby, they entered an express vacuum elevator and five seconds later stepped out onto the four-hundredth floor. there, strong slid a panel door to one side, and, followed by the cadets, stepped inside the office of mike hawks, exposition commissioner and retired senior officer of the solar guard. the office was impressively large and airy, with an outside wall forming a viewport of clear titan crystal reaching from floor to vaulted ceiling and affording a magnificent view of the city of venusport and, beyond it, the futuristic buildings of the exposition itself. another wall, equally as large, was covered by a map of the exposition grounds. mike hawks, a man with steel-gray hair, clear blue eyes, and a ramrod military bearing, sat behind a massive desk talking to two men. he looked up when strong and the cadets walked in and rose quickly with a broad smile to greet them. "steve!" he exclaimed, rounding the desk to shake hands with his old friend. "i never dreamed we'd have you and the _polaris_ unit at our fair!" he nodded warmly to the cadets who stood at rigid attention. "at ease, cadets. glad to have you aboard." "i was just as surprised to get this assignment, mike," said strong, pumping the officer's hand. nodding toward the men seated in front of hawks' desk, he apologized, "sorry to bust in on you like this, old man. didn't know you were busy." "it's quite all right." the commissioner smiled. "just handing out a few licenses for the concessions in the amusement section at the fair. people expect to have a little fun when they go to a fair, you know. by the stars, they're going to have it so long as i'm commissioner." he turned to the cadets. "sit down, boys. you too, steve. i'll be with you in a minute." he turned back to his desk and the waiting men. the cadets, at a nod from strong, sat down on a leather couch that stretched the length of one wall and listened while hawks completed his business with the two men. "there you are," said hawks, applying the seal of his office to a slip of paper. "that gives you the right to operate a concession in the amusement area as long as the fair is open." one of the men took the paper and glanced at it quickly. "wait a minute, commissioner. this is over near the edge of the area," he complained. "we wanted to get in the middle. how do you expect us to make any credits away out there by ourselves?" the man's tone was surly and disrespectful. "sorry, but that's the only location left. in fact," hawks added acidly, "you're lucky to get it!" "really?" sneered the heavier of the two. "well, i'm sure going to find out about this!" hawks stood up and eyed the two men coldly. "i've been appointed commissioner of this exposition by the delegates to the solar alliance council. i answer only to the council. if you have a complaint, then you must present your case before that body." he cleared his throat and glared at them from behind his desk. "good day, gentlemen!" he said. [illustration: _hawks stood up and eyed the two men coldly_] the two men, who until now had been seated facing the desk, got up, and after glaring at hawks, turned and walked toward the door. tom gasped, and grabbing roger by the arm, involuntarily pointed at the two men. "look, roger--those men--" he whispered. "yeah," said roger. "those are the wise-guy space crawlers we met on the monorail, the ones who called us punks!" "how'd they get here so fast?" asked astro. "must have taken a jetliner from atom city, i guess." strong, who sat near tom, heard the exchange between the cadets. "you know those men?" he asked. "well--uh--not exactly, sir. we just had a little run-in with them on the monorail returning from leave, that's all," said tom. "nothing serious. they don't think much of the solar guard, though." "i gathered as much," said hawks dryly. he walked over from his desk. "i hated to give them the license to operate, but i had to, since i had no valid reason to turn them down. they have a good idea, too." "that so? what is it?" asked strong. "they have an old chemical-burning space freighter in which they're going to take fair visitors up for a short ride. you see, the big one, gus wallace, is an old deep-space merchantman. the smaller one is luther simms, a rocketman." "hm. not a bad idea at all," mused strong. "they should make out all right." with that, the two solar guard officers dropped the incident of wallace and simms and turned to exchanging news of mutual friends and of what each had been doing since their last meeting. finally, as the conversation was brought around to the exposition, hawks got up and sat on the side of the desk, facing strong and the cadets. his eyes glowed as he spoke. "steve," he said, "this is going to be the greatest gathering of minds, thoughts, and ideas in the knowledgeable history of mankind! there are going to be lectures from the greatest minds in the system on any and all subjects you can think of. in one building we're going to build a whole spaceship--a rocket cruiser--piece by piece, right in front of the eyes of fair visitors. in another building we're going to have the greatest collection of musicians in the universe, continuously playing the most beautiful music, in a hall built to seat a half million people. industry, science, medicine, art, literature, astrophysics, space flight, to say nothing of a comparative history exhibit designed to show the people where our forefathers went off the track by warring against each other. in fact, steve, everything you can think of, and then more, will be represented here at the exposition. why, do you know i've been working for three years, co-ordinating ideas, activity, and information!" strong and the cadets sat transfixed as they listened to the commissioner speak in glowing terms of the exposition, which, until this time, by the cadets at least, had been considered little more than a giant amusement park. finally strong managed to say, "and we thought the _polaris_ was going to be so big, it'd be the center of attraction." he smiled. hawks waved his hand. "look, i don't want to offend you or the boys, steve, but the fact is, the _polaris_ is one of the _smaller_ exhibits!" "i can see that now," answered strong. "tell me, mike, just what do you want us to do?" "i'll answer that in two parts. first, i would like the cadets to set up the _polaris_, get her shining and bright, and with quiet courtesy, answer any question anyone might ask concerning the ship, referring any question they can't answer to the information center in the space building." "that's all, sir?" asked tom incredulously. "that's all, corbett. you open the _polaris_ at nine in the morning and close her at nine at night. you'll be living aboard, of course." "yes, sir. of course, sir." "that sounds so simple," drawled roger, "it might be tough." "it will be tough, manning," commented hawks. "don't fool yourself into assuming otherwise." "don't worry about these boys, mike. now, what is part two?" strong asked. hawks smiled. "here it is, steve. the solar alliance has decided to open the exposition with a simple speech made by a relatively unknown person, but one who is deserving of such an honor. they left the choice of that person up to me." he paused and added quietly, "i'd like you to make that opening speech, steve." "me!" cried strong. "me, make a speech?" "i can't think of anyone more deserving--or dependable." "but--but--" stammered the captain, "i can't make a speech. i wouldn't know what to say." "say anything you want. just make it short and to the point." strong hesitated a moment. he realized it was a great honor, but his naturally shy personality kept him from accepting. "steve, it may make it easier for you to know," said hawks teasingly, "that there's going to be a giant capsule lowered into the ground which will contain a record of every bit of progress made since the inception of the solar alliance. it's designed to show the men of the future how to do everything from treating a common cold to exploding nuclear power. this capsule will be lowered at the end of your opening address. so, most of the attention will be focused on the capsule, not you." the commissioner smiled. "all right, mike," said strong, grinning sheepishly. "you've got yourself a speechmaker!" "good!" said hawks and the two men shook hands. tom corbett could contain himself no longer. "congratulations, sir!" he blurted out as the three cadets stood up. "we think commissioner hawks couldn't have made a better choice!" his unit-mates nodded a vigorous assent. strong shook hands with the cadets and thanked them. "you want the cadets for anything right now, mike?" asked strong. "not a thing, steve." strong turned back to the boys. "better hop out to the spaceport and get the _polaris_ over the exposition site, cadets. soon as you set her down, clean her up a little, then relax. i'll be at the galaxy hotel if you need me." "yes, sir," said tom. the cadets saluted sharply and left the office. arriving at the spaceport, they found the _polaris_ stripped of her guns and her galley stocked with food. the chief petty officer in charge of the enlisted spacemen detail was roving through the passageways of the rocket cruiser when tom found him. "everything set, chief?" asked tom. "all set, cadet corbett," reported the elderly spaceman, saluting smartly. he gave tom a receipt for the list of the equipment that had been removed from the ship and signed the logbook. tom thanked him and made a hurried check of the control deck, with roger and astro reporting from the radar and power decks. with the precision and assurance of veteran spacemen, the three space cadets lifted the great ship up over the heart of the sprawling venusian city and brought it down gently in the clearing provided for it at the exposition site, a grassy square surrounded on three sides by buildings of shimmering crystal walls. no sooner had the giant ship settled itself to the ground, than a crew of exposition workers began laying a slidewalk toward her, while another crew began the construction of an aluminum staircase to the entrance port in her giant fin. almost before they realized it, tom, roger, and astro found themselves busy with a hundred little things concerning the ship and their part in the fair. they were visited by the subcommissioner of the exposition and advised of the conveniences provided for the participants of the fair. then, finally, as a last worker finished the installation of a photoelectric cell across the entrance port to count visitors to the ship, tom, roger, and astro began the dirty job of washing down the giant titanium hull with a special cleaning fluid, while all around them the activity of the fair buzzed with nervous excitement. suddenly the three cadets heard the unmistakable roar of jets in the sky. automatically, they looked up and saw a spaceship, nose up, decelerating as it came in for a touchdown on a clearing across one of the wide spacious streets of the fairgrounds. "well, blast my jets!" exclaimed astro, his eyes clinging to the flaming exhausts as the ship lowered itself to the ground. "that craft must be at least fifty years old!" "i've got a rocket-blasting good idea, tom," said roger. the exit port of the spaceship opened, and the three cadets watched gus wallace and luther simms climb down the ladder. "hey," yelled roger, "better be careful with that broken-down old boiler. it might blow up!" the two men glared at the grinning roger but didn't answer. "take it easy, roger," cautioned tom. "we don't want to start anything that might cause us and captain strong trouble before the fair even opens. so let's leave them alone." "what are you afraid of?" drawled roger, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "just a little fun with those guys won't hurt." he stepped to the side of the clearing and leaned over the fence separating the two areas. "tell me something, spaceman," he yelled to wallace, who was busy with some gear at the base of the ship, "you don't expect people to pay to ride that thing, do you?" he smiled derisively and added, "got insurance to cover the families?" "listen, punk!" sneered wallace, "get back over to your solar guard space toy and keep your trap shut!" "now--now--" jeered roger, "mustn't get nasty. remember, we're going to be neighbors. never can tell when you might want to borrow some baling wire or chewing gum to keep your craft together!" "look, wise guy, one more crack out of you, and i'll send you out of this world without a spaceship!" snarled wallace through grating teeth. "any time you'd like to try that, you know where i am," roger snapped back. "okay, punk! you asked for it," yelled wallace. he had been holding a length of chain and now he swung it at roger. the cadet ducked easily, hopped over the fence, and before wallace knew what was happening, jolted him with three straight lefts and a sharp right cross. wallace went down in a heap, out cold. luther simms, who had been watching the affair from one side, now rushed at roger with a monkey wrench. with the ferocity of a bull, astro roared at the small spaceman, who stopped as if pulled up by a string. roger spun around, made an exaggerated bow, and smiling, asked, "next?" at this point, aware that things were getting a bit thick, tom strode across the clearing, and grabbing the still smiling roger, pulled him away. "are you space happy?" he asked, "you know you goaded him into swinging that chain, roger. and that makes you entirely responsible for what just happened!" "yeah," growled astro. "suppose he had hit you with it, then what?" roger, still grinning, glanced over his shoulder and saw simms helping wallace to his feet. he turned to astro, threw his arm over the big cadet's shoulder, and drawled, "why, then you'd have just taken them apart to avenge me! wouldn't you, pal?" "aw, stow it," snapped tom. for a second roger looked at him sharply, then broke into a smile again. "o.k., tom, i'm sorry," he said. "o.k., let's get back to work," ordered tom. back at the _polaris_, as they continued cleaning the hull of the ship, tom saw the two men disappear into their craft, throwing dirty looks back at the three cadets as they went. "you know, roger, i think you made a very bad mistake," he said. "one way or another, they'll try to even the score with you." "and it won't be just a report to captain strong," added astro darkly. roger, cocky and unafraid, broke out his engaging grin again and shrugged his shoulders. chapter "... and so we dedicate this capsule to the civilizations of the future. those who may dig this cylinder out of the ground in ages to come will find within it the tools, the inventions, and the scientific wonders which have made the era of the solar alliance one of peace and lasting prosperity." captain steve strong paused, glanced at the huge crane and the shimmering steel capsule that dangled at the end of a cable, then called out, "lower the capsule!" the cheers of a hundred thousand people massed in the exposition plaza greeted the order. the stereo camera and teleceiver scanners that were sending the opening ceremonies of the solar exposition to all parts of the alliance moved in to focus on the capsule as it was lowered into a deep, concrete-lined pit. the three members of the _polaris_ unit, standing to one side of the platform, joined in the cheers as their skipper shook hands with the delegates and waved again and again at the roaring crowd. "that was some speech, tom," commented roger. "i wonder who wrote it for him?" "he wrote it himself, roger," replied tom. "ah, go on," scoffed roger. "sure he did," said astro indignantly. "he sweated over it for nearly a week." "here he comes," said tom. the three cadets watched captain strong, resplendent in his dress gold-and-black uniform, fight his way off the platform, shaking hands with congratulating strangers along the way. "congratulations, captain strong," said tom with a smile. "that was swell!" roger and astro chorused their agreement. "thanks, boys," gasped strong. "but let me tell you, i never want to do that again. i was never so scared in my life!" "just making a speech?" asked roger. "after all the lectures you've given at space academy?" "they weren't before teleceiver and stereo cameras." strong laughed. "do you realize this ceremony is being seen on mars, earth, and all the colonized moons, clear out to titan." "wow!" breathed astro. "that would make me tongue-tied!" "huh! all that to stick a metal box into the ground," snorted roger. "it's not the capsule, roger," said tom. "it's what's inside the capsule." "right, tom," said strong. "inside that capsule scientists have packed the whole history of man's march through the stars. they've included scientific formulas, medical, cultural, and industrial facts. everything we know. even some things that are known by only a handful of the most trusted men in the universe!" strong stopped suddenly and laughed. "there i go, making another speech! come on. let's get out of here," he cried. "do we start showing people through the _polaris_ now, sir?" asked astro. "in the morning, astro," replied strong. "tonight there's a big solar alliance banquet. you three are invited, too." "er--" stammered roger, "you mean--a banquet--with--uh--?" strong laughed. "more speeches? i'm afraid so, manning. of course there'll be plenty of food." "well, it's not that we're against speeches," ventured astro. "not yours anyway, sir," added tom hastily. "but what we mean, sir, is that--" strong held up his hand. "i understand perfectly. suppose you stay here on the exposition grounds. have a look around. see the sights, have some fun." _"yes, sir!"_ the boys chorused their reply. "just don't spend all your credits at the first booth," continued strong. "and watch that venusian cloud candy. it's good, but murder on the earthman's stomach." "captain strong!" a voice called from the platform above. it was one of the venusian delegates. "they want some pictures of you!" "be right there, sir," replied strong. he turned to the boys and smiled. "you're lucky you don't have to go through this. see you aboard ship later." spinning quickly on his heel, he made his way back through the crowd to the platform. "what a great guy," sighed tom. "sure is," agreed astro. "well, fellas," announced roger, "we've got twelve hours liberty and a small scale model of the whole solar system to have fun in! what're we waiting for?" fighting their way through the crowds in the plaza, the three boys finally reached the amusement area where they wandered among gaily colored booths and plastic tents, their eyes lighting up with each new attraction. two hours later, stuffed with spaceburgers and martian water, their arms loaded with assorted prizes, won by astro's prowess in the weight-lifting booth, tom's skill as a marksman, and roger's luck at the wheels of chance, the cadets wearily returned to the polaris. as they neared their section of the fair site they heard a harsh voice appealing to a small crowd around the stand in front of wallace and simms' spaceship. a huge sign spelled out the attraction: ride in space--one credit. luther simms, a bamboo cane in one hand, a roll of tickets in another, was hawking his attraction to the bystanders. "step right up, ladies and gentlemen! step right up! it's a thrill of a lifetime, the greatest sensation of the entire exposition. ride a rocket ship, and all this for one credit! a lone, single credit, ladies and gents, will buy you a pathway to the stars! step right up--" in laughing groups, the crowd around the stand began to purchase tickets and climb aboard the old freighter. the three cadets watched from the outer edge of the crowd. "hey, fellas," said roger suddenly, "whaddya say we go?" "what?" gulped astro. "on that thing?" "why not?" urged roger. "but that hulk should have been shipped back to the scrap furnace years ago!" tom protested. "so what, junior?" drawled roger. "scared?" "don't be silly," replied tom. "but with all the other things to do here, why should we--" "oh," said astro, nudging tom, "now i get it!" "you get what?" asked roger innocently. "those girls," said astro. "they're just climbing aboard." glancing at the air lock, tom saw three young and pretty girls file into the ship. "oh, so that's it, huh?" he said, looking quizzically at his unit-mate. [illustration: _tom saw three pretty girls board the ship_] the blond cadet's eyes were wide with mock surprise. "girls? well, what do you know about that? i never noticed!" "yeah, i'll bet you didn't!" said tom. "well, they _are_ trim little space dolls. and there are three of them!" "come on, astro," sighed tom. "we have to give the little boy his fun." they walked toward the stand where simms was still making his pitch to the crowd. "just five more seats left, ladies and gentlemen, only five chances to blast into space ..." tom stepped up and put three credits on the counter. "three, please," he said. simms looked down and suddenly stopped his harangue. his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he saw the three cadets standing before him. hesitating, he glanced around, seemingly looking for help. then, shrugging his shoulders, he handed over the tickets and turned to the crowd. "three tickets for the space cadets, who live out there in space. just can't stay away from it, eh, boys?" "i only hope that tub of yours holds together," said tom. simms snarled out of the side of his mouth, "shut up, wise guy!" and then continued aloud, "yes, space cadet, i agree with you. everyone should take a trip into space." tom started to protest, but then shrugged his shoulders and followed roger and astro into the ship. on the stand, simms continued his appeal to the crowd. "just two more tickets left, ladies and gentlemen! who'll be the lucky two?" suddenly gus wallace appeared from behind the ship and approached the stand, calling, "hey, simms!" simms stopped speaking and turned to his partner. "yeah?" "everything's all set. let's blast off!" "i'll be with you as soon as i sell the last two tickets," said simms. "here you are, ladies and gents, the last two--" wallace grabbed him by the arm and yanked him from the stand. "i said we blast off, you idiot! you want to risk everything for two lousy credits?" "o.k., o.k. don't blow a fuse!" simms quickly closed the stand, turned out the lighted sign, and followed wallace into the old freighter. he then collected the tickets and made sure all the passengers were strapped into their acceleration chairs and finally went below to the power deck. wallace disappeared into the control room and seconds later his voice was heard over the ship's intercom gruffly announcing the blast-off. the lights in the cabin dimmed, the air was filled with a low whining hiss, and for an instant the old ship bucked and groaned. suddenly, with a loud explosive roar, she blasted into the sky and began a sluggish arching climb into space. "all right, fellas," said roger, after the force of acceleration eased off, "let's try a little encircling maneuver on those girls up ahead." "oh, no, roger," answered tom. "you're flying solo on that project!" "yeah, you go ahead, romeo." astro laughed. "i'd like to see the manning technique in action." a loud explosion suddenly rocked the spaceship. "what was that?" cried roger. "maybe this old tub won't make it after all!" astro smiled. "this is a chemical burner, remember? her initial acceleration isn't enough. they have to keep blasting her to make speed." "oh, sure," drawled roger, relaxing again and watching the girls ahead. "well, here i go!" he got up and lurched down the aisle running between the seats. "hey there!" roared simms, who had suddenly appeared at the power-deck hatch. "keep your seat!" "who, me?" asked roger. "not your aunt tilly, wise guy! sit down and shut up!" "listen," said roger, "you don't seem to realize--" "i realize you're going to sit down or else!" snarled simms. roger retreated to his seat and sat down. "ah, go blast your jets," he grumbled as simms continued up the aisle to the control deck. tom and astro doubled over with laughter. "welcome back, roger," bellowed the big venusian. "i don't think those girls are the sociable type, anyway." "wouldn't you know," moaned roger, "that space creep had to show up just when i had the whole campaign laid out in my mind." he gazed sadly at the pert heads of the girls in front of him. tom gave astro a wink. "poor manning. all set to go hyperdrive and ran into space junk before he cleared atmosphere." suddenly another explosion racked the ship and the rockets cut out all together. the passengers began to look around nervously. "by the craters of luna, what was _that_?" demanded tom, looking at astro. "the rockets have cut out," answered the venusian. "hope we're out in free fall, beyond the pull of venus' gravity." the forward hatch of the passenger cabin opened and simms reappeared followed by wallace. "take it easy, folks," said wallace, "nothing to get excited about. we're in free fall, holding a course around the planet. so just sit back and enjoy the view!" a chorus of sighs filled the cabin and the passengers began laughing and chatting again, pointing out various sights on the planet below them. smiling, wallace and simms marched down the aisle. suddenly roger and tom rose and blocked their path. "what's up, wallace?" demanded tom. wallace gave the two boys a hard look. "so it's you, huh? you got a lot of nerve coming aboard this ship." "if there's something wrong, wallace," said tom, "maybe we could give you a hand." "get back in your seats," ordered wallace. "we don't need any cadet squirts getting in our way!" "why, you overweight space jockey," snapped roger, "we know more about spaceships than you'll ever learn!" "one more crack out of you and i'll blast your ears off!" roared wallace. _"now sit down!"_ roger's face turned a deep red and he moved toward wallace, but tom put out a restraining hand. "take it easy, roger," he said. "wallace is the skipper of this boiler. in space he's the boss." "you bet i'm the boss," snarled wallace. "now keep that loud-mouthed punk quiet, or i'll wipe up the deck with him and send the pieces back to space academy!" "hey, wallace," yelled simms, who had walked away when the argument started. "come on. we gotta fix that reactor unit!" "yeah--yeah," wallace called back. he turned to roger again. "just remember what i said, cadet!" brushing the boys aside, he strode down the aisle to join simms. as the two men disappeared through the power-deck hatch, tom turned to roger and tried to calm him down. "skippers are skippers, roger, even aboard a piece of space junk!" "yeah," growled roger, "but i don't like to be called a squirt or a punk! why, i know more about reactor units than--" "reactor units?" broke in astro from his seat. "yeah. didn't you hear what simms said?" "but this is a chemical burner," said astro. "why an atomic reactor unit aboard?" "might be a booster for extra speed," offered tom. "and more power." "on a simple hop like this? hardly out of the atmosphere?" astro shook his head. "no, tom. it doesn't make sense." "well," chimed in roger, "here's something else i've been wondering about. they charge one credit for this ride. which makes a total of about fifty credits for a capacity load--" "i get you," tom interrupted. "it costs at least two hundred credits in fuel alone to get one of these chemical jalopies off the ground!" roger looked at tom solemnly. "you know, tom, i'd certainly like to know what those guys are doing. you just don't hand out free rides in space." "how about snooping around?" asked astro. tom thought a moment. "o.k. you two stay here. i'll go aft and see what they're doing." tom walked quickly to the stern of the ship, entered the power-deck hatch, and disappeared. astro and roger, each taking one side of the ship, strained for a look from the viewports. in a few minutes tom returned. "spot anything?" asked roger. "i'm not so sure," answered tom. "they weren't on the power deck and the cargo hatch was locked. i looked out the stern viewport, but all i could see was a thick black cloud." "well, that's no help," said roger. suddenly the blond cadet snapped his fingers. "tom, i'll bet they're smugglers!" "what?" asked tom. "that's it," said roger. "i'll bet that's it. the concession is just a phony to cover up their smuggling. it lets them take a load of stuff up without a custom's search. then, when they're far enough out--" "they dump it," supplied astro. "right!" agreed tom finally. "what better place to hide something than in space?" "for someone else to pick up later!" added roger triumphantly. when wallace and simms returned, the three cadets were busy looking out the viewports. and later, when the spaceship was letting down over the exposition grounds, tom commented on the ease with which the ship made her approach for a touchdown. "roger," asked tom quietly, "notice how she's handling now?" "how do you mean?" asked roger. "going out," said tom, "she wallowed like an old tub filled with junk. now, while she's no feather, there's a big difference in the way she's maneuvering!" "then they did dump something in space!" said roger. "i'm sure of it!" said tom. "and from now on, we're going to keep our eyes open and find out what it is!" chapter tom glanced at the astral chronometer over the control board of the _polaris_ and sighed with relief. it was nine p.m. he turned to the intercom. "attention, please! attention, please! the exhibit is now closing for the night. all visitors will kindly leave the ship immediately." he repeated the announcement again and turned to smile at the last lingering youngster ogling him before being yanked toward an exit by a tired and impatient mother. the hatch to the radar bridge opened and roger climbed down the ladder to flop wearily in the pilot's seat in front of the control panel. "if one more scatterbrained female asks me how the astrogation prism works," groaned the blond cadet, "i'll give it to her and let her figure it out for herself!" astro joined them long enough to announce that he had made sandwiches and brewed hot chocolate. tom and roger followed him back to the galley. sipping the hot liquid, the three cadets looked at each other without speaking, each understanding what the other had been through. even astro, who normally would rather talk about his atomic engine than eat, confessed he was tired of explaining the functions of the reaction fuel force feed and the main valve of the cooling pumps. "the worst of it is," sighed astro, "they all pick on the same valve. what's so fascinating about one valve?" tom's job on the control deck was less tiring, since his was more of a command post, which demanded decisions, as conditions arose, rather than a fixed routine that could be explained. but even so, to be asked over and over what the astral chronometer was, how he could read time on earth, mars, venus, titan, ganymede, and all the satellites at the same time was wearing on the toughest of young spirits. eager to forget the grueling day of questions and answers, the cadets turned their thoughts to the mysterious midnight activity that had been taking place around the spaceship concession during the last ten days. "i just can't figure out what those guys are up to," said roger, blowing on his hot chocolate. "we've watched those guys for over a week now and no one has even come near them with anything that could be smuggled." "could be a small package," suggested astro, his mouth full of ham sandwich. "somebody could take a ride and slip it to them." "hardly," said tom. "remember, that ship blasts off like she's loaded to the nose with cargo. and then she comes back like a feather. you can tell by the sound of her jets. so it wouldn't be anything small enough for someone to carry." "yeah, i guess you're right," agreed astro. "well," said tom finally, "i'm stumped. i think the only thing left to do is to decide if it's anything important enough to tell captain strong about. working on the _polaris_ twelve hours a day and staying up all night to watch those two jokers has me all in." roger and astro looked at each other and then silently nodded their agreement. "o.k.," said tom, "we'll go to the skipper's hotel in venusport and tell him the whole thing. let's see what he makes of it." * * * * * at that moment captain strong was in the office of exposition commissioner mike hawks trying to make sense out of a series of reports that had landed on the commissioner's desk. hawks watched him carefully as he studied the papers. "you say this is the ninth report you've received since the fair opened, mike?" asked strong finally. hawks nodded. he hadn't known whether to laugh off or seriously consider the nine space skippers' reports that the sky over the exposition site was dirty. "yes, steve," he said. "that one came from the skipper of an express freighter. he blasted off this morning and ran through this so-called dirt. he thought it was just a freak of nature but reported it to be on the safe side." "i don't suppose he took a sample of the stuff?" "no. but i'm taking care of that," replied hawks. "there's a rocket scout standing by right now. want to come along?" "let me finish these reports first." "sure thing." as strong carefully checked each report, commissioner hawks rose and began to stride restlessly back and forth across the spacious office. he stopped in front of the window and stared out over the exposition grounds, watching the thousands of holiday visitors streaming in and out of the buildings, all unaware of the strange mystery in the sky above them. hawks' attention was drawn to the giant solar beacon, a huge light that flashed straight out into space, changing color every second and sending out the message: "quis separabit homo"--who shall separate mankind? this beacon that at the beginning of the exposition had reached into the black void of space like a clean bright ray was now cloudy and murky--the result of the puzzling "dirty sky." "all right, mike," strong announced suddenly. "let's go." "get anything more out of those reports?" asked hawks, turning back to his desk. "no," replied the solar guard officer. "they all tell the same story. right after blast-off, the ships ran into a dirty sky." "sounds kind of crazy, doesn't it?" "crazy enough to check." hawks pressed a button on the desk intercom. "yes, sir?" replied a metallic voice. "have the rocket scout ready for flight in five minutes," hawks ordered. he snapped off the intercom without waiting for a reply and turned to strong. "let's go, steve." the two veteran spacemen left the office without further comment and rode down in the vacuum elevator to the highway level. soon they were speeding out to the spaceport in hawks' special jet car. at the blast-pitted field they were met by a young solar guard officer and an elderly man carrying a leather case, who were introduced as lieutenant claude and professor newton. while claude prepared the rocket scout for blast-off, strong, hawks, and newton discussed the possibility of lava dust having risen to great heights from another side of the planet. "while i'm reasonably sure," stated newton, "that no volcano has erupted recently here on venus, i can't be sure until i've examined samples of this so-called dirt." "i'll have lieutenant claude contact the university of venus," said hawks. "their seismographs would pick up surface activity." claude stuck his head out of the hatch and reported the ship ready for blast-off. strong followed the professor and hawks aboard and strapped himself into an acceleration chair. in a moment they were blasting through the misty atmosphere of venus into the depths of space. fifteen minutes later, hawks and strong were standing on the hull of the ship in space suits, watching the professor take a sample of a dirty black cloud, so thick it was impossible to see more than three feet. strong called to the professor through the spacephone. "what do you make of it, sir?" he asked. "i wouldn't want to give you a positive opinion without chemical tests," answered the professor, his voice echoing in strong's fish-bowl helmet. "but i believe it's one of three things. one, the remains of a large asteroid that has broken up. two, volcanic ash, either from venus or from jupiter. but if it came from jupiter, i don't see how it could have drifted this far without being detected on radar." now, holding a flask full of the black cloud, the professor started back to the air lock. "you said three possibilities, professor," said strong. "the third," replied the professor, "could be--" the professor was interrupted by lieutenant claude calling over the intercom. "just received a report from the university of venus, sir!" said the young officer. "there's been no volcanic activity on venus in the last ten years serious enough to create such a cloud." strong waited for the professor's reaction, but the elderly man was already entering the air lock. before strong and hawks could catch up to him, the air-lock hatch slammed closed. "hey," exclaimed strong, "what does he think he's doing?" "don't worry about it, steve," replied hawks. "he probably forgot we were out here with him, he's so concerned about this dirt. we'll just have to wait until he's out of the air lock." the solar guard officer nodded, then looked around him at the thick black cloud that enveloped the ship. "well," he said, "one of the professor's theories has been knocked out." "yes," replied hawks. "which means this stuff is either the remains of a large asteroid or--" "the third possibility," finished strong, "which the professor never explained." suddenly the air-lock hatch opened again and the two spacemen stepped inside. closing the hatch behind them, they waited until the pressure was built up again to equal that of the ship, and then they removed their helmets and space suits. [illustration: _the hatch opened again and the two spacemen entered the air lock_] leaving the air lock and walking down the companionway, hawks suddenly caught strong by the arm. "have you considered the possibility of this cloud being radioactive, steve?" he asked. strong nodded slowly. "that's all i've been thinking about since i first heard about it, mike. i think i'd better report this to commander walters at space academy." "wait, steve," said hawks. "if you do that, walters might close the exposition. wait until you get a definite opinion from professor newton." strong considered a moment. "i guess a few more minutes won't make a lot of difference," he said finally. he realized how important the exposition was to his old friend. but at the same time, he knew what would happen if a radioactive cloud suddenly settled on the city of venusport without warning. "come on. let's see what the professor has to say about this stuff." they found the professor on the control deck bending over a microscope, studying samples taken from the flask. he peered intently into the eyepiece, wrote something on a pad, and then began searching through the pages of a reference book on chemicals of the solar system. lieutenant claude stepped up to hawks and saluted sharply. "power deck reports they've got a clogged line, sir. it's in the gas exhaust." strong and hawks looked at each other, and then hawks turned to the young officer. "send a couple of men outside to clear it." "aye, aye, sir," said claude, and then hesitated. "shall the men wear lead suits against possible radioactivity, sir?" before hawks could answer, newton turned to face the three men. the professor was smiling. "no need to take that precaution, lieutenant. i never did tell you my third opinion, did i, captain strong?" "why, no, you didn't, sir," said strong. the professor held up a sheet of paper. "here's your answer. nothing but plain old venusport topsoil. pure dirt!" "what?" exclaimed hawks hastily, reaching for the paper. "well, blast me for a martian mouse," muttered strong under his breath. "but how?" newton held up his hand. "don't ask me how it got here. that isn't my line of work. all i know is that, without a doubt, the black cloud is nothing more than dirt. plain ordinary dirt! and it comes from the area in and around venusport. as a matter of fact, certain particles i analyzed lead me to believe it came from the exposition site!" hawks looked at newton dumbfounded. "by the craters of luna, man, we're a thousand miles over the exposition!" the professor was stubborn. "i can't tell you how it got here, commissioner hawks. but i do know it's venusian dirt. and that's final!" hawks stared at the elderly man for a second, still bewildered. then he suddenly smiled and turned to claude. "as soon as that exhaust is cleared, blast off for venusport, lieutenant. i'm going to find out who dirtied up the sky!" * * * * * two hours later, when captain strong returned to his hotel in venusport with mike hawks, he was surprised to see the three cadets of the _polaris_ crew slumped, sleepy-eyed, on a couch in the lobby. "what are you doing here, boys?" he asked. the three cadets came to attention and were wide awake immediately. tom quickly related their suspicions of wallace and simms. "and we've watched them every night, sir," tom concluded. "i don't know what it is, but something certainly is going on in that shack they use for an office." "yes, sir," agreed astro, "and no one is going to fool me about a rocket ship. i know when they blast off loaded and return light." strong turned to hawks who said quietly, "wallace and simms are the only ones in this whole area that blast off regularly without a customs search." "you mean," stammered strong, "wallace and simms are dumping"--he could hardly say the word--"_dirt_ in space?" "they have a ship. the cadets say the ship blasts off loaded and returns light. and we've got the sky full of dirt. venusian dirt!" "but why?" "i suggest we go out to the exposition grounds right now and ask them!" said hawks coldly. "and believe me, they'd better have some rocket-blasting good answers!" chapter the great educational exhibits had long been closed and only a few sections of the amusement park of the big exposition remained open. the giant solar beacon, its brilliant colors changing every second, maintained a solemn solitary watch over the exhibition buildings, while here and there groups of fair visitors wandered wearily back to their hotels. there was a sudden flurry of activity at the space-ride concession. gus wallace and luther simms tumbled out of the shack and raced into their ship. once inside the ancient craft, they secured the hatch and turned toward each other smiling broadly. wallace stuck out his hand. "put 'er there, simms. we did it!" the two men shook hands heartily. "by the craters of luna," said simms, "i thought we'd never make it! and if we did, that it wouldn't be there!" "but it was, simms! it was! and now we've got it!" "yeah," agreed the other. "i never worked so hard in all my life. but it's worth it. are we going to set the solar guard back on its ear!" wallace laughed. "not only that, but think of what the boss will say when we show up with it!" "you know, wallace," said simms, a sly look on his face, "we could take it and use it ourselves--" "don't even think a thing like that!" snapped wallace. "oh, of course not," said simms hurriedly. "it doesn't pay to cross the boss. there's enough here for all of us." "you know," mused wallace, "there's only one thing i regret." "what's that?" asked his partner. "that i didn't get a chance to kick the space dust out of that punk, cadet manning!" "forget him," said simms, waving his hand. "you'll meet him again someday. besides, why think about him, when you've got the whole universe at your finger tips?" "you're right. but someday i'm going to catch him and tear him apart!" snarled wallace. "come on. we've got to change over to atomic drive on this baby. i don't want to hang around here any longer than i have to." "yeah," said simms. "be pretty stupid if we're caught now!" the two men climbed down into the power deck and began the job of refitting the freighter from chemical to atomic drive. having already outfitted the vessel with atomic engines, it was a simple matter to change the exhaust, reset the feed lines, and emplace the protective lead baffles. in an hour the two spacemen were ready to blast off. "there she is," said simms, standing back to survey their work. "as fast as anything in space, except the solar guard cruisers on hyperdrive." "o.k.," said wallace. "let's get out of here!" minutes later, in a jet car speeding along the main highway toward the exposition grounds, captain strong, mike hawks, and the three cadets of the _polaris_ saw a rocket ship blast off. they watched it disappear into the dark space above. "that might be they," said strong to hawks. "i'd better alert the patrol ship near the space station and tell them to pick them up." "that couldn't be wallace and simms, sir," said astro. "how do you know, astro?" asked strong. "that was an atomic-powered ship. the wagon wallace and simms have is a chemical job. i know the sound of her jets almost as well as i do the _polaris_." hawks looked at strong. "you can depend on astro's opinion, mike," said strong. "he was born with a rocket wrench in his hand and cut his teeth on a reactor valve." they soon reached the outskirts of the exposition grounds and were forced to slow down as they wound their way through the darkened streets. in the amusement section, the last of the whirlaway rides and games of chance had closed down and only the occasional roar of a caged animal in the interplanetary zoo disturbed the night. hawks drove the low, sleek jet car around the fair, taking a short cut through the outdoor mercuryball field and pulled up in front of the _polaris_. the five spacemen turned toward the concession site across the promenade and stopped, aghast. "gone!" exclaimed strong. "astro, you made a mistake! it was their ship we saw blasting off. it's too late to warn the space-station patrol. wallace and simms could be anywhere in space now!" "but, sir," protested astro, "i'm certain that an atomic-powered ship blasted off. and their old freighter was a chemical burner!" "well," said hawks resignedly, "they're not here." "come on," said strong, getting out of the jet car. "let's take a look around." strong and hawks hurried across the street to the empty lot and the three cadets followed. "take it easy, astro," said tom, when he saw the big venusian gripping his fists in frustration. "anyone could make a mistake." "that's just it," said astro. "i'm not mistaken! those jokers must have changed over from chemical fuel to reactant drive!" "but why?" asked roger. "that would cost more than they could make in ten years of hauling passengers on joy rides!" astro whirled around and faced the two cadets. "i'm telling you the ship that blasted off from here was an atomic drive. i don't know any more than that, but i _do_ know that!" there was a sudden shout from strong and the three boys hurried to the shack. the solar guard captain and the exposition commissioner were standing inside and playing the beam of an electric torch around the walls. "looks as though you were right about the atomic drive, astro," said strong. he flashed the light into one corner where a tangled jumble of lines lay on the floor. "that's feed-line gear for a chemical burner, and over there"--he played the light on some empty cartons--"is what's left of the crate's lead baffling it shipped in. they must have changed over to atomic drive recently." astro accepted the statement with a nod. it wasn't in the nature of the big cadet to boast. now that the secret of the ship had been resolved, he turned, like the others, to the question of why? "i think the best thing we can do," said strong, "is to spread out and search the whole area. might find something to indicate where they went." commissioner hawks nodded his head in agreement. while tom, roger, and astro searched outside, strong and hawks went through the drawers of the dusty desk standing in one corner. "nothing here but a record of the flights they made, bills for chemical fuel delivered, and the like," said hawks at last. "they were losing money on the operation, too. think they might have just gotten fed up and pulled out?" strong was rummaging around in one corner of the shack. "i'd go along with that, but for one thing, mike," he said. "take a look at this." he held up a small cloth bag. "there's dirt in the bottom of this bag. and there are about fifty more bags in that corner." "dirt!" exclaimed the commissioner. "yep," said strong grimly. "so we found out who was dumping the dirt. but we still haven't found out why." "or where it came from," said hawks. strong tossed the bag into the corner. "well, i guess i'd better make a report to commander walters." hawks moved to the corner where the pile of chemical feed-line equipment lay on the floor. "want to take a look at this stuff? might be something important in it." strong thought a moment. "we can have the cadets do that. i want to get this report off to walters right away, and issue an order to pick up wallace and simms." "on what charges, steve?" asked the commissioner. "i mean, what's wrong with what they've done?" the commissioner's question was based on one of the cardinal rules among all solar guard officers of authority. "has the man committed any crime?" steve realized this and answered slowly. "they've changed over to reactor drive without a license or permission. that's a violation of the space code, section twenty-one, paragraph a. that is punishable by a suspension of space papers, and if the intention proved to be willful neglect of the code, a year on a penal asteroid. i think we can get them on that." the captain stepped to the door and called the cadets. "find anything?" he asked, when they entered the shack. "nothing, sir," replied tom. "except more evidence that they changed over to atomic drive." "that's enough" said strong. "i'm going to send a report to commander walters. is the teleceiver on the _polaris_ hooked up, roger?" "yes, sir," replied roger. "but astro will have to start up the auxiliary generators to give you power." "very well, then," said strong. "corbett, you give astro a hand on the power deck. and while we're gone, manning, you go through that feed-line junk there in the corner and see if there's anything important in it!" "aye, aye, sir," replied roger. strong and hawks, followed by tom and astro, left the shack and hurried to the _polaris_. on the power deck, tom and astro made the necessary connections on the generator, and in a few minutes, as power surged through the ship, strong flipped on the teleceiver. "attention! attention! this is captain strong on the _polaris_ calling commander walters at space academy! earth emergency circuit, priority b--" in a few moments the solar guard officer's call had been picked up by a monitor station on earth and relayed directly to space academy. commander walters was roused out of bed, and when he appeared on the teleceiver screen, strong saw he was still in sleeping dress. "sorry to disturb you, sir," said strong, "but something has come up here at the exposition that needs your immediate attention." "that's quite all right, steve," said the commander with a smile. "what is it? manning get into more trouble?" "no, sir," answered strong grimly. "i wish it were as simple as that." he quickly related the details of the strange dirt cloud and his suspicions of wallace and simms. walters' expression grew serious. "i'll get out an emergency bulletin on them at once, steve. meantime, you have full authority to head an investigation. use any service you need. i'll confirm my verbal order with official orders at once. get on this thing, steve. it sounds serious." "i will, sir, and thanks!" said strong. "end transmission!" "end transmission," returned strong, flipping off the teleceiver and turning to the ship's intercom. "attention, power deck! corbett, you and astro go back to the shack and give roger a hand. i'm going to work with the commissioner here setting up search operations." "aye, aye, sir," replied tom from the power deck. the two cadets hurriedly closed the power units and left the ship. "did you hear what captain strong said, astro?" asked tom. "search operations." "i wonder what's up," the big venusian remarked. "they don't set up search operations unless it's awfully serious!" "come on," urged tom. "maybe roger's found something." they entered the shack together and tom called out, "say, roger, captain strong just spoke to commander walters at the academy and--" the curly-haired cadet stopped short. "astro, look!" "by the rings of saturn!" exclaimed the big cadet. the two cadets stood gaping at a huge hole in the middle of the room. the wooden floor was splintered around the edges of the opening and several pieces of the chemical feed-line equipment lay close to the edge, with trailing lines leading down into the hole. they heard a low moan and rushed up to the hole, flashing their lights down into it. "great galaxy!" yelled tom. "astro, look! it's a shaft! it must be a thousand feet deep!" "and look!" bellowed astro. "there's roger! see him? he's hanging there! his foot's caught in that feed-line cable!" the big cadet leaned over the hole and shouted, "roger! roger! are you all right?" there was no answer from the shaft. nothing but the echo of astro's voice. chapter "easy, astro," said strong, standing behind the big cadet. "pull that line up slowly and gently." "yes, sir," gasped astro. he didn't have to be told to pull the rope with caution. he knew only too well that the slightest jar or bump against the side of the shaft might dislodge roger's unconscious body from the tangle of line, causing him to fall to the bottom of the shaft. how far down the shaft went, none of the anxious spacemen around the hole in the splintered floor knew. and they didn't want to use roger's body to find out! "i'll give you a hand, astro," said commissioner hawks. he reached for the line, but the big cadet warned him away. "that's all right, sir," he said. "he's almost up now." astro pulled gently, hand over hand, until roger's limp body was a mere foot from the edge. "grab him, quick!" he panted. immediately strong and hawks were down on their knees at the edge of the hole. each taking an arm, they pulled roger out and laid him gently on the floor of the shack. they crouched over him and began a quick examination. "how is he, sir?" asked tom, hovering anxiously over the still form of his friend. "will he be all right?" strong didn't answer for a moment, continuing his hurried, though careful check. then he sat back on his heels and sighed in relief. "a few bruises but no broken bones, thank the universe. he's just suffering from shock. a day or so in sick bay and he'll be good as new." "i'll take him over there right away, steve," offered hawks. "thanks, mike," replied strong. then as he and the commissioner lifted the still form of the cadet and started to carry him out of the shack, he turned to astro. "blast over to the _polaris_ and call solar guard headquarters in venusport. tell them to send an emergency crew down here right away." "aye, aye, sir," snapped the big venusian and dashed out of the shack. turning back to hawks, strong said, "corbett and i will stay here and try to find out where that shaft leads." "all right, steve," nodded the commissioner. "too bad we had to find out where that dirt came from the hard way." reaching the jet car, the two men placed roger in the back seat, and hawks slid in under the wheel to start the powerful jets. just then astro, racing back from the _polaris_, pulled up breathlessly. "solar guard crew is on the way, sir," he reported. he glanced anxiously into the back seat of the jet car. "all right, astro," said strong gently, "take care of roger." strong gestured to the back seat and without a word astro leaped in beside his friend. hawks stepped on the accelerator and the car shot away in a roar of blasting jets. tom and captain strong watched the car disappear and then turned back to the shack. each felt the same emotion, an unspoken determination to see that wallace and simms paid dearly for causing the accident. re-entering the shack, they began a careful examination of the shaft. strong played his emergency light down the sides, but the beam penetrated only a short distance. "we'll leave a note for the emergency crew," said strong. "our belt communicators might not work so far underground." "you're going down, sir?" asked tom. strong nodded. "if necessary. tie that valve on the end of the rope astro used and lower it into the shaft. if we can touch bottom with it, we'll climb down and see what wallace and simms were after." "yes, sir," said tom. he took the length of rope, tied the heavy metal valve to the end, and began lowering it into the shaft. strong continued to play the light down the shaft until the valve disappeared into the darkness. "rope's getting short, sir," warned tom. "only have about two hundred feet left." strong glanced at the remaining coils of line on the floor. "i'll get more from the _polaris_, if we need it," he said. "how long was that line to begin with?" "it's a regulation space line, sir," said tom. "astro took it out of the emergency locker. it's about twelve hundred feet." by this time the line, hanging straight down the shaft, had become increasingly heavy. suddenly it grew slack. "i think i've hit bottom, sir," cried the cadet. "but i can't pull the valve back up again to make sure." strong grabbed the end of the line and helped the cadet pull it back up a short distance. then they dropped the line again and felt a distinct slackening of weight. "that's bottom all right," said strong. "take this end of the line, run it out of the window on your right, and back through the one on your left. then make it fast." "yes, sir," said tom. he jumped out of the window, trailing the rope after him, and reappeared almost immediately through the other window to tie a loop in the line. after checking the knot and testing the line by throwing his full weight against it, strong stripped off his jacket and wrapped it about the line to prevent rope burns. then, hooking the emergency light on his belt, he stepped off into the shaft. tom watched his skipper lower himself until nothing but the light, a wavering pin point in the dark hole, could be seen. at last the light stopped moving and tom knew strong had reached the bottom. "hallooooooo!" the captain's voice echoed faintly up the dark shaft. "the belt communicators don't work!" he yelled. "come on down!" "be right with you, sir!" yelled tom. he scratched a message on the wooden floor of the shack for the emergency crew. then he stripped off his jacket, wrapped it around the rope, secured the light to his belt, and stepped off into the darkness. slowly, his hands tight around the rope through his jacket, tom slipped down the deep shaft. he kept his eyes averted from the black hole beneath him, looking instead at the sides of the shaft. once, when he thought he had gone about seven hundred feet, he saw that he was passing through a stratum of thick clay and could see the preserved bones of long-dead mammals, protruding from the side of the shaft. finally tom's feet touched solid ground and he released the rope. it was cold in the bottom of the shaft and he hastily put his jacket back on. "captain strong?" he called. there was no answer. tom flashed the light around and saw a low, narrow tunnel leading off to his left. he walked slowly, and the newly dug sides of the tunnel seemed to close in on him menacingly. it was quiet. not the blank silence of space that tom was used to, but the deathlike stillness of a tomb. it sent chills up and down his spine. finally he stepped around a sharp bend and stopped abruptly. "captain strong!" the solar guard officer was stooping over, his light resting on the ground, reading something he held in his hand. he looked up at tom and jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. tom flashed his light in that direction. "by the rings of saturn!" exclaimed tom. there in front of him, ripped open like a can of sardines, was the gleaming metal skin of the time capsule! the dirt floor of the tunnel around strong and beside the capsule was littered with audio spools, sound disks, micropapers, and stereo slides. tom kneeled down beside his skipper and stammered, "what--what does it mean, sir?" "it means," answered strong slowly, "that we're dealing with two of the cleverest men in the universe! if they've stolen what i think they have, the entire solar guard, solar alliance, and just about everyone in the universe is at their mercy!" * * * * * "how do you feel, roger?" asked astro. the blond-haired cadet sat up in bed, dangled his feet over the side, and rubbed his neck. he groaned as he moved. "i don't think i'm going to dance much this month, if that answers your question. i feel like every bone in my body was broken!" "they very nearly were, cadet manning," said the medical officer, standing near by. "what happened, manning?" asked commissioner hawks. "i really don't know, sir," replied roger. "i was moving the junk out of the corner of the shack so i could examine it. i was piling it up in the middle of the floor when--wham--something gave way and i took a header into nowhere!" he looked at astro. "now suppose _you_ tell me what happened!" astro told roger about finding him dangling at the end of the tangled feed lines. then he said, "tom and captain strong are out there now, waiting for one of the solar guard emergency crews." "well, what are we hanging around here for?" asked roger, and hopped off the bed. he groaned, staggered, and then straightened up. "nothing to worry about," he said, as astro rushed to his side. "i'm as good as new!" "what do you say, doctor?" asked hawks. the doctor hesitated a moment and then smiled. "well, commissioner, cadet manning has several strained muscles in his back, but the best treatment for that is exercise." hawks nodded and signed a release slip which the doctor gave him. astro helped roger put on his space boots, and five minutes later they were speeding back to the exposition grounds in the commissioner's jet car. as they sped through the streets, the two cadets speculated on what they would find at the bottom of the shaft. arriving at the shack, they were immediately challenged by an enlisted solar guardsman. "halt!" said the guard gruffly. "advance slowly for recognition!" with commissioner hawks leading the way, roger and astro walked up to the guard. "say," said roger, nudging astro, "look at what's going on around here!" "yeah," agreed astro, wide-eyed. "something must be plenty hot to have guards posted!" hawks was immediately recognized by the guard, but he still stubbornly demanded proof of their identity. hawks, roger, and astro hauled out their solar guard identification disks, small metal plates with their images engraved in the shiny metal. on the other side was a detailed description of the bearer. "very well, sir," said the guard and let them pass. in the pale light of dawn, feverish activity could be seen taking place around the shack. two huge jet vans, filled with every possible piece of emergency equipment, were parked near by. the _polaris_ had been taken over as a temporary headquarters and the area was crowded with scarlet-clad enlisted men. astro could hear the hum of generators on the _polaris_ and immediately felt concern for his power deck. proceeding to the shack they were again challenged by a guard and again had to produce their identification disks before entering. once inside, they were amazed at the transformation. an aluminum tripod, ten feet tall, had been erected over the hole in the floor, and several steel cables, connected to a motor-driven steel drum, were looped over the apex of the tripod, one hanging straight down into the shaft. a thick plastic hose hung over the edge of the shaft, jerking spasmodically as air was pumped into the dark hole. "by the craters of luna," cried hawks, "what's going on here?" a young lieutenant stepped up to the commissioner and saluted sharply. "lieutenant silvers, sir. second-in-command to captain allison of the emergency crew." hawks returned the salute and lieutenant silvers continued. "captain strong, cadet corbett, and captain allison are at the bottom of the shaft, sir. the cage will be up in a moment and you may go down if you care to." "thank you, lieutenant," said hawks. "congratulations, cadet manning," said silvers. "i understand you had a close call in the shaft." "i did, sir," said roger. "it was _very_ close." a light suddenly flashed on and the four spacemen turned to watch a large wire cage rise out of the shaft. it was built in three sections, each seven feet high. a ladder on one side of the cage gave easy access to the higher and lower levels. astro climbed to the top section while hawks took the lower. roger stepped into the center section to avoid a climb. an enlisted man secured the gates and turned on the motor. the cage dropped through the shaft with sickening speed. a minute later it began to brake slowly, finally coming to a dead stop at the bottom of the shaft. they were met by a solar guardsman who directed them into the tunnel, now illuminated by a row of flowing, self-powered emergency lights. silently, but with rising excitement, the two cadets followed hawks through the brightly lighted shaft, a thousand feet below the surface of the planet. turning the last corner in the tunnel they came upon strong, tom, and captain allison huddled near the torn side of the time capsule. they could hear strong talking to tom. "there is a vault on every spaceship in the solar alliance, tom," strong was explaining. "the vault is locked before blast-off and opened after landing by a light-key operated only by a trusted spaceport security officer. this key flashes a series of light vibrations, in sequence, into the electromagnetic lock on the vault. it's really nothing more than a highly developed flashlight except that it flashes multiple combinations of lights, each containing certain electronic vibrations. the electromagnetic lock can only be opened with the proper combinations of colors and vibrations flashed by the light-key. of course each ship has a different code of colors and vibrations, but the code itself wouldn't be hard to crack. the big thing would be to have an adjustable light-key, so that if one combination of colors and light vibrations do not work, you can try another. in that way you could open any energy lock on any vault in the system." "and wallace and simms--" tom hesitated. "yes, corbett," said strong grimly. "wallace and simms stole an information sound spool from the capsule. on that spool was a detailed description of the energy lock and the adjustable light-key. there were only seven keys in the system up to now. if we don't catch wallace and simms, there'll be eight." "great galaxy," commissioner hawks broke in. "this will ruin the exposition! the alliance will close it after--" strong waved a calming hand at hawks. "i've already spoken to commander walters at space academy, mike," he said. "he wants this to remain a secret. no one knows about it besides us, and no one will. i'm taking your oaths, your spaceman's word, that it will remain a secret. there's no use in starting a panic. you'll keep the exposition going as if nothing had happened." "but what can the solar guard do, sir?" asked tom. "we'll start the greatest search the system has ever seen," replied strong calmly. "but the order for their arrest will be issued for some other violation." the solar guard officer suddenly noticed roger for the first time. "oh, manning!" he said, smiling. "good to see you. how do you feel?" "o.k., sir," replied roger. "but i'd feel a lot better if those space crawlers didn't have the combination to every safe and vault in the universe!" strong nodded. "this is one of the cleverest crimes in history. and in searching for wallace and simms, we'll have to be twice as smart as they are!" "yes, sir," said tom. "first we have to figure out what they will do, and then figure out how we're going to beat them!" "that's right, tom," nodded strong. "and by the stars, if we don't beat them, the only safe place left for the credits and securities of the people in the system will be behind rows of paralo-ray guns!" chapter "attention! attention! this is captain maitland of the rocket cruiser _orion_ reporting to captain strong at space academy. come in, strong!" high in the tower of galileo overlooking space academy, the solar guard officer, his face showing the strain of the last three-weeks' futile search for wallace and simms, flipped on the teleceiver and replied, "strong here. go ahead, maitland." tom, astro, roger, and commander walters stood behind strong and waited tensely for the last report to come in. maintland's voice crackled through millions of miles of space. "we've searched space quadrants a through d, sections twenty-one through one hundred thirty-eight. constant six-way radar sweep of the area. no sign of wallace and simms." strong sighed deeply and replied, "all right, maitland. thank you. you may return to base. end transmission." "end transmission!" signaled maitland, and the crackling static died out in the quiet room. walters stepped forward and placed his hand on strong's shoulder. "don't let it get you down, steve," he said. "i saw the zone search you set up for those two. no one could have done more." "maybe not, sir," said strong, getting up, "but we didn't catch them." "not yet," frowned the commander grimly, "but we will! well, there's nothing else to do here. that was the last patrol ship to report, so you might as well close up shop." he turned to the cadets, who had been reassigned from the exposition as aides to captain strong in his search for wallace and simms. "you three come with us," said walters. "i've got an idea and i want all of you to hear it." strong and the boys followed the commander out of the academy communications center down to his luxuriously furnished office. "perhaps," said walters, settling back in his chair and lighting an enormous pipe filled with red venusian tobacco, "perhaps we have been hunting the fox with the wrong kind of dogs." "assuming that wallace and simms are the foxes in this case and the solar guard the hunting dogs, what would you suggest, sir?" asked strong. walters puffed several times and eyed strong. "i was going to suggest that you and the cadets become merchant spacemen for a while and take a look at some of the uglier places of the solar alliance. go right into the foxes' den dressed as foxes!" "ummmmh," mused strong. "it is an idea." "give it a try, anyway," urged walters. "take that old freighter we confiscated from the titan smugglers, the _dog star_. wander around for a few weeks and see what you can pick up. we have the advantage, since only a few of us know _why_ we're looking for wallace and simms. it might make finding them a little easier." strong looked at the cadets and then back at the commander. "it might just work, at that, sir," he said at last. "work your way around to venusport," said walters. "let it be known that you four are--well, willing to do just about anything for a credit." strong and the cadets smiled. "all right, sir," said the young captain. "we'll start right away." "no!" replied the commander firmly. "you'll start in the morning. right now, i'm ordering you to hit the sack and get some rest. you're not going to catch those two with speed. you'll need brains and cleverness." "very well, sir," said strong as he stood up. "and i want to thank you for giving us this assignment." "no question about it," answered the commander. "if you have a tough job to do, you put your best team to work on it, and the job will get done!" it was difficult for the three cadets, who had been standing to one side listening, to suppress a smile. they saluted and followed strong from the room. he left them at the slidestairs with orders to be ready to blast off at hours. tom was silent as he climbed into his bed in the _polaris_ unit's quarters on the forty-second floor. roger and astro fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their air-foam pillows, but the curly-haired cadet lay with arms under his head, staring up at the ceiling. he felt uneasy about the task that faced them. he wasn't afraid for himself, or roger, or astro. something he couldn't put his finger on bothered the young spaceman. he reviewed wallace and simms' entire operation. he remembered the two men had struck him as not being too bright. their success in stealing the secret of the adjustable light-key, and their methods, plus their complete disappearance, just didn't add up. he made up his mind to speak to captain strong about it in the morning. as soon as the matter was settled in his mind, he was asleep. * * * * * at exactly hours the three cadets and captain strong appeared at the academy spaceport dressed in the severe black tight-fitting trousers and jacket of merchant spacemen. quietly eluding all friends and acquaintances, they entered the confiscated freighter that had been prepared for space flight during the night and began acquainting themselves with the ship's equipment. when astro reported the power deck ready and roger cleared their course, tom called the traffic-control tower for blast-off clearance. "take it easy on the first hop," said strong. "there's no hurry and i want to be sure we get this crate off in one piece." smiling confidently at the control-deck cadet, he turned away to his quarters. he was aware of the effect that being left alone had on the cadets. he had learned early in his associations with tom, roger, and astro that they bore responsibility well, and a challenge to do a good job would assure him the job would be done efficiently. "stand by to raise ship!" tom's voice crackled confidently over the ship's intercom. strong sat on an acceleration cushion and strapped himself in. he heard tom's voice counting off the seconds for blast-off. "... five--four--three--two--one--_zero_." as the rockets burst into a loud roar, the freighter lurched from the ground and thundered up into the atmosphere, pushing strong deep into his acceleration cushion. minutes later, he felt the freedom of free-fall space. in a strange ship, the _polaris_ crew had begun a strange mission. during the flight to luna city, their first stop on the tour of the hangouts of outlawed spacemen across the solar system, strong briefed his cadets on a plan of action. "i think it'll be better if we split up into two teams. you work with me, corbett, and astro will team up with manning. we'll operate like simple tramp spacers. our space papers have new last names, but the same first names, so there won't be any slip-ups when we speak to each other. from now on, if we happen to meet, you'll all call me steve and i'll call you by your first names. is that clear?" the cadets nodded. "all right," continued strong. "now, when we arrive in a city, tom and i will go to one section, while you two go to another. visit the toughest-looking places you can find. talk, talk to anyone that wants to talk. buy people drinks. let it slip that you're not exactly on the right side of the space code. then, if you feel you have a sympathetic listener, mention wallace and simms. say you have heard of the trouble they're in. say you know them, that you're old friends, and hint that you have something that they need very badly. just keep talking and pulling for information. got that?" again the three cadets nodded silently. "wear your paralo-ray guns at all times and keep your belt communicators hidden beneath your jackets," strong warned. "if one team gets into a tight spot, call the other right away. but don't call unless it's absolutely necessary!" strong paused and glanced at the tele-scanner. "we're getting close to luna city. we'll touch down at the municipal spaceport and go through the regular routine of customs search just to establish ourselves as tramp spacemen." "how long will we stay in each city, sir?" asked tom. "watch that 'sir,' tom," snapped strong. "might as well begin to forget it now." "o.k., steve," replied tom sheepishly. "to answer your question, we'll stay in each city only as long as there might be something to be gained by staying. we'll live aboard the _dog star_. but stay away from the ship as much as possible. if anyone questions you, tell them you're looking for cargo. but in case they take you up on it and offer you a cargo haul, you always want more money for the job." roger grinned. "that could be fun." "be clever, but be tough. some of the people you'll run into are the most ruthless men in the universe. they are just the ones that might know something about wallace and simms." strong cautioned them against drinking rocket juice, suggesting they drink martian water instead. the briefing was interrupted by the automatic warning beep from the tele-scanner informing them that they had passed the outer beacon on the approach to the municipal spaceport on the moon. the four spacemen immediately began the routine task of landing their ship safely on the satellite colony. an hour later, as gray-clad customs men finished searching the empty ship, roger waited for final clearance at the air lock of the freighter. when the last of the men were leaving the ship, roger stopped two of them. "say, ground hogs," drawled roger, "where's the best place to get something to eat?" the two men stopped and turned to face the cadet, their eyes cold and unfriendly. "why don't you space drift blast out of here?" asked one of them. "yeah," agreed the other, "your kind aren't welcome in luna city." roger shrugged his shoulders and turned away. the two customs officers continued down the gangway. "those young punks," muttered one, "they get themselves a berth on a crummy freighter and think they're real hot space aces when they're nothing but wet fire-crackers!" strong had appeared at roger's side and heard the last remark. "what was that about, roger?" he asked, nodding toward the disappearing customs men. roger smiled. "just seeing if i could get by." "they certainly gave us a good going over," said strong grimly. "i think our disguise is perfect. those fellows don't miss much." "i heard them talking, steve," said roger. "they recognized the ship and know its reputation for smuggling." "yes," agreed strong. "and your remark will make them sure to watch every move we make. but that's just what we want. news of that sort has a way of getting around. and anyone interested in a ship with a reputation for smuggling is someone we're interested in." astro walked up, and with a brief nod roger followed the big cadet down the gangway. as they walked across the concrete surface of the spaceport, tom appeared at strong's elbow. "i'm ready to go, steve," he said. "the ship's secure." "very well, tom," said strong. "but from now on, keep your eyes and ears open. it only takes one slip to make a dead spaceman!" chapter "see that fellow over there, steve?" whispered tom. "the one with the scar on his face?" "yeah," replied the disguised solar guard officer. "i've been watching him too. and i think he's had his eye on us." tom and captain strong were sitting in a small restaurant near the spaceport, drinking martian water and discussing the shadowy characters that lounged around the stuffy little room. "i'll walk over to the bar," said strong. "maybe he doesn't want to talk to two of us together. you go over and see if you can strike up a conversation." "good idea, sir--uh--steve," said tom. strong got up and with an exaggerated swagger walked to the small bar. from the mirror in back of the bar, he could see tom rise and saunter over to the man who sat on the opposite side of the room. for three days, roger, astro, tom, and strong had wandered through the bars, restaurants, and cheap hotels of spaceman's row in luna city searching for information that would lead them to wallace and simms. each night they returned to the freighter to exchange, sift, and analyze the bits of information gathered, but for three nights they had come up with a total of nothing. finally, strong had decided that this would be the last night they would spend in luna city. it was after making this decision that he and tom spotted the scar-faced man sitting alone in one corner. [illustration: _the scar-faced man obviously wanted something from tom_] strong saw tom stop at the table, say a few words, then sit down and order drinks. tom and the scar-faced man continued their conversation, now leaning across the table talking in whispers, stopping only long enough for the waiter to serve the drinks. strong noticed that the scar-faced man paid for them and smiled to himself. that was a step in the right direction. he obviously wanted something from tom. suddenly the young cadet looked up and motioned for him to come over to the table. strong merely lounged against the bar and nodded carelessly. taking his time, he finished his glass of martian water, then swaggered across the crowded room to the table. tom glanced up casually and then turned to his companion at the table. "this is my skipper," he said. "name's steve. you gotta job to do, steve'll do it. anything, anywhere, any time," he paused, and then added with a smirk, "for a _price_!" the scar-faced man looked up at steve. his eyes traced a pattern over the tall man, noting the broad shoulders, the piercing eyes, and the bulge of a paralo-ray gun in his jacket. he pushed a chair back with a foot and managed a smile in spite of the scar that twisted his features into an ugly mask. "sit down, steve. my name's pete." strong accepted the invitation silently. at close range, he saw the man was more disfigured than he had noticed from the bar. the scar on his face reached from his left ear across his cheek and down to his neck. pete saw him looking at the scar and smiled again. "funny thing about scars. i got one, but i don't have to look at it. i just stay away from mirrors and i remember myself as i was before i got it. so look all you want. you're the one that's got to suffer for it." ignoring the man's bitter tone of voice, strong growled, "i'm not interested in what you look like. you got something to haul; we got a ship to haul it. name your cargo and destination, and we'll name a price." "ain't as simple as that," said pete craftily. "i gotta know more about you before we talk business." "what for instance?" asked strong. "for instance, who do you know on spaceman's row that can give you a reference?" tom spoke up quickly without looking at strong. "suppose i told you i helped pull a job a couple of weeks ago that was worth a hundred thousand credits?" he settled back, casually glancing at strong and receiving an imperceptible nod in return. "a hundred thousand, eh?" said pete with interest. "not bad, not bad. what kind of a job was it?" "me and two other guys held up the credit exchange at the solar exposition at venusport." "oh?" pete was becoming extremely curious. "you in on the job too, steve?" before strong could answer, tom spoke quickly. "no, i bought a half interest in steve's ship with my share of the take." strong could hardly keep from smiling, so easily was the young cadet's tale growing. "then who _was_ in on this job with you?" persisted the scar-faced man. "you look pretty young to pull a big job like that." tom glanced around the room and then leaned over the table before whispering, "gus wallace and luther simms." "what?" exclaimed pete. "gus wallace? a guy about six feet tall and two hundred pounds? has a heavy rough voice?" "that's the one," said tom. pete's arm shot across the table like a snake and he grabbed tom by the jacket. "where is he?" he asked through clenched teeth. no sooner had pete touched tom than strong had his paralo-ray gun leveled at the scar-faced man. "take your hands off him," he said coldly, "or i'll freeze you right where you are!" pete relaxed his grip and settled back into his chair. he glared at tom and then at strong. "all right," snapped strong. "now _you_ talk!" pete didn't say anything. strong inched closer to the scar-faced man menacingly. "i said _talk_! why do you want to know where gus wallace is? maybe you're solar guard, eh? trying to play a little trick on us. how do i know you haven't got a squad of mp's outside waiting to pick us up?" pete began to shift nervously. "you got me all wrong, steve. i ain't solar guard." "why do you want to know where gus wallace is, then?" strong persisted. pete hesitated and had to be prodded with the paralo-ray gun again by strong. "talk!" hissed strong. "you see this scar?" asked pete. "well, two years ago, on spaceman's row in marsopolis, gus slashed me in a fight. i swore i'd do the same for him when i caught him, but he's been running from me ever since." "marsopolis, eh?" asked strong. "two years ago?" "yeah." "i think you're lying! you're solar guard." "honest, steve," whined pete. "that's the only reason i want him. ask anybody. it happened in the spacelanes bar on new denver avenue. i bet there are five guys here right now who heard about it!" strong got up, pushing the gun back in his belt. "come on, tom. i don't like the way your friend pete answers questions." "wait a minute!" pete rose from his chair, protesting. strong whirled around and faced the scar-faced man. "if i were you, pete," he muttered, "i'd sit still and not ask any more questions. it isn't healthy!" without another word strong walked out of the dingy restaurant. tom shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture and followed, leaving pete alone and worried. outside in the street, his face bathed in the garish light of the vapor street lights, strong stopped to wipe his forehead. "whew!" he gasped. "we certainly bulled our way through that one!" "i felt the same way," said tom. "but at least we have something to go on. you think he was suspicious?" "no, tom. he was so scared when i accused him of being tied up with the solar guard it threw him completely off stride." "well? where do we go from here?" asked tom. "back to the ship," replied strong. "and as soon as astro and roger show up, we blast off for marsopolis. our next target is a joint called the spacelanes!" * * * * * against a backdrop of shimmering stars that studded the velvet black emptiness of space, the freighter _dog star_ rocketed toward the red planet of mars carrying the four spacemen on the next step of their search. relaxing from the three arduous days on the moon and able to be themselves once more, strong and the three cadets rested and discussed every detail of their stay in luna city. it was finally decided that their only real chance of tracing wallace and simms lay in the spacelanes bar. as they approached mars, strong outlined their next move. "we'll do the same thing as we did in luna city," he said. "split up. only this time, we'll all go to the same place, the spacelanes. tom and i will go in first and do most of the nosing around. astro and roger will drift in later and hang around, just in case there's trouble." the three cadets nodded their understanding, and when strong turned to the teleceiver to make his report to commander walters at space academy, they took their stations for touchdown at marsopolis. his face impassive on the teleceiver screen, commander walters listened to strong's report, and when the solar guard officer finished, he grunted his satisfaction. "do you have any news on wallace and simms, sir?" asked strong. "yes, but my news isn't as good as yours," frowned walters. "they've already made use of their knowledge of the light-key. they held up a solar guard transport en route to titan and emptied her armory. they took a couple of three-inch atomic blasters and a dozen paralo-ray guns and rifles. opened the energy lock with their adjustable light-key as easily as if it had been a paper bag. it looks as though they're setting themselves up for a long siege." "do you have any idea where they might be hiding, sir?" "somewhere in the asteroid belt, i believe," replied the commander. "they headed for the belt after they held up the transport." "well, we'll do what we can from our end, sir," said strong. "since mars is closer to the asteroid belt than any other planet, they might be using marsopolis as a hangout. or someone might have seen them recently." "use whatever plan you think best, steve. i'm counting on you." "thank you, sir." "spaceman's luck! end transmission." "end transmission," replied strong and flipped off the screen. fifteen minutes later, the _dog star_ settled on a blast-scorched ramp at the marsopolis spaceport, and after a hasty review of their plans, the four spacemen left the ship. strong had a brief argument with a customs officer over a personal search for small arms. they were forced to leave their paralo-ray guns on the ship. disgruntled, as far as the customs agents were concerned, strong was actually pleased with the success of their disguise as merchant spacemen. tom and strong found the spacelanes bar in the roughest and darkest section of marsopolis. it was large and almost empty. but tom noted that it was just like many other such places he had been in in luna city. the walls were scarred and dirty, the floor littered, and the tables and chairs looking as if they had been used in a hundred fights. behind a bar that ran the length of one wall, a heavy-set man with beady black eyes watched their approach. "what's your pleasure, spacemen?" asked the bartender in a gruff voice. strong hesitated a moment and decided to play all his cards at one turn. "we'll have a thousand credits worth of information." the barman's eyes narrowed into black slits. "what kind of information would bring that kind of a price?" he asked. "information about a man," said strong. "what man?" asked the barman. he dropped his hand out of sight behind the bar. tom's eye caught the move and he wished the customs men hadn't taken away their paralo-ray guns. just at that moment he heard roger's unmistakable laugh and turned to see the blond cadet, followed by astro, enter, cross the room, and slap the bar for service. "let me take care of these two," muttered the bartender and walked down to the end of the bar. facing roger and astro, he snarled, "what'll it be?" "coupla bottles of martian water," drawled roger. "get out of here," roared the bartender. "we don't sell kids' drinks in here." "two bottles of martian water!" growled astro and leaned over the bar threateningly. strong and tom watched the performance with amused eyes. without a word, the barman opened the bottles of martian water and gave them to roger and astro. he turned back to strong. "these young rocketheads think they're so blasted tough," he sneered, "and then drink kids' soda pop." strong looked at roger and astro. "that fellow on the right," indicating astro's size, "looks like he could be a little more than a child, if he got mad." the barman snorted and leaned over the bar. "what about that thousand credits?" he asked. "what about it?" countered strong. "that's a lot of money just for information," said the barman. "it's my money," replied strong coolly, "and my business!" "what kind of information you interested in," asked the bartender. "i told you, information about a man," said strong. "gus wallace. happen to know him?" strong pulled a roll of crisp credit notes out of his jacket pocket. the barman looked at them greedily. "maybe. what'cha want with him?" he asked. "he knifed a friend of ours in here two years ago." "yeah?" drawled the barman. "who?" "pete," answered strong, suddenly realizing he didn't know the scar-faced man's last name. "pete? pete who?" asked the barman craftily. "what are you trying to do?" snapped tom suddenly. "play space lawyer? you know pete was knifed in here by gus wallace two years ago! carved up good!" he made a slashing gesture from his ear to his throat, indicating the scar on pete's face. "so you want wallace, eh?" mused the bartender. "we want him a thousand credits' worth," said strong. "you didn't tell me for what, yet." "none of your space-blasting business," roared strong. "you want the thousand or not?" the bartender couldn't keep his eyes off the crisp roll of credit notes strong rippled under his nose and hesitated. "well, to tell you the truth, i ain't seen him for a long time." "then do you know anyone who has?" asked strong. "hard to tell," said the bartender huskily. "but i do know the guy who would know if anyone does." "who?" asked tom. "on venusport's spaceman's row. there's a joint called the café cosmos. go there and ask for a little guy named shinny. nicholas shinny. if anyone knows about wallace, he'll know." tom's heart almost stopped. nicholas shinny was a retired spaceman who had taken part in his last adventure to alpha centauri, and was a good friend of strong's and the _polaris_ unit. shinny had always operated on the edge of the space code. nothing illegal, but as shinny himself put it, 'just bending the code a little, not breaking it.' tom spoke up. "that's only worth a hundred credits," he said. "whaddya mean!" snapped the barman. "how would nick shinny know gus wallace?" asked strong. "they prospected the asteroids together years ago." strong dropped a hundred-credit note on the bar and turned away without another word. tom followed, and as they passed roger and astro, a knowing look passed between them, and tom gestured for them to follow. having heard the conversation, astro and roger walked over to the bartender who was folding the credit note before putting it in his pocket. "you sell your information pretty cheap, spaceman," snarled roger. "suppose those two were solar guardsmen in disguise?" the bartender paused, then shook his head. "couldn't be!" he said. "why not?" asked roger. "because the solar guard has a guy salted away that knows exactly where wallace is." chapter "that's the story, sir," said strong to commander walters, after the solar guard captain had related the information he had wormed out of the bartender at the spacelanes bar and the news roger and astro had brought. "all right, steve," nodded the commander. "i'll have the man picked up right away and psychographed. meantime, you go on to venus and see nicholas shinny." "very well, sir," said strong. "end transmission!" "end transmission," acknowledged walters. strong flipped the switch and the teleceiver screen darkened. fifteen minutes later, the _dog star_ blasted off from mars, heading for venus. during the trip back to the young planet that was rapidly growing into a major industrial center rivaling earth, strong received a report from space academy that the bartender had been picked up. his name was joseph price, and after questioning him under truth serum, solar guard security officers found the man's mind to be so filled with criminal plots and counter-plots, it would take several weeks for the psychograph analyst to learn the name of the man he claimed would know the whereabouts of wallace. this was disappointing news for strong, especially since the report included news of a second, third, and fourth strike by wallace and simms on spaceships near the asteroid belt. reaching the starting place of their adventure, venusport and the solar exposition, strong and the three cadets went immediately to a small suburban section of the great city and the home of nicholas shinny. shinny lived comfortably in a small house made of titan crystal, enjoying himself during the day catching venusian fatfish and watching the stereos at night. once an enlisted spaceman, he had been retired with full pension and was living in ease and comfort. when strong and the three cadets arrived at the elderly spaceman's house, they found him busy teaching a young venusian wolfhound puppy how to retrieve. "well, blast my jets!" cried the old man. "if it ain't tommy, roger, and the big fella, astro! and captain strong!" "hello, nick!" said strong with a smile. "you're a sight for space-blind eyes!" "heh-heh-heh," cackled shinny, his merry eyes twinkling against his deep space tan. "it's mighty good to see you boys. come on in the house. i got a mess of fatfish just pulled out of the stream and some of the most delicious biscuits you ever had in your life!" "well, thanks, nick," hesitated the captain. "but we're in--" "can't be in too much of a hurry to eat," snapped the old man with a grin. "anything you got to say is better said when you got a bellyful of molly's cookin'." "molly!" cried tom. "but, mr. shinny--" "when--" gulped astro, "when did you--" "hey! hold on!" cried the old spaceman. "just damp your tubes there, youngsters! you're way off course. molly ain't nothing but an electronic cook i got installed in the kitchen. she cooks better'n any space-brained woman and she never opens her mouth to give me any sass!" the four spacemen laughed at shinny's obvious indignation. "now come on!" he growled. "let's eat. i'm hungry!" refusing to allow them to get near molly, shinny began pushing food into slots, compartments, turning on switches and punching buttons. in the cozy living room, strong relaxed while the three cadets played with the venusian wolfhound. finally shinny announced dinner and they fell to with gusto. there wasn't much talk during the course of the meal. strong and the boys felt that shinny would let them know when he was ready. finally the meal was over. shinny sprawled in his chair, lit his pipe, then looked at his guests, his eyes twinkling. "all right, me friends, i think you've held back long enough. let's have it." strong immediately told the old spaceman the entire story, from wallace and simms' false concession at the exposition to the present. "you see, nick," he concluded, "with an adjustable light-key enabling them to open any lock in the solar system, nothing is safe. personally, i think it's only because they haven't a larger or faster ship and aren't better armed that they haven't tried more daring piracy. they'll reach that point soon, though. they've already robbed four ships for arms alone." "i'll do anything i can to help you, captain," said shinny. "what is it you want to know?" "we suspect that wallace has a secret hide-out in the asteroid belt," said strong. "since you once prospected the asteroids with him i thought you might know where the hide-out is." shinny grew reflective and knocked the ashes out of his pipe before he answered. "that was a long time ago, captain. more'n ten years. and gus wallace was a real square spaceman then. he didn't turn bad until after we split up and he met that other feller." "what other fellow?" asked strong. skinny paused. there was a hard glint in his eyes. "bull coxine!" he spat the name out as though it had left a bad taste in his mouth. "coxine!" exclaimed strong. "you heard me," snorted shinny. "bull coxine and gus wallace got together after me and wallace lost our stake hunting for uranium pitchblende in the asteroids and split up. next thing i heard, him and coxine was mixed up in that business up on ganymede when the credit exchange was held up." strong's face had turned the color of chalk. "coxine!" he repeated under his breath. noticing strong's reaction to shinny's statement, tom asked, "who is coxine, captain strong?" strong was silent and shinny turned to the cadets. "when your skipper here was a young feller just starting out in the solar guard," the old man explained, "he was on a routine flight out to titan and there was a mutiny. coxine was the ringleader. the captain joined up with coxine after they had put his skipper in the brig. when he had coxine's confidence, he regained control of the ship and sent coxine and the others to a prison asteroid. coxine has hated the captain ever since and swore to get him." "but how did he pull the holdup on ganymede, then?" asked roger. "coxine escaped from the prison asteroid in a jet boat, disguised as a guard," continued shinny. "only man ever to escape. he drifted around in the belt for a while and was picked up by a freighter going to ganymede. the freighter had been out rocket-hopping among the asteroids, collecting the prospectors' small supplies of uranium and taking the stuff back to ganymede for refining. wallace happened to be dead-heading on the freighter. when they got to ganymede, and coxine saw all the money lying around at the credit exchange to pay off the prospectors, he convinced wallace to go in with him and they robbed the exchange. coxine was caught red-handed, but wallace got away. in fact, the solar guard didn't know wallace had anything to do with it. so coxine was taken back to the prison asteroid, and wallace has been driftin' around the system ever since." "but, mr. shinny," asked astro, "if you knew wallace was tied up with the robbery of the credit exchange, why didn't you tell the solar guard before now?" "sonny," sighed shinny, "most of what i know is space dust and space gas. but even so, i don't think commander walters or captain strong, or even you boys, would think much of me if i went around like an old space crawler, blowin' my jets all over the place." strong had listened to shinny fill in the background of bull coxine with a thoughtful look in his eyes. he remembered all too clearly the mutiny on the ship out to titan. coxine had been an enlisted solar guard petty officer aboard the ship. he had made great strides in two years and was being considered as an officer candidate on the very day he tried to take over the ship. when strong regained control later, he talked to coxine, trying to find out why he had started the mutiny. but the man had only cursed him, swearing vengeance. strong hadn't seen him since. "so you think he would know where wallace and simms might be hiding out?" strong asked finally. "if anyone does," replied shinny, "he does. and i'll tell you this, captain, if you go to talk to him and i figger you will, you'll find him a lot tougher." "will i?" "well, take yourself, for instance. no reflection on you, of course, but take yourself. you're smart, you're hard, and you got a good mind. you're one of the best spacemen in the deep. take all that and turn it bad. real bad. sour it with too many years on a prison asteroid and you've got a fire-eating rocket buster as tough and as rough as god and society can make him!" the three cadets gulped and looked at strong. they saw their skipper clench his teeth and ball his fists into tight knots. "i know," said strong in a hoarse whisper, "but if he knows where wallace and simms are, he'll tell me. you can bet your last credit, he'll tell me!" shinny paused reflectively. "i won't bet," he said simply. * * * * * the air inside the space shack was stale because of a faulty filter in the oxygen circulator that neither wallace nor simms bothered to clean. the two men lazed around in stocking feet and undershirts, listening to popular music coming over the audio receiver on a late pickup from one of the small jovian satellite colonies near by. "pour me another cup of coffee, simms," grunted wallace. the smaller man poured a cup of steaming black liquid and silently handed it over to his companion. they both listened as the music faded to an end and the voice of the announcer crackled over the loud-speaker. "this audiocast has been beamed to space quadrants d through k, as a courtesy to the army of uranium prospectors working the asteroid belt. hope you've enjoyed it, spacemen, and happy hunting!" wallace reached over and snapped off the receiver. "thanks, pal." he laughed. "the hunting's been real good! we've got a full catch!" the giant spaceman laughed again. "yeah," agreed simms. "i just went over the take. we've got enough money in that locker"--he indicated a black box on the floor--"to sit back and take it easy for the rest of our lives." "yeah?" snarled wallace. "you mean sitting in the sun on a crummy lakeside, watching the birds and bees?" "gus," asked simms thoughtfully, "you got any idea how much fun we can buy with the credits in that box?" "yeah, i have!" sneered wallace, "and i know what a thousand times that much will buy too!" suddenly simms turned and looked his partner in the eye. "what do you say we quit now, gus? i mean it. we got plenty." "you sound like you been exposed to too many cosmic rays!" said wallace, tapping his head with one finger. "we've got the biggest secret in the system, the adjustable light-key plus an airtight hide-out, and you want to quit!" "it ain't that," whined simms. "it's the other deal. i don't mind going out and blasting a few freighters, but to try to--" "lissen," interrupted wallace, "i'd rather try it and take the licking if we mess it up, than not try it and take that licking. i know which side of the space lane i'd better be on when the time comes!" simms hesitated and then sighed, "yeah, i guess you're right." "come on. let's listen to that story spool again." "oh, no," moaned simms. "i know that spool by heart! we've heard it at least fifty times!" "one slip-up," said wallace, sticking his finger in simms' face, "just one slip-up and we're finished! we've got to be sure!" with a reluctant shrug of his shoulders, simms poured another cup of coffee and sat on the side of his bunk while wallace inserted the story spool in the audio playback. they settled themselves and listened as a deep voice began to speak in a loud whisper. "... the operation will take place on the night of october twenty-ninth at exactly twenty-one hundred hours. you will make your approach from section eleven, m quadrant--" simms jumped up abruptly and switched off the playback. turning to wallace, he pleaded, "i can't listen to it again! i know it by heart. instructions on how to get to the time capsule; instructions on what to take, and how to build an adjustable light-key after we get the plans; instructions on how to hijack the first ship and what to take. orders, information, instructions! i'm sick of listening. if you want to, go ahead, but i'm going to work on the ship!" "o.k., o.k.," said wallace, getting up. "don't blow your jets. i hate the thing as much as you do. wait a minute and i'll go with you." the two men began climbing into space suits. in a few minutes they were dressed in black plastic suits with small round clear plastic helmets. they stepped into the air lock on one side of the room and closed a heavy door. wallace adjusted the valve in the chamber and watched the needle drop until it showed zero. "o.k.," said wallace over his helmet spacephones. "all the air's out. open the outer lock." simms cranked the heavy handle, and the door in the opposite wall of the chamber slowly swung open. they stepped out into the airless black void of space and onto the surface of an asteroid, drifting in the thickest part of the belt. surrounding the asteroid were countless smaller secondary satellites circling the mother body like a wide curving blanket. the mother body was perfectly hidden from outside observation. it made a perfect base of operations for the two space pirates. the freighter that they had used at the concession at the solar exposition and later to make their escape was a far different ship from the one now resting on the asteroid. two powerful three-inch atomic blasters could be seen sticking out of the forward part of the ship. and near the stern, two gaping holes showed the emplacements for two additional guns not yet installed. the two men walked over to the ship, and while wallace entered the ship, simms picked up a cutting torch and ignited it, preparing to finish the two holes in the stern. when wallace reappeared, he was carrying a coil of wire with a double plug to attach to the spacephones inside their helmets. he jammed the plug into simms' helmet and then into his own. simms' eyes lit up with surprise as he heard.... "...this is a general emergency announcement from solar guard headquarters. squadrons a and b of the marsopolis garrison will proceed to space quadrants w, sections forty-one to fifty. it is believed that gus wallace and luther simms are in that vicinity. approach with caution, they are armed with atomic blasters and are believed to be psychologically unable to surrender. it is believed they will resist arrest...." the voice repeated the announcement and added a general call for the men, if they were listening, to surrender. wallace pulled out the two plugs and grinned at simms. "picked it up on the teleceiver inside the ship. thought you might like to know how safe we are here." simms grinned back, "and how far off the track they are. where is that space quadrant they think we're in?" "out past saturn," said wallace with a grin. "with the mars garrison chasing us at one end of the system, we'll hit them on the other and be gone before they know what happened!" simms patted the barrel of the nearest atomic blaster. "and, spaceman, we're going to hit them hard!" chapter "stop your ship and be recognized!" the rasping voice on the audioceiver was sharp. a command to be obeyed. tom turned away from the control board and looked at strong who was already reaching for the ship's intercom. "full braking rocket thrust, astro," he yelled into the microphone, "and make it quick or we'll all be blasted into protons!" tom and the captain gripped their chairs tightly as the ship bucked against the deceleration force of the powerful braking rockets. gradually the freighter _dog star_ slowed and came to a dead stop in space. "hey!" yelled astro over the intercom from the power deck. "what's going on up there?" "we've just entered the outer circle of defense on the prison asteroid, astro," replied strong. "we have to stop so they can sweep us with their radar and identify the ship." "but i sent them a message in solar guard code that we were coming," interjected roger who was listening from the radar bridge. "they still have to make sure it's us," said strong. "identify yourselves!" commanded the voice over the audioceiver again. "this is space freighter _dog star_ under temporary command of captain strong of the solar guard," answered strong. "what's your business here?" demanded the voice again. "interrogation of one of your prisoners. we have sent a coded message, under code z for zebra to your prison commandant, major alan savage. if you'll check with him, you'll find everything in order," said strong. "very well," replied the voice crisply, and then added, "remain where you are. do not move from your present position or attempt to send any messages. if you fail to comply with these conditions you will be blasted!" "very well," said strong, "conditions are understood." "boy," chimed in roger, as he climbed down the ladder from the radar bridge, "they sure don't want any company here." "and for good reason," said strong. "the most vicious criminals in the whole universe are confined here. every one of them is capable of committing any crime in the solar code. and most of them have. the men here are the worst. they have refused psychotherapeutic readjustment to make them into new men." "but i thought they had to go through it, sir?" said tom. "no," replied strong. "even criminals have certain rights in our society. they can either remain criminals and stay here, or be psychoadjusted and given new personalities. the ones that refuse are the ones on this rock." "you mean," gasped roger, "that the men on this asteroid deliberately chose to remain criminals?" "yes, manning," said strong. "rather than become healthy citizens of the system, they prefer to stay here and waste their lives in isolation with no hope of ever returning to society." "can they change their minds after they get here?" asked tom. "any time. but when they get this far, they usually stay here. the men on prison rock didn't surrender easily. they are the toughest, most ruthless men in the universe." "attention! freighter _dog star_! attention!" the audioceiver rasped into life again. "you have been given temporary clearance. a space launch will ferry you to the asteroid. you are warned that any weapons discovered on your person, or acts that may be construed as providing aid and comfort to the inmates of this prison, will be considered treason against the solar alliance and you will be subject to immediate disciplinary action." tom and roger glanced at each other, a worried look in their eyes. strong just smiled. "don't worry, boys. that little speech is read to every visitor to the asteroid." "just the same, sir," said roger huskily, "i would prefer to remain aboard the _dog star_ and give you, tom, and astro the pleasure of the visit." strong laughed. "they won't let you, roger. they'll send up a crew of guards to search the ship. and the way these boys search makes a customs inspection look like a casual glance." "attention _dog star_!" a younger voice suddenly came in on the audioceiver. "this is lieutenant williams aboard the space launch. we are approaching your starboard catapult deck. please open the air lock and take us aboard." "they sure don't waste any time," commented tom as he turned to the audioceiver. "freighter _dog star_, cadet tom corbett to lieutenant williams," he called, "the air lock is open and the catapult deck is ready to receive you." at the same time, the young cadet turned the valve that would open the outer air lock to the jet-boat deck. five minutes later, the ship was swarming with tight-lipped enlisted solar guardsmen, who spoke to strong and the cadets with cool courtesy. these were men who signed up for two years as guards on the rock after competing with thousands of other enlisted men. a guard on the rock was paid triple wages for the two-year isolation. but more than anything else the right to wear the bright white patch with a paralo-ray gun in the center denoting their service as guards on the rock was prestige envied even by commissioned officers of the solar guard. after what tom thought to be the most thorough search he had ever seen was over, lieutenant williams reported to the control deck where strong and the cadets had been politely but firmly detained. he informed them that they were now ready to blast off to the rock, adding that a more detailed search of the area between the ship's outer and inner hulls would be conducted after they had gone. "you mean," said tom, amazed, "that you actually search the four inches between the two hulls? what in the universe could we possibly hide in there?" "i don't know, corbett," replied williams. "we've never found anything there." he turned to strong and smiled. "but there's always a first time, isn't there, sir?" "yes, of course," agreed strong. "you do a thorough job, williams. very good indeed!" "thank you, sir," said williams. "you know, we've heard about you and the _polaris_ unit here on the rock." he turned to tom, roger, and astro. "we have a stereo of that mercuryball game you played at the academy when you were earthworms." "what?" cried tom. "you mean that game was recorded?" "it sure was," said williams. "but we've seen it at least fifty times." "well, blast my jets!" said astro in amazement. the game was one that the cadets had played when they first entered the academy. it had done much to unify the boys into a fighting team. an enlisted sergeant suddenly appeared, snapping to attention in front of lieutenant williams. "ready to blast off, sir," he said. "very well," said williams, then turned to strong and the cadets. "follow me, please." in a few moments the space launch was blasting away from the freighter and heading for a tiny planetoid in the distance. as they drew near, strong and the cadets peered out of the ports to get a view of the prison, but were disappointed when williams ordered the ports covered. he smiled apologetically at strong and explained, "all approaches are secret, sir. we can't allow anyone to see where our defenses are located." "you fellows certainly believe in keeping prisoners in and visitors out!" commented strong. "anyone interested in coming to the rock, sir," said williams, "is under natural suspicion." the three cadets gulped, duly impressed with the severity of the prison routine. soon they felt the unmistakable jar and bump of the small space vessel touching the surface of the planetoid. the jets cut out suddenly and williams stood up. "please follow me. do not speak to anyone, and do not stop walking. keep your hands in front of you and maintain a distance of ten feet between you and the man in front of you." he walked through the open hatch where a hard-faced enlisted guardsman stood rigidly, holding a paralo-ray gun at the ready. with a quick nod to the cadets strong followed williams through the hatch. at ten-foot intervals they followed him out of the hatch, with tom bringing up the rear and the enlisted guardsman behind him. as tom stepped out onto the surface of the asteroid he wasn't quite sure what he expected to see, but he certainly wasn't ready for the sight that greeted his eyes. as far as he could see, there was grass, spotted with small one-story buildings. to the left was a single towering structure built of titan crystal and on top of it was the largest atomic blaster he had ever seen. he turned to ask the guardsman about the gun but was motioned ahead with a curt, "no questions. keep walking." tom continued to walk. he noticed that they were heading for the tower. as he drew nearer, he could see men walking around a narrow catwalk at the top. they all carried paralo-ray rifles with miniature grids mounted on the barrel. inside the rifle was a tiny radar direction finder. it was a simple but effective control against escaping prisoners. each of the inmates of the rock wore small metal disks welded to a thin chain around their waists. the disk was sensitive to radar impulses, and with no more effort than snapping a thumb catch on the rifle, the guard could locate and paralyze the nearest disk-wearing inmate. tom was so full of questions it was necessary for the guard to warn him again, only this time in sharper tones. entering the tower, they were scrutinized and cleared by an electronic beam that passed through their bodies and indicated any metal they might carry. once through this last barrier, they were escorted to a slidestairs, where williams left them. throughout the entire procedure few words had passed between the cadets. now left alone on the stairs, they couldn't contain themselves and the comments and questions tumbled out. "did'ja see that blaster on top of this place?" roger blurted out. "those radar-controlled paralo-ray rifles are really something!" said astro. "the thing i want to know," said tom, "is where are the prisoners? i haven't seen one yet." "and you're not likely to, either, cadet corbett!" said a gruff voice above them. they turned to see a heavy-set man wearing the uniform of a major in the solar guard, standing on the floor above them. the slidestairs carried them to his level and captain strong hopped off and extended his hand in greeting. "major savage!" he explained. "good to see you again!" "same here," said savage, returning strong's firm handclasp. he turned and faced the cadets. "so this is the _polaris_ unit, eh?" he smiled. "we've really enjoyed the stereo of that game of mercuryball you played back at the academy." "thank you, sir," said tom. "lieutenant williams has already told us how much he liked it." "come into my quarters and relax. i imagine you could do with some good solid food after those synthetics on your trip." "we certainly could, sir," said strong. they followed the big man through a sliding panel into a suite of comfortably furnished rooms. five minutes later, the cadets and the officers were enjoying their first hot meal in a week. as they ate, major savage brought up the purpose of their visit. "so you've come to talk to bull coxine, eh?" "yes," nodded strong. "and i don't imagine he has developed any affection for me." "no, i wouldn't say he has," replied savage. "in fact, i don't think bull has any affection for anyone, not even himself. why do you want to see him, anyway?" strong quickly summarized the theft of the adjustable light-key and the unsuccessful search for wallace and simms, concluding finally with the knowledge of coxine's association with wallace. "i'm hoping coxine will give me a lead to wallace's whereabouts," said strong. "well, you can ask him," shrugged the major. "but personally, i don't think you're going to get any further than saying hello. if he'll even let you say that. he hates you, strong. hates you in a way i've never seen a man hate before. when you talk to him, be careful." "i will," said strong grimly. "don't let him get near you. he's the strongest man i've ever seen. came blasted near choking a guard to death with one hand when he escaped. he could break a man's neck with both hands." strong smiled. "evidently, major, you haven't noticed the size of cadet astro. i'll take him along with me for protection." he looked at astro, who flushed in quick embarrassment. "very well, strong," said savage. "i'll have a jet car brought around. you can go right down to his hut." "er--may i ask a question, sir?" asked tom. the major smiled. "go right ahead, corbett." "it's about this whole setup," explained tom. "i was expecting fences and prisoners and--well, most anything but green grass and small white buildings!" "the little huts you saw," replied the major, "are as much of a prison as we have. each hut holds one prisoner. he has all the necessary furniture, in addition to audioceivers and story spools which he can change once a week. he also has basic garden equipment. all prisoners grow everything they eat. each man is dependent on himself and is restricted to the hut and the area around it. if he comes within two miles of the tower, the guards will pick him up on radar and order him back. if he comes within one mile, they fire without further warning. only one man has ever escaped. coxine. and that was because we had a sick man on guard duty, or he never would have made it. he overpowered the guard, took his uniform, and stowed away on a supply ship. we caught him a year later." "didn't your radar pick up the disk he was wearing, sir?" asked roger. "that method of protection was only installed a few months ago," said the major. "and the prisoners just sit there--in those little huts?" asked astro. "yes, astro!" said the major with a tone of finality in his voice. "they just sit. this is the end of the line." the three cadets looked at each other and secretly vowed never to take a chance of doing anything that would send them to the rock. five minutes later, strong was driving a jet car along a narrow paved road toward one of the white huts. astro sat beside him grimly silent, his hands balled into tight hamlike fists. they rounded a curve and strong pulled up in front of the house. as they climbed out of the car, they could see the trim neat lanes of the little garden with carefully printed signs on each row indicating what was growing. they started for the house and then stopped short. bull coxine stood in the doorway, watching them. dressed in the snow-white coverall of the prison garb, coxine faced them squarely, his thick trunklike legs spread wide apart. he was a giant of a man with long heavily muscled arms that dangled from a huge pair of shoulders. his jet-black hair was a tangled unkempt mass, and his face was scarred and lined. eyes blazing with unconcealed hatred he waited for captain strong to make the first move. "hello, bull," said strong quietly. "i'd like to talk to you." "oh, you would, huh?" coxine spat and his lips twisted in a mocking grin. "what's the matter? afraid to talk to me alone?" he indicated astro. "did you have to bring one of your space cadets for protection?" "listen, bull," urged strong, "i was your friend once. i turned you in because you were a mutineer and i was an officer of the solar guard. i'd do the same to this cadet if he tried what you did." "yeah, i'll bet you would," snarled the criminal. "just like a real friend!" his voice deepened into a low roar. "don't talk to me about the old days! i'm on the rock and you're just another solar guard space crawler to me. now get out of here and leave me alone." "i came to ask you to help me, bull," strong persisted. "i need information." coxine's eyes narrowed into slits. "what kind of information?" "you once tried to hold up a credit exchange on ganymede with a man called gus wallace. he had a hide-out in the asteroid belt. i'd like to know where it is," said strong. "why?" "i can't answer that, bull." "what do i get if i tell you?" "nothing, except my thanks and the thanks of the solar guard." "and if i don't?" "i'll turn around and leave." "then start turning, strong," snarled the giant prisoner, "because i ain't got nothing to tell you except how much i hate your guts!" astro moved forward slightly, but strong held him back. "o.k., bull. if that's the way you want it, i'll leave." "why don't you let the young punk try something?" challenged coxine. "i ain't had any exercise in a long time." strong looked at the huge man and said coldly, "i wouldn't want the death of a piece of space scum to show on his record." then, as if the space and sky overhead had suddenly been torn open, there was a flash of light followed by the roar of a tremendous explosion. the ground trembled. the air seemed to moan in agony. strong and astro wheeled around and looked toward the tower that shimmered in the light of the late afternoon sun. to their horror, they saw the unmistakable mushrooming cloud of an atomic blast rising in the synthetic atmosphere behind it. "by the craters of luna--" gasped strong. a second flash and explosion rocked the prison asteroid and suddenly the tower disappeared. almost immediately, a spaceship appeared over the small planetoid and began systematically pounding the surface installations with atomic blasters. "captain strong," cried astro. "tom and roger--they were in the tower!" "come on," yelled strong, "we've got to get back!" "you ain't going nowhere, strong," snarled coxine behind him. "i've been waiting a long time for this!" he suddenly struck the solar guard officer with a heavy rock and strong slumped to the ground unconscious. before astro could move, coxine smashed him to the ground with a blow on the back of the neck. they both lay deathly still. then, as the atomic bombardment of the penal asteroid continued, the giant space criminal jumped into the jet car and sped away. chapter "fire!" bawled major savage to his crew of gunners. at the other end of the field one of the remaining two undamaged rocket destroyers blasted off to battle the invading spaceship. tom and roger had been on a tour of the great central tower with major savage when the attack came and had been ordered to find safety in the open fields. the major knew the tower would be one of the first targets. sprawled on the ground behind a bunker, they saw the major, his space jacket torn from his back, standing in the middle of the field, quietly issuing orders to scarlet-clad spacemen, desperately trying to organize the penal asteroid's defenses. the spaceship, which had somehow managed to penetrate the tight radar warning screen around the prison, had struck with merciless precision. again and again, its atomic blasters had found the most important installations and had wiped them out. the first target, after the tower had been shattered, was the underground launching ramps for the asteroid's small fleet of rocket destroyers. but even after a direct hit, the guards were able to ready two ships to fight the attacking spaceship. the first was already diving in, her small one-inch blasters firing repeatedly. suddenly, lieutenant williams, in command of the second ship, came racing up to major savage, to report that his radarman had been hit and the ship couldn't blast off. "here's where i get into the act!" roger jumped up immediately, and with a brief "so long, spaceman" to tom, raced off to join lieutenant williams. "spaceman's luck," yelled tom as the officer and the cadet ran toward the waiting ship. looking skyward again, tom saw the first destroyer diving toward the attacking spaceship, trying to get in range with her lighter armament. suddenly there was a burst of brilliant light. the lighter ship had been completely destroyed by a direct hit. sick with horror, tom looked away and watched the ship roger had joined blast off under full acceleration. it roared spaceward in a straight line, disappearing at incredible speed. meanwhile, the invader continued to blast relentlessly. one--two--three--four--automatic reload--one--two--three--four, reload. over and over, firing at seemingly peaceful fields of grass, only to strike an armory, space cradle, or supply depot buried underneath the ground. suddenly it changed its course and trained its guns skyward. tom looked up and saw a tiny flyspeck roaring straight down at the ship. it was lieutenant williams' rocket destroyer, with roger on the radar bridge, in a suicidal attempt to destroy the invader. but the larger ship was ready. the two forward blasters opened fire. a flaming ball of light exploded near the stabilizer of the destroyer and it fell off course to float helplessly in free-fall orbit around the asteroid. still lying on the ground, tom sighed with relief. at least roger was all right. then the young cadet saw the invading spaceship move away from the area around the tower toward the horizon not too far away on the small planetoid. he followed it with his eyes and saw it suddenly land near a cluster of white prisoner huts. tom gasped as the reason for the attack became clear. "major! major! major savage!" he called as he raced across the field. but the major was nowhere to be seen. a guard carrying a medical kit hurried past him and tom grabbed him by the arm. "major savage! where is he?" the guard pointed to a near-by stretcher and tom saw the unconscious figure of the major sprawled on the plastic frame. "but--but the prisoners are getting away!" yelled tom. "i can't do anything about it. i've got wounded men to care for!" the man jerked away and disappeared in the smoky, choking dust. the curly-haired space cadet, his face blackened from the smoke, his lungs crying for fresh air, started across the blast-pitted field, looking for help. but there was none to be had. suddenly he wheeled in the direction of the spaceship and started to run toward it. as soon as the young cadet had left the smoking area around the wrecked tower, he realized that it was the only section of the small satellite that had suffered attack. ahead, he could see the prisoners in their white suits crowding around the stabilizer air lock of the invading ship. tom dropped to his stomach and watched the knot of men. suddenly the air-lock portal slid open. there was a loud cheer and the prisoners began scrambling aboard. tom knew he would have to move fast. taking a dangerous chance, he rose to a half-crouch and dashed to one of the small white huts only a hundred feet away. with a final glance at the thinning crowd of escaping men around the ship, he ran straight for an open window, diving headlong through it. inside, tom waited breathlessly for a shout or warning that he had been seen, but none came. he glanced through the window and saw that only seven or eight men remained outside the port. he turned away quickly and began searching the hut. he found what he was looking for rolled up on the bed where its owner had used it as an extra pillow. he shook out the prison suit of white coveralls, stripped off his own blue cadet's uniform, and hurriedly put on the distinctive prison gear. it was a little large for him and he rolled up the sleeves and trouser legs, hoping no one would notice in the excitement. then, with a deep breath, he stepped out of the hut into full view of the prisoners still left at the air lock. "hey, wait for me!" he yelled, running for the ship. the men paid no attention in their haste to get aboard the ship. when tom reached the air lock, there were only two left. he slapped the nearest man on the back. "pal, i've been waiting for this a long time!" "yah," the man answered, "me too!" then he looked at tom closely. "say, i've never seen you around here before!" "i just got in on the supply ship last week. they kept me in the tower for a while," tom replied. "oh, well," said the man, "they ain't keepin' anybody there anymore!" "come on you guys," snarled a heavy-set man in the air lock above them. "we ain't got all day!" tom looked up, and without being told, he felt he was looking into the face of bull coxine. and when the other prisoner spoke, he was certain. "yeah, bull," said the man. "comin', comin'!" he reached up and bull grabbed his outstretched hand. when bull pulled, the man literally leaped through the air into the air lock. "all right, space crawler," roared bull to tom, "you're next!" the big man stuck out his hand. tom gulped. for one desperate second he thought of turning and running away. "well?" growled bull. "you coming or ain't cha?" "you're blasted right i'm coming," said tom. "this is one time the solar guard is taking it on the chin. and, crawler, am i happy to see it!" he grabbed bull's hand and was lifted as easily as if he had been a feather. coxine dropped him on the deck and turned away without a word to disappear inside the ship. as he looked around, tom suddenly felt a cold shiver run through his body. he felt as if he had signed his own death warrant. there was no mistake about it. the ship was the same one he had watched night after night at the exposition on venus. and the names of the two owners exploded in his brain. "wallace and simms!" he turned to jump out of the air lock, but it slid closed in front of him. he was trapped. * * * * * sprawled on the ground in front of one of the white houses near the tower perimeter, captain strong stirred, shook his head, and painfully rose to a half-crouch. with eyes still dulled by shock, he looked around to see astro lying unconscious a few feet away. his brain still reeling from the effects of coxine's sneak attack, he staggered over to his knees beside him. "astro, astro--" strong called. "astro, snap out of it!" the big venusian moaned and opened his eyes. he sat bolt upright. "captain strong! what happened?" "i'm not too sure, astro," said strong. "all i remember is coxine slugging me." as they struggled to their feet, they suddenly noticed the towering columns of smoke rising into the air. "by the rings of saturn!" gasped strong. "look, astro!" "blast my jets!" cried the big cadet. "what--what could have happened?" the two spacemen stood gaping at the shattered remains of the tower and the smoldering area around it. in the distance, scarlet-clad guardsmen moved dazedly around the wreckage and above them a rocket destroyer was blasting on one jet, coming in for a touchdown. "astro," said strong grimly, "i don't know how it could have happened, but the prison asteroid has been attacked. a rocket-blasting good job of it! come on! we've got to get over there!" "yes, sir," said astro. as they started running toward the field, he searched the figures moving about in the distance for two familiar blue uniforms. "i don't see roger or tom, sir," he said hesitantly. "do you think--?" "we'll just have to wait and see," interrupted strong grimly. "come on, step it up!" as the two spacemen approached the smoking ruins of the underground cradles, ammunition dumps, and repair shops, they passed groups of men digging into the rubble. in sharp contrast to the careful scrutiny they had received when they first arrived at the prison, no one noticed them now. strong stepped up to a man in a torn and dirty sergeant's uniform. "what happened?" he asked. the man turned and looked at strong and astro. aside from the swollen bump on the solar guard captain's head and the bruise on the cadet's neck there were no signs of their having been in the attack. when the guardsman finally replied, there was a sharp edge to his voice. "i thought _everyone_ knew we were attacked, _sir_!" he turned back to a detail of men who were watching. but strong pulled the man up sharply. "attention!" he barked. the sergeant and the crew came to stiff attention. strong stepped forward and looked the guardsman straight in the eye. "under any other circumstances, sergeant," snapped strong, "i'd have your stripes and throw you in the brig for your insolence! now i want a clear account of what happened. and i want it blasted _quick_!" "yes, sir!" stammered the guardsman, realizing he had gone too far. he hurriedly gave a detailed description of the battle, ending with a report that major savage had been injured and that lieutenant williams was now in command of the prison. "where will i find lieutenant williams?" asked strong. "at the rocket destroyer, sir. it just landed." "very well, sergeant!" said strong, adding in a gentler tone, "i realize you've had a rough time of it, so we'll forget what just happened. get back to your work." as astro followed the solar guard captain toward the rocket ship he saw a familiar figure standing near the air lock. a boy with close-cropped blond hair and wearing cadet blues. "roger!" yelled astro joyfully. "captain strong, look! it's roger!" they quickened their pace and were soon beside the small space vessel that had been blasted out of commission before it could fire a shot. while roger was telling them of having volunteered for radar operations aboard the ship and of their being disabled by a near miss, lieutenant williams suddenly appeared in the air lock and saluted smartly. "major savage has been injured, sir," said williams. "since you are the highest ranking officer on the asteroid, are there any orders?" "i'm not acquainted with your men, or your prison, williams," replied strong. "i'll accept the command as a formality but appoint you my chief aid. carry on and do anything necessary to get things cleared away." "very well, sir," said williams. "have communications been destroyed?" "yes, sir. communications was located in the tower, but cadet manning has converted the equipment on ship for long-range audio transmission." "very good!" said strong. "as soon as you get a chance, i want you to make out a full report on the attack, including your personal opinion of who attacked us and why." "i don't know who manned that ship, sir," said williams, "but i can tell the reason all right. every prisoner on the asteroid has escaped!" "yes," mused strong. "i thought that would be the answer. but how did that ship get through your defenses?" "captain strong," said williams grimly, "i don't think there is any question about it. someone broke the asteroid code. the attacking ship identified itself as the regular supply ship." "a solar guardsman?" asked strong. "no, sir," said williams. "i'd bet anything that none of our men would do that!" "then who?" asked strong. "only one man would be smart enough to get the code and break it, and then sneak it off to the attacking ship! "who?" asked strong. "bull coxine!" answered the young officer through clenched teeth. they were interrupted by a guardsman. "sir, we found this in prison hut twenty-four." "what is it?" asked strong. astro's eyes suddenly widened and he stepped forward. "why, that's ... that's tom's uniform!" he stammered. "tom!" gasped strong. "but where is he?" "we've searched the immediate area, sir," replied the guardsman. "cadet corbett isn't here." "are you sure?" demanded strong. "yes, sir," said the guardsman stoutly. strong took the uniform and examined it carefully. then he turned to roger and snapped, "prepare the audioceiver for immediate transmission to space academy, manning. astro! get aboard our ship. check her for damage and let me know how soon we can blast off!" the two cadets saluted and raced for the small spaceship. thoughtfully holding tom's uniform in his hand, strong turned back to williams. "i'm going to leave as soon as i can, williams. i'll tell space academy about the attack and see that a relief ship is sent out to you right away. meantime, i'm leaving you in command." he paused and looked at tom's uniform again. "if cadet corbett isn't on the asteroid, he must be on the attacking ship with the prisoners. the only question now is, do they know it?" "you mean he smuggled himself aboard?" asked williams. "i'm almost sure of it!" said strong. "and if he _is_, he's going to try to get some sort of message out. i've got to be ready to pick it up." strong paused and looked up at the sky overhead, still thick with smoke. "and if he does ask for help, i'm going to answer him with the biggest fleet of spaceships he'll ever see in his life!" chapter "stand by, you space crawlers!" roared bull coxine into the microphone, but the loud laughter and singing of the noisily celebrating prisoners continued unabated over the intercom's loud-speakers. "avast there!" he bellowed again. "stow that noise! attention! and i want _attention_!" standing on the control deck of his ship, coxine waited as the men gradually quieted down. no longer wearing the white prison coverall, he was dressed in a black merchant spaceman's uniform, the snug-fitting jacket and trousers stretching tightly across his huge shoulders. he wore a black spaceman's cap, and two paralo-ray pistol belts were crisscrossed over his hips. "now listen to me!" he roared again. "let's get one thing straight! i'm the skipper of this ship and the first man that thinks he's smarter than me, let him speak up!" there was a long pause and the big man added with an ominous whisper, "but i warn you, if one of you opens your mouth, you'll take a swim in space!" there was an angry murmur among the prisoners that coxine heard over the intercom. "don't think i can't take care of you, the lot of you, one by one or all at once. i cut my milk teeth on mutiny. i know how to start one and i know how to finish one! i needed a crew and that's the only reason you're here! any spaceman that doesn't like the way i run things aboard this ship, better keep it to himself, or start swimming back to the prison asteroid!" he paused. "well? are you all with me?" there was a chorus of cheers on the intercom and coxine nodded grimly. "all right," he continued, "now that we understand each other, i'll get on with the business. second-in-command to me will be gus wallace. _lieutenant_ wallace!" a roar of approval came over the loud-speaker. "third-in-command--luther simms! _lieutenant_ simms!" there was another roar of approval as the prisoners recognized the names of the men who had liberated them from the asteroid. "now, we'll handle this ship as if it were any other freighter. the following men will be in charge of departments!" as coxine read off the list of jobs and the men to handle them, there were yells of approval and disapproval for favorites and old enemies. when the list of names had been read, he turned away from the intercom and faced his lieutenants, wallace and simms. "well, skipper," boasted wallace, "it looks like we're in business again!" "yeah," chimed in simms. "in three hours we'll be on our own asteroid and we can start planning our first strike!" coxine's eyes narrowed into slits. "get this, both of you!" he snapped. "what i said to those crawlers down below goes for you too. i'm the boss of this outfit and you don't even guess about what we're going to do, until i say so!" "but, bull--!" whined wallace. "shut up!" roared coxine. "and when you talk to me, you call me captain!" wallace and simms looked at each other. "o.k., captain," muttered simms. "yes, _sir_!" corrected coxine. "yes, sir," said simms quickly. "that's better," growled the giant spaceman. "don't get the idea that just because you were able to follow orders that it makes you smart. because it doesn't! it took me two and a half years to get the information collected onto these story spools and smuggle them out to you. everything, from where to buy this spaceship to getting the light-key out of the time capsule, was my idea! my brains!" "sure, captain," said wallace, "but we took the chances!" "yeah," sneered coxine. "you took chances! the only chance you took was in not paying attention to what i told you to do. i gave it all to you. where to hold up the first freighter passenger, what to take, how to mount the atomic blasters, what code to use in getting through the prison defenses. the whole works! and i did it while sitting on the toughest rock in the system. i smuggled it out right under the noses of those solar guard space crawlers. so forget about being smart, or you'll wind up with that scum below decks!" "yes, sir!" said wallace. "now get me a course to the asteroid and make it quick. and have some decent grub sent up to my quarters right away!" the big man turned lightly on the balls of his feet and disappeared through the hatch. after a moment, wallace turned to simms. "that big space-crawling bum!" snorted wallace. "i oughta blast him!" "go ahead!" sneered simms. "you were the one who wanted to get him off the rock, not me!" "aw shut up!" snarled wallace. he turned to the intercom and began barking orders to his new crew. * * * * * tom corbett sat in one corner of a cargo compartment that had been converted into sleeping quarters, watching the celebrating prisoners. someone had broken into the galley stores and mixed a concoction of fruit, alcohol, and reactor priming fluid to make a foul-tasting rocket juice. the men sat about in various stages of undress as they changed from the white prison coveralls to the black uniforms of the merchant spaceman, and drank heavily from a huge pot of the liquid. one of the men, short and stumpy, but with shoulders like an ape, was standing on a table boasting about his strength. he was stripped to the waist and tom could see the powerful arms and chest beneath the black hair that covered his body. as he continued to brag, the prisoners laughed and jeered, calling him monkey. the man's face reddened and he offered to fight anyone in the room. a short, thin man with a hawk nose sitting next to tom yelled, "monkey," and then darted behind a bunk. the man turned and looked angrily at tom. "you there!" the man on the table called, looking at tom. "you call me monkey?" tom shook his head. since the blast-off he had stayed away from the men as much as he could, certain that sooner or later someone would challenge him and discover he wasn't a prisoner. he hoped to remain aboard the ship long enough to plant a signal for the solar guard to follow. tom felt almost certain they would be heading for wallace and simms' hide-out. and so far, the men had been so excited over their new freedom they hadn't bothered him. he had managed to sit quietly in the corner of the storage compartment and watch them. "i'm talking to _you_!" shouted the hairy man, looking straight at tom. "you called me monkey and then lied about it! maybe you're scared, eh?" he slipped off the table and advanced toward tom. the young cadet tried to figure a way out of the threatening fight. he wasn't afraid of the man, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. and one of the surest ways of letting wallace and simms know he was aboard ship was to get into a fight. he couldn't risk discovery. he had to signal the solar guard before he was caught. but how to get around the hairy, drunken criminal now standing over him? tom looked up and saw that the man would not be put off. he would have to fight. he took notice of the powerful arms and shoulders, and decided his best bet would be to stay away, but glancing around quickly he saw there wasn't any room to retreat. the other prisoners were crowding around, eager to watch the fight. suddenly his opponent let out an animal-like roar and jumped to pin him down on the deck. the young cadet timed his move perfectly. as the man's body came down on him, he threw up both legs and caught him in the pit of his stomach. tom could feel his feet sink deep into the man's mid-section as he kicked out hard and sent him sprawling against the bulkhead. with a bellow of rage, the hairy man picked himself up and charged back at tom, who was now on his feet, braced to meet him. [illustration: _the young cadet timed his move perfectly_] as the prisoners began to roar, tom side-stepped and back-pedaled frantically, trying to get out of the impossible situation. if he won, there would be questions for him to answer. questions that would be difficult and might betray his identity. but if he allowed monkey to win, he might die right there on the deck. the man was blind with rage and would stop at nothing. the man rushed in again and, unable to back away, tom felt the hairy arms close around him in the most powerful grip he had ever felt in his life. slowly, evenly, monkey applied pressure. tom thought his ribs would crack. his head began to swim. the faces around him that laughed and jeered suddenly began to spin around him dizzily. then, with the desperation of a man facing death, tom began to push outward, his arms under monkey's chin. the man tried to apply more pressure but the cadet fought him, forcing his head back farther and farther. the prisoners were silent, watching the deadly battle. then, gradually, tom felt the hairy man's grip relaxing. with the last ounce of his strength he burst out of the encircling arms and staggered back. the ape man looked at him stupidly and then down at his arms as if they had betrayed him. with a roar, he came rushing in again. tom set himself, left foot forward, shoulders hunched, and when monkey came within arm's length, he swung with all the strength he had left in his body. his fist landed on the point of monkey's chin. there was a distinct sound of crushing bone and monkey sank to the deck, out cold. gasping for breath, tom stood over the sprawled man and just looked at him. the crowd around him was staring at the fallen man in disbelief. through the roaring in his head, tom could hear their voices, "he broke out of monkey's grip!" "he broke the guy's jaw with one punch!" tom turned blindly to the corner where he had been sitting and slumped to the deck. someone shoved a cup in his hands and he gulped its contents blindly, hardly tasting the foul rocket juice or feeling it burning his throat. the cadet was sure now that he would be caught. monkey had been a popular member of the crew and some of his friends were certain to even the score. but to tom's surprise, there were no questions and a few of the men came over to pat him drunkenly on the back. a couple of them dragged the unconscious man out of the compartment and up to sick bay. the others soon forgot the fight and continued their merrymaking. tom sat alone and silent in the corner, his strength returning slowly. he had faced his first obstacle and had won. but he knew that what lay ahead of him made the fight insignificant by comparison. he decided his next move would be to acquaint himself with the ship and, if possible, get a paralo-ray gun. as the men continued their drunken singing and yelling he mumbled an excuse about soaking his fist in cold water and managed to escape from the crowded compartment. outside in the passageway, the cadet began to figure out the plan of the ship, first locating the power deck by its roaring purr. he climbed a ladder to the next deck, walked slowly down the passageway toward what he thought to be the control room, and leaned against the hatch. he heard the soft tinkle of a radar signal and his heart skipped a beat. he had stumbled onto the astrogation and radar bridge. wondering if he should burst into the room and attempt to overpower the men on duty, or wait for a better chance later, he was suddenly startled by a sharp voice in back of him. "you--spaceman!" tom turned to stare right into the face of bull coxine! the big man looked at tom with piercing eyes. "what's your name?" demanded coxine. "uh--uh--they call me the space kid!" he finally managed. "space kid, eh?" mused coxine. "i don't remember seeing you on the rock." "they held me in the tower for a month trying to make me take the psychograph rehabilitation. i got out when the blasting started." "what were you on the rock for?" asked coxine. "you're pretty young to be sent to the rock." tom thought desperately of a crime he could have committed that would send him to the prison asteroid. suddenly he got an idea. he looked at coxine and spoke in as harsh a voice as he could. "listen," he snarled, "i just broke monkey's jaw for treating me like a kid. i hope you don't crowd me into fighting you by asking so many questions. y'see i won't answer them and then you'll have to freeze me." tom paused and tried to gauge coxine's reaction. but he couldn't see a thing in the cold staring eyes. "and," tom continued, "if you freeze me, you'll lose a better man than most of the scum in your crew!" coxine stepped forward and towered over the curly-haired cadet. when he spoke, his deep voice echoed in the deserted passageway. "what was your rating as spaceman before you hit the rock?" asked the big man. tom's heart raced. if he could get to the control deck or the radar bridge, he could send his signal easily. but he realized quickly that in either of these places he would be spotted almost immediately by wallace or simms. he had to stay away from them and wait for a later chance. tom's mind raced. "i was a gunner on a deep spacer," he drawled confidently. "i can take the space tan off a crawler's nose at a hundred thousand yards with anything from a two-inch to a six-inch blaster." coxine's eyes sharpened. "where did you learn to use a six-incher? they're only on heavy cruisers of the solar guard!" tom could have bitten his tongue off. he had slipped. he thought quickly. "i was an enlisted spaceman in the solar guard." "why'd you get sent to the rock?" "my officer was a smart-alec lieutenant just out of space academy. we got in a fight--" tom didn't finish the sentence. "and you were kicked out, eh?" "no, sir," said tom. "i hit him so hard--he never woke up again. i had to blast out of there, but they caught me." "all right," said coxine. "report to the gunnery chief. tell him i said you're second-in-command." the big man turned and walked away from the cadet without another word. tom watched him disappear and smiled. he had faced two impossible situations, the fight with monkey and now this meeting, and he had come out on top in each. perhaps he had a chance, after all. chapter "any report from the search squadrons yet, steve?" asked commander walters. "no, sir," replied captain strong. "we're concentrating on the asteroid belt, but so far we've drawn a blank." "well, keep trying and let me know the minute something turns up," said walters. "yes, sir," said strong, saluting his commanding officer as the elder spaceman left the room. he turned back to a large desk in the center of the room where roger manning was busy noting figures on a large chart, showing the areas already covered and listing the squadrons engaged in the search. as strong leaned over his shoulder, roger placed a finger on the chart. "squadron ten has just completed a search of all asteroids in their assigned area," he said, then added laconically, "nothing." strong studied the chart a moment. "well, we'll have to keep it up," he said. "it's the only way we'll find them. a systematic search of the belt from end one to the other." he paused and then muttered, "only one thing i'm worried about." "what's that, sir?" asked roger. "that when we do find them, it'll be too late to help tom." "you really think he's aboard coxine's ship, captain strong?" "couldn't be anywhere else," answered strong. "and he'll be trying to signal us, you can bet on that. keep me posted on all radar contacts made by the search squadrons. i want a continuous six-way radar sweep by every ship." "yes, sir," said roger. "one more thing," said strong, "tell astro to get the _polaris_ ready to blast off. and you make sure your radar bridge is in a-one condition." "are we blasting off, sir?" asked roger. "every ship we can get into space will give us a better chance of finding coxine and his crew. now that we've got the search fully under way there's no need to hang around here any longer." "glad to hear it, sir," replied roger. "i was getting a little itchy to hunt for those crawlers myself. and astro can hardly keep still." strong smiled. "don't worry, we'll find tom," he said. "wherever he is, you can bet he's taking care of himself and doing a good job for the solar guard." roger's eyes twinkled. "oh, i wasn't so worried about tom as i was astro, sir. he'll be pretty mad if there isn't anything left of coxine to pay him back for slugging him." strong rubbed his head and said grimly, "astro's not the only one!" the blond-haired cadet left the room, and strong wearily turned back to study the chart of the search in the asteroid belt. immediately upon arrival at space academy, two days before, strong had been placed in charge of the search by commander walters. the attack on the prison asteroid and the escape of the prisoners had created the biggest sensation in his life. from one end of the solar alliance to the other, the visunews and the stereos were full of the attack and escape details, with strong's name appearing often in the headlines and news flashes. to search the asteroid belt had been his suggestion, and while he could offer no proof, he believed the attacking ship had been commanded by wallace and simms. speaking only to commander walters, strong had received permission to combine the search for wallace and simms, with the new hunt for coxine. strong was convinced that coxine was behind the activity of wallace and simms, from the beginning at the solar exposition to the present. strong looked at his watch. it was past midnight. he flipped a switch and paged lieutenant moore on the central communicators. in a few moments the young officer appeared and saluted smartly. "take over here, moore," said strong. "i'm going to sack in for a little rest and then take the _polaris_ out. i'll be in constant contact with you and will direct search operations from the _polaris_. you stand by here and relay all reports. we'll use code 'vista' for all contacts." "yes, sir," said moore. "shall i work up charts like that one?" he pointed to the chart left by roger. "statistics here at the academy will handle that," replied strong. "just shoot the information down to them as you receive it. and you'd better get someone else up here to help you. you'll be here a long time." moore saluted and strong walked wearily from the room. there wasn't any need for cleverness now, thought the solar guard captain. when we catch coxine, he'll fight. and when he fights, that will be the end of him! he went to his quarters and in thirty seconds was asleep. * * * * * "radar bridge to control deck!" a voice crackled over the intercom aboard the newly named pirate ship, _avenger_. "hullo, control deck! come in!" "yeah?" roared bull coxine. "whaddya want?" "picked up a blip on the radar, captain," replied the radar officer. "looks to me like the jet liner from mars to venus." "relay the pickup to the control-deck scanner and let me take a look at it," ordered coxine. in a moment the big pirate was studying the scanner carefully. wallace and simms stood to one side. coxine turned and looked at them with a hard glint in his eyes. "that's the jet liner, all right!" he rubbed the palms of his huge hands together and smiled thinly. "it looks like we're in business!" wallace stepped forward. "you mean, you're going to--?" "i'll tell you what i mean," snapped coxine, "when i want you to know it!" he turned to the intercom and began to bawl orders into the microphone. "all hands! stand by your stations for attack!" there was an answering roar of approval from the crew. "we're making our first strike, you space crawlers! a jet liner from mars to venus. there'll be lots of fancy things aboard her. things the solar guard wouldn't give you on the rock!" there was another roar over the loud-speaker. "but the first man that takes anything but what i tell him will find himself on the wrong end of two big fists!" "we're closing in, captain," interrupted the voice from the radar bridge. "the angle of approach is in our favor. i don't think they've seen us yet!" "keep watching her, joe," replied coxine, and turned to his two henchmen on the control deck. "you, wallace! take number-one jet boat. russell, stephens, attardi, and harris. each man will take a paralo-ray pistol and rifle. report to your boat when i give the order." there was a pause as the men named scurried to their stations. coxine continued, "the following men will come with me in boat number two. shelly, martin, and the space kid. the rest of you man the forward and aft blasters. but no one fires until lieutenant simms gives the order!" he turned to simms and stared at the man coldly. "i'll be in contact with you all the time. you'll fire when i say to fire, and not before. is that clear?" simms nodded. "range-fifty thousand yards to liner, captain!" reported the radar bridge. "i think she's sighted us!" "forward turret!" roared coxine. "put a blast across her bow just to show how friendly we are!" "aye, aye, sir," acknowledged a voice from the gun turret. in the turret tom listened to the orders to attack the helpless spaceship with mounting anxiety. if he could only plant the signal on the _avenger_ before going to the liner, he might be able to remain aboard the passenger ship and escape. he was interrupted in his thoughts by a rough voice in back of him. "hey, kid! space kid!" yelled gaillard, the commander of the gun turret. "come on! you heard the orders, didn't you? get me the range." "right away," answered tom. he stepped to the range finder, quickly figured the speed of the jet liner, their own speed and the angle of approach. racking them up on the electronic tracker, he turned back to gaillard, "let her go!" "fire!" there was a thunderous noise and the _avenger_ rocked gently in recoil from the heavy blast. tom quickly sighted on the range finder and saw a ball of light flash brilliantly in front of the passenger ship. he breathed a sigh of relief. he had to keep up his avowed reputation of being a crack marksman and at the same time could not damage the unarmed passenger ship. the shot had been perfect. "good shooting, kid," roared coxine from the control deck. "thanks, skipper," said tom, aware that he had not called coxine captain, but knowing that his earlier speech to the giant pirate had earned him a certain amount of respect. coxine quickly made contact with the captain of the liner on the teleceiver and the outraged captain's face sharpened into focus on the screen aboard the _avenger_. "by the craters of luna," exploded the skipper of the passenger ship, "what's the meaning of this? there are women and children aboard this vessel." coxine smiled thinly. "my name's bull coxine, master of the vessel _avenger_. one funny move out of you and i'll blast your ship into protons! stand by for a boarding party!" "captain! captain!" the radar operator's voice screamed over the control-deck loud-speaker, "they're trying to send out a signal to the solar guard!" "they are, huh?" roared coxine. "forward turret, check in!" "turret, aye!" reported tom. he had been left alone while gaillard issued small arms to the boarding parties. "listen, kid!" roared coxine. "you said you're a good shot. right now is the time to prove it. blast away her audio antenna!" tom gulped. at a range of fifty thousand yards, the antenna, a thick piece of steel cable, might as well have been a needle to hit. "right, skipper," he finally replied. "i'll show you some of the fanciest shooting you'll ever see in your life!" he turned back to the range finder, his mind racing like a calculating machine. he figured the angles of the two ships, considering that the jet liner was a dead ship in space and the _avenger_ still under way, but slowing down at a specific rate of deceleration. he rechecked his figure a third and fourth time, correcting his calculations each time with the forward movement of the _avenger_. if he misjudged a fraction of a degree, he might kill or injure hundreds of people aboard the passenger vessel. "well?" roared coxine. "are you going to fire or not?" "coming right up, skipper!" shouted tom. "watch this!" steeling himself, lest he should hit the ill-fated ship, he fired. for a brief moment he felt sick and then heard the roar of the pirate captain from the control deck. "by the rings of saturn," roared coxine, "that was the best shot i've ever seen! well done, kid! all right, boarding crews! man your boats and stand by to blast off!" while coxine vocally lashed the members of the murderous crew into action, tom tried to figure out some way to get to the radar deck unseen. being assigned to the jet boat with coxine, instead of wallace, had been a lucky break and tom wished for a little more of the same. lining up with his boarding crew, he received his paralo-ray pistol and rifle from gaillard, deftly stealing a second pistol while the gunnery officer's back was turned. after hurriedly hiding the stolen gun, he slipped stealthily topside to the radar bridge. reaching the hatch, he was about to open it, when he heard footsteps. he turned and saw a man walking toward him. it was simms! "where in the blasted universe is the jet-boat deck?" snarled tom. he dropped his rifle on the deck and bent over to pick it up, hiding his face. "you're on the wrong deck," said simms. "two decks below. get moving!" the pirate lieutenant hardly gave the cadet a glance as he brushed past and entered the radar bridge. tom caught a fleeting glimpse of the interior. his heart jumped. the bridge was exactly like the one on the _polaris_! though annoyed that his chance had slipped past, tom was thankful to learn that the communications equipment was thoroughly familiar. "space kid! report to the jet-boat deck on the double!" coxine's voice rumbled through the empty passageway. tom dashed down the nearest ladder and hurried to the jet-boat deck where the pirate captain waited impatiently. "i was checking the range and setting up to blast the liner in case they try anything funny," explained tom. "i don't trust anyone on that range finder but me!" coxine chuckled. "good work, kid. i like a man that thinks ahead. maybe i made the wrong man gunnery chief." he climbed into the jet boat. "all right, take the controls, kid. shelly and martin, get in the stern." the men climbed in and tom slid under the controls and waited for the order to blast off. wallace and his crew were on the opposite side of the ship, so tom had no fear of being recognized until they were all on the passenger ship. at his side, coxine spoke to wallace in the other jet boat over the audioceiver. "we'll split up. i'll handle the control deck and you go aft to the supply lockers. dump everything out in space and we can pick it up later. search the passengers, but no rough stuff. the first man that puts his hands on anyone will never know what hit him!" tom listened to the pirate captain's orders and was forced to give the man credit for his tight control over his murderous crew. however rebellious he might be against the solar guard, and whatever it was that made the man become the system's most notorious criminal, his orders spoke for themselves. "all right, kid," roared coxine, "blast off!" tom pressed the control pedal at his foot and the small ship shot out into the black void of space. ahead of them, thousands of yards away, he could see the gleaming passenger ship. in a few moments the two jet boats were braking their jets and drifting to a stop inside the catapult deck of the luxurious liner. almost before tom had stopped the small craft, coxine was out of the boat waving his paralo-ray pistols at a cluster of frightened merchant spacemen. "back inside!" he snarled. "kid! shelly! cover me! we're going to the control deck. martin, you stay here with the jet boat." coxine marched straight through the ship, head up, eyes straight ahead, while behind him, tom and shelly swept the luxurious lounges with their ray rifles, ready to fire on any who dared resist. they marched past the frightened passengers, climbed a flight of carpeted stairs to the next deck, and entered the control room. the liner's captain, a tall, thin man with graying hair, stood waiting beside the control panel, his eyes flashing angrily. a half-dozen junior officers stood stiffly in back of him. coxine stepped up to the elderly officer and laughed good-naturedly. "no one will be hurt, skipper. i just want a few things for my men"--he paused and glanced at the ship's vault--"and whatever you have in there!" "i'll live to see the day when you're caught and sent to the prison asteroid for this," snorted the captain. "don't make me laugh, skipper," said coxine lightly. "the solar guard will have to build a new one for me. don't think there's much left of the old one!" "then it was you! you're responsible for the attack on the asteroid!" coxine just smiled and turned to tom and shelly. "watch these crawlers closely, now. i'm going to open the vault." tom stared at the ship's officers, hoping to catch the eye of one of them, but they were all watching coxine. the pirate captain pulled a thin rod about two feet long, with a switch on one end, from his jacket. he walked to the solid titanium door of the vault and inserted the rod into a small hole, pressing the switch at the end of the rod carefully several times. he stepped back and inserted it in another hole in the face of the door and repeated the procedure. putting the key back in his jacket he grabbed the handle of the massive door. it swung open at his touch. the captain of the liner and officers gasped in amazement. working quickly, coxine crammed the thick bundles of credit notes and passenger's valuables into a bag. at last he straightened up, and facing the unbelieving officer again, he tossed them a mocking salute. he nodded to tom and shelly and walked out of the control room without another word. shelly and tom quickly followed the giant spaceman back to the jet-boat deck, where wallace was just returning from his own operations. wallace made a circle out of his fingers to coxine and the giant pirate nodded. "let's get out of here!" he ordered. "aren't you afraid they'll try to stop you, skipper?" asked tom. coxine laughed. "just let them try. i never met a man yet that had the nerve to pull the trigger of a paralo-ray gun while my back was turned." tom gulped and wondered if he would have the nerve to fire on the spaceman. he thought about it a moment and decided that he would take any chance that came along, if he could outwit the criminal. when the time came, he would risk his life to stop coxine! chapter "all right, line up, you space crawlers!" bawled coxine. "when i call your name step up to get your share of the haul!" the pirate captain was seated at the head of a long mess table, an open ledger in front of him. there were stacks of crisp new credit notes at his elbow. he took out his paralo-ray pistols and placed them within easy reach. on either side of him, wallace and simms sat, staring at the money with greedy eyes. coxine looked at the first name on the ledger. "joe brooks!" he called. "one thousand credits for spotting the liner!" brooks grinned and amid cheers walked to the table. coxine handed him a small stack of notes carelessly and turned back to the ledger. "gil attardi!" he roared. "one thousand credits for working on the boarding crew." attardi, a sly, scar-faced man, stepped forward to accept his share. he carried a long, thin knife with an edge so deadly keen that he could and often did shave with it. coxine continued his roll call. "sam bates! five hundred credits. straight share." bates stepped forward and glared at coxine. "how come i only get five hundred and the others get a thousand?" he snarled. "it ain't my fault i'm stuck on the power deck while you grab all the glory jobs!" the laughing, excited crowd of men grew silent as the rebellious spaceman faced coxine. "you get five hundred credits," snarled coxine. "take it or leave it!" "i want the same as brooks and attardi," demanded bates. quicker than the eye could follow, coxine rose and smashed the man in the face with a giant fist. bates dropped to the deck like a stone. coxine glared at the rest of the crew. "the next crawler that thinks he's not getting his fair share," he snarled, "will get a trip in space for his share!" he glanced down at the unconscious man and jerked his thumb toward the hatch. "get him out of here!" two men dragged the unconscious man away and threw a bucket of cold water on him. he woke up, snatched at his share of the credits, and disappeared from the room. the pirate captain continued reading the list of names, arbitrarily, handing out various amounts of the stolen money as he saw fit. standing in the rear of the messroom, hidden by the other members of the crew, tom realized that to step in plain sight of wallace and simms for his share would mean instant betrayal. he had to make his move now, and with most of the crew mustered together in the messroom, it was his one chance for success. gripping the stolen paralo-ray gun in his jacket pocket, he slipped out of the messroom unnoticed and headed for the radar bridge. as he raced up the companionway he could hear the laughter of the men below decks as one by one they received their shares. his name would be called soon. heart pounding, he stopped outside the radar hatch, pulled the paralo-ray gun from his jacket, and taking a deep breath opened the hatch. joe brooks was seated in front of the scanner counting his share greedily and glancing occasionally at the finger of light that swept across the green globe. when tom opened the hatch, he looked up and smiled. "hiya, kid," he said. "coxine's all right. i got a thousand just for picking up that ship on the radar. how much did you collect?" "this," said tom. he shoved the paralo-ray gun into brooks' stomach. the man gulped and finally found his voice. "say, what is this? a gag? where did you get that paralo-ray?" then suddenly he shoved the bundle of notes in his pocket. "oh, no, you don't! you're not going to steal my share!" "i don't want your money!" said tom coldly. "get into that locker and keep your mouth shut, or i'll blast you!" "locker? say, what's the matter with you? you gone space happy?" "get in there," growled tom. at the look on the cadet's face, brooks rose quickly and stepped into the locker. tom slammed the door and locked it. then, locking the passageway hatch, he turned to the radar scanner. working quickly with deft hands, he opened the casing around the delicate instrument and began disconnecting the major terminals. studying the complicated tangle of connections, he wished that he had as much knowledge of radar as roger. he finally found the wires he wanted and separated them from the other connections. he began replacing them, altering the terminals. after checking his work, to make sure it would not short-circuit, he grabbed the intercom and began taking it apart. sweat beaded his forehead. time was short. soon coxine would miss him and come looking for him. he had to complete his job before that happened. after moments that seemed like hours he was ready. using one of the intercom relays he began tapping out a message in morse code on an exposed wire from the scanner. he looked at the radar scanner and watched it flash white static lines each time he touched the wires. carefully he tapped out a message. " ... emergency ... attention ... corbett ... space cadet ... aboard ... coxine ... pirate ... ship ... space quadrant ... b ... section ... twenty ... three ..." over and over he repeated the desperate message, hoping against hope that someone would be scanning space and the interference would show up on their radar. " ... emergency ... attention ... corbett ... space cadet--" * * * * * "captain strong!" roger's voice came shrieking over the ship's intercom. "captain! quick! i'm picking up a message from tom!" "what?" cried the solar guard officer. "nail it! i'm coming up!" scrambling up the ladder to the radar bridge from the control deck, captain strong rushed over to the scanner and watched eagerly as blinking flashes washed out the background of the screen. slowly, at times unevenly, the message flashed and the two spacemen read it with gladdening hearts. strong made a careful note of the position while roger continued to read the flashes. turning to the astrogation panel, the solar guard captain quickly plotted a course that would bring them to tom's position. endlessly, during the past few days, strong, roger, and astro had swept space in a wide arc around the asteroid belt, hoping to pick up just such a signal. now, with the position of the _avenger_ in his hands, strong grabbed for the intercom. "attention, power deck!" yelled strong. "we've just picked up a message from tom. he's given us his position, so stand by for a course change." "yeee-eooow!" roared astro. "i knew he'd do it." "he's not in the clear yet. we've only got his position. we don't know how we're going to get him away from coxine yet." "ready to change course, sir," said astro. "three degrees on the down-plane of the ecliptic, and fifty-four degrees to starboard. full space speed, astro! pile it on!" "aye, aye, sir!" replied astro. "i'll make this wagon's tail so hot it'll blast at double speed!" "you'd better, you venusian ape!" cried roger. "it's the least you can do for tom!" "stow it, manning," growled astro good-naturedly, "or i'll stick some of your hot air in the jets for extra power!" "cut the chatter, both of you!" snapped strong. "astro, execute course change!" astro's reply was a blast on the steering rockets. on the control deck, strong watched the needle of the astral compass swing around and stop dead on the course he had ordered. "all set, astro!" shouted strong. "right on course. now pile on the neutrons!" "aye, aye, sir." on the power deck, the big cadet turned to his control panel, took a deep breath, and opened the reactant feeders wide. the ship leaped through the airless void under the sudden burst of power and astro watched the acceleration indicator climb to the danger line. he gulped as the needle passed the danger point and was about to cut down speed when the needle stopped. astro breathed easily and settled back satisfied. if it was up to him, they would reach tom in record time. up on the radar deck, roger continued to read the flashing signals on the radar scanner. over and over, he read the same message. "i guess that's all he can say, sir," said roger, turning to strong. "yes, i guess so, roger," agreed strong. "he's probably sending it out blind, on an open circuit, hoping that anyone near enough would pick it up. wonder how he did it?" roger thought a moment. "i'm not sure, sir, but i think he's crossed the impulse on the scanner from positive to negative." "how do you mean?" asked strong. the young captain was well acquainted with the principle of radar but, admittedly, could not match roger's natural ability. "by making the impulse negative, sir," said roger, "he could create interference on the scanner. instead of bouncing against something and returning an image to a scanner, the impulse hits itself and creates static which shows up in the form of those white flashes." "well, in any case," said strong with a sober nod toward the scanner, "he's done something the whole solar guard couldn't do. he's quite a boy!" roger smiled. "i'll say he is, skipper!" strong turned away and climbed down to the control deck. he sat in front of the great control panel and watched the countless dials and needles. but his mind wasn't on the delicate handling of the great ship. he was thinking about tom, alone aboard a ship with a crew of desperate criminals. tom had taken his life in his hands to send out the message, that much strong was sure of! and the young skipper noted with pride that there was no appeal for help in the desperate call. he shook his head wearily and flipped the teleceiver switch to report to commander walters. * * * * * "emergency ... attention...." tom continued to tap out the message slowly and carefully. behind him, he could hear brooks hammering against the locker door. tom felt like opening the door and freezing the pirate with his paralo-ray gun to keep him quiet, but he didn't dare to stop sending. finally tom decided it was time to go. "if anyone's going to pick up the message," he thought, "they've picked it up by now. i may still have time to get away in a jet boat." he tied the wires together, causing a continuous interference to be sent out, and secured the radar casing. "if i'm lucky enough to get away in a jet boat," thought tom, "at least they won't be able to pick me up on that!" without a glance at the locker where brooks continued to pound and yell, tom turned to the hatch leading to the passageway. he gripped the paralo-ray gun and opened the hatch. peering into the passageway and finding it deserted, he slipped out and closed the hatch behind him. from below, he could hear the roar of the crew as the last of them received his share of the stolen credits. tom raced down the companionway toward the jet-boat deck. he made the first deck safely and was about to climb down to the next when he was spotted by attardi, the scar-faced spaceman, who stood at the bottom of the ladder. "hey, kid!" attardi shouted. "the skipper's been looking for ya. you got the biggest cut. three thousand credits for that fancy shooting you did!" tom noticed the gleam of the knife at the man's side. the young cadet could imagine the criminal sinking the knife in his back without hesitation, if he suspected anything. "well," demanded attardi, "are you going to collect or not? the skipper sent me to look for you." tom smiled, and while still smiling, whipped the paralo-ray gun into sight and fired. his aim was true. attardi froze, every nerve in his body paralyzed. he could still breathe and his heart continued to beat, but otherwise, he was a living statue, unable to even blink his eyes. tom jumped past the spaceman and dashed for the jet-boat deck. he had to hurry now. attardi would be discovered any moment and be neutralized. when neutralized, the victim returned to normal, with only violent muscle soreness remaining. tom reached the jet-boat deck, opened the hatch, and raced for the nearest small craft. suddenly from behind he could hear the buzz of a paralo-ray on neutralizing charge. attardi had been discovered. tom jumped into the nearest jet boat, closed the hatch, and pressed the button releasing the sliding side of the ship's hull. slowly, the great wall of metal slid back exposing the cold black velvet of deep space. as soon as the opening was wide enough, tom pressed the acceleration lever and the small ship shot out, its jets roaring. tom quickly glanced around to locate his position by the stars and saw that he was close to the asteroid belt. he opened up to full acceleration, and since there was nothing else to do but wait for time to pass and hope for escape, he began to examine the contents of the small ship. he opened the emergency food locker and was relieved to see it fully stocked with synthetics and water. every second carried him farther away from the _avenger_, and when he looked back, tom saw no evidence of pursuit. the cadet smiled. they would depend on the radar to find him, instead of sending out the other jet boats. tom almost laughed out loud. with the radar jammed, he was safe. he would make it. once inside the asteroids, they would never find him. glancing around the few indicators on the control board of the small vessel, tom's smile changed to a grimace of sudden terror. the jet boat had not been refueled after their raid on the jet liner. there was less than three days' oxygen remaining in the tanks. in three days the jet boat would become an airless shell. a vacuum no different than the cold silent void of space! chapter "what's our position, roger?" captain strong called into the intercom. "space quadrant b, section twenty-three, sir," replied roger from the radar bridge. "but i can't see a thing on the radar. that static flash tom sent out is scrambling everything." "but you're sure this is our position?" "yes, sir. i checked it three times." "all right, then," said strong grimly. "there's only one thing to do. we're too near the asteroid belt to use the _polaris_ without radar, so we'll search in jet boats. astro! we're parking right here! give me full braking rockets and secure the power deck. then prepare the jet boats for flight." "aye, aye, sir," came the reply from the venusian. the ship bucked under the tremendous power of the braking rockets and came to a dead stop in space. strong dashed up the ladder to the radar bridge where roger was still hunched before the radar scanner. "any chance of switching the scanner to another frequency and offsetting the effects of the static, roger?" asked the solar guard captain. roger shook his head. "i don't think so, sir. the interference would have to be eliminated at its source." "well," sighed strong, "to go looking for tom without the help of radar would be like looking for an air bubble in the ammonia clouds of jupiter. and we don't even know if he's still aboard the _avenger_ or not!" "you know, sir," said roger speculatively, "i've been thinking. i might be able to get a fix on this interference." "a fix? how?" "by blanking out the radar range, so that it would only work at one point of the compass at one time, then testing each heading separately until the flash appears. when it does, we'd at least know in which direction to blast off and trail coxine. "if you can do that, roger," exclaimed strong, "it would take us right into coxine's lap! do you think you can work it?" "i can try, sir." "all right, then," decided strong. "astro and i will take the jet boats and go looking around. meantime, you stay aboard and try to pin point the heading on that flash." "very well, sir," replied roger, and turned to the radar to begin the complicated task of rewiring the instrument. strong went directly to the jet-boat deck where astro was busily preparing the jet boats for flight. he looked up when strong entered the hatch. "all ready, sir," he said. "very well," said strong. "i'll take number one, you take number two. we're in section twenty-three of quadrant b. you take section twenty-two and i'll take twenty-four." "yes, sir," replied astro. "do you think there's any chance of finding tom?" "i don't even know if he's out here, astro. but we can't be sure he isn't. so we'll search and hope for the best." "very well, sir." "keep your jet-boat audioceiver open all the time and maintain contact with me." "why not contact roger here on the _polaris_, sir?" asked astro. "he's busy trying to find out where the flashing static on the radar is coming from," explained strong. "we'll make wide circles, starting outside and working in. blast in a continuous circle inward, like a spiral. if there's anything around here, we'll find it that way." "yes, sir," said astro. "i sure hope tom is o.k." "best answer i can give you. astro, is to blast off and find out." the two spacemen climbed into the small craft, and while strong opened the outer lock, exposing them to the emptiness of space, astro started the jets in his boat. with a wave of his hand to strong, he roared away from the sleek rocket cruiser. strong followed right on his tail. they circled the _polaris_ twice, establishing their positions, and then roared away from each other to begin their search. astro turned his midget space vessel toward the asteroid belt, ahead and below him. choosing a large asteroid that he estimated to be on the outer edge of section twenty-two, he roared full power toward it. the tiny space bodies that made up the dangerous path around the sun, between mars and jupiter, loomed ahead ominously. moving toward them under full rocket thrust, the venusian cadet remembered fleetingly stories of survivors of space wrecks, reaching the airless little planetoids, only to die when help failed to arrive. he shuddered at the thought of tom, a helpless castaway on one of the asteroids, waiting to be saved. astro clenched his teeth and concentrated on the search, determined to investigate every stone large enough to support an earthman. miles away, no longer visible to astro and out of sight of the giant rocket cruiser, captain strong felt the same helplessness as he approached the asteroid belt from a different angle. he realized any number of things could have happened on the pirate-ship. tom could have been captured, or if not yet discovered, unable to escape from the ship. strong's throat choked up with fierce pride over the gallant effort tom had made to warn the solar guard of the _avenger's_ position. as he neared the outer edges of the belt, he concentrated on guiding his small ship in and around the drifting asteroids, his eyes constantly sweeping the area around him for some sign of a drifting space-suited figure. what strong really hoped for was the sight of a jet boat, since in a jet boat, tom would have a better chance of survival. the young captain reached the outer edge of his search perimeter, turned the small ship into a long-sweeping curve, and flipped on the audioceiver. "attention! attention! jet boat one to jet boat two! come in, astro!" across the wide abyss of space that separated the two men, astro heard his skipper's voice crackle in his headphones. "astro here, sir," he replied. "i'm beginning my sweep, astro. any luck?" "not a thing, sir." "all right. let's go, and keep a sharp eye out." "aye, aye, sir," replied astro. he could not keep the worry out of his voice, and strong, many miles away, nodded in silent agreement with astro's feelings. * * * * * the _avenger_ had long since disappeared and tom was left alone in space in the tiny jet boat. to conserve his oxygen supply, the curly-haired cadet had set the controls of his boat on a steady orbit around one of the larger asteroids and lay down quietly on the deck. one of the first lessons he had learned at space academy was, during an emergency in space when oxygen was low, to lie down and breath as slowly as possible. and, if possible, to go to sleep. sleep, under such conditions, served two purposes. while relaxed in sleep, the body used less oxygen and should help fail to arrive, the victim would slip into a suffocating unconsciousness, not knowing if and when death took the place of life. tom lay on the deck of the small vessel and stared at the distant stars through the clear crystal roof of his jet boat. he breathed as lightly as he could, taking short, slight breaths, holding them as long as he could and then exhaling only when his lungs felt as if they would burst. he could see regulus overhead, and sirius, the two great stars shining brilliantly in the absolute blackness of space. he raised himself slowly on one elbow and looked at the oxygen indicator. he saw that the needle had dropped past the empty mark. he knew it wouldn't be long now. and he knew what he had to do. he took a last long look at the two giant stars, and then closed his eyes. tom no longer tried to control his breathing, but took deep satisfying lungfuls of oxygen and in a few moments slipped into a sound sleep. the jet boat roared on, carrying its sleeping occupant in an endless spiral around the nameless asteroid. not too many miles away, alone on the radar bridge of the giant rocket cruiser, roger manning, sweat popping out on his forehead, was trying the radar scanner on the three-hundred-and-tenth point on the compass. he connected the wires, glanced at the scanner, and shook his head disgustedly. the scanner screen was still dark. having adjusted the delicate mechanism to eliminate the white flashes of static, he couldn't find them again. he sat back in his chair for a moment, mopping his brow and watching the white hairline in its continuous swing around the face of the scope. as the line swept to the top of the screen, he saw the blip outline of a jet boat and recognized it as one belonging to the _polaris_. then, slowly, the line swept down and roger suddenly saw the blip outline of a second craft. with the experienced eye of a radar veteran, roger was able not only to distinguish the jet boats from the asteroids, but from each other. he gripped the edge of the instrument and shouted at the top of his voice. the second boat was a different model! he reached for the audioceiver and switched it on. "attention! attention! captain strong! astro! come in! this is manning aboard the _polaris_! come in!" strong and astro replied almost together. "strong here!" "astro here!" "i've spotted a jet boat!" roger shouted. "you think it might be--" "where?" bawled astro before roger could finish. "where is it, you rockethead?" "as close as i can figure it, he's circling an asteroid, a big one, at the intersection of sections twenty-one and twenty-two!" "twenty-one and twenty-two! got it!" yelled astro. "i'll meet you there, astro!" said strong. astro and strong turned their small ships in the direction of the intersecting space sections. astro was the first to spot the asteroid, but for a moment he couldn't see the jet boat on the opposite side of the small celestial body. meanwhile, strong, coming from the other direction, saw the boat and relayed the position to astro. in a few moments the two space craft had regulated their speeds to that of tom's ship and were hastily donning space suits. a quick look inside had shown them tom's sleeping body. as astro started to open the crystal hatch of his ship to cross over to the other, strong yelled over the audioceiver. "astro, wait!" astro looked across at the captain's ship questioningly. "tom isn't in a space suit. if we open the hatch it would kill him. we've got to tow him back to the _polaris_ and get his boat inside the air lock before we can open the hatch!" without a word, astro nodded, ducked inside his ship, and climbed out again with a length of rope. working quickly, he tied one end securely to the bow of tom's jet boat and made the other end fast to the stern of his. then returning to his cockpit, he sent the jet boat hurtling back toward the _polaris_. but he was still faced with the problem of getting tom's jet boat inside the air lock. it was still under acceleration and there was no way to get inside to stop its jet motors. astro called to strong and explained the situation to him. "looks like the only thing we can do, sir, is keep going until it runs out of fuel." "that might take too long, astro," replied strong. "no telling how much oxygen tom has left." "there's nothing else we can do, sir," replied astro. "we can't brake her to land inside the _polaris_ and we can't open the hatch to turn off the motor. we'll have to take a chance on tom lasting until it runs out of fuel!" inside the roaring craft, tom suddenly opened his eyes. he began to cough. there was a roaring in his ears. the stars overhead swam dizzily. and then, as though through a billowing mist, he saw the jet boat ahead of him and the rope tied to his ship. he realized he had been rescued. he tried to signal them. he had to let them know he needed oxygen. he tried to reach the communicator near the control panel but could not lift his arm. he fell back to the deck gasping for air; his lungs screaming for oxygen. something, thought tom through the haze that fogged his brain, something to signal them. then, with the last of his strength, he raised up on one elbow and reached for the acceleration lever. his fingers trembled a few inches away from their goal. his face began to turn violent red. he strained a little more. the lever was an inch away. finally, with the very last ounce of his strength, he touched the lever and pulled it back by the weight of his falling body. even before the black cloud swept over him, tom could hear the jets become silent. he had signaled them. he had stopped the jet boat. they would know, now, how to save him. chapter "... and you never picked up that static flash again, eh?" mused strong, looking at roger. "well, the only reason i can think of is that someone aboard the _avenger_ must have discovered what was happening." "that's the way i figure it, sir," replied roger. the solar guard captain studied the scanner that was now working in perfect order. "it's a tough break that we couldn't get that fix on coxine's position. i was counting on it. but at least we found tom. that's plenty to be thankful for." "how is he, sir?" asked roger. "he'll be all right," replied the solar guard captain, his face showing the strain of the past weeks. "we gave him pure oxygen and he came to long enough to tell us what happened aboard the _avenger_. get me teleceiver contact with space academy as soon as possible. i've got to send a report to commander walters." "right, sir." "you've done a good job, manning. your work here on the radar bridge did as much toward saving tom's life as anything." "thank you, sir. after what tom did on the _avenger_, though, i don't feel like i've done very much. it took real courage to go aboard that ship with coxine." strong smiled wearily. "well, the boy is safe now and we have a good idea what part of the belt coxine is operating in. with a little luck and a thorough fleet patrol, we might be able to get him before he can do any more harm." strong went below to the cadet's quarters where astro was sitting quietly, watching tom. the cadet was sound asleep. when strong entered, astro held a finger to his lips and met the captain at the door. "how is he?" whispered strong. "he's been sleeping since he spoke to you, sir," said astro. "he's pretty weak, but i don't think there's anything seriously wrong with him. after a good rest, he'll be as good as new." "thank the universe for that," breathed strong. he glanced at the sleeping cadet and then turned back to astro. "better take your station. he'll be all right now. i want to get back to the academy as soon as i can." "yes, sir." "attention, captain strong," roger's voice crackled over the intercom loud-speaker. "i've made contact with commander walters at space academy, sir. he's standing by for your report." strong returned to the control deck where he saw the sharp image of the space academy commander waiting on the teleceiver screen. he told the grim-faced senior officer of discovering the static morse code flashes sent out by tom from the avenger and the race to save tom's life. when he finished, the commander's face seemed to relax. "when corbett wakes up, give him my personal congratulations, steve. that goes for astro, roger, and yourself, as well." "thank you, sir," said strong. "since coxine seems to be operating exclusively out of the asteroid belt, i think it would be a good idea to concentrate the entire fleet of patrol ships in that area." "good idea! i'll set it up. but get back here as soon as possible, steve. coxine and that crew on the _avenger_ aren't sitting still." "what do you mean, sir?" "in the last three days we've had reports from seven ships. jet liners, passenger freighters, and supply ships. all were attacked by the _avenger_ and stripped of everything those criminals could load on their murderous backs. blasters, paralo-ray guns, whole and synthetic foodstuffs, clothes, money, jewels, equipment. everything under the stars that they could use. any ship that even comes close to the asteroid belt between mars and jupiter, unless escorted, is a dead space bird. and if we did provide an escort, we wouldn't have enough ships left to carry on the search." strong listened to the news with rising anger. "i'll blast back to the academy as soon as i can, sir," said strong. "fine!" said the commander. "end transmission!" "end transmission!" strong turned off the teleceiver and called roger onto the radar bridge. "have you got a course back to the academy, roger?" "yes, sir." "all right, give it to astro and let's get moving. every minute wasted now is the difference between a ship looted and the future safety of the space lanes. i have a feeling that coxine is not just playing for the hauls he makes on those helpless jet liners." "i don't get you, sir." "look at it this way, roger," replied strong with a grim smile. "a man smart enough to do what he did while he was confined to a prison asteroid might have bigger ideas now that he's free. ideas about himself and the whole solar alliance!" during the weeks following, the activity of bull coxine and his pirate crew justified captain strong's fears. repeatedly, ships were attacked on the fringe of the asteroid belt and stripped of armor, food supplies, and valuables. with the secret of the light-key, the vaults of the ships were opened as easily as though there had been no lock at all. the totals had reached staggering amounts and the daring of the _avenger_ was more pronounced, as coxine struck repeatedly, farther and farther away from the protection of the asteroid belt. it seemed as though he were taunting the solar guard with his exploits. all defense measures seemed to be futile. when the space freighters and jet liners were armed and tried to resist attack, coxine blasted them into helpless space junk at a frightful cost of life. when the ships were escorted by powerful rocket cruisers, the pirate refused to attack, but the search squadrons were correspondingly depleted. the combinations of the energy locks were changed every day, but with the adjustable light-key, coxine met every change easily. the entire solar alliance was in an uproar, and the citizens of the planets were clamoring for action. [illustration: _all solar guard defense measures seemed to be futile_] finally, the commanding officers of the solar guard noticed a change in coxine's operations. instead of merely attacking spaceships and hijacking their cargoes, he now took over the vessel completely, sending the passengers and crews drifting helplessly in space in jet boats. three large, fast space freighters of the same class as the _avenger_ were now in the pirates' hands. then, one morning, in his headquarters at space academy, captain strong received an electrifying report. coxine had attacked a freighter escorted by a solar guard rocket scout. outgunned, the scout had been destroyed, but it had inflicted damage on the _avenger_. the last report from a dying communications officer on the scout was that the pirate ship was drifting helplessly in space! strong, his face showing hope for the first time in weeks, burned the teleceivers, flashing orders to the various elements of the search fleet to converge on the disabled _avenger_. "attention! all ships in quadrants c through m and q through b-l! proceed full thrust to quadrant a- , section fifty-nine. on approaching target you will signal standard surrender message, and if not obeyed, you will open fire!" behind him, the three cadets of the _polaris_ unit listened to the decisive words of their commander and then let out an earsplitting yell. "no time for celebrating," barked strong. "we haven't caught him yet. he's the slickest thing to hit this system since the reptiles climbed out of the venusian mud! it's going to be a case of our getting him before he can disappear into the asteroid belt, so let's hit the high, wide, and deep!" five minutes later, strong and the boys were aboard their ship. "ready to blast off, sir," reported tom. the curly-haired cadet's face was still pale and drawn, showing the effects of his ordeal in space. "get me direct teleceiver contact with captain randolph on the rocket cruiser _sirius_," ordered strong. "yes, sir," replied tom. he turned to flip on the teleceiver, and a moment later the captain's face appeared on the screen. "randolph here. what's up, steve?" "i've got squadron nineteen of the martian reserve fleet heading for the last reported position of the _avenger_ now, randy. i'll take the point position of your squadron and direct operations. i'll relay course to you as soon as we're in space." "o.k., steve," replied randolph. "i'm ready to raise ship." "i'll go up first. form up around me at about five thousand miles. end transmission!" "end transmission!" "all right, tom," ordered strong, "let's get out of here!" the young cadet strapped himself into his acceleration chair, then picked up the control panel intercom and began calling out orders crisply. "stand by to raise ship! all stations check in!" "power deck standing by!" replied astro from below. "radar bridge standing by!" acknowledged roger over the intercom. "energize the cooling pumps!" the whine of the mighty pumps began to fill the ship almost as quickly as astro acknowledged the order. "feed reactant!" snapped strong, strapping himself in beside tom. a low-muted hiss joined the sound of the whining pumps as tom opened the valves. "reactant feeding at d- rate, sir," he reported. "roger," called strong into the intercom, "do we have a clear trajectory?" "clear as space, skipper!" was roger's breezy answer. "all right, tom," said strong, "cut in take-off gyros." the cadet closed the master switch on the control panel and the noise from the power deck below began to build to an unbearable crescendo! watching the sweeping second hand of the chronometer, tom called out, "blast off minus five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!" with a mighty roar, all main rockets of the spaceship exploded into life. shuddering under the sudden surge of power, the ship rose from the ground, accelerated at the rate of seven miles per second, and arrowed into the sky, space-borne! on the academy spaceport, ships of squadron l began to blast off one by one behind the _polaris_ at ten-second intervals. three rocket cruisers, six destroyers, and twelve rocket scouts. the explosive blast of one hardly rolling away across the surrounding hills before another deafening blast lifted the next space vessel away from earth. aboard the _polaris_, roger was busy over the chart table plotting the course when strong appeared at his side. "have that course for you in a minute, sir," said roger. he turned to the astrogation prism and made careful observations of regulus, the fixed star always used in astrogation. he jotted several numbers down on a piece of paper, rechecked them against a table of relative values and handed the papers to strong. the captain immediately opened the teleceiver and relayed the information to other ships of the squadron. after the _polaris_ had made the course change, the ships followed, taking positions all around the lead vessel. like fingers of a giant hand, the solar guard squadrons converged on the reported position of the disabled _avenger_. from every ship, radar scanners probed the space ahead with invisible electronic fingers for contact with the target. on the _polaris_, strong, his nimble brain figuring coxine's possibilities of escape, hunched over the chart table and worked at plotting alternate courses on which he could send pursuit squadrons on a moment's notice. one thing worried strong, and that was if coxine should repair his ship and make the security of the asteroid belt before they could reach him, it would be almost impossible to track him through that tortuous maze of space junk. squadron ten was the first to sight the enemy spaceship, though it was too far away to attack. the commander reported his finding to strong immediately. "we still have quite a way to go before we reach him, strong. but if our luck holds out, we might be able to pin him down in a wide circle." strong studied the chart and marked the position of the _avenger_ just reported. he compared the position to that of the other fleet ships and decided that they were still too far away to tighten a ring of armor around the pirate. strong was well aware that if the solar guard could spot coxine, he in turn could spot them. luck, mused strong to himself, was what they needed now. a little luck to keep the pirate from repairing his ship and disappearing into the asteroid belt. he grabbed the intercom and bawled orders. "power deck, emergency space speed. control deck, relay that order to every ship converging on the _avenger's_ position!" "what's up, sir?" asked tom from below. "one of the ships has spotted coxine. he's apparently still out of commission, but we're too far away to hail him." strong began to pace the deck of the radar bridge, and with each turn, he glanced at the radar scanner where roger was waiting anxiously for the telltale blip of the _avenger_ to appear. suddenly the blond-haired cadet stiffened. he peered at the scanner screen, then cried, "there he is, sir!" his finger pointed to a white outline on the scanner. strong took a quick look at the pirate's position and compared it to the positions of the converging fleet. he turned to the teleceiver and signaled for the immediate attention of all ships. "this is strong aboard the flagship _polaris_! all ships will proceed according to attack plan seventeen--code nine. use full power! emergency thrust!" as the minutes passed and the solar guard fleet plunged forward, the ships forged a solid wall of guns around the drifting pirate vessel. from above, below, and almost every compass point on the plan of the ecliptic, they closed in, deadly blasters aimed, gunners ready to fire. "we've got him, sir!" breathed roger. "he can't escape now! not in a million light years!" captain strong didn't reply. eyes were glued to the scanner, watching the target and the solar guard squadrons, searching for every possible loophole in the trap. suddenly he spoke into the teleceiver. "attention all ships! maintain present range, reduce speed, and take englobement formation!" in reply, the elements of the fleet smoothly reformed until they formed a giant wheel in space with the pirate ship as the hub. around and around they flew, all inboard guns trained on the enemy. as the command ship, the _polaris_ flew high over the formation. strong checked the formation carefully on the scanner and nodded his satisfaction. "i think we've done it now, manning," he sighed. "coxine doesn't have a chance of breaking through." roger looked unhappy. "ah, it was too easy, sir," he grumbled. "i was counting on having some fun." "after all these weeks of heartache, i'll skip the fun if you don't mind," said strong wryly and turned to the intercom. "tom, check in!" "aye, aye, sir!" "head for the _avenger_. close in!" "you mean we're going to lead the attack, sir?" tom shouted in a sudden burst of enthusiasm. "from the looks of things, i don't believe an attack will be necessary," replied strong. "we're going alongside to accept coxine's surrender. start blasting!" "aye, aye, _sir_!" as tom's voice was heard over the intercom speaker, issuing orders to astro for change of course, strong turned back to roger. "open up the audioceiver to all-wave transmission!" "you going to talk to coxine, sir?" "yes. and i hope he'll listen. if he doesn't, i'll do my talking with six-inch blasters!" roger quickly adjusted the settings on the audioceiver and then turned to his skipper. "she's all yours, sir. give it to him good!" strong smiled thinly and picked up the microphone. "attention, bull coxine! attention, bull coxine!" strong's voice was cold and hard. "this is captain strong of the solar guard! you're surrounded. you haven't a chance of escape. i demand your unconditional surrender! acknowledge immediately!" strong flipped the key to open the receiver and waited for the reply. roger moved closer, his eyes glued to the image of the pirate ship looming larger and larger on the scanner. fifteen seconds passed. thirty. there was no sound over the receiver. sweat began to bead strong's forehead and he opened the transmitter key again. "listen, coxine! i know you can hear me! i'll only talk to you once more! surrender or you'll be blasted into protons! i'll give you exactly thirty seconds to make up your mind!" again strong opened the receiver key and waited, but as the seconds ticked by, there was no answer. "sir, do you think he's sucking us into a trap?" roger whispered. "maybe," replied strong grimly. "but he knows what would happen to him if he opened fire." "captain strong! captain strong!" tom's voice suddenly blared over the ship's intercom. "don't bother me now, corbett," replied strong irritably. "but, sir," tom persisted, "that isn't the _avenger_!" "what!" strong was thunderstruck. "no, sir," continued the young cadet. "i'm looking at her right now on my control-deck scanner. it's the same model ship as the _avenger_, but it isn't coxine's!" "are you sure?" "positive, sir. i was on her long enough to know." "blast it! then what--?" roger suddenly interrupted strong. "sir, look at her over the magnascope! she's been abandoned!" the solar guard captain quickly turned to the magnascope screen. there he saw a close-up view of the target. it was a helpless derelict. all emergency ports were open and the jet-boat locks were empty. strong's face grew pale and he slumped back in his chair. "what--what do you suppose happened, sir?" asked roger hesitantly. "it's easy enough to figure," strong replied, his voice dull and lifeless. "coxine is using more than one ship now. and when this one was damaged, he simply transferred to another one. he's outfoxed us again!" slowly, with wooden legs, he walked over to the teleceiver. "attention all ships! resume former search stations. all we've caught here is a red herring!" and as the powerful engines of the _polaris_ picked up speed, strong imagined he could hear gargantuan laughter echoing in space around him. chapter "spaceman's luck, sir," said tom, shaking captain strong's hand. silently the other two cadets in turn gripped their skipper's hand tightly. "thanks, boys," said strong. "if we're going to get that space crawler, we have to trap him. and the best bait i know is a twenty-million-credit pay roll." "but won't you take at least one man with you, sir?" pleaded tom. "sitting up there in space in a decoy ship waiting for coxine is like--" tom paused. "well, you won't have much of a chance, sir, if coxine opens fire before asking questions." "that's the risk i've got to take, tom," said strong. "it took a lot of talking to get commander walters' permission to try this. but we've got to force coxine to come out far enough from the asteroid belt to catch him before he can run back in and lose himself again." the young captain smiled wanly and added, "don't think that your job is unimportant!" tom, roger, and astro nodded. on their return from the unsuccessful attempt to capture coxine, they had been suddenly faced with the routine duty of transporting a twenty-million-credit pay roll from atom city to the satellite of titan for the crystal miners. thinking one sure way to catch any rat was to use a lure, tom suggested that the titan armored freighter be used as a decoy to capture the pirate, and the cadets could carry the pay roll in the _polaris_. commander walters had considered the plan, and then realizing that coxine might fire on the freighter before seizing it, disapproved of placing a full crew aboard the lightly armed ship. instead, he would send only one man. strong had volunteered for the assignment and had persuaded the commander to allow him to man the decoy ship. now, the two ships, the _polaris_ and the armed freighter stood side by side at the academy spaceport, and the three cadets and their commanding officer waited for the signal to blast off. "you have your course for your trip out to titan, tom?" asked strong. "yes, sir," replied tom. "we're to blast off later to-night and take a course through the asteroid belt, traveling on the plane of the ecliptic. as soon as we get through, we are to proceed under full emergency thrust to our destination." strong nodded his head, satisfied. "do you think coxine will come out after you, sir?" asked roger. "we've tried to make sure that he will, roger," replied strong. "it's pretty common knowledge that the titan pay-roll ship leaves every month, and that it travels a different route each time. sometimes it goes through the asteroid belt on the plane of the ecliptic and sometimes it goes over. we believe coxine knows this, and with the thinly guised messages we've sent to titan, we're hoping he'll try for it." "but how will you get him, sir?" asked astro, puzzled. "i mean, with no armor on the freighter to speak of, and no crew aboard, how can you nail him before he gets you?" "hyperdrive," replied the captain laconically. "hyperdrive?" echoed tom quizzically. "i'm going to take the decoy ship through the asteroid belt too, but through a different area, closer to the part we think coxine is operating in. seven full squadrons have blasted off ahead of me and taken up positions in that area. when and if coxine attacks, i'll alert the waiting ships, who'll come in on hyperdrive. by the time coxine spots them on his radar, they'll be on top of him." "then," ventured tom, "you're staking your life on the ships arriving before coxine can attack." "that's right, tom," said strong. "if our plan works, we catch coxine. if it doesn't, at least we know that the titan pay roll is safe. that's why your job is as important as mine." they were interrupted by the ground-crew chief who reported the decoy ship ready to blast off. strong nodded and the three cadets gripped their captain's hand again. turning, he climbed into the freighter and five minutes later the solar guard officer blasted off from the academy spaceport while tom, roger, and astro watched from the traffic-control tower. "come on," said tom. "it'll be two hours before we can blast off. we might as well get some sleep. we'll need it." reluctantly, roger and astro followed their unit-mate from the traffic tower, their eyes full of concern for their skipper. each was grimly aware that they might never see their skipper alive again. * * * * * "now shut your traps!" roared bull coxine. "the next crawler that opens his mouth gets taken apart!" he stood on top of a table and faced his crew of pirates who were sitting about swilling large cups of rocket juice. the room in which the giant pirate spaceman had gathered his men was one of many in a building constructed since their arrival from the prison asteroid. hidden from even the closest inspection by the smaller bodies circling around the main asteroid, coxine had expanded the small hut used by wallace and simms into a huge rambling building containing armories, machine shops, and storage rooms packed with everything he and his murderous crew might need. now with a string of successful raids behind them and their personal pocketbooks bulging with stolen credits and valuables, the crew of pirates waited attentively while their cruel but brilliant leader outlined the most daring plan of all. "now listen," roared coxine. "there's a few things i want to say before we start on the plans of the next strike!" the big spaceman paused and glared at the men in front of him. "ever since that space-crawling cadet pulled a fast one on me there's been talk about voting for another leader!" he spat the word as if it had left a foul taste in his mouth. "well, get this. there'll be no voting! i'm the boss of this outfit! any man who thinks he can take over my job," coxine's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "_just let him try!_" stony silence greeted the huge spaceman, a silence inspired by fear. "now!" roared coxine, his coarse features changing from a scowl to a broad grin. "the strike!" this was greeted with a roar of approval. the men demanded action after a week of idleness on the asteroid. "wallace!" yelled coxine. "yes, sir," answered the spaceman, stepping up to the table and facing coxine. "we'll take up a position in the asteroid belt, here!" he placed a finger on a map of the belt. "simms!" roared the giant spaceman. "yes, sir!" the wizened space pirate stepped forward. "you remember that rocket scout we blasted? the one that got our other ship?" "i sure do, sir." "it's drifting around in orbit near asteroid seventeen. take a crew of men and a few jet boats and go get her. bring her back here and fix her up. strip every pound of excess weight off her. i want a ship that'll fly faster than anything in the system and i want it in twenty-four hours." "yes, sir," gulped simms. "but then what'll i do with her?" "after you've done what i've already told you to do," snapped coxine, "i'll tell you more!" simms' face turned red, and he nodded curtly. "now as for the rest of you crawlers," said coxine, facing the room full of men. "repair crews have been assigned for work on the rocket scout and the rest of you will work on the _avenger_ and prepare her for a long flight. i want the three-inch blasters, every paralo-ray gun and rifle, the fuel tanks, food supplies, oxygen circulators, in fact everything checked, rechecked, and _double-checked_!" joe brooks, who had become a favorite of coxine's, rose and faced the pirate captain. "where are we going to strike next, skipper?" coxine looked at the man with a half-smile playing on his lips. "this operation will have two parts, joe. the first--well--" his smiled broadened--"the titan pay-roll ship just blasted off from space academy. for the last ten years, the titan pay-roll ship has been blasting off from atom city. now why do you think it would suddenly leave from space academy, the home of the solar guard?" the crowd of men murmured their bewilderment. "i'll tell you why!" bawled coxine. "either they have that ship so packed with blasters it would take a fleet to stop it, or it's a trap!" "but if you think it's a trap," exclaimed wallace, "you're not going to hit it, are you?" "i said it _might_ be a trap!" snapped coxine. "but it might not and with twenty million credits to be had for the taking, i'm not going to let her breeze through. i'm going to make sure it's a trap before i try something else!" "but how?" persisted wallace. coxine looked at his lieutenant coldly. he had indulged the man too long. "i'll tell you when i get good and ready! now all of you, get out of here and make sure everything, and i _mean everything_, is ready to raise ship at a moment's notice!" the men got up and shuffled from the room. coxine turned to his two lieutenants. "all right, wallace, see that those crawlers do what i told them to do. and you, simms, get after that rocket scout." the two spacemen saluted their captain and turned away. coxine watched them leave the room, already planning his next move, a move calculated to be so surprising that the solar guard would be absolutely helpless. bull coxine smiled and turned to study the charts of the asteroid belt. * * * * * alone aboard the armored decoy ship, captain strong blasted steadily on his course through the asteroid belt. the young solar guard officer was aware that at any moment after reaching the celestial jungle of small planetoids he could be fired on without warning. and though the solar guard patrol ships, well hidden in the belt, would blast coxine out of existence, it would still be too late for him. grim-faced, his hands gripping the controls, he rocketed through space, determined to put an end, once and for all, to the marauding pirate and old enemy, bull coxine. * * * * * when night fell over the academy spaceport, tom, roger, and astro climbed silently into the giant rocket cruiser _polaris_ and raised ship for titan. their departure from earth was routine, with no one but commander walters and captain strong knowing that stowed in the storage compartment of the spaceship was twenty million credits, the pay roll for the miners of titan. once in space, the rocket ship was put on course and held there by automatic pilot. the three cadets gathered in the messroom and sipped hot tea, staring moodily into their cups. unable to break audio silence, lest they should betray their position, their first chance of hearing any news lay far ahead of them at titan. they could only hope that the decoy trap would succeed and that their skipper and friend would return safely. the only comment was astro's grim prediction. "if anything happens to captain strong," he paused and finished his sentence in a tense whisper, "i'll search the universe until i find coxine. and when i do, i'll break him in two!" chapter "have you got everything straight?" asked coxine. simms nodded his head. "all right, blast off," ordered the pirate. "we'll follow you and keep you spotted on radar. if it's a trap, head for asteroid fourteen, bail out in a jet boat, and let the scout keep going. we'll pick you up later." simms nodded again and turned to his old partner, wallace. "so long, gus." he smiled. "this is one time the solar guard gets it right where it hurts!" "yeah," agreed wallace. "see you later. take it easy on that asteroid and don't get in trouble with the girls!" the two men laughed and simms turned to climb into the waiting rocket scout. the sleek ship had been stripped down until it was hardly more than a power deck and control panel. she was now capable of more than twice her original speed. as the little spaceman disappeared into the air lock, coxine turned to wallace. "we'll give him an hour's head start and then blast off after him. and remember, the first man that breaks audio silence will get blasted!" all eyes were on the tiny rocket scout as its jets, roaring into life, lifted free of the pirate planetoid. when the speedy little ship had disappeared into space, coxine turned to his crew and ordered an immediate alert. while the criminals readied the armed privateer for blast-off, coxine and wallace climbed directly to the radar bridge. joe brooks was hunched in front of the scanner, staring intently. he looked up when the two pirate officers entered. "just following lieutenant simms on the radar, skipper," said brooks. "he's blasting through the asteroid belt faster than i thought he could." "lemme see!" growled coxine. the giant pirate stared at the scanner and his mouth twisted into a grin. he turned away and barked several orders. "wallace, stand by to blast off in two minutes! brooks, get me a bearing on that ship." "you mean simms?" asked the radarman. "no! i mean that ship, right there," snapped coxine. he pointed to a white blip on the scanner. "and after you get the bearing i want a course that'll intersect it in"--coxine paused and glanced at the astral chronometer--"ten minutes!" quickly calculating the bearing and working up the course as ordered, brooks handed coxine a slip of paper. the pirate glanced at it briefly. "what would you say simms' speed would be if he kept his ship on full thrust, brooks?" asked coxine. brooks thought a moment. "i'd say it would be about half of what he's making now!" "exactly!" roared coxine. "that's why the ship on your scanner isn't simms' at all, but another ship!" the radarman studied the scanner, where, with each sweep of the thin white line, the blip of the ship appeared. "you mean it might be the titan pay roll?" he breathed hopefully. "yeah," breathed coxine. "i mean it might be the titan pay roll, and then again it might not!" coxine turned away, leaving the radarman utterly confused. within the two-minute deadline that coxine had ordered, the members of his crew were locking the last air lock and securing ship for blast-off. coxine sat in front of the control panel, ready to give the final order that would send the vessel hurtling into space. in a little while, the evil mind, the twisted brain of bull coxine would be pitted against the might of the solar guard. * * * * * captain strong sat on the control deck of the decoy ship, watching the radar scanner and waiting for the appearance of bull coxine and his crew. again and again, the young solar guard officer, too restless to remain in one spot, got up and paced the deck. he flipped on a chart screen and studied the positions of the surrounding asteroids, which he knew hid the solar guard fleet, ready to pounce on any attacking ship. schooled for years in facing the tedium of space travel and patrolling the space lanes, strong nevertheless was anxious for something to happen, as minute after minute slipped past and no attack came. once he thought he saw something move on the scanner and gripped the sides of the instrument tightly as a blip appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared. finally strong was able to distinguish what it was and he turned away in disgust. it had been a maverick asteroid, one which, because of its positive gravity, never became a captive of other bodies in space. it wandered aimlessly through the belt, a danger spacemen feared more than any other, since it could not be depended upon to remain in one position. unable to break audio silence and communicate with the hidden solar guard fleet around him, lest he give away their positions, strong found the loneliness driving him into a case of jitters and nerves. suddenly he jumped up and stared unbelievingly at the scanner. there in front of him was a blip, traveling at amazing speed, straight for his ship. from its size and shape, strong could tell it was a rocket scout. he watched it for a moment dumfounded at the speed of the small ship. when he was certain that it was heading for him, he grabbed the audioceiver microphone and began calling hurriedly. "attention all ships! this is captain strong. spaceship approaching me, starboard quarter, one-one-five degrees. estimated speed--" strong paused and watched the moving blip. "speed unknown. all ships close in immediately!" on the scanner, strong could see the flashes of blips as the squadrons roared out of concealment and closed in on the approaching rocket scout. over the audioceiver he could hear the squadron commanders snapping orders to their ships as the small ship still headed, unheedingly, for his decoy vessel. suddenly the attacking ship slowed and strong could see the blip turn in a wide-sweeping curve. but it was too late. the solar guard ships had it surrounded from every possible angle. the little scout made a desperate dash straight for strong's ship. in a flash, he saw the plan of the ship's pilot. he was heading for strong, hoping to use him as a shield from the mighty six-inch blasters trained on him. strong grabbed for the control and fired full thrust on his starboard jets, sending the decoy vessel into a screaming dive. the attacking ship tried to follow, but seeing it couldn't make it, turned and tried to escape from the surrounding ships. instinctively strong shouted a warning to the pilot to surrender, but even as he spoke, he saw the firing flashes sparkle on the hulls of a dozen fleet vessels as they sent their deadly atomic missiles converging like lightning arrows on the speedy rocket scout. there was a burst of pure white fire on the scanner and then the young captain gulped as the attacking ship was blasted into a hulk of twisted metal. strong grabbed the audioceiver microphone and shouted orders to the fleet squadron leaders. " ... squadron l! put out immediate rescue jet boats and begin salvage operations. all remaining ships will return to solar guard base, space academy. end transmission!" strong hurried to the air lock, hastily put on a space suit, and in a few moments was blasting in a jet boat toward the remains of the attacking scout. immediately the communications of the departing fleet were filled with talk of their victory over the pirate band. strong alone felt uneasy about their success. for coxine to attack in a light rocket scout, which strong felt sure had been stripped down to gain more speed, did not follow the pattern which the hardened pirate had established in previous raids. when he arrived at the wreckage of the rocket scout, strong found that his fears were justified. a crew chief from one of the rescue squads approached strong; his body weightless in space, the man grappled for a handhold on a jutting piece of the twisted wreck, and then spoke to strong over the helmet spacephones. "we found only one person aboard, sir," he reported. "and the ship appears to have been stripped of everything but engines and control panel." behind the protective glass of his helmet, strong grimaced. he turned to captain randolph. "we've been tricked again, randy," said strong bitterly. "we used a decoy and so did coxine!" * * * * * "they're closing in!" roger's voice crackled through the intercom from the radar bridge. "do we fight or do we let those space crawlers take over?" "fight!" bellowed astro from the power deck. "no! wait!" cried tom. "we haven't a chance! if we don't heave to, coxine'll blast us into space junk!" rocketing through the asteroid belt with the titan pay roll, the three space cadets, under strict orders to maintain communications silence, were unaware that bull coxine had outsmarted captain strong. sending in the rocket scout, he had sprung the solar guard trap and had cagily scanned the belt for another ship. finding the _polaris_ easily, the pirate captain was blasting in for the attack. on the control deck of the solar guard cruiser, tom corbett desperately tried to think of a plan to outwit coxine, while his unit-mates urged him to fight back. "what's the matter, junior?" roger called over the intercom sarcastically. "scared to fight?" "you know i'm not," snapped tom in reply. "by the rings of saturn," growled astro, "i never thought you'd surrender to anybody, tom!" "listen, both of you!" shouted tom. "it's no use! we've got to play this smart!" "well, start making with the brains," sneered roger. "coxine's in range now." "attention--" a harsh unmistakable voice rumbled over the audioceiver. "this is bull coxine! heave to or you'll be blasted!" "all right, junior," said roger bitterly, "company's coming. what now?" "cut all power, astro--fast!" ordered tom. "what's the matter?" growled astro. "afraid they'll shoot if you don't stop fast enough?" "keep your big trap shut and do as i tell you!" snapped tom. "listen, junior!" snarled roger. "as far as i'm concerned--" tom interrupted him. "_you_ listen, you idiot! don't you see what's happened? coxine must have found out about the decoy ship, and when we showed up on his scanner, he figured right away that we might have the titan pay roll." "so what?" demanded roger. "that still doesn't let you off for not belting that crawler with our six-inchers!" "use your head!" snapped tom. "with the solar guard squadrons on the other side of the belt and with no gun crews on our ship, how far do you think we'd have gotten?" "you didn't have to surrender, tom," said astro. "i could have outrun coxine in nothing flat. why, i haven't got half the speed out of this old girl i think she's got." "a great idea, bird brain! run away from the very guy the solar guard's going crazy trying to find!" the intercom was suddenly silent as astro and roger began to understand tom's decision and waited for him to elaborate on his idea. "now, listen, roger," said tom patiently, "we've got about five minutes before those crawlers will be aboard. how long will it take you to make a signal beacon that'll send out a constant automatic sos?" "a what?" asked roger. "beacon. one that will transmit on the solar guard special frequency and be small enough to hide here on the _polaris_." "why hide it on the _polaris_?" asked astro. "why not try to get it on their ship?" his tone was almost apologetic now that he realized tom was not planning a cowardly surrender. "it's a cinch they'll take the _polaris_ over," explained tom. "she's fast and she's got six-inch blasters." "i get it!" yelped astro. "we plant the beacon on the _polaris_, and when they take her over, the signal will be going out all the time." astro paused. "but wait a minute. they'll be sure to search the ship first!" "first things first, astro," answered tom. "roger, can you make the beacon?" "yeah," said roger, "but it'll take me at least a half hour!" "you've got to finish it faster than that!" tom insisted. "i can't, tom. i just can't." "all right, then we'll have to stall as best we can. get to work. meantime, astro and i will find a place to hide it. how big do you think it'll be?" there was a momentary pause and then roger replied, "no smaller than six inches. about like a shoe box." "could you make it three inches thick, and longer, instead of box-shaped?" roger hesitated again. "yeah, i guess so. why?" "because i just thought of a good place to hide it. they'd have to tear the ship apart to find it, _if_ they even hear the signal!" "attention! attention! this is coxine--" the pirate's voice bawled over the audioceiver again. "you are under my guns. stand by to receive a boarding party. if you make any attempt to escape, you will be blasted!" tom grabbed the microphone to the audioceiver and replied, "orders understood, but you'll have to wait until we can build up air pressure in the air lock." "very well," said coxine. "we'll give you fifteen minutes." tom thought desperately. "you'll have to wait at least a half hour. we broke a valve and have to replace it!" coxine's voice became suspicious. "hey, what're you trying to pull?" "honest, mister coxine," whined tom, "we're not doing anything." "fifteen minutes," roared coxine, "or i blast a hole in your ship!" "yes, sir!" answered tom, fully aware that the pirate captain would carry out his threat. dropping the audioceiver microphone, the young cadet hurried to the power deck, where astro waited impatiently. "grab a couple of cutting torches, astro," he said, "and get me a lead-lined suit. i'm going into the reactant chamber." "what?" demanded astro. "you heard me! i'm going to hide that beacon where they'll never find it." "in the reactant chamber?" asked astro. "impossible!" "remember when we first arrived at the prison asteroid? how thoroughly we were searched?" astro nodded. "remember, they even searched the space between the inner and outer hulls? there's three inches of clearance in there. if i cut into that space through the reactant chamber and put the beacon inside, the noise of the jets will keep coxine from hearing it, and the radioactivity in the chamber will keep them from picking it up on their detectors!" astro's face spread into a wide grin, and without another word, he began preparing the cutting torches. ten minutes later tom emerged from the chamber and nodded triumphantly. "all set, astro! now all we need is the beacon." suddenly the _polaris_ was rocked by a heavy explosion. "they're firing!" yelled astro. "roger! have you finished the beacon?" demanded tom over the intercom. "i need another five minutes!" answered roger. "i have to set the signal to send out the sos." "will it send out _anything_?" asked tom. the _polaris_ rocked again from a second explosion. "i don't know, tom," yelled roger. "i haven't even tested it!" a third explosion jarred the rocket cruiser and the curly-haired cadet knew that the air lock must have been demolished by now. "bring down what you've got, roger!" he yelled. "we'll just have to take a chance that it'll work. and grab yourself a space suit on the way down. when they blast through the inner portal of the lock, we'll need 'em!" "right!" replied roger. "be down there in a second." astro and tom hurriedly donned space suits and waited for roger to bring the beacon. in a moment the blond-haired cadet appeared with the hurriedly contrived beacon. tom quickly placed it between the two hulls and sealed the hole in the inner hull. a fourth explosion rocked the ship and the three cadets knew that by now the air lock had been blasted away. they put on their space helmets and climbed the ladder to the upper deck. coxine met them near the air lock, two paralo-ray guns clutched in his gloved hands. behind him, his crew swarmed in and fanned out all over the ship. but the space pirate stood on the control deck, glaring at tom. "whaddya know! the space kid himself!" "that's right, coxine," said tom quietly, "only the real name is corbett." suddenly there was a triumphant shout from one of the pirates. "skipper! the credits! all twenty million! we found 'em!" over their spacephones the three cadets could hear the pirates yelling and cheering. coxine bellowed for silence and the cheering quickly subsided. paying no further attention to the three cadets, the pirate captain ordered his men to repair the hole in the air lock and prepare for immediate acceleration. there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he announced their destination. "with the solar guard on the other side of the belt, we're going to hit the richest prize in the universe! the colony on ganymede!" he then turned and smiled at his three prisoners, adding menacingly, "and we've got three passes to get us through the defenses!" chapter ganymede, the largest moon of jupiter, was an important way station of the solar alliance for all spaceships traveling between the outer planets of saturn, uranus, neptune, and pluto and the inner planets of mars, earth, venus, and mercury. the colony on ganymede was more of a supply depot than a permanent settlement, with one large uranium refinery to convert the pitchblende brought in by the prospectors of the asteroids. refueling ships, replenishing supplies, and having a small tourist trade, it was a quiet colony, one of many spread throughout the system. with the solar guard search squadrons hopelessly out of range on the other side of the asteroid belt, the cadets' only hope of saving the tiny colony lay in the beacon hidden inside the hull of the _polaris_. leaving wallace and half of his crew aboard the _polaris_, bull coxine had transferred the three cadets to the avenger and thrown them into the brig. as the ship accelerated toward the colony, tom stared out of the small, barred viewport while roger and astro sprawled glumly on the hard bunks. roger finally broke the heavy silence. "what do you suppose coxine meant when he said he had three passes into ganymede?" "give you one guess, pal," snorted astro. "he obviously expects us to give him the recognition signal," said tom. roger sighed. "that's what i figured. but i was hoping i was wrong." "at least we're all immune to truth drugs," said astro hopefully. "he won't get the recognition code out of us that way." "that dirty space crawler wouldn't even bother with drugs," muttered roger. "they aren't enough fun. he likes to get what he wants the hard way." "yes," agreed tom. "we're in for a rough time, guys." they all looked at each other, fully aware of what lay in score for them. finally astro growled, "i don't care what he does to me. i won't tell him a thing!" "same here!" exclaimed roger. tom merely nodded, his face a grim, expressionless mask. suddenly three men led by brooks, the radar operator, appeared in the passageway outside the brig. brooks stepped forward, opened the door, and gestured with the paralo-ray gun in his hand. "all right, you punks! outside!" astro started to lunge for the pirate, but tom grabbed him by the arm. "take it easy, astro. that won't get us any place." "you can say that again," sneered brooks. "one crazy move like that, kid, and i'll freeze you solid as a cake of ice! now come on! move!" tom, followed by astro and roger, walked slowly out of the brig, and guarded closely by the three pirate crewmen they were taken to the main air lock. "all right," said brooks. "the big ox and blondie, get in there!" one of the crewmen opened the air-lock portal while the other two jabbed astro and roger with ray guns. the two cadets stumbled into the chamber and the door was slammed behind them. "lock it!" snarled brooks. when the men had secured the portal, brooks turned and pushed tom roughly along the passageway. a moment later they reached the control deck where bull coxine was hunched over his charts. "here he is, captain," said brooks. "the other two are sealed up in the air lock like sardines!" coxine nodded and faced tom, a thin smile on his face. "i told you i would get the recognition signal, corbett," he said. "and i will!" coxine walked over to a large valve on the after bulkhead and tapped the needle indicator right beside it. satisfied, he turned back to the cadet. "in two hours," began coxine, "we'll be within range of the ganymede garrison and its radar. it takes exactly eight turns on this valve to bleed the air out of the air lock where your two buddies are. so, every fifteen minutes i'm going to ask you for the recognition signal, and every time you say no, i'll turn the valve once. by the time we get close enough to ganymede to be picked up on their radar, you'll either have given me the signal or your buddies will be dead!" tom stood listening to coxine, his blood boiling at the giant spaceman's cruelty. suddenly he tore across the control deck and made a dive for coxine's neck. but the big man met him coming on and with a powerful slap of his hand sent the boy sprawling back across the deck. "you're a good man, corbett," said coxine, standing over the fallen cadet, "but you're a _little_ man, and a good big man can lick a good little man any time!" brooks and the crewmen laughed loudly as tom dragged himself to his feet. "well, do i get the signal?" demanded coxine. "or do your buddies get a little less air?" standing unsteadily on his feet, with four paralo-ray guns trained on his body, tom thought quickly of roger and astro, alone in the darkness of the air lock, soon to be clawing their throats for air; of the merciless attack on the prison asteroid; of the helpless ships coxine had looted. all these things and more flashed through the curly-haired cadet's mind as he weighed his life and the lives of his unit-mates against an attack that would devastate the small satellite of jupiter. tom could see through the pirate's demand for the recognition signal. once inside the ganymede radar screen, he could attack the solar guard garrison and wipe it out before it could raise a ship in defense. "well?" demanded coxine, placing his huge hand on the valve. tom knew that if he could stall long enough, the signal aboard the _polaris_ might be picked up by the solar guard. roger and astro were in good physical condition. they could conserve their energy as soon as they discovered the trap. he had to stall and hope the signal would be picked up in time. "the only thing i'll ever give you, coxine," said tom through clenched teeth, "is a blast of a paralo-ray!" coxine snarled in anger and turned the valve, shouting, "one more thing, _mister hero_! the minute the air lock is empty, _you_ take a swim in space too!" tom was prepared for that. he knew the pirate would not take defeat at the hands of a space cadet easily. tom was resigned to his fate. he was ready to accept anything if it would serve the purpose of ridding the solar system of bull coxine. "tie him to that chair," snarled the giant pirate captain. "and make sure he's secure, or you'll go swimming in space with him!" tom was shoved roughly into the copilot's chair in front of the control board and tied down with a thick rope. he winced as the heavy line dug into his arms. after inspecting the job, coxine dismissed brooks and the men with a curt nod and returned to his charts. tom sat in front of the control panel, his eyes sweeping the gauges and dials and at last fixing on the master acceleration lever. two feet away was the lever that controlled all the power on the ship. if he could only reach it, he could stop the _avenger_ dead, and possibly even put the ship completely out of commission. but try as he might, he could not get his hands free. coxine looked up at the astral chronometer and walked over to the valve. "well, corbett," demanded the burly spaceman, "what's the recognition signal?" tom only shook his head. "must be pretty bad, sitting down there in the dark, hearing the oxygen feed in slower and slower. you sure you won't change your mind?" tom looked squarely at coxine, hatred in his eyes, and he watched the pirate captain shrug his shoulders, turn the valve again, and return to his charts. the young cadet watched the astral chronometer, seeing the red hand sweep the seconds away, and the black minute hand inch around the dial. over and over, the curly-haired space cadet refused coxine's demand for the recognition signal and then watched helplessly as the pirate gave the air-lock valve another twist. nearly two hours had passed and tom knew that they would soon be in radar range of the ganymede garrison. the pressure in the air lock must now be within ten units of zero. suddenly, overhead, the audioceiver loud-speaker crackled into life. "attention! this is ganymede traffic control. identify yourself immediately with authorized code!" coxine glared at tom and put his hand on the air-lock valve. "last time, corbett. either you give me the solar guard recognition signal, or your buddies are finished!" tom gulped. he had no assurance that coxine would release roger and astro, even if he did give him the signal. but he knew there was no choice. he looked up at coxine. "do i have your word as an _earthman_ that nothing will happen to them?" he asked quietly. coxine laughed. "sure. i'll give you my word. i'll even bring them up here so they can see the show and then let you go afterward. but by the time i'm finished with the ganymede colony the solar guard will have your hides for handing out their secrets." tom knew what the pirate said was true. he was taking a gamble now. a gamble that by this time his signal on the _polaris_ had been picked up and a fleet of ships would be on their trail. "attention! attention! identify yourselves immediately!" the voice from the ganymede traffic-control tower came over the audioceiver again. coxine's face twisted into a half-smile. "well, corbett, do i get the signal or don't i?" "tell them you're a solar guard armed freighter." tom's voice was low. "you're assigned to operation 'vista.'" "vista?" said coxine excitedly. "is that the code word? vista?" "yes," said tom. "now open the valve!" coxine gave the valve a number of turns in the opposite direction and jumped to the teleceiver. he flipped the key open and called wallace aboard the _polaris_. "when they ask you for identification, tell them you're working on operation vista. that's the key word. vista!" "right!" answered wallace. coxine then turned to the audioceiver and spoke in confident, assured tones. "attention, ganymede traffic control! this is armed freighter _samson_, assigned on project vista. request clearance for approach and touchdown on ganymede spaceport!" "you are properly identified, _samson_," replied ganymede. "proceed on your present course. end transmission." "end transmission!" roared coxine triumphantly. the giant pirate turned back to tom, bellowing, "thanks, corbett. you've just given me the key to everything i ever wanted." "what do you mean?" asked tom, suddenly frightened by the strange wild gleam in coxine's eyes. "by the time i've finished with ganymede, i'll have every ship on their spaceport. a fleet big enough to hit any part of the solar alliance i want! solar guard or no solar guard!" "no! you can't!" gasped tom. "can't i?" snarled coxine. "i'll show the solar guard something they never saw before. their own ships blasting them right out of space!" coxine turned to the intercom, ordered astro and roger brought up to the control deck, and then contacted wallace aboard the _polaris_. "yeah?" answered the spaceman from the control deck of the rocket cruiser. "we're going in according to plan! train all your guns on the solar guard defense installations and stand by!" "ready any time you say the word," replied wallace. jumping back to the intercom, coxine gave orders to the power deck for full thrust, then ordered the radar bridge to relay the scanner image of ganymede to the control deck. as the rocket ship surged ahead under the added thrust, tom strained against his ropes to watch the scanner and saw the clear image of the colony. he could make out the outline of the uranium plant, the atmosphere booster stations and small buildings clustered around the spaceport. as they drew closer to the tiny colony, coxine grabbed the intercom and the teleceiver microphones and barked crisp orders to both the avengers and the _polaris_' power decks. "full braking rockets!" roared coxine. tom braced himself against the sudden reverse pressure of the powerful nose rockets, and then, in a moment, felt the _avenger_ come to a dead stop. watching the scanner again, he saw that they were directly over the solar guard garrison. coxine switched the teleceiver to the colony frequency and spoke sharply and confidently. "attention! all citizens of ganymede colony! this is bull coxine. your entire settlement is under my guns. any attempt to raise ship and oppose me will be met with instant destruction! every citizen is hereby ordered to assemble at the municipal spaceport within five minutes. all solar guard officers and men will do the same. you have five minutes to comply, or i will open fire!" the giant spaceman flipped off the teleceiver before anyone on ganymede could answer. pressing with all his might, tom managed to see more of the scanner which suddenly showed the people of ganymede scurrying out to the spaceport in panic. coxine watched the activity on the scanner for a second and then grunted his satisfaction. suddenly the hatch was thrown open and astro and roger were pushed into the room by two crewmen. coxine turned to them, smiling thinly. "you owe your lives to your buddy here. one more minute and you would've been walking with the angels. now," he added to the crewmen, "tie them up so they can see the scanner. i want them to see how easy it is to knock off a solar guard garrison!" "why you--" astro lunged toward the pirate but was stopped in his tracks by a blast from a paralo-ray gun behind him. the big cadet stood rigid, motionless, every nerve and muscle in his body paralyzed. coxine sneered and turned back to the intercom while his men tied up the two cadets. tom and roger looked at each other and, without speaking, knew what the other was thinking. their only hope was the beacon signal aboard the _polaris_. after the men had tied astro, they released him from the effects of the ray charge and threw him down beside roger. "how do you feel?" asked tom. "like i've been run through a set of gears," mumbled astro. "how about yourself?" "o.k.," replied tom. "was it"--he paused--"was it tough in the air lock?" roger smiled. "not as tough as it must have been on you up here. we realized what was going on as soon as we found out we were losing air." the blond-haired cadet shook his head and tom noticed that both roger and astro were weak from their ordeal in the chamber. at the control panel, coxine was bawling orders to his crew. "jet boats one, two, three, four, and five! stand by to blast off!" the three cadets looked at each other helplessly. "russell, check in," continued the burly spaceman. "russell here!" replied a voice on the intercom. "you're in charge of the party. i want you to do one thing, and one thing only! take the largest ships on the spaceport and blast off. don't touch anything else! just the ships. those you can't get off the ground, leave. we'll blast them later!" "aye, aye, sir." coxine strode over to the teleceiver. immediately the image of a man in the uniform of a solar guard major appeared on the screen. his voice echoed in the control room. "hello, coxine! this is major sommers! come in, coxine!" "yeah--" replied coxine. "whaddya want?" the pirate captain stepped arrogantly in front of the teleceiver's transmitting lens, and from the look on the officer's face, tom knew he had seen coxine on his own screen. "we've followed orders," said the major. "our only request is that you do not harm any of the citizens--" coxine cut him off. "stow that space gas! i'll do what i please! i'm sending down a crew of men. they have certain orders. any interference from you and i'll open fire with everything i've got--right in the middle of the spaceport." tom gasped. the spaceport was now crowded with the citizens of the tiny colony. the major nodded gravely. "i understand," he said. "you may rest assured no one will interfere with your men!" "huh!" sneered coxine. "you don't sound so high and mighty now that you're staring into the barrels of a dozen atomic blasters!" he snapped off the teleceiver and roared with laughter. tom felt a shiver run down his spine. he could imagine the frustration of the ganymede garrison, a crack crew of fighting men, forced to surrender without firing a shot. and he had been the cause by giving coxine the code recognition signal! coxine snapped an order into the intercom and a moment later tom saw the jet boats on the scanner, rocketing down to the surface of the small satellite. as, one by one, the small ships landed on the spaceport, the three cadets could see the crowds of colonists fan out, allowing the jet boats to come in without interference. coxine strode up and down the control deck restlessly, but keeping his eyes on the activity below. suddenly he rushed to the scanner, stared hard, and then let out a roar of triumph. the three cadets saw the reason immediately. on the scanner were the unmistakable outlines of two solar guard heavy cruisers, four destroyers, and six scouts, hurtling spaceward at tremendous speed. coxine spun around, balled his fists into tight knots, and shook them at the three cadets. "i've won! i've won!" he roared with insane laughter and there was a crazed gleam in his eyes. "i've got the ships, the guns, the men, and the secret of the adjustable light-key. by the time i'm finished with the solar guard there won't be anything left of those crawlers but what you can hear on a story spool, and the solar alliance will be run by one man!" he paused, his face grew hard and he tapped his chest menacingly. "me!" chapter "i don't care if the blasted ship blows up!" roared captain strong to the power-deck officer of the solar guard rocket cruiser _arcturus_. "i want every ounce of thrust you can get out of this space heap!" the young solar guard captain turned back to the loud-speaker of the audioceiver, turned the volume dial a fraction, and listened. the steady pronounced ping of roger's signal beacon filled his ears. when strong discovered that coxine had outwitted him, he had gone aboard the rocket cruiser _arcturus_ of squadron ten and had continued on search patrol. he dared not break audio silence to warn the cadets aboard the _polaris_, lest he give away the position of the ship. later, when the radar officer of the _arcturus_ reported a steady signal over the audioceiver, strong at first dismissed it as some form of interference from space. but when titan failed to report the arrival of the _polaris_ on time, strong investigated the strange sound. taking a bearing on the signal, he discovered it came from a position dangerously close to the small jovian colony of ganymede. after repeated attempts to raise the _polaris_ failed, and no distress signals had been received, strong feared that bull coxine had won again. in a desperate effort to catch the criminal, he took repeated bearings on the signal and ordered full emergency space speed toward the small satellite of jupiter. contacting commander walters at space academy, strong related his suspicions and received permission to carry out a plan of action. "i want you to engage the enemy at all costs!" ordered walters. "blast his space-crawling hide into protons! that's an order!" "yes, sir!" replied strong with grim determination. "there's nothing i'd like better." six hours later strong received confirmation of his worst fears. he was handed a message that read: emergency: ganymede garrison attacked zero three hundred hours by two ships. one vessel identified as rocket cruiser polaris. send aid immediately. entire colony at mercy of coxine. signed, sommers, major, solar guard. strong realized at once that the cadets had been forced to give the recognition code to the pirate. there wasn't any other way for the pirate to penetrate the defenses of ganymede. and, thought strong bitterly, to blast coxine was to blast the cadets as well. the commander's words echoed again in his ears, "... blast him, steve! that's an order!" strong turned to his second-in-command. "man all guns! stand by to attack under plan s! we'll engage the enemy as soon as he's sighted!" the young officer saluted and turned away quickly. but not before he saw the mist in steve strong's eyes. * * * * * tom, roger, and astro watched the incredible scene taking place in front of them with unbelieving eyes. seven men were standing at rigid attention on the control deck of the _avenger_. wallace, russell, attardi, harris, shelly, martin, and brooks. in front of them, standing equally rigid, bull coxine was addressing them in a low restrained voice. "raise your right hands and repeat after me." the men raised their hands. "i hereby pledge my life to bull coxine!" "... i hereby pledge my life to bull coxine...." repeated the men in unison. "to uphold his decisions, obey his orders, and fulfill his purpose of destroying the solar alliance and establishing a new governmental order!" the seven men repeated the words slowly and hesitantly. "all right," said coxine. "from this day on, you are my chief lieutenants. you will command the ships of my fleet, and when we destroy the power of the solar guard and take over the alliance, you will help me rule our new order." the seven men looked at each other, raised a mild cheer, and waited as coxine shook hands with each of them. "all right," said coxine abruptly as he reached the end of the line. "get to your ships and prepare for full acceleration. we go into action immediately!" the men filed from the room silently, each with a worried look on his face. coxine failed to notice their lack of enthusiasm and turned to the three cadets. "some day, boys," he said, "you'll go down in history as being the first witnesses to the establishment of the new order." astro glared up at the giant spaceman. "we'll be the witnesses to the biggest bust in the universe when the solar guard catches up with you!" "yeah," drawled roger in his most casual manner. "you're the one that'll go down in history, coxine, as the biggest space-gassing idiot that ever blasted off!" tom suddenly guffawed. though close to death, he couldn't help laughing at roger's remark. the big spaceman flushed angrily and with the flat of his hand slapped the cadet across the face. then, he turned to the teleceiver and opened the circuit to all the ships that were standing by in space around the _avenger_, the ships of the ganymede garrison. "stand by for acceleration," he called. "we're going to show the solar alliance who's boss, beginning right now! i'll give you the target in a few minutes but head in the direction of earth!" he faced the three cadets and sneered. "by the time i'm finished with luna city, the only thing active will be radioactive!" suddenly gus wallace could be heard screaming over the teleceiver, his face a mask of fear and panic. "bull! bull!" he shouted. "the solar guard! we just spotted them! squadrons! heading straight for us! we've got to get out of here!" "what?" roared coxine, turning to his radar scanner. the blips on the screen verified the alarm. he shouted into the teleceiver, "man your guns! we'll wipe them out right now!" "but, bull--" whined wallace. "they'll blast us out of space!" coxine roared into the mike. "the first one of you yellow crawlers that tries to run for it will be blasted by me! man your guns, i said! this is our big chance! wipe out the solar guard now and the solar alliance is ours for the asking! fight, men! fight!" tom, roger, and astro looked at each other, mouths open, not knowing whether they should laugh or not at the dramatic speech of the huge spaceman. but whatever the private feelings of the criminals, coxine had roused them to fever pitch and the boys could hear them racing through the _avenger_, preparing to fight the squadrons of solar guard ships bearing down on them. coxine strapped himself in the pilot's chair and began barking orders to his battle stations, whipping his men into action relentlessly. and then suddenly captain strong's voice, vibrant and firm, came over the audioceiver, demanding the surrender of the pirate captain and his fleet. "never!" roared coxine. "you'll get my surrender from the barrels of every blaster i have under my command!" "then," replied strong, "i have no alternative but to attack!" with a coldness that reached across the void of space and gripped their hearts with icy fingers, the three cadets heard their skipper give his squadrons the deadly order! "fire!" coxine snapped his order at almost the same instant and the three cadets felt the _avenger_ shudder as her turrets began blazing away, returning round for round of the deadly atomic missiles. racing from scanner to the control panel and back again, coxine watched the battle rage around him. with speeds nearing that of light, exhaust trails cut scarlet paths through the black space, as the two opposing fleets attacked, counterattacked, and then regrouped to attack again. the rhythm of the blasters on the _avenger_ had taken on a familiar pattern of five-second intervals between bursts. gradually, one by one, the pirate ships were hit, demolished or badly damaged, but still they fought on. coxine, his eyes wild with desperation, now kept lining up ships in his radar sights and firing, with no way of knowing which was friend and which was foe. tom, roger, and astro watched the dogfight on the scanner in horrified fascination. never before had they seen such maneuvering, as the giant ships avoided collision sometimes by inches. once, tom tore his eyes away from the scanner when he saw a rocket destroyer plow through the escaping swarm of jet boats after one of the pirate ships had been hit. fire and change course, fire and change course, again and again, coxine performed the miracle of escaping the deadly atomic blasters aboard the solar guard ships. suddenly the three cadets saw the outline of a rocket cruiser bearing down on them. the white blip on the scanner came closer and closer to the heart of the scanner. just in time coxine saw it and shouted for a course change. but even as the _avenger_ swung up and away from the attacking ship, the cadets saw the flash of flame from the cruiser's turrets and a moment later felt the bone-rattling shudder of a near miss. the control deck suddenly filled with smoke. a flash fire broke out in the control panel and the circuits sparked and flared. tom was thrown across the room and roger landed on top of him. "up ninety degrees! full starboard thrust!" roared coxine into the intercom. "hurry, you space crawlers! we've got to get out of here!" tom quickly realized that in the smoke and confusion coxine couldn't possibly direct the ship back into the fight. there was only one explanation. he was deserting his fleet and trying to escape. and then, over the noise and confusion, tom could hear the sound of struggling bodies and coxine muttering an oath between his teeth. "i'll break you in two, you blasted space rat!" there were more sounds of struggle, and tom and roger heard astro's voice replying grimly: "do it and then talk about it, big shot!" slowly the smoke cleared from the control deck and tom and roger strained their eyes to see through the thick cloud. there, in front of them, stood astro, torn strands of rope dangling from his arms, in mortal combat with coxine. the two giants were holding each other's wrists, their feet spread wide, legs braced, grimacing faces an inch apart, struggling to throw each other off balance. [illustration: _astro and coxine were locked in mortal combat_] tom and roger watched the two huge spacemen brace against each other, muscles straining and faces turning a slow red as they tried to force the other's hands back. suddenly, with the speed of a cat, coxine stuck out his leg and kicked astro's foot from the deck, tripping him. astro tumbled to the deck. in a flash, the pirate was on top of him, gripping him by the throat. the venusian grabbed at the hands that were slowly choking the life out of him and pulled at the fingers, his face turning slowly from the angry flush of a moment before to the dark-gray hue of impending death! still bound and tied by the heavy rope, the two cadets on the deck were helpless, as astro's strength slipped from his body. tom turned to roger desperately. "we've got to do something!" "what? i can't get loose!" the blond-haired cadet struggled against the ropes until the blood ran down his wrists, but it was a hopeless effort. "yell!" said tom desperately. "yell! make a noise! holler like you've never hollered before!" "yell?" asked roger stupidly. "we've got to distract him!" tom began to bellow, and immediately was echoed by roger. they shouted and screamed. they kicked their feet on the deck and tore against their bonds. astro's hands no longer fought the powerful fingers taking his life. there was no strength in the cadet's hands now, but in the split second that coxine turned to look at tom and roger, he gave a mighty heave with the last of his great strength and tore free of the pirate's grasp. the venusian jumped up and ran to the farthest corner of the control deck, gasping for breath. coxine rushed after him, but astro eluded him and stumbled to the opposite end of the control room, still trying to suck the life-giving breath into his screaming lungs. slowly his strength returned. coxine made another headlong rush for the cadet, but this time astro did not attempt to get away. he stood squarely to meet the charge and his right fist caught the pirate flush on the chin. coxine staggered back, eyes wide with surprise. in an instant astro was on him, pounding his mighty fists into the pirate's stomach and any place he could find an opening. roaring like a wild animal, the cadet no longer fought for the honor of the solar guard or his friends. he didn't look upon the criminal in front of him as coxine the pirate, but as a man who had nearly taken his life, and he fought with the ferocity of a man who wanted to live. again and again, tom and roger saw their unit-mate pound straight, powerful, jolting lefts and rights into the pirate's mid-section until they thought he would put his fist completely through the man's body. just as coxine looked as if he would fall, he suddenly charged in again. but his powerful strength restored, astro stepped back and waited for an opening. coxine threw a whistling right for astro's head. the venusian ducked, shifting his weight slightly, and drove his right squarely into the pirate's face. his eyes suddenly glassy and vacant, bull coxine sank to the deck, out cold. breathing heavily, the cadet turned, wiped his face, and smiled crookedly at tom and roger. "if i ever have to fight another man like that again," gasped astro as he loosened the ropes around his unit-mates, "i want to have both fists dipped in lead before i begin!" he held up his hands. there was not a bit of flesh remaining on his knuckles. as soon as tom was free he grabbed the pirate's paralo-ray gun. "we'd better tie this crawler up!" he shouted. "we'll do that," said roger. "you try to figure out how we're going to get off this ship!" suddenly, behind them, the hatch burst open and captain strong rushed into the room, followed by a dozen armed guardsmen. "captain strong!" yelled the three cadets together. the young captain's face lighted up with a smile. he rushed over to tom and grabbed him by the hand, then turned to where roger and astro were tying up coxine. strong pointed his gun at the fallen pirate. "what happened to him?" roger smiled and nodded toward astro. "coxine told astro he reminded him of an ox he saw at a zoo once on venus. astro got mad--" roger shrugged his shoulders. "poor coxine, he didn't have a chance!" astro blushed and looked up at strong. "never mind us, sir," said the big cadet. "how did you get here!" strong told them of having picked up the beacon signal. "that was quick thinking, boys," he said. "it was the end of coxine. if we hadn't stopped him now--" strong shook his head. "but how did you get aboard the _avenger_, sir?" asked tom. "this was the only ship that wasn't a solar guard fleet vessel, so it was easy to spot. we captured the _polaris_ right off the bat, and after we searched it, figured you three were either dead, or aboard this one. i gave the order not to fire on you, since we wiped out coxine's fleet before he could do any real damage. when we saw you accelerating, after that last near miss--which incidentally was intended to miss you--we came alongside, forced the air lock open, and took over." "but didn't the crew offer any resistance?" asked roger. "no, and from the story they tell me about coxine wanting to establish a new order, or something like that, they were glad to surrender. they think he's crazy." when the enlisted men carried coxine, still unconscious, off the control deck, the three members of the _polaris_ unit and their skipper watched him leave silently. all of them realized how close the solar alliance had come to destruction at the hands of the insane pirate. finally strong turned to his crew of cadets. "well, boys," he said wearily, "we've recovered the adjustable light-key and captured coxine. i guess that finishes the space pirates!" "yes, sir," said tom quietly. "and this sure teaches me a lesson." "what's that?" said strong. "never to think that being a space cadet is a matter of learning something from a story spool. being a space cadet is like being--" he stopped. "like nothing in the universe!" * * * * * the tom corbett space cadet stories by carey rockwell stand by for mars! danger in deep space on the trail of the space pirates the space pioneers the revolt on venus treachery in outer space sabotage in space the robot rocket [transcriber's note: typographic errors have been corrected. this etext was produced from amazing stories march, april and may . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] * * * * * the galaxy primes by e. e. smith they were four of the greatest minds in the universe: two men, two women, lost in an experimental spaceship billions of parsecs from home. and as they mentally charted the cosmos to find their way back to earth, their own loves and hates were as startling as the worlds they encountered. here is e. e. smith's great new novel.... [illustration: the guardian struggled to immobilize the beast's gigantic talons as the frightened girl leaped to the safety of garlock's arms.] chapter her hair was a brilliant green. so was her spectacularly filled halter. so were her tight short-shorts, her lipstick, and the lacquer on her finger-and toe-nails. as she strolled into the main of the starship, followed hesitantly by the other girl, she drove a mental probe at the black-haired, powerfully-built man seated at the instrument-banked console. blocked. then at the other, slenderer man who was rising to his feet from the pilot's bucket seat. his guard was partially down; he was telepathing a pleasant, if somewhat reserved greeting to both newcomers. she turned to her companion and spoke aloud. "so _these_ are the system's best." the emphasis was somewhere between condescension and sneer. "not much to choose between, i'd say ... 'port me a tenth-piece, clee? heads, i take the tow-head." she flipped the coin dexterously. "heads it is, lola, so i get jim--james james james the ninth himself. you have the honor of pairing with clee--or should i say his learnedness right the honorable director doctor cleander simmsworth garlock, doctor of philosophy, doctor of science, prime operator, president and first fellow of the galaxian society, first fellow of the gunther society, fellow of the institute of paraphysics, of the institute of nuclear physics, of the college of mathematics, of the congress of psionicists, and of all the other top-bracket brain-gangs you ever heard of? also, for your information, his men have given him a couple of informal degrees--p.d.q. and s.o.b." * * * the big psionicist's expression of saturnine, almost contemptuous amusement had not changed; his voice came flat and cold. "the less you say, doctor bellamy, the better. obstinate, swell-headed women give me an acute rectal pain. pitching your curves over all the vizzies in space got you aboard, but it won't get you a thing from here on. and for your information, doctor bellamy, one more crack like that and i take you over my knee and blister your fanny." "try it, you big, clumsy, muscle-bound gorilla!" she jeered. "_that_ i want to see! any time you want to get both arms broken at the elbows, just try it!" "now's as good a time as any. i like your spirit, babe, but i can't say a thing for your judgment." he got up and started purposefully toward her, but both non-combatants came between. "jet back, clee!" james protested, both hands against the heavier man's chest. "what the hell kind of show is _that_ to put on?" and, simultaneously: "belle! shame on you! picking a fight already, and with nobody knows how many million people looking on! you know as well as i do that we may have to spend the rest of our lives together, so act like civilized beings--please--both of you! and don't...." "nobody's watching this but us," garlock interrupted. "when pussy there started using her claws i cut the gun." "that's what _you_ think," james said sharply, "but fatso and his number one girl friend are coming in on the tight beam." "oh?" garlock whirled toward the hitherto dark and silent three-dimensional communications instrument. the face of a bossy-looking woman was already bright. "garlock! how _dare_ you try to cut chancellor ferber off?" she demanded. her voice was deep-pitched, blatant with authority. "here you are, sir." the woman's face shifted to one side and a man's appeared--a face to justify in full the nickname "fatso." "'fatso', eh?" chancellor ferber snarled. pale eyes glared from the fat face. "that costs you exactly one thousand credits, james." "how much will this cost me, fatso?" garlock asked. "five thousand--and, since nobody can call me that deliberately, demotion three grades and probation for three years. make a note, miss foster." "noted, sir." "still sure we aren't going anywhere," garlock said. "_what_ a brain!" "sure i'm sure!" ferber gloated. "in a couple of hours i'm going to buy your precious starship in as junk. in the meantime, whether you like it or not, i'm going to watch your expression while you push all those pretty buttons and nothing happens." "the trouble with you, fatso," garlock said dispassionately, as he opened a drawer and took out a pair of cutting pliers, "is that all your strength is in your glands and none in your alleged brain. there are a lot of things--including a lot of tests--you know nothing about. how much will you see after i've cut one wire?" "you wouldn't dare!" the fat man shouted. "i'd fire you--blacklist you all over the sys...." voice and images died away and garlock turned to the two women in the main. he began to smile, but his mental shield did not weaken. "you've got a point there, lola," he said, going on as though ferber's interruption had not occurred. "not that i blame either belle or myself. if anything was ever calculated to drive a man nuts, this farce was. as the only female prime in the system, belle should have been in automatically--she had no competition. and to anybody with three brain cells working the other place lay between you, lola, and the other three female ops in the age group. "but no. ferber and the rest of the board--stupidity _uber alles_!--think all us ops and primes are psycho and that the ship will never even lift. so they made a grand circus of it. but they succeeded in one thing--with such abysmal stupidity so rampant i'm getting more and more reconciled to the idea of our not getting back--at least, for a long, long time." "why, they said we had a very good chance...." lola began. "yeah, and they said a lot of even bigger damn lies than that one. have you read any of my papers?" "i'm sorry. i'm not a mathematician." "our motion will be purely at random. if it isn't, i'll eat this whole ship. we won't get back until jim and i work out something to steer us with. but they must be wondering no end, outside, what the score is, so i'm willing to call it a draw--temporarily--and let 'em in again. how about it, belle?" "a draw it is--temporarily." neither, however, even offered to shake hands. "smile pretty, everybody," garlock said, and pressed a stud. "... the matter? what's the matter? oh...." the worried voice of the system's ace newscaster came in. "power failure _already_?" "no," garlock replied. "i figured we had a couple of minutes of privacy coming, if you can understand the meaning of the word. now all four of us tell everybody who is watching or listening _au revoir_ or good-bye, whichever it may turn out to be." he reached for the switch. "wait a minute!" the newscaster demanded. "leave it on until the last poss...." his voice broke off sharply. "turn it back on!" belle ordered. "nix." "scared?" she sneered. "you chirped it, bird-brain. i'm scared purple. so would you be, if you had three brain cells working in that glory-hound's head of yours. get set, everybody, and we'll take off." "stop it, both of you!" lola exclaimed. "where do you want us to sit, and do we strap down?" "you sit here; belle at that plate beside jim. yes, strap down. there probably won't be any shock, and we should land right side up, but there's no sense in taking chances. sure your stuff's all aboard?" "yes, it's in our rooms." the four secured themselves; the two men checked, for the dozenth time, their instruments. the pilot donned his scanner. the ship lifted effortlessly, noiselessly. through the atmosphere; through and far beyond the stratosphere. it stopped. "ready, clee?" james licked his lips. "as ready as i ever will be, i guess. shoot!" the pilot's right hand, forefinger outstretched, moved unenthusiastically toward a red button on his panel ... slowed ... stopped. he stared into his scanner at the earth so far below. "hit it, jim!" garlock snapped. "_hit_ it, for goodness sake, before we _all_ lose our nerve!" james stabbed convulsively at the button, and in the very instant of contact--instantaneously; without a fractional microsecond of time-lapse--their familiar surroundings disappeared. or, rather, and without any sensation of motion, of displacement, or of the passage of any time whatsoever, the planet beneath them was no longer their familiar earth. the plates showed no familiar stars nor patterns of heavenly bodies. the brightly-shining sun was very evidently not their familiar sol. "well--we went _somewhere_ ... but not to alpha centauri, not much to our surprise." james gulped twice; then went on, speaking almost jauntily now that the attempt had been made and had failed. "so now it's up to you, clee, as director of project gunther and captain of the good ship _pleiades_, to boss the more-or-less simple--more, i hope--job of getting us back to tellus." * * * science, both physical and paraphysical, had done its best. gunther's theorems, which define the electromagnetic and electrogravitic parameters pertaining to the annihilation of distance, had been studied, tested, and applied to the full. so had the psionic corollaries; which, while not having the status of paraphysical laws, do allow computation of the qualities and magnitudes of the stresses required for any given application of the gunther effect. the planning of the starship _pleiades_ had been difficult in the extreme; its construction almost impossible. while it was practically a foregone conclusion that any man of the requisite caliber would already be a member of the galaxian society, the three planets and eight satellites were screened, psionicist by psionicist, to select the two strongest and most versatile of their breed. these two, garlock and james, were heads of departments of, and under iron-clad contract to, vast solar system enterprises, inc., the only concern able and willing to attempt the building of the first starship. alonzo p. ferber, chancellor of sse, however, would not risk a tenth-piece of the company's money on such a bird-brained scheme. himself a gunther first, he believed implicitly that firsts were in fact tops in gunther ability; that these few self-styled "operators" and "prime operators" were either charlatans or self-deluded crackpots. since he could not feel that so-called "operator field," no such thing did or could exist. no gunther starship could ever, possibly, work. he did loan garlock and james to the galaxians, but that was as far as he would go. for salaries and for labor, for research and material, for trials and for errors; the society paid and paid and paid. thus the starship _pleiades_ had cost the galaxian society almost a thousand million credits. garlock and james had worked on the ship since its inception. they were to be of the crew; for over a year it had been taken for granted that would be its only crew. * * * as the _pleiades_ neared completion, however, it became clearer and clearer that the displacement-control presented an unsolved, and quite possibly an insoluble, problem. it was mathematically certain that, when the gunther field went on, the ship would be displaced instantaneously to some location in space having precisely the gunther coordinates required by that particular field. one impeccably rigorous analysis showed that the ship would shift into the nearest solar system possessing an earth-type planet; which was believed to be alpha centauri and which was close enough to sol so that orientation would be automatic and the return to earth a simple matter. since the gunther effect did in fact annihilate distance, however, another group of mathematicians, led by garlock and james, proved with equal rigor that the point of destination was no more likely to be any one given gunther point than any other one of the myriads of billions of equiguntherial points undoubtedly existent throughout the length, breadth, and thickness of our entire normal space-time continuum. the two men would go anyway, of course. carefully-calculated pressures would make them go. it was neither necessary nor desirable, however, for them to go alone. wherefore the planets and satellites were combed again; this time to select two women--the two most highly-gifted psionicists in the eighteen-to-twenty-five age group. thus, if the _pleiades_ returned successfully to earth, well and good. if she did not, the four selectees would found, upon some far-off world, a race much abler than the humanity of earth; since eighty-three percent of earth's dwellers had psionic grades lower than four. this search, with its attendant fanfare and studiedly blatant publicity, was so planned and engineered that two selected women did not arrive at the spaceport until a bare fifteen minutes before the scheduled time of take-off. thus it made no difference whether the women liked the men or not, or vice versa; or whether or not any of them really wanted to make the trip. pressures were such that each of them had to go, whether he or she wanted to or not. * * * "cut the rope, jim, and let the old bucket drop," garlock said. "not too close. before we make any kind of contact we'll have to do some organizing. these instruments," he waved at his console, "show that ours is the only operator field in this whole region of space. hence, there are no operators and no primes. that means that from now until we get back to tellus...." "_if_ we get back to tellus," belle corrected, sweetly. "_until_ we get back to tellus there will be no gunthering aboard this ship...." "_what?_" belle broke in again. "have you lost your mind?" "there will be little if any lepping, and nothing else at all. at the table, if we want sugar, we will reach for it or have it passed. we will pick up things, such as cigarettes, with our fingers. we will carry lighters and use them. when we go from place to place, we will walk. is that clear?" "you seem to be talking english," belle sneered, "but the words don't make sense." "i didn't think you were that stupid." eyes locked and held. then garlock grinned savagely. "okay. you tell her, lola, in words of as few syllables as possible." "why, to get used to it, of course," lola explained, while belle glared at garlock in frustrated anger. "so as not to reveal anything we don't have to." "thank you, miss montandon, you may go to the head of the class. all monosyllables except two. that should make it clear, even to miss bellamy." "you ... you _beast_!" belle drove a tight-beamed thought. "i was never so insulted in my life!" "you asked for it. keep on asking for it and you'll keep on getting it." then, aloud, to all three, "in emergencies, of course, anything goes. we will now proceed with business." he paused, then went on, bitingly, "if possible." "one minute, please!" belle snapped. "just why, captain garlock, are you insisting on oral communication, when lepping is so much faster and better? it's stupid--reactionary. don't you ever lep?" "with jim, on business, yes; with women, no more than i have to. what i think is nobody's business but mine." "what a way to run a ship! or a project!" "running this project is my business, not yours; and if there's any one thing in the entire universe it does _not_ need, it's a female exhibitionist. besides your obvious qualifications to be one of the eves in case of ultimate contingency...." he broke off and stared at her, his contemptuous gaze traveling slowly, dissectingly, from her toes to the topmost wave of her hair-do. "forty-two, twenty, forty?" he sneered. "you flatter me." her glare was an almost tangible force; her voice was controlled fury. "thirty-nine, twenty-two, thirty-five. five seven. one thirty-five. if any of it's any of your business, which it isn't. you should be discussing brains and ability, not vital statistics." "brains? you? no, i'll take that back. as a prime, you _have_ got a brain--one that really works. what do _you_ think you're good for on this project? what can you do?" "i can do anything any man ever born can do, and do it better!" "okay. compute a gunther field that will put us two hundred thousand feet directly above the peak of that mountain." "that isn't fair--not that i expected fairness from you--and you know it. that doesn't take either brains or ability...." "oh, no?" "no. merely highly specialized training that you know i haven't had. give me a five-tape course on it and i'll come closer than either you or james; for a hundred credits a shot." "i'll do just that. something you _are_ supposed to know, then. how would you go about making first contact?" * * * "well, i wouldn't do it the way _you_ would--by knocking down the first native i saw, putting my foot on his face, and yelling 'bow down, you stupid, ignorant beasts, and worship me, the supreme god of the macrocosmic universe'!" "try again, belle, that one missed me by...." "hold it, both of you!" james broke in. "what the hell are you trying to prove? how about cutting out this cat-and-dog act and getting some work done?" "you've got a point there," garlock admitted, holding his temper by a visible effort. "sorry, jim. belle, what were you briefed for?" "to understudy you." she, too, fought her temper down. "to learn everything about project gunther. i have a whole box of tapes in my room, including advanced gunther math and first-contact techniques. i'm to study them during all my on-watch time unless you assign other duties." "no matter what your duties may be, you'll have to have time to study. if you don't find what you want in your own tapes--and you probably won't, since ferber and his miss foster ran the selections--use our library. it's good--designed to carry on our civilization. miss montandon? no, that's silly, the way we're fixed. lola?" "i'm to learn how to be doctor james'...." "jim, please, lola," james said. "and call him clee." "i'd like that." she smiled winningly. "and my friends call me 'brownie'." "i see why they would. it fits like a coat of lacquer." * * * it did. her hair was a dark, lustrous brown, as were her eyebrows. her eyes were brown. her skin, too--her dark red playsuit left little to the imagination--was a rich and even brown. originally fairly dark, it had been tanned to a more-than-fashionable depth of color by naked sun-bathing and by practically-naked outdoor sports. a couple of inches shorter than the green-haired girl, she too had a figure to make any sculptor drool. "i'm to be dr. jim's assistant. i have a thousand tapes, more or less, to study, too. it'll be quite a while, i'm afraid, before i can be of much use, but i'll do the best i can." "if we had hit alpha centauri that arrangement would have been good, but as we are, it isn't." garlock frowned in thought, his heavy black eyebrows almost meeting above his finely-chiseled aquiline nose. "since neither jim nor i need an assistant any more than we need tails, it was designed to give you girls something to do. but out here, lost, there's work for a dozen trained specialists and there are only four of us. so we shouldn't duplicate effort. right? you first, belle." "are you asking me or telling me?" she asked. "and that's a fair question. don't read anything into it that isn't there. with your attitude, i want information." "i am asking you," he replied, carefully. "for your information, when i know what should be done, i give orders. when i don't know, as now, i ask advice. if i like it, i follow it. fair enough?" "fair enough. we're apt to need any number of specialists." "lola?" "of course we shouldn't duplicate. what shall i study?" "that's what we must figure out. we can't do it exactly, of course; all we can do now is to set up a rough scheme. jim's job is the only one that's definite. he'll have to work full time on nebular configurations. if we hit inhabited planets he'll have to add their star-charts to his own. that leaves three of us to do all the other work of a survey. ideally, we would cover all the factors that would be of use in getting us back to tellus, but since we don't know what those factors are.... found out anything yet, jim?" "a little. tellus-type planet, apparently strictly so. oceans and continents. lots of inhabitants--farms, villages, all sizes of cities. not close enough to say definitely, but inhabitants seem to be humanoid, if not human." "hold her here. besides astronomy, which is all yours, what do we need most?" "we should have enough to classify planets and inhabitants, so as to chart a space-trend if there is any. i'd say the most important ones would be geology, stratigraphy, paleontology, oceanography, xenology, anthropology, ethnology, vertebrate biology, botany, and at least some ecology." "that's about the list i was afraid of. but there are only three of us. the fields you mention number much more." "each of you will have to be a lot of specialists in one, then. i'd say the best split would be planetology, xenology, and anthropology--each, of course, stretched all out of shape to cover dozens of related and non-related specialties." "good enough. xenology, of course, is mine. contacts, liaison, politics, correlation, and so on, as well as studying the non-human life forms--including as many lower animals and plants as possible. i'll make a stab at it. now, belle, since you're a prime and lola's an operator, you get the next toughest job. planetography." "why not?" belle smiled and began to act as one of the party. "all i know about it is a hazy idea of what the word means, but i'll start studying as soon as we get squared away." "thanks. that leaves anthropology to you, lola. besides, that's your line, isn't it?" "yes. sociological anthropology. i have my m.s. in it, and am--was, i mean--working for my ph.d. but as jim said, it isn't only the one specialty. you want me, i take it, to cover humanoid races, too?" "check. you and jim both, then, will know what you're doing, while belle and i are trying to play ours by ear." "where do we draw the line between humanoid and non-human?" "in case of doubt we'll confer. that covers it as much as we can, i think. take us down, jim--and be on your toes to take evasive action fast." * * * the ship dropped rapidly toward an airport just outside a fairly large city. fifty thousand--forty thousand--thirty thousand feet. "calling strange spaceship--you must be a spaceship, in spite of your tremendous, hitherto-considered-impossible mass--" a thought impinged on all four tellurian minds, "do you read me?" "i read you clearly. this is the tellurian spaceship _pleiades_, captain garlock commanding, asking permission to land and information as to landing conventions." he did not have to tell james to stop the ship; james had already done so. "i was about to ask you to hold position; i thank you for having done so. hold for inspection and type-test, please. we will not blast unless you fire first. a few minutes, please." * * * a group of twelve jet fighters took off practically vertically upward and climbed with fantastic speed. they leveled off a thousand feet below the _pleiades_ and made a flying circle. up and into the ring thus formed there lumbered a large, clumsy-looking helicopter. "we have no record of any planet named 'tellus'; nor of any such ship as yours. of such incredible mass and with no visible or detectable means of support or of propulsion. not from this part of the galaxy, certainly ... could it be that intergalactic travel is actually possible? but excuse me, captain garlock, none of that is any of my business; which is to determine whether or not you four tellurian human beings are compatible with, and thus acceptable to, our humanity of hodell ... but you do not seem to have a standard televideo testing-box aboard." "no, sir; only our own tri-di and teevee." "you must be examined by means of a standard box. i will rise to your level and teleport one across to you. it is self-powered and fully automatic." "you needn't rise, sir. just toss the box out of your 'copter into the air. we'll take it from there." then, to james, "take it, jim." "oh? you can lift large masses against much gravity?" the alien was all attention. "i have not known that such power existed. i will observe with keen interest." "i have it," james said. "here it is." "thank you, sir," garlock said to the alien. then, to lola: "you've been reading these--these hodellians?" "the officer in the helicopter and those in the fighters, yes. most of them are gunther firsts." "good girl. the set's coming to life--watch it." the likeness of the alien being became clear upon the alien screen; visible from the waist up. while humanoid, the creature was very far indeed from being human. he--at least, it had masculine rudimentary nipples--had double shoulders and four arms. his skin was a vividly intense cobalt blue. his ears were black, long, and highly dirigible. his eyes, a flaming red in color, were large and vertically-slitted, like a cat's. he had no hair at all. his nose was large and roman; his jaw was square, almost jutting; his bright-yellow teeth were clean and sharp. after a minute of study the alien said: "although your vessel is so entirely alien that nothing even remotely like it is on record, you four are completely human and, if of compatible type, acceptable. are there any other living beings aboard with you?" "excepting micro-organisms, none." "such life is of no importance. approach, please, one of you, and grasp with a hand the projecting metal knob." with a little trepidation, garlock did so. he felt no unusual sensation at the contact. "all four of you are compatible and we accept you. this finding is surprising in the extreme, as you are the first human beings of record who grade higher than what you call gunther two ... or gunther second?" "either one; the terms are interchangeable." "you have minds of tremendous development and power; definitely superior even to my own. however, there is no doubt that physically you are perfectly compatible with our humanity. your blood will be of great benefit to it. you may land. goodbye." "wait, please. how about landing conventions? and visiting restrictions and so on? and may we keep this box? we will be glad to trade you something for it, if we have anything you would like to have?" "ah, i should have realized that your customs would be widely different from ours. since you have been examined and accepted, there are no restrictions. you will not act against humanity's good. land where you please, go where you please, do what you please as long as you please. take up permanent residence or leave as soon as you please. marry if you like, or simply breed--your unions with this planet's humanity will be fertile. keep the box without payment. as guardians of humanity we arpalones do whatever small favors we can. have i made myself clear?" "abundantly so. thank you, sir." "now i really must go. goodbye." garlock glanced into his plate. the jets had disappeared, the helicopter was falling rapidly away. he wiped his brow. "well, i'll be damned," he said. * * * when his amazement subsided he turned to the business at hand. "lola, do you check me that this planet is named hodell, that it is populated by creatures exactly like us? arpalones?" "exactly, except they aren't 'creatures'. they are humanoids, and very fine people." "you'd think so, of course ... correction accepted. well, let's take advantage of their extraordinarily hospitable invitation and go down. cut the rope, jim." * * * the airport was very large, and was divided into several sections, each of which was equipped with runways and/or other landing facilities to suit one class of craft--propellor jobs, jets, or helicopters. there were even a few structures that looked like rocket pits. "where are you going to sit down, jim? with the 'copters or over by the blast-pits?" "with the 'copters, i think. since i can place her to within a couple of inches. i'll put her squarely into that far corner, where she'll be out of everybody's way." "no concrete out there," garlock said. "but the ground seems good and solid." "we'd better not land on concrete," james grinned. "unless it's terrific stuff we'd smash it. on bare ground, the worst we can do is sink in a foot or so, and that won't hurt anything." "check. a few tons to the square foot, is all. shall we strap down and hang onto our teeth?" "who do you think you're kidding, boss? even though i've got to do this on manual, i won't tip over a half-piece standing on edge." james stopped talking, pulled out his scanner, stuck his face into it. the immense starship settled downward toward the selected corner. there was no noise, no blast, no flame, no slightest visible or detectable sign of whatever force it was that was braking the thousands of tons of the vessel's mass in its miles-long, almost-vertical plunge to ground. when the _pleiades_ struck ground the impact was scarcely to be felt. when she came to rest, after settling into the ground her allotted "foot or so," there was no jar at all. "atmosphere, temperature, and so on, approximately earth-normal," garlock said. "just as our friend said it would be." james scanned the city and the field. "our visit is kicking up a lot of excitement. shall we go out?" "not yet!" belle exclaimed. "i want to see how the women are dressed, first." "so do i," lola added, "and some other things besides." both women--lola through her operator's scanner; belle by manipulating the ship's tremendous operator field by the sheer power of her prime operator's mind--stared eagerly at the crowd of people now beginning to stream across the field. "as an anthropologist," lola announced, "i'm not only surprised. i am shocked, annoyed, and disgruntled. why, they're _exactly_ like white tellurian human beings!" "but _look_ at their _clothes_!" belle insisted. "they're wearing anything and everything, from bikinis to coveralls!" "yes, but notice." this was the anthropological scientist speaking now. "breasts and loins, covered. faces, uncovered. heads and feet and hands, either bare or covered. ditto for legs up to there, backs, arms, necks and shoulders down to here, and torsos clear down to there. we'll not violate any conventions by going out as we are. not even you, belle. you first, chief. yours the high honor of setting first foot--the biggest foot we've got, too--on alien soil." "to hell with that. we'll go out together." "wait a minute," lola went on. "there's a funny-looking automobile just coming through the gate. the press. three men and two women. two cameras, one walkie-talkie, and two microphones. the photog in the purple shirt is really a sharpie at lepping. class three, at least--possibly a two." "how about screens down enough to lep, boss?" belle suggested. "faster. we may need it." "check. i'm too busy to record, anyway--i'll log this stuff up tonight," and thoughts flew. "check me, jim," garlock flashed. "telepathy, very good. on gunther, the guy was right--no signs at all of any first activity, and very few seconds." "check," james agreed. "and lola, those 'guardians' out there. i thought they were the same as the arpalone we talked to. they aren't. not even telepathic. same color scheme, is all." "right. much more brutish. much flatter cranium. long, tearing canine teeth. carnivorous. i'll call them just 'guardians' until we find out what they really are." * * * the press car arrived and the tellurians disembarked--and, accidentally or not, it was belle's green slipper that first touched ground. there was a terrific babel of thought, worse, even, than voices in similar case, in being so much faster. the reporters, all of them, wanted to know everything at once. how, what, where, when, and why. also who. and all about tellus and the tellurian solar system. how did the visitors like hodell? and all about belle's green hair. and the photographers were prodigal of film, shooting everything from all possible angles. "hold it!" garlock loosed a blast of thought that "silenced" almost the whole field. "we will have order, please. lola montandon, our anthropologist, will take charge. keep it orderly, lola, if you have to throw half of them off the field. i'm going over to administration and check in. one of you reporters can come with me, if you like." the man in the purple shirt got his bid in first. as the two men walked away together, garlock noted that the man was in fact a second--his flow of lucid, cogent thought did not interfere at all with the steady stream of speech going into his portable recorder. garlock also noticed that in any group of more than a dozen people there was always at least one guardian. they paid no attention whatever to the people, who in turn ignored them completely. garlock wondered briefly. guardians? the arpalones, out in space, yes. but these creatures, naked and unarmed on the ground? the arpalones were non-human people. these things were--what? at the door of the field office the reporter, after turning garlock over to a startlingly beautiful, leggy, breasty, blonde receptionist-usherette, hurried away. * * * he flecked a feeler at her mind and stiffened. how could a two--a high two, at that--be working as an usher? and with her guard down clear to the floor? he probed--and saw. "lola!" he flashed a tight-beamed thought. "you aren't putting out anything about our sexual customs, family life, and so on." "of course not. we must know their mores first." "good girl. keep your shield up." "oh, we're so glad to see you, captain garlock, sir!" the blonde, who was dressed little more heavily than the cigarette girls in venusberg's cartier room, seized his left hand in both of hers and held it considerably longer than was necessary. her dazzling smile, her laughing eyes, her flashing white teeth, the many exposed inches of her skin, and her completely unshielded mind; all waved banners of welcome. "captain garlock, sir, governor atterlin has been most anxious to see you ever since you were first detected. this way, please, sir." she turned, brushing her bare hip against his leg in the process, and led him by the hand along a hallway. her thoughts flowed. "i have been, too, sir, and i'm simply delighted to see you close up, and i hope to see a lot more of you. you're a wonderfully pleasant surprise, sir; i've never seen a man like you before. i don't think hodell ever saw a man like you before, sir. with such a really terrific mind and yet so big and strong and well-built and handsome and clean-looking and blackish. you're wonderful, captain garlock, sir. you'll be here a long time, i hope? here we are, sir." she opened a door, walked across the room, sat down in an overstuffed chair, and crossed her legs meticulously. then, still smiling happily, she followed with eager eyes and mind garlock's every move. garlock had been reading governor atterlin; knew why it was the governor who was in that office instead of the port manager. he knew that atterlin had been reading him--as much as he had allowed. they had already discussed many things, and were still discussing. the room was much more like a library than an office. the governor, a middle-aged, red-headed man a trifle inclined to portliness, had been seated in a huge reclining chair facing a teevee screen, but got up to shake hands. "welcome, friend captain garlock. now, to continue. as to exchange. many ships visiting us have nothing we need or can use. for such, all services are free--or rather, are paid by the city. our currency is based upon platinum, but gold, silver, and copper are valuable. certain jewels, also...." "that's far enough. we will pay our way--we have plenty of metal. what are your ratios of value for the four metals here on hodell?" "today's quotations are...." he glanced at a screen, and his fingers flashed over the keys of a computer beside his chair. "one weight of platinum is equal in value to seven point three four six...." "decimals are not necessary, sir." "seven plus, then, weights of gold. one of gold to eleven of silver. one of silver to four of copper." "thank you. we'll use platinum. i'll bring some bullion tomorrow morning and exchange it for your currency. shall i bring it here, or to a bank in the city?" "either. or we can have an armored truck visit your ship." "that would be better yet. have them bring about five thousand tanes. thank you very much, governor atterlin, and good afternoon to you, sir." "and good afternoon to you, sir. until tomorrow, then." garlock turned to leave. "oh, may i go with you to your ship, sir, to take just a little look at it?" the girl asked, winningly. "of course, grand lady neldine, i'd like to have your company." she seized his elbow and hugged it quickly against her breast. then, taking his hand, she walked--almost skipped--along beside him. "and i want to see pilot james close up, too, sir--he's not nearly as wonderful as you are, sir--and i wonder why planetographer bellamy's hair is green? very striking, of course, sir, but i don't think i'd care for it much on me--unless you'd think i should, sir?" * * * belle knew, of course, that they were coming; and garlock knew that belle's hackles were very much on the rise. she could not read him, except very superficially, but she was reading the strange girl like a book and was not liking anything she read. wherefore, when garlock and his joyous companion reached the great spaceship-- "how come you picked up _that_ little man-eating shark?" she sent, venomously, on a tight band. "it wasn't a case of picking her up." garlock grinned. "i haven't been able to find any urbane way of scraping her off. first contact, you know." "she wants altogether too much contact for a first--i'll scrape her off, even if she is one of the nobler class on this world...." belle changed her tactics even before garlock began his reprimand. "i shouldn't have said that, clee, of course." she laughed lightly. "it was just the shock; there wasn't anything in any of my first contact tapes covering what to do about beautiful and enticing girls who try to seduce our men. she doesn't know, though, of course, that she's supposed to be a bug-eyed monster and not human at all. won't xenology be in for a rough ride when we check in? wow!" "you can play _that_ in spades, sister." and for the rest of the day belle played flawlessly the role of perfect hostess. it was full dark before the hodellians could be persuaded to leave the _pleiades_ and the locks were closed. * * * "i have refused one hundred seventy-eight invitations," lola reported then. "all of us, individually and collectively, have been invited to eat everything, everywhere in town. to see shows in a dozen different theaters and eighteen night spots. to dance all night in twenty-one different places, ranging from dives to strictly soup-and-fish. i was nice about it, of course--just begged off because we were dead from our belts both ways from our long, hard trip. my thought, of course, is that we'd better eat our own food and take it slowly at first. check, clee?" "on the beam, dead center. and you weren't lying much, either. i feel as though i'd done a day's work. after supper there's a thing i've got to discuss with all three of you." supper was soon over. then: "we've got to make a mighty important decision," garlock began, abruptly. "grand lady neldine--that title isn't exact, but close--wondered why i didn't respond at all, either way. however, she didn't make a point of it, and i let her wonder; but we'll have to decide by tomorrow morning what to do, and it'll have to be airtight. these hodellians expect jim and me to impregnate as many as possible of their highest-rated women before we leave. by their code it's mandatory, since we can't hide the fact that we rate much higher than they do--their highest rating is only grade two by our standards--and all the planets hereabouts up-grade themselves with the highest-grade new blood they can find. ordinarily, they'd expect you two girls to become pregnant by your choices of the top men of the planet; but they know you wouldn't breed down and don't expect you to. but how in all hell can jim and i refuse to breed them up without dealing out the deadliest insult they know?" there was a minute of silence. "we can't," james said then. a grin began to spread over his face. "it might not be too bad an idea, at that, come to think of it. that ball of fire they picked out for you would be a blue-ribbon dish in anybody's cook-book. and grand lady lemphi--" he kissed the tips of two fingers and waved them in the air. "strictly big league material; in capital letters." "is that nice, you back-alley tomcat?" belle asked, plaintively; then paused in thought and went on slowly, "i won't pretend to like it, but i won't do any public screaming about it." "any anthropologist would say you'll have to," lola declared without hesitation. "i don't like it, either. i think it's horrible; but it's excellent genetics and we cannot and must not violate systems-wide mores." "you're all missing the point!" garlock snapped. he got up, jammed his hands into his pockets, and began to pace the floor. "i didn't think any one of you was _that_ stupid! if _that_ was all there were to it we'd do it as a matter of course. but _think_, damn it! there's nothing higher than gunther two in the humanity of this planet. telepathy is the only esp they have. high gunther uses hitherto unused portions of the brain. it's transmitted through genes, which are dominant, cumulative, and self-multiplying by interaction. jim and i carry more, stronger, and higher gunther genes than any other two men known to live. can we--_dare_ we--plant such genes where none have ever been known before?" two full minutes of silence. "that one has _really_ got a bone in it," james said, unhelpfully. * * * three minutes more of silence. "it's up to you, lola," garlock said then. "it's your field." "i was afraid of that. there's a way. personally, i like it less even than the other, but it's the only one i've been able to think up. first, are you absolutely sure that our refusal--belle's and mine, i mean--to breed down will be valid with them?" "positive." "then the whole society from which we come will have to be strictly monogamous, in the narrowest, most literal sense of the term. no exceptions whatever. adultery, anything illicit, has always been not only unimaginable, but in fact impossible. we pair--or marry, or whatever they do here--once only. for life. desire and potency can exist only within the pair; never outside it. like eagles. if a man's wife dies, even, he loses all desire and all potency. that would make it physically impossible for you two to follow the hodellian code. you'd both be completely impotent with any women whatever except your mates--belle and me." "that will work," belle said. "_how_ it will work!" she paused. then, suddenly, she whistled; the loud, full-bodied, ear-piercing, tongue-and-teeth whistle which so few women ever master. her eyes sparkled and she began to laugh with unrestrained glee. "but do you know what you've done, lola?" "nothing, except to suggest a solution. what's so funny about that?" "you're wonderful, lola--simply priceless! you've created something brand-new to science--an impotent tomcat! and the more i think about it...." belle was rocking back and forth with laughter. she could not possibly talk, but her thought flowed on, "i just love you all to pieces! an _impotent tomcat_, and he'll _have_ to stay true to me--oh, this is simply _killing_ me--i'll _never_ live through it!" "it _does_ put us on the spot--especially jim," came garlock's thought. * * * he, too, began to laugh; and lola, as soon as she stopped thinking about the thing only as a problem in anthropology, joined in. james, however, did not think it was very funny. "and that's less than half of it!" belle went on, still unable to talk. "think of clee, lola. six two--over two hundred--hard as nails--a perfect hunk of hard red meat--telling this whole damn cockeyed region of space that he's impotent, too! and with a perfectly straight face! and it ties in so _beautifully_ with his making no response, yes or no, when she propositioned him. the poor, innocent, impotent lamb just simply didn't have even the faintest inkling of what she meant! oh, my...." "listen--_listen_--_listen_!" james managed finally to break in. "not that i want to be promiscuous, but...." "there, there, my precious little impotent tomcat," belle soothed him aloud, between giggles and snorts. "us earth-girls will take care of our lover-boys, see if we don't. you won't need any nasty little...." belle could not hold the pose, but went off again into whoops of laughter. "_what_ a brain you've got, lola! i thought i could imagine _anything_, but to make these two guys of ours--the two absolute tops of the whole solar system--it's a stroke of genius...." "shut up, will you, you human hyena, and _listen_!" james roared aloud. "there ought to be _some_ better way than that." "better? than sheer perfection?" belle was still laughing but could now talk coherently. "if you can think of another way, jim, the meeting is still open." garlock was wiping his eyes. "but it'll have to be a dilly. i'm not exactly enamored of lola's idea, either, but as the answer it's one hundred percent to as many decimal places as you want to take time to write zeroes." there was more talk, but no improvement could be made upon lola's idea. "well, we've got until morning," garlock said, finally. "if anybody comes up with anything by then, let me know. if not, it goes into effect the minute we open the locks. the meeting is adjourned." * * * belle and james left the room; and, a few minutes later, garlock went out. lola followed him into his room and closed the door behind her. she sat down on the edge of a chair, lighted a cigarette, and began to smoke in short, nervous puffs. she opened her mouth to say something, but shut it without making a sound. "you're afraid of me, lola?" he asked, quietly. "oh, i don't.... well, that is...." she wouldn't lie, and she wouldn't admit the truth. "you see, i've never ... i mean, i haven't had very much experience." "you needn't be afraid of me at all. i'm not going to pair with you." "you're not?" her mouth dropped open and the cigarette fell out of it. she took a few seconds to recover it. "why not? don't you think i could do a good enough job?" she stood up and stretched, to show her splendid figure to its best advantage. garlock laughed. "nothing like that, lola; you have plenty of sex appeal. it's just that i don't like the conditions. i never have paired. i never have had much to do with women, and that little has been urbane, logical, and strictly _en passant_; on the level of mutual physical desire. thus, i have never taken a virgin. pairing with one is very definitely not my idea of urbanity and there's altogether too much obligation to suit me. for all of which good reasons i am not going to pair with you, now or ever." "how do you know whether i'm a virgin or not? you've never read me that deep. nobody can. not even you, unless i let you." "reading isn't necessary--you flaunt it like a banner." "i don't know what you mean.... i certainly don't do it intentionally. but i ought to pair with you, clee!" lola had lost all of her nervousness, most of her fear. "it's part of the job i was chosen for. if i'd known, i'd've gone out and got some experience. really i would have." "i believe that. i think you would have been silly enough to have done just that. and you have a very high regard for your virginity, too, don't you?" "well, i ... i used to. but we'd better go ahead with it. i've _got_ to." "no such thing. permissible, but not obligatory." "but it was assumed. as a matter of course. anyway ... well, when that girl started making passes at you, i thought you could have just as much fun, or even more--she's charming; a real darling, isn't she?--without pairing with me, and then i had to open my big mouth and be the one to keep you from playing games with _anyone except_ me, and i certainly am not going to let you suffer...." "bunk!" garlock snorted. "sheer flapdoodle! pure psychological prop-wash, started and maintained by men who are either too weak to direct and control their drives or who haven't any real work to occupy their minds. it applies to many men, of course, possibly to most. it does not, however, apply to all, and, it lacks one whole hell of a lot of applying to me. does that make you feel better?" "oh, it does ... it does. thanks, clee. you know, i like you, a lot." "do you? kiss me." she did so. "see?" "you _tricked_ me!" * * * "i did not. i want you to see the truth and face it. your idealism is admirable, permanent, and shatter-proof; but your starry-eyed schoolgirl's mawkishness is none of the three. you'll have to grow up, some day. in my opinion, forcing yourself to give up one of your hardest-held ideals--virginity--merely because of the utter bilge that those idiot head-shrinkers stuffed you with, is sheer, plain idiocy. i suppose that makes you like me even less, but i'm laying it right on the line." "no ... more. i'll argue with you, when we have time, about some of your points, but the last one--if it's valid--has tremendous force. i didn't know men felt that way. but no matter what my feeling for you really is, i'm really grateful to you for the reprieve ... and you know, clee, i'm pretty sure you're going to get us back home. if anyone can, you can." "i'm going to try to. even if i can't, it will be belle, not you, that i'll take for the long pull. and not because you'd rather have jim--which you would, of course...." "to be honest, i think i would." "certainly. he's your type. you're not mine; belle is. well, that buttons it up, brownie, except for one thing. to jim and belle and everyone else, we're paired." "of course. urbanity, as well as to present a united front to any and all worlds." "check. so watch your shield." "i always do. that stuff is 'way, 'way down. i'm awfully glad you called me 'brownie,' clee. i didn't think you ever would." "i didn't expect to--but i never talked to a woman this way before, either. maybe it had a mellowing effect." "you don't _need_ mellowing--i do like you a lot, just exactly as you are." "if true, i'm very glad of it. but don't strain yourself; and i mean that literally, not as sarcasm." "i know. i'm not straining a bit, and this'll prove it." she kissed him again, and this time it was a production. "that was an eminently convincing demonstration, brownie, but don't do it too often." "i won't." she laughed, gayly and happily. "if there's any next time, you'll have to kiss me first." she paused and sobered. "but remember. if you should change your mind, any time you really want to ... to kiss me, come right in. i won't be as silly and nervous and afraid as i was just now. that's a promise. good night, clee." "good night, brownie." chapter next morning, garlock was the last one, by a fraction of a minute, into the main. "good morning, all," he said, with a slight smile. "huh? how come?" james demanded, as all four started toward the dining nook. garlock's smile widened. "lola. she brought me a pot of coffee and wouldn't let me out until i drank it." "_brought?_" "yeah. they haven't read their room-tapes yet, so they don't know that room-service is practically unlimited." "why didn't i think of that coffee business a couple of years ago?" "well, why didn't i think of it myself, ten years ago?" belle's eyes had been going from one, man to the other. "just _what_ are you two talking about? if it's anybody's business except your own?" "he is an early-morning grouch," james explained, as they sat down at the table. "not fit to associate with man or beast--not even his own dog, if he had one--when he first gets up. how come you were smart enough to get the answer so quick, brownie?" "oh, the pattern isn't too rare." she shrugged daintily, sweeping the compliment aside. "especially among men on big jobs who work under tremendous pressure." "then how about jim?" belle asked. "clee's the big brain, not me," james said. "you're a lot bigger brain than any of the men lola's talking about," belle insisted. "that's true," lola agreed, "but jim probably is--must be--an icebox raider. eats in the middle of the night. clee probably doesn't. it's a good bet that he doesn't nibble between meals at all. check, clee?" "check. but what has an empty stomach got to do with the case?" "everything. nobody knows how. lots of theories--enzymes, blood sugar, endocrine balance, what have you--but no proof. it isn't always true. however, six or seven hours of empty stomach, in a man who takes his job to bed with him, is very apt to uglify his pre-breakfast disposition." breakfast over and out in the main: "but when a man's disposition is ugly all the time, how can you tell the difference?" belle asked, innocently. "i'll let that pass," garlock's smile disappeared, "because we've got work to do. have any of you thought of any improvement on lola's monogamous society?" no one had. in fact-- "there may be a loop-hole in it," lola said, thoughtfully. "did any of you happen to notice whether they know anything about artificial insemination?" "d'you think i'd stand for _that_?" belle blazed, before garlock could begin to search his mind. "i'd scratch anybody's eyes out--if you'd thought of that idea as a woman instead of as a near-ph.d. in anthropology you'd've thrown it into the converter before it even hatched!" "invasion of privacy? that covers it, of course, but i didn't think it would bother you a bit." lola paused, studying the other girl intently. "you're quite a problem yourself. callous--utterly savage humor--yet very sensitive in some ways--fastidious...." "i'm not on the table for dissection!" belle snapped. "study me all you please, but keep the notes in your notebook. i'd suggest you study clee." "oh, i have been. he baffles me, too. i'm not very good yet, you...." "that's the unders...." "_cut_ it!" garlock ordered, sharply. "i said we had work to do. jim, you're hunting up the nearest observatory." "how about transportation? no teleportation?" "out. rent a car or hire a plane, or both. fill your wallet--better have too much money than not enough. if you're too far away tonight to make it feasible to come back here, send me a flash. brownie, you'll work this town first. belle and i will have to work in the library for a while. we'll all want to compare notes tonight...." "yeah," james said into the pause, "i could tune in remote, but i don't know where i'll be, so it might not be so good." "check. you can 'port, but be _damn_ sure nobody sees or senses you doing it. that buttons it up, i guess." * * * james and lola left the ship; garlock and belle went into the library. "if i didn't know you were impotent, clee," belle shivered affectedly and began to laugh, "i'd be scared to death to be alone with you in this great big spaceship. lola hasn't realized yet what she really hatched out--the screamingest screamer ever pulled on anybody!" "it isn't _that_ funny. you have got a savage sense of humor." "perhaps." she shrugged her shoulders. "but you were on the receiving end, which makes a big difference. she's a peculiar sort of duck. brainy, but impersonal--academic. she knows all the words and all their meanings, all the questions and all the answers, but she doesn't apply any of them to herself. she's always the observer, never the participant. pure egg-head ... pure? _that's_ it. she looks, acts, talks, and thinks like a _virgin_.... well, if that's all, she isn't any--or is she? even though you've started calling her 'brownie,' like my now-tamed tomcat, you might not...." she stared at him. "go ahead. probe." "why waste energy trying to crack a prime's shield? but just out of curiosity, are you two pairing, or not?" "tut-tut; don't be inurbane. let's talk about jim instead. i thought he'd be gibbering." "no, i'm working under double wraps--full dampers. i don't want him in love with me. you want to know why?" "i think i know why." "because having him mooning around underfoot would weaken the team and i want to get back to tellus." "i was wrong, then. i thought you were out after bigger game." belle's face went stiff and still. "what do you mean by that?" "plain enough, i would think. wherever you are, you've got to be the boss. you've never been in any kind of a party for fifteen minutes without taking it over. when you snap the whip everybody jumps--or else--and you swing a wicked knife. for your information i don't jump, i am familiar with knives, and you will never run this project or any part of it." * * * belle's face set; her eyes hardened. "while we're putting out information, take note that i'm just as good with actual knives as with figurative ones. if you're still thinking of blistering my fanny, don't try it. you'll find a rawhide haft sticking up out of one of those muscles you're so proud of--clear enough mr. garlock." "why don't you talk sense, instead of such yak-yak?" "huh?" "i know you're a prime, too, but don't let it go to your head. i've got more stuff than you have, so you can't gunther me. you weigh one thirty-five to my two seventeen. i'm harder, stronger, and faster than you are. you're probably a bit limberer--not too much--but i've forgotten more judo than you ever will know. so what's the answer?" belle was breathing hard. "then why don't you do it right now?" "several reasons. i couldn't brag much about licking anybody i outweigh by eighty-two pounds. i can't figure out your logic--if any--but i'm pretty sure now it wouldn't do either of us any good. just the opposite." "from your standpoint, would that be bad?" "what a _hell_ of a logic! you have got the finest brain of any woman living. you're stronger than jim is by a lot more than the prime-to-operator ratio--you've got more initiative, more drive, more guts. you know as well as i do what your brain may mean before we get back. why in all hell don't you start _using_ it?" "_you_ are complimenting _me_?" "no. it's the truth, isn't it?" "what difference does that make? clee garlock, i simply can't understand you at all." "that makes it mutual. i can't understand a geometry in which the crookedest line between any two given points is the best line. let's get to work, shall we?" "uh-huh, let's. one more bit of information, though, first. any such idea as taking the project away from you simply _never_ entered my mind!" she gave him a warm and friendly smile as she walked over to the file-cabinets. for hours, then, they worked; each scanning tape after tape. at mid-day they ate a light lunch. shortly thereafter, garlock put away his reader and all his loose tapes. "are you getting anywhere, belle? i'm not making any progress." "yes, but of course planets are probably pretty much the same everywhere--tellus-type ones, i mean, of course. is all the xenology as cockeyed as i'm afraid it must be?" "check. the one basic assumption was that there are no human beings other than tellurians. from that they derive the secondary assumption that humanoid types will be scarce. from there they scatter out in all directions. so i'll have to roll my own. i've got to see atterlin, anyway. i'll be back for supper. so long." * * * at the port office, grand lady neldine met him even more enthusiastically than before; taking both his hands and pressing them against her firm, almost-bare breasts. she tried to hold back as garlock led her along the corridor. "i have an explanation, and in a sense an apology, for you, grand lady neldine, and for you, governor atterlin," he thought carefully. "i would have explained yesterday, but i had no understanding of the situation here until our anthropologist, lola montandon, elucidated it very laboriously to me. she herself, a scientist highly trained in that specialty, could grasp it only by referring back to somewhat similar situations which may have existed in the remote past--so remote a past that the concept is known only to specialists and is more than half mythical, even to them." he went on to give in detail the sexual customs, obligations, and limitations of lola's purely imaginary civilization. "then it isn't that you don't want to, but you _can't_?" the lady asked, incredulously. "mentally, i can have no desire. physically, the act is impossible," he assured her. "what a shame!" her thought was a peculiar mixture of disappointment and relief: disappointment in that she was not to bear this man's super-child; relief in that, after all, she had not personally failed--if she couldn't have this perfectly wonderful man herself, no other woman except his wife could ever have him, either. but what a shame to waste such a man as that on _any_ one woman! it was really too bad. "i see ... i see--wonderful!" atterlin's thought was not at all incredulous, but vastly awed. "it is of course logical that as the power of mind increases, physical matters become less and less important. but you will have much to give us; we may perhaps have some small things to give you. if we could visit your tellus, perhaps...?" "that also is impossible. we four in the _pleiades_ are lost in space. this is the first planet we have visited on our first trial of a new method--new to us, at least--of interstellar travel. we missed our objective, probably by many millions of parsecs, and it is quite possible that we four will never be able to find our way back. we are trying now, by charting the galaxies throughout billions of cubic parsecs of space, to find merely the direction in which our own galaxy lies." "what a concept! what stupendous minds! but such immense distances, sir ... what can you possibly be using for a space-drive?" "none, as you understand the term. we travel by instantaneous translation, by means of something we call 'gunther'.... i am not at all sure that i can explain it to you satisfactorily, but i will try to do so, if you wish." "please do so, sir, by all means." * * * garlock opened the highest gunther cells of his mind. there was nothing as elementary as telepathy, teleportation, telekinesis, or the like; it was the pure, raw gunther of the gunther drive, which even he himself made no pretense of understanding fully. he opened those cells and pushed that knowledge at the two hodellian minds. the result was just as instantaneous and just as catastrophic as garlock had expected. both blocks went up almost instantly. "oh, no!" atterlin exclaimed, his face turning white. the girl shrieked once, covered her face with her hands, and collapsed on the floor. "oh, i'm _so_ sorry ... excuse my ignorance, please!" garlock implored, as he picked the girl up, carried her across the room to a sofa, and assured himself that she had not been really hurt. she recovered quickly. "i'm very sorry, grand lady neldine and governor atterlin, but i didn't know ... that is, i didn't realize...." "you are trying to break it gently." atterlin was both shocked and despondent. "this being the first planet you have visited, you simply did not realize how feeble our minds really are." "oh, not at all, really, sir and lady." garlock began deftly to repair the morale he had shattered. "merely younger. with your system of genetics, so much more logical and efficient than our strict monogamy, your race will undoubtedly make more progress in a few centuries than we made in many millennia. and in a few centuries more you will pass us--will master this only partially-known gunther drive. "esthetically, lady neldine, i would like very much to father you a child." he allowed his coldly unmoved gaze to survey her charms. "i am sorry indeed that it cannot be. i trust that you, governor atterlin, will be kind enough to spread word of our physical shortcomings, and so spare us further embarrassment?" "not shortcomings, sir, and, i truly hope, no embarrassment," atterlin protested. "we are immensely glad to have seen you, since your very existence gives us so much hope for the future. i will spread word, and every hodellian will do whatever he can to help you in your quest." "thank you, sir and lady," and garlock took his leave. "what an act, my male-looking but impotent darling!" came belle's clear, incisive thought, bubbling with unrestrained merriment. "for our doctor garlock, the prime exponent and first disciple of truth, _what_ an act! _esthetically_, he'd like to father her a child, it says here in fine print--boy, if she only knew! one tiny grain of truth and she'd chase you from here to andromeda! clee, i _swear_ this thing is going to kill me yet!" "anything that would do that i'm very much in favor of!" garlock growled the thought and snapped up his shield. this one was, quite definitely, belle's round. * * * garlock took the hodellian equivalent of a bus to the center of the city, then set out aimlessly to walk. the buildings and their arrangement, he noted--not much to his surprise now--were not too different from those of the cities of earth. with his guard down to about the sixth level, highly receptive but not at all selective, he strolled up one street and down another. he was not attentive to detail yet; he was trying to get the broad aspects, the "feel" of this hitherto unknown civilization. the ether was practically saturated with thought. apparently this was the afternoon rush hour, as the sidewalks were crowded with people and the streets were full of cars. it did not seem as though anyone, whether in the buildings, on the sidewalks, or in the cars, was doing any blocking at all. if there were any such things as secrets on hodell, they were scarce. each person, man, woman, or child, went about his own business, radiating full blast. no one paid any attention to the thoughts of anyone else except in the case of couples or groups, the units of which were engaged in conversation. it reminded garlock of a big tellurian party when the punch-bowls were running low--everybody talking at the top of his voice and nobody listening. this whole gale of thought was blowing over garlock's receptors like a great plains wind over miles-wide fields of corn. he did not address anyone directly; no one addressed him. at first, quite a few young women, at sight of his unusual physique, had sent out tentative feelers of thought; and some men had wondered, in the same tentative and indirect fashion, who he was and where he came from. however, when the information he had given atterlin spread throughout the city--and it did not take long--no one paid any more attention to him than they did to each other. probing into and through various buildings, he learned that groups of people were quitting work at intervals of about fifteen minutes. there were thoughts of tidying up desks; of letting the rest of this junk go until tomorrow; of putting away and/or covering up office machines of various sorts. there were thoughts of powdering noses and of repairing make-up. he pulled in his receptors and scanned the crowded ways for guardians--he'd have to call them that until either he or lola found out their real name. same as at the airport--the more people, the more guardians. what were they? how? and why? * * * he probed; carefully but thoroughly. when he had talked to the arpalone he had read him easily enough, but here there was nothing whatever to read. the creature simply was not thinking at all. but that didn't make sense! garlock tuned, first down, then up; and finally, at the very top of his range, he found something, but he did not at first know what it was. it seemed to be a mass-detector ... no, two of them, paired and balanced. oh, that was it! one tuned to humanity, one to the other guardians--balanced across a sort of bridge--_that_ was how they kept the ratio so constant! but why? there seemed to be some wide-range receptors there, too, but nothing seemed to be coming in.... while he was still studying and still baffled, some kind of stimulus, which was so high and so faint and so alien that he could neither identify nor interpret it, touched the arpalone's far-flung receptors. instantly the creature jumped, his powerful, widely-bowed legs sending him high above the heads of the crowd and, it seemed to garlock, directly toward him. simultaneously there was an insistent, low-pitched, whistling scream, somewhat like the noise made by an airplane in a no-power dive; and garlock saw, out of the corner of one eye, a yellowish something flashing downward through the air. at the same moment the woman immediately in front of garlock stifled a scream and jumped backward, bumping into him and almost knocking him down. he staggered, caught his balance, and automatically put his arm around his assailant, to keep her from falling to the sidewalk. * * * in the meantime the guardian, having landed very close to the spot the woman had occupied a moment before, leaped again; this time vertically upward. the thing, whatever it was, was now braking frantically with wings, tail, and body; trying madly to get away. too late. there was a bone-crushing impact as the two bodies came together in mid-air; a jarring thud as the two creatures, inextricably intertwined, struck the pavement as one. the thing varied in color, garlock now saw, shading from bright orange at the head to pale yellow at the tail. it had a savagely-tearing curved beak; tremendously powerful wings; its short, thick legs ended in hawk-like talons. the guardian's bowed legs had already immobilized the yellow wings by clamping them solidly against the yellow body. his two lower arms were holding the frightful talons out of action. his third hand gripped the orange throat, his fourth was exerting tremendous force against the jointure of neck and body. the neck, originally short, was beginning to stretch. for several seconds garlock had been half-conscious that his accidental companion was trying, with more and more energy, to disengage his encircling left arm from her waist. he wrenched his attention away from the spectacular fight--to which no one else, not even the near-victim, had paid the slightest attention--and now saw that he had his arm around the bare waist of a statuesque matron whose entire costume would have made perhaps half of a tellurian sun-suit. he dropped his arm with a quick and abject apology. "i should apologize to you instead, captain garlock," she thought, with a wide and friendly smile, "for knocking you down, and i thank you for catching me before i fell. i should not have been startled, of course. i would not have been, except that this is the first time that i, personally, have been attacked." "but what _are_ they?" garlock blurted. "i don't know." the woman turned her head and glanced, in complete disinterest, at the two furiously-battling creatures. garlock knew now that this was the first time, except for that instantly-dismissed thrill of surprise at being the actual target of an attack, that she had thought of either of them. "orange-yellow? it could be a ... a fumapty, perhaps, but i've no idea, really. you see, such things are none of our business." she thought at him, a half-shrug, half-grimace of mild distaste--not at the personal contact with the man nor at the savage duel; but at even thinking of either the guardian or the yellow monster--and walked away into the crowd. garlock's attention flashed back to the fighters. the yellow thing's neck had been stretched to twice its natural length and the guardian had _eaten_ almost through it. there was a terrific crunch, a couple of smacking, gobbling swallows, and head parted from body. the orange beak still clashed open and shut, however, and the body still thrashed violently. shifting his grips, the guardian proceeded to tear a hole into his victim's body, just below its breast-bone. thrusting two arms into the opening, he yanked out two organs--one of which, garlock thought, could have been the heart--and ate them both; if not with extreme gusto, at least in a workmanlike and thoroughly competent fashion. he then picked up the head in one hand, grabbed the tip of a wing with another, and marched up the street for half a block, dragging the body behind him. he lifted a manhole cover with his two unoccupied hands, dropped the remains down the hole thus exposed, and let the cover slam back into place. he then squatted down, licked himself meticulously clean with a long, black, extremely agile tongue, and went on about his enigmatic business quite as though nothing had happened. garlock strolled around a few minutes longer, but could not recapture any interest in the doings of the human beings around him. he had filed away every detail of what had just happened, and it had so many bizarre aspects that he could not think of anything else. wherefore he flagged down a "taxi" and was taken out to the _pleiades_. belle and lola were in the main. * * * "i saw the _damndest_ thing, clee!" lola exclaimed. "i've been gnawing my fingernails off up to the knuckles, waiting for you!" lola's experience had been very similar to garlock's own, except in that her monster was an intense green in color and looked something like a bat about four feet long, with six-inch canine teeth and several stingers.... "did you find out the name of the thing?" garlock asked. "no. i asked half-a-dozen people, but nobody would even listen to me except one half-grown boy, and the best he could do was that it might be something he had heard another boy say somebody had told him might be a 'lemart.' and as to those lower-case arpalones, the best i could dig out of anybody was just 'guardians.' did you do any better?" "no, i didn't do as well," and he told the girls about his own experience. "but i didn't find any detectors or receptors, clee," lola frowned. "where were they?" "'way up--up here," he showed her. "i'll make a full tape tonight on everything i found out about the guardians and the arpalones--besides my regular report, i mean--since they're yours, and you can make me one about your friend the green bat...." * * * "hey, i _like_ that!" belle broke in. "that _could_ be taken amiss, you know, by such a sensitive soul as i!" "check." garlock chuckled. "i'll have to file that one, in case i want to use it sometime. how're you coming, belle?" "nice!" belle's voracious mind had been so busy absorbing new knowledge that she had temporarily forgotten about her fight with her captain. "i'm just about done here. i'll be ready tomorrow, i think, to visit their library and tape up some planetological and planetographical--notice how insouciantly i toss off those two-credit words?--data on this here planet hodell." "good going. you've been listening to this stuff lola and i were chewing on--does any of it make sense to you?" "it does not. i never heard anything to compare with it." "excuse me for changing the subject," lola put in, plaintively, "but when, if ever, do we eat? do we _have_ to wait until that confounded james boy gets back from wherever it was he went?" "if you're hungry, we'll eat now." "_hungry?_ look!" lola turned herself sidewise, placed one hand in the small of her back, and pressed hard with the other her flat, taut belly. "see? only a couple of inches from belt-buckle to backbone--dangerously close to the point of utter collapse." "you poor, abused little thing!" garlock laughed and all three crossed the room to the dining alcove. while they were still ordering, james appeared beside them. "find out anything?" garlock asked. "yes and no. yes, in that they have an excellent observatory, with a hundred-eighty-inch reflector, on a mountain only seventy-five miles from here. no, in that i didn't find any duplication of nebulary configurations with the stuff i had with me. however, it was relatively coarse. tomorrow i'll take a lot of fine stuff along. it'll take some time--a full day, at least." "i expected that. good going, jim!" all four ate heartily, and, after eating, they taped up the day's reports. then, tired from their first real day's work in weeks, all went to their rooms. * * * a few minutes later, garlock tapped lightly at lola's door. "come in." she stiffened involuntarily, then relaxed and smiled. "oh, yes, clee: of course. you're...." "no, i'm not. i've been doing a lot of thinking about you since last night, and i may have come up with an answer or two. also, belle knows we aren't pairing, and if we don't hide behind a screen at least once in a while, she'll know we aren't going to." "screen?" "screen. didn't you know these four private rooms are solid? haven't you read your house-tape yet?" "no. but do you think belle would actually peek?" "do you think she wouldn't?" "well, i don't like her very much, but i wouldn't think she would do anything like that, clee. it isn't urbane." "she isn't urbane, either, whenever she thinks it might be advantageous not to be." "what a _terrible_ thing to say!" "take it from me, if belle bellamy doesn't know everything that goes on it isn't from lack of trying. you wouldn't know about room service, either, then--better scan that tape before you go to sleep tonight--what'll you have in the line of a drink to while away enough time so she will know we've been playing games?" "ginger ale, please." "i'll have ginger beer. you do it like so." he slid a panel aside, his fingers played briefly on a typewriter-like keyboard. drinks and ice appeared. "anything you want--details of the tape." he lighted two cigarettes, handed her one, stirred his drink. "now, fair lady--or should i say beauteous dark lady?--we will follow the precept of that immortal chinese philosopher, chin on." "you _are_ a prime operator, aren't you?" she laughed, but sobered quickly. "i'm worried. you said i flaunted virginity like a banner, and now belle.... what am i doing wrong?" "there's a lot wrong. not so much what you're doing as what you aren't doing. you're too aloof--detached--egg-headish. you know the score, words and music, but you don't sing. all you do is listen. belle thinks you're not only a physical virgin, but a psychic-blocked prude. i know better. you're so full of conflict between what you want to do--what you know is right--and what those three-cell-brained nincompoops made you think you ought to do that you have got no more degrees of freedom than a piston-rod. you haven't been yourself for a minute since you came aboard. check?" "you _have_ been thinking, haven't you? you may be right; except that it's been longer than that ... ever since the first preliminaries, i think. but what can i _do_ about it, clee?" "contact. three-quarters full, say; enough for me to give you what i think is the truth." "but you said you _never_ went screens down with a woman?" "there's a first time for everything. come in." * * * she did so, held contact for almost a minute, then pulled herself loose. "ug-gh-gh." she shivered. "i'm glad i haven't got a mind like that." "and the same from me to you. of course the real truth may lie somewhere in between. i may be as far off the beam on one side as you are on the other." "i hope so. but it cleared things up no end--it untied a million knots. even that other thing--brotherly love? it's a very nice concept--you see, i never had any brothers." "that's probably one thing that was the matter with you. nothing warmer than that, certainly, and never will be." "and i suppose you got the thought--it must have jumped up and smacked you--" lola's hot blush was visible even through her heavy tan, "how many times i've felt like running my fingers up and down your ribs and grabbing a handful of those terrific muscles of yours, just to see if they're as hard as they look?" "i'm glad you brought that up; i don't know whether i would have dared to or not. you've got to stop acting like a third instead of an operator; and you've got to stop acting as though you had never been within ten feet of me. now's as good a time as any." he took off his shirt and struck a strong-man's pose. "come ahead." "by golly, i'm _going_ to!" then, a moment later, "why, they're even _harder_! how do you, a scientist, psionicist, and scholar, keep in such hard shape as that?" "an hour a day in the gym, three hundred sixty-five days a year. many are better--but a hell of a lot are worse." "i'll say." she finished her ginger ale, sat down in her chair, leaned back and put her legs up on the bed. "that was a relief of tension if there ever was one. i haven't felt so good since they picked me as home-town candidate--and that was a mighty small town and eight months ago. bring on your dragons, clee, and i'll slay 'em far and wide. but i can't actually _be_ like she is...." "thank god for that. deliver me from _two_ such pretzel-benders aboard one ship." "... but i could have been a pretty good actress, i think." "correction, please. 'outstanding' is the word." "thank you, kind sir. and women--men, too, of course--do bring up certain memories, to ... to...." "to roll 'em around on their tongues and give their taste-buds a treat." "exactly. so where i don't have any appropriate actual memories to bring up, i'll make like an actress. check?" "good girl! now you're rolling--we're in like flynn. well, we've been in screen long enough, i guess. fare thee well, little sister brownie, until we meet again." he tossed the remains of their refreshments, trays and all, into the chute, picked up his shirt, and started out. "put it _on_, clee!" she whispered, intensely. "why?" he grinned cheerfully. "it'd look still better if i peeled down to the altogether." "you're incorrigible," she said, but her answering grin was wide and perfectly natural. "you know, if i had had a brother something like you it would have saved me a lot of wear and tear. i'll see you in the morning before breakfast." * * * and she did. they strolled together to breakfast; not holding hands, but with hip almost touching hip. relaxed, friendly, on very cordial and satisfactory terms. lola punched breakfast orders for them both. belle drove a probe, which bounced--lola's screen was tight, although her brown eyes were innocent and bland. but during the meal, in response to a double-edged, wickedly-barbed remark of belle's, a memory flashed into being above lola's shield. it was the veriest flash, instantly suppressed. her eyes held clear and steady; if she blushed at all it did not show. belle caught it, of course, and winked triumphantly at garlock. she knew, now, what she had wanted to know. and, prime operator though he was, it was all he could do to make no sign; for that fleetingly-revealed memory was a perfect job. he would not have--_could_ not have--questioned it himself, except for one highly startling fact. it was of an event that had not happened and never would! and after breakfast, at some distance from the others, "that is my girl, brownie! you're firing on all forty barrels. you're an operator, all right; and it takes a damn good one to lie like that with her mind!" "thanks to you, clee. and thanks a million, really. i'm me again--i think." then, since belle was looking, she took him by both ears, pulled his head down, and kissed him lightly on the lips. the spontaneity and tenderness were perfect at that moment. clee's appreciation was obvious. "i know i said you'd have to kiss me next time," lola said, very low, "but this act needs just this much of an extra touch. anyway, such little, tiny, sisterly ones as this, and out in public, don't count." chapter lola and garlock went to town in the same taxi. as they were about to separate, garlock said: "i don't like those hell-divers, yellow, green, or any other color; and you, brownie, are very definitely not expendable. are you any good at mind-bombing?" "why, i never heard of such a thing." "you isolate a little energy in the op field, remembering of course, that you're handling a hundred thousand gunts. transpose it into platinum or uranium--anything good and heavy. for one of these monsters you'd need two or three micrograms. for a battleship, up to maybe a gram or so. 'port it to the exact place you want it to detonate. reconvert and release instantaneously. one-hundred-percent-conversion atomic bomb, tailored exactly to fit the job. very effective." "it would be. my god, clee, can _you_ do _that_?" "sure--so can you. any operator can." "well, i _won't_. i _never_ will. besides, i'd probably kill too many people, besides the monster. no, i'll 'port back to the main if anything attacks me. i'm chain lightning at that." "do that, then. and if anything very unusual happens give me a flash." "i'll do that. 'bye, clee." she turned to the left. he walked straight on, toward the business center, to resume his study at the point where he had left off the evening before. for over an hour he wandered aimlessly about the city; receiving, classifying, and filing away information. he saw several duels between guardians and yellow and green-bat monsters, to none of which he paid any more attention than did the people around him. then a third kind of enemy appeared--two of them at once, flying wing-and-wing--and garlock stopped and watched. vivid, clear-cut stripes of red and black, even on the tremendously long, strong wings. distinctly feline as to heads, teeth, and claws. while they did not at all closely resemble flying saber-toothed tigers, that was the first impression that leaped into garlock's mind. two bow-legged guardians came leaping as usual, but one of them was a fraction of a second too late. that fraction was enough. while the first guardian was still high in air, grappling with one tiger, the other swung on a dime--the blast of air from his right wing blowing people in the crowd below thither and yon and knocking four of them flat--and took the guardian's head off his body with one savage swipe of a frightfully-armed paw. disregarding the carcass both attackers whirled sharply at the second guardian, meeting him in such fashion that he could not come to firm grips with either of them, and that battle was very brief indeed. more and more guardians were leaping in from all directions, however, and the two tigers were forced to the ground and slaughtered. since six guardians had been killed, eight guardians marched up the street, dragging grisly loads. eight bodies, friend and foe alike, were dumped into a manhole; eight creatures squatted down and cleaned themselves meticulously before resuming their various patrols. * * * ten or fifteen minutes later, garlock felt lola's half-excited, half-frightened thought. "clee, do you read me?" "loud and clear." "there's something coming that's certainly none of my business--maybe not even yours." "coming," and with the thought he was there. "where?" she pointed a thought, he followed it. far away yet, but coming fast, was an immense flock of flying tigers! lola licked her lips. "i'm going home, if you don't mind." "beat it." she disappeared. "jim!" garlock thought. "where are you?" "observatory. need me?" "yes. bombing. two point four microgram loads. focus spot on my right--teleport in." "coming in on your right." "and i on your left!" belle's thought drove in as he had never before felt it driven. being a prime, she did not need a focus spot and appeared the veriest instant later than did james. "can you bomb?" garlock snapped. "what do _you_ think?" she snapped back. a moment of flashing thought and the three tellurians disappeared, materializing five hundred feet in air, two hundred feet ahead of the van of that horrible flight of monsters, drifting before it. belle got in the first shot. not only did the victim disappear--a couple of dozen around it were torn to fragments and the force of the blast staggered all three tellurians. "damn it, belle, cut down or get to hell out!" garlock yelped. "i said two point four _micrograms_, not milligrams. just kill 'em, don't scatter 'em all over hell's half acre--less mess to clean up and i _don't_ want you to kill people down below. especially i don't want you to kill us--not even yourself." "'scuse, please, i guess i was a bit enthusiastic in my weighing." there began a series of muffled explosions along the front; each followed by the plunge of a tiger-striped body to the ground. faster and faster the explosions came as the operator and the primes learned the routine and the rhythm of the job. nor were they long alone. the roaring, screaming howl of jets came up from behind them; four arpalones appeared at their left, strung out along the front. each held an extraordinarily heavy-duty blaster in each of his four hands; sixteen terrific weapons were hurling death into the flying horde. "slide over, terrestrials," came a calm thought. "you three take their left front, we'll take their right and center." as they obeyed the instructions, "_they_ don't give a damn where the pieces fly!" belle protested. "why should we be fussy about their street-cleaning department? _i'm_ starting to use fives." "okay. we'll have to hit 'em harder, anyway, to keep up. five or maybe six--just be damn sure not to knock us or the arpalones out of the air." carnage went on. the battle-front, while inside the city limits, was now almost stationary. "ha! help--i hear footsteps approaching on jet-back," garlock announced. "give 'em hell, boys--shovel on the coal!" * * * a flight of fighter-planes, eight abreast and wing-tips almost touching, howled close overhead and along the line of invasion. they could not fire, of course, until they reached the city limits. there they opened up as one, and the air below became literally filled with falling monsters. some had only broken wings; some were dead, but more or less whole; many were blown to unrecognizable bits and scraps of flesh. another flight screamed into place immediately behind the first; then another and another and another until six flights had passed. then came four helicopters, darting and hovering, whose gunners picked off individually whatever survivors had managed to escape all six waves of fighters. "that's better," came a thought from the arpalone nearest garlock. "situation under control, thanks to you tellurians. supposed to be two squads of us gunners, but the other squad was busy on another job. without you, this could have developed into a fairly nasty little infection. i don't know what you're doing or how you're doing it--we were told that you weren't like any other humans, and how true _that_ is--but i'm in favor of it. i thought there were four of you?" "one of us is not a fighter." "oh. you can knock off now, if you like. we'll polish off. thanks much." "but don't the boys on the ground need some help?" "the arpales? those idiots you have been thinking of as 'guardians'? which they are, of course. uh-uh. besides, we're air-fighters. ground work is none of our business. also, these guns would raise altogether too much hell down there. bound to hit some humans." "check. those arpales aren't very intelligent, you arpalones are extremely so. any connection?" "'way back, they say. common ancestry, and doing two parts of the same job. killing these fumapties and lemarts and sencors and what-have-you. i don't know what humanity's job is and don't give a damn. probably fairly important, some way or other, though, since it's our job to see that the silly, gutless things keep on living. we have nothing to do with 'em, ever. the only reason i'm talking to you is you're not really human at all. you're a fighter, too, and a damn good one." "i know what you mean," and the three tellurians turned their attention downward to the scene on the ground. * * * the heaviest fighting had been over a large park at the city's edge, which was now literally a shambles. very few people were to be seen, and those few more moving unconcernedly away from the center of violence. all over the park thousands of arpales were fighting furiously and hundreds of them were dying. for hundreds of the sencors had suffered only wing injuries, the long fall to ground had not harmed them further, and their tremendous fighting ability had been lessened very little if at all. "but i'd think, just for efficiency if nothing else," garlock argued, "you'd support the arpales _some_ way. lighter guns or something. why, thousands of them must have been killed, just in this last hour or so." "yeah, but that's their business. they breed fast and die fast. everything has to balance, you know." "perhaps so." garlock was silenced, if not convinced. "well, it's about over. what happens to the bodies they're dumping down manholes? they can't go down a sewer that way?" "oh, you didn't know? food." "food? for what?" "the arpales and us, of course." "what? you don't mean--you _can't_ mean that they--and by your thought, you arpalones, too--are cannibals!" "cannibals? explain, please? oh, eaters-of-our-own-species. of course--certainly. why not?" "why, self-respect ... common decency ... respect for one's fellow-man ... family ties...." garlock was floundering; to be called upon to explain his ingrained antipathy to such a custom was new to his experience. "you are silly. worse, squeamish. worst, supremely illogical." the arpalone paused, then went on as though trying to educate a hopelessly illogical inferior, "while we do not kill arpales purposely--except when they over-breed--why waste good meat as fertilizer? if a diet is wholesome, nutritious, well-balanced, and tasty, what shred of difference can it _possibly_ make what its ingredients once were?" "well, i'll be damned." garlock quit. belle agreed. "this whole deal makes me sick at the stomach and i think my face is turning green too. but i'm devilishly and gleefully glad, clee, that i was here to hear _somebody_ give you cards, spaces, and big casino and still beat the lights and liver out of you at your own game of cold-blooded logic!" "we gunners must go now. would you like to come along with us and see the end of this particular breeding-hole of sencors?" at high speed the seven flew back along the line of advance of the flying-tiger horde; across a barren valley, toward and to the side of a mountain. * * * an area almost a mile square of that mountain's side was a burned, blasted, churned, pocked, cratered and flaming waste; and the four helicopters were still working on it. high-energy beams blasted, fairly volatilizing the ground as they struck in as deep as they could be driven. high-explosive shells bored deep and detonated, hurling shattered rock and soil and yellow smoke far and wide; establishing new craters by destroying the ones existing a moment before. while it seemed incredible that any living thing larger than a microbe could emerge under its own power from such a hell of energy, many flying tigers did; apparently being blown aloft along with the hitherto undisturbed volume of soil in which the creatures had been. most of them were not fully grown; some were so immature as to be unrecognizable to an untrained eye; but from all four helicopters hand-guns snapped and cracked. nothing--but _nothing_--was leaving that field of carnage alive. "what are you gunners supposed to be doing here?" garlock asked. "oh, the 'copters will be leaving pretty soon--they've got other places to go. but they won't get them all--some of the hatches are too deep--so us four gunners will stick around for two-three days to kill the late-hatchers as they come out." "i see," and garlock probed. "there are four cells they won't reach. shall i bomb 'em out?" "i'll ask." the slitted red eyes widened and he sent a call. "commander knahr, can you hop over here a minute? i want you to meet these things we've been hearing about. they look human, but they really aren't. they're killers, with more stuff and more brains than any of us ever heard of." another arpalone appeared, indistinguishable to tellurian eyes from any one of the others. "but why do you want to mix into something that's none of your business?" knahr was neither officious nor condemnatory. he simply could not understand. "since you have no concept of our quality of curiosity, just call it education. the question is, do or do you not want those four deeply-buried cells blasted out of existence?" "of course i do." "okay. you've got all of 'em you're going to get. tell your 'copters to give us about five miles clearance, and we'll all fall back, too." they drew back, and there were four closely-spaced explosions of such violence that one raggedly mushroom-shaped cloud went into the stratosphere and one huge, ragged crater yawned where once churned ground had been. "but that's _atomic_!" knahr gasped the thought. "fall-out!" "no fall-out. complete conversion. have you got a counter?" they had. they tested. there was nothing except the usual background count. "there's no life left underground, so you needn't keep this squad of gunners tied up here," garlock told the commander. "before we go, i want to ask a question. you have visitors once in a while from other solar systems, so you must have a faster-than-light drive. can you tell me anything about it?" "no. nothing like that would be any of my business." knahr and the four gunners disappeared; the helicopters began to lumber away. "well, _that_ helps--i don't think," garlock thought, glumly. "_what_ a world! back to the main?" * * * in the main, after a long and fruitless discussion, garlock called governor atterlin, who did not know anything about a faster-than-light drive, either. there was one, of course, since it took only a few days or a few weeks to go from one system to another; but hodell didn't have any such ships. no ordinary planet did. they were owned and operated by people who called themselves "engineers." he had no idea where the engineers came from; they didn't say. garlock then tried to get in touch with the arpalone inspector who had checked the _pleiades_ in, and could not find out even who it had been. the inspector then on duty neither knew or cared anything about either faster-than-light drives or engineers. such things were none of his business. "what difference would it make, anyway?" james asked. "no drive that takes 'a few weeks' for an intra-galaxy hop is ever going to get us back to tellus." "true enough; but if there is such a thing i want to know how it works. how are you coming with your calculations?" "i'll finish up tomorrow easily enough." tomorrow came, and james finished up, but he did not find any familiar pattern of galactic arrangement. the other three watched james set up for another try for earth. "you don't think we'll ever get back, do you, clee?" belle asked. "right away, no. some day, yes. i've got the germ of an idea. maybe three or four more hops will give me something to work on." "i hope so," james said, "because here goes nothing," and he snapped the red switch. * * * it was not nothing. number two was another guardian inspector and another planet very much like hodell. it proved to be so far from both earth and hodell, however, that no useful similarities were found in any two of the three sets of charts. number three was equally unproductive of helpful results. james did, however, improve his technique of making galactic charts; and he and garlock designed and built a high-speed comparator. thus the time required per stop was reduced from days to hours. number four produced a surprise. when garlock touched the knob of the testing-box he yanked his hand away before it had really made contact. it was like touching a high-voltage wire. "you are incompatible with our humanity and must not land," the inspector ruled. "suppose we blast you and your jets out of the air and land anyway?" garlock asked. "that is perhaps possible," the inspector agreed, equably enough. "we are not invincible. however, it would do you no good. if any one of you four leaves that so-heavily-insulated vessel in the atmosphere of this planet you will die. not quickly, but slowly and with difficulty." "but you haven't tested _me_!" belle said. "do you mean they'll attack us on sight?" "there is no need to test more than one. anyone who could live near any of you could not live on this planet. nor will they attack you. don't you know what the thought 'incompatible' means?" "with us it does not mean death." "here it does, since it refers to life forces. the types are mutually, irreconcilably antagonistic. your life forces are very strong. thus, no matter how peaceable your intentions may be, many of our human beings would die before you would, but you will not live to get back to your ship if you land it and leave its protective insulation." "why? what is it? how does it work?" belle demanded. "it is not my business to know; only to tell. i have told. you will go away now." garlock's eyes narrowed in concentration. "belle, can you blast? i mean, could you if you wanted to?" "certainly ... why, i don't _want_ to, clee!" "i don't, either--and i'll file that one away to chew on when i'm hungry some night, too. take her up, jim, and try another shot." * * * numbers five to nine, inclusive, were neither productive nor eventful. all were, like the others, hodell all over again, in everything fundamental. one was so far advanced that almost all of its humanity were seconds; one so backward--or so much younger--that its strongest telepaths were only fours. the tellurians became acquainted with, and upon occasion fought with, various types of man-sized monsters in addition to the three varieties they had seen on hodell. every planet they visited had arpalones and arpales. not by those names, of course. local names for planets, guardians, nations, cities, and persons went into the starship's tapes, but that welter of names need not be given here; this is not a catalogue. every planet they visited was peopled by _homo sapiens_; capable of inter-breeding with the tellurians and eager to do so--especially with the tellurian men. their strict monogamy was really tested more than once; but it held. each had been visited repeatedly by starships; but all garlock could find out about them was that they probably came from a world somewhere that was inhabited by compatible human beings of grade two. he could learn nothing about the faster-than-light drive. number ten was another queer--the tellurians were found incompatible. "let's go down anyway." belle suggested. "overcome this unwillingness of ours and find out. what do you think they've got down there, clee garlock, that could possibly handle you and me both?" "i don't think it's a case of 'handling' at all. i don't know what it is, but i believe it's fatal. we won't go down." "but it doesn't make sense!" belle protested. "not yet, no; but it's a datum. enough data and we'll be able to formulate a theory." * * * "you and your theories! i wish we could get some _facts_!" "you can call that a fact. but i want you and jim to do some math. we know that we're making mighty long jumps. assuming that they're at perfect random, and of approximately the same length, the probability is greater than one-half that we're getting farther and farther away from tellus. is there a jump number, n, at which the probability is one-half that we land nearer tellus instead of farther away? my jump-at-conclusions guess is that there isn't. that the first jump set up a bias." "ouch. _that_ isn't in any of the books," james said. "in other words, do we or do we not attain a maximum? you're making some bum assumptions; among others that space isn't curved and that the dimensions of the universe are very large compared to the length of our jumps. i'll see if i can put it into shape to feed to compy. you've always held that these generators work at random--the rest of those assumptions are based on your theory?" "check. i'm not getting anywhere studying my alleged xenology, so i'm going to work full time on designing a generator that will steer." "you tried to before. so did everybody else." "i know it, but i've got a lot more data now. and i'm not promising, just trying. okay? worth a try?" "sure--i'm in favor of anything that has any chance at all of working." jumping went on; and garlock, instead of going abroad on the planets, stayed in the _pleiades_ and worked. * * * at number forty-three, their reception was of a new kind. they were compatible with the people of this world, but the inspector advised them against landing. "i do not forbid you," he explained, carefully. "our humans are about to destroy themselves with fission and fusion bombs. they send missiles, without warning, against visitors. thus, the last starship to visit us here disregarded my warning and sent down a sensing device as usual--engineers do not land on non-telepathic worlds, you know--and it was destroyed." "you're a guardian of humanity," garlock said. "can't you straighten people out?" "of course not!" the arpalone was outraged. "we guard humanity against incompatibles and non-humans; but it is not our business to interfere with humanity if it wishes to destroy itself. that is its privilege and its own business!" garlock probed down. "no telepathy, even--not even a seven. this planet _is_ backward--back to year one. and nothing but firecrackers--we're going down, aren't we?" "i'll say we are!" belle said. "this will break the monotony, at least," and the others agreed. "you won't object, i take it," garlock said to the inspector, "if we try to straighten them out. we can postpone the blow-up a few years, at least." "no objections, of course. in fact, i can say that we guardians of humanity would approve such action." down the _pleiades_ went, into the air of the nation known as the "allied republican democracies of the world," and an atomic-warheaded rocket came flaming up. "hm ... m ... m. ingenious little gadget, at that," james reported, after studying it thoroughly. "filthy thing for fall-out, though, if it goes off. where'll i flip it, clee? one of their moons?" "check. third one out--no chance of any contamination from there." the missile vanished; and had any astronomer been looking at that world's third and outermost moon at the moment, he might have seen a tremendous flash of light, a cloud of dust, and the formation of a new and different crater among the hundreds already there. "no use waiting for 'em, jim. all three of you toss everything they've got out onto that same moon, being sure not to hurt anybody--yet. i'll start asking questions." the captain who had fired the first missile appeared in the main. he reached for his pistol, to find that he did not have one. he tensed his muscles to leap at garlock, to find that he could not move. garlock drove his probe. "who is your superior officer?" and before the man could formulate a denial, that superior stood helpless beside him. * * * then three--and four. at the fifth: "oh, you are the man i want. prime minister--euphemism for dictator--sovig. missile launching stations and missile storage? you don't know? who does?" another man appeared, and for twenty minutes the _pleiades_ darted about the continent. "now submarines, atomic and otherwise, and all surface vessels capable of launching missiles." another man appeared. this job took a little longer, since the crew of each vessel had to be teleported back to their bases. an immense scrap-pile, probably visible with a telescope of even moderate power, built up rapidly on the third moon. "now a complete list of your uranium-refining plants, your military reactors, heavy-water and heavy-hydrogen plants, and so on." another man appeared, but the starship did not move. "here is a list of plants," and garlock named them, coldly. "you will remember them. i will return you to your office, and you may--or may not, as you please--order them evacuated. look at your watch. we start destroying them in exactly seventy-two of your hours from this moment. any and all persons on the properties will be killed; any within a radius of ten of your miles may be killed. our explosives are extremely powerful, but there is no radioactivity and no danger from the fall-out. the danger is from flash-blindness, flash-burn, sheer heat, shock-wave, concussion, and flying debris of all kinds." the officer vanished and garlock turned back to the prime minister. "you have an ally, a nation known as the 'brotherhood of people's republics.' where is its capital? slide us over there, jim. now, prime minister sovig, you and your ally, the second and first most populous nations of your world, are combining to destroy--a pincers movement, let us say?--the third largest nation, or rather, group of nations--the nations of the north.... oh, i see. third only in population, but first in productive capacity and technology. they should be destroyed because their ideology does not agree with yours. they are too idealistic to strike first, so you will. after you strike, they will not be able to. whereupon you, personally, will rule the world. i will add to that something you are not thinking, but should: you will rule it until one of your friends puts his pistol to the back of your neck and blows your brains out." * * * they were now over the ally's capitol; which launched five missiles instead of one. garlock collected four more men and studied them. "just as bad--if possible, worse. who, lingonor, is the leader of your opposition, if any?" another man, very evidently of the same race, appeared. "idealistic, in a way, but spineless and corrupt," garlock announced to all. "his administration was one of the most corrupt ever known on this world. we'll disarm them, too." they did. the operation did not take very long; as this nation--or group, it was not very clear exactly what it was--while very high in manpower, was very low in technology. the starship moved to a station high above the capitol building of the nations of the north and moved slowly downward until it hung poised one scant mile over the building. missiles, jets, and heavy guns were set and ready, but no attack was made. therefore garlock introduced himself to various personages and invited them aboard instead of snatching them; nor did he immobilize them after they had been teleported aboard. "the president, the chief of staff, the chief justice, the most eminent scientist, the head of a church, the leaders of the legislative body and four political bosses, the biggest business man, biggest labor leader, and biggest gangster. fourteen men." as garlock studied them his face hardened. "i thought to leave your nations armed, to entrust this world's future to you, but no. only two of you are really concerned about the welfare of your peoples, and one of those two is very weak. most of you are of no higher motivation than are the two dictators and your gangster clyden. you are much better than those we have already disarmed, but you are not good enough." garlock's hard eyes swept over the group for two minutes before he went on: "i am opening all of your minds, friend and foe alike, to each other, so that you may all see for yourselves what depths of rottenness exist there and just how unfit your world is to associate with the decent worlds of this or any other galaxy. it would take god himself to do anything with such material, and i am not god. therefore, when we have rid this world of atomics we will leave and you will start all over again. if you really try, you can not only kill all animal life on your planet, but make it absolutely uninhabitable for...." "stop it, clee!" lola jumped up, her eyes flashing. garlock dropped the tuned group, but belle took it over. everyone there understood every thought. "don't you _see_, you've done enough? that now you're going too far? that these twenty-odd men, having had their minds opened and having been given insight into what is possible, will go forward instead of backward?" "forward? with such people as the prime ministers, the labor and business leaders, the bosses and the gangsters to cope with? do you think they've got spines stiff enough for the job?" "i'm sure of it. our world did it with no better. millions and millions of other worlds did it. why can't this one do it? of course it can." "may i ask a couple of questions?" this thought came from the tall, trim, soldierly chief of staff. "of course, general cordeen." "we have all been taking it for granted that you four belong to some super-human race; some kind or other of _homo superior_. do i understand correctly your thought that your race is _homo sapiens_, the same as ours?" "why, of course it is," lola answered in surprise. "the only difference is that we are a few thousand years older than you are." "you said also that there were 'millions and millions' of worlds that have solved the problems facing us. were all these worlds also peopled by _homo sapiens_? it seems incredible." "true, nevertheless. on any and every world of this type humanity is identical physically; and the mental differences are due only to their being in different stages of development. in fact, every planet we have visited except this one makes a regular custom of breeding its best blood with the best blood of other solar systems. and as to the 'millions and millions,' i meant only a very large but indefinite number. as far as i know, not even a rough estimate has ever been made--has there, clee?" "no, but it will probably turn out to be millions _of_ millions, instead of millions _and_ millions; and squared and then cubed at that. my guess is that it'll take another ten thousand years of preliminary surveying such as we're doing, by all the crews the various galaxian societies can put out, before even the roughest kind of an estimate can be made as to how many planets are inhabited by mutually fertile human peoples." * * * for a moment the group was stunned. then: "do you mean to say," asked the merchant prince, "that you galaxians are not the only ones who have interstellar travel?" "far from it. in fact, yours is the only world we have seen that does not have it, in one form or another." "oh? more than one way? that makes it still worse. would you be willing to sell us plans, or lease us ships...?" "so that you could exploit other planets? we will not. you would get nowhere, even if you had an interstellar drive right now. you, personally, are a perfect example of what is wrong with this planet. rapacious, insatiable; you violate every concept of ethics, common decency, and social responsibility. your world's technology is so far ahead of its sociology that you not only should be, but actually are being, held in quarantine." "_what?_" "exactly. one race i know of has been inspecting you regularly for several hundreds of your years. they will not make contact with you, or allow you to leave your own world, until you grow up to something beyond the irresponsible-baby stage. thus, about two and one-half of your years ago, a starship of that race sent down a sensing element--unmanned, of course--to check your state of development. brother sovig volatilized it with an atomic missile." "we did not do it," the dictator declared. "it was the war-mongering capitalists." "you brainless, mindless, contemptible idiot," garlock sneered. "are even you actually stupid enough to try to lie with your mind? to minds linked to your own and to mine?" "we did do it, then, but it was only a flying saucer." "just as this ship was, to you, only a flying saucer, i suppose. so here's something else for you to think about, brother sovig, with whatever power your alleged brain is able to generate. when you shot down that sensor, the starship did not retaliate, but went on without taking any notice of you. when you tried to shoot _us_ down, we took some slight action, but did not kill anyone and are now discussing the situation. listen carefully now, and remember--it is very possible that the next craft you attack in such utterly idiotic fashion will, without any more warning than you gave, blow this whole planet into a ball of incandescent gas." "can that actually be done?" the scientist asked. for the first time, he became really interested in the proceedings. "very easily, doctor cheswick," garlock replied. "we could do it ourselves with scarcely any effort and at very small cost. you are familiar, i suppose, with the phenomenon of ball lightning?" "somewhat. its mechanism has never been elucidated in any very satisfactory mathematics." "well, we have at our disposal a field some...." "hold it, clee," james warned. "do you want to put out that kind of stuff around here?" "um ... m ... m. what do you think?" * * * james studied cheswick's mind. "better than i thought," he decided. "he has made two really worthwhile intuitions--a genius type. he's been working on what amounts almost to the coupler theory for ten years. he's almost got it, but you know intuitions of that caliber can't be scheduled. he might get it tomorrow--or never. i'd say push him over the hump." "okay with me. we'll take a vote--one blackball kills it. brownie? just the link, of course. a few hints, perhaps, at application, but no technological data." "i say give it to him. he's earned it. besides, he isn't young and may die before he gets it, and that would lose them two or three hundred years." "belle?" "in favor. shall i drop the linkage? no," she answered her own question. "no other minds here will have any idea of what it means, and it may do some of them a bit of good to see one of their own minds firing on more than one barrel." "thank you, galaxians." the scientist's mind had been quivering with eagerness. "i am inexpressibly glad that you have found me worthy of so much help." * * * garlock entered cheswick's mind. first he impressed, indelibly, six symbols and their meanings. second, a long and intricate equation; which the scientist studied avidly. during the ensuing pause, garlock cut the president and chief of staff out of the linkage. "we have just given cheswick a basic formula. in a couple of hundred years it will give you full telepathy, and then you will begin really to go up. there's nothing secret about it--in fact, i'd advise full publication--but even so it might be a smart idea to give him both protection and good working conditions. brains like his are apt to be centuries apart on any world." "but this is ... it could be ... it _must_ be!" cheswick exclaimed. "i _never_ would have formulated _that_! it isn't quite implicit, of course, but from this there derives the existence of, and the necessity for, electrogravitics! an entirely new field of reality and experiment in science!" "there does indeed," garlock admitted, "and it is far indeed from being implicit. you leaped a tremendous gap. and yes, the resultant is more humanistic than technological." belle's ear-splitting whistle resounded throughout the main. "how do you like _them_ tid-bits, clee?" she asked. "two hundred years in seventy-eight seconds? you folks will have telepathy by the time your present crop of babies grows up. clee, aren't you sorry you got mad and blew your top and wanted to pick up your marbles and go home? _three_ such intuitions in one man's lifetime beats par, even for the genius course." "it sure does," garlock admitted, ruefully. "i should have studied these minds--particularly his--before jumping at conclusions." "may i say a few words?" the president asked. "you may indeed, sir. i was hoping you would." "we have been discouraged; faced with an insoluble problem. sovig and lingonor, knowing that their own lives were forfeit anyway, were perfectly willing to destroy all the life on this world to make us yield. now, however, with the insight and the encouragement you galaxians have given us, the situation has changed. reduced to ordinary high explosives, they cannot conquer us...." "especially without an airforce," lola put in. "i, personally, will see to it that every bomber and fighter plane they now have goes to the third moon. it will be your responsibility to see to it that they do not rebuild." "thank you, miss montandon. we will see to it. as for our internal difficulties--i think, under certain conditions, they can be handled. our lawless element," he glanced at the gangster, "can be made impotent. the corrupt practices of both capital and labor can be stopped. we have laws," here he looked at the members of congress and the judge, "which can be enforced. the conditions i mentioned would be difficult at the moment, since so few of us are here and it is manifest that few if any of our people will believe that such people as you galaxians really exist. would it be possible for you, miss montandon, to spend a few days--or whatever time you can spare--in showing our congress, and as many other groups as possible, what humanity may hope to become?" "of course, sir. i was planning on it." "i'm afraid that is impossible," the chief of staff said. "why, general cardeen?" lola asked. "because you'd be shot," cardeen said, bluntly. "we have a very good secret service, it is true, and we would give you every protection possible; but such an all-out effort as would be made to assassinate you would almost certainly succeed." "shot?" garlock asked in surprise. "what with? you haven't anything that could even begin to crack an operator's shield." "with this, sir." cardeen held out his automatic pistol for inspection. "oh, i hadn't studied it ... a pellet-projector...." "_pellet!_ do you call a four-seventy-five slug a pellet?" "not much of that, really ... it shoots eight times--shoot all eight of them at her. none of them will touch her." "_what?_ i _will_ not! one of those slugs will go through three women like her, front to back in line." "i will, then." the pistol leaped into garlock's hand. "hold up one hand, brownie, and catch 'em. don't let 'em splash--no deformation, so he can recognize his own pellets." holding the unfamiliar weapon in a clumsy, highly unorthodox grip--something like a schoolgirl's first attempt--garlock glanced once at lola's upraised palm and eight shots roared out as fast as the gases of explosion could operate the mechanism. the pistol's barrel remained rigidly motionless under all the stress of ultra-rapid fire. lola's slim, deeply-tanned arm did not even quiver under the impact of that storm of heavy bullets against her apparently unsupported hand. no one saw those bullets strike that gently-curved right palm, but everyone saw them drop into her cupped left hand, like drops of water dripping rapidly from the end of an icicle into a bowl. "here are your pellets, general cardeen." lola handed them to him with a smile. "holy--jumping--snakes!" the general said, and: "wotta torpedo!" came the gangster's envious thought. "you see, i am perfectly safe from being 'shot,' as you call it," lola said. "so i'll come down and work with you. you might have your news services put out a bulletin, though. i never have killed anyone, and am not going to here, but anyone who tries to shoot me or bomb me or anything will lose both hands at the wrists just before he fires. that would keep them from killing anyone standing near me, don't you think?" "i should _think_ it would," general cordeen thought, and a pall of awe covered the linked minds. the implications of the naively frank remark just uttered by this apparently inoffensive and defenseless young woman were simply too overwhelming to be discussed. "anything else on the agenda, clee?" lola asked. there was not, and the starship's guests were returned, each to his own home place. and not one of them, it may be said, was exactly the same as he had been. [illustration: the deepest gunther block was at last penetrated and belle became conscious of a heretofore unknown mental alignment with the ship.] chapter "i think i'll come along with you and bodyguard you, lola," belle said, the following morning after breakfast. "clee's going to be seven thousand miles deep in mathematics and jim's doing his stuff at the observatory, and i can't help either of 'em at the moment. you'd do a better job, wouldn't you, if you could concentrate on it?" "of course. thanks, belle. but remember, it's already been announced--no death. just hands. i can't really believe that i'll be attacked, but they seem pretty sure of it." "i'd like to separate anyone like that from his head instead of his hands, but as it is published so it will be performed." "how about wearing some kind of half-way-comfortable shoes instead of those slippers?" garlock asked. "that could turn out to be a long, tough brawl, and your dogs'll be begging for mercy before you get back here." "uh-uh. very comfortable and a perfect fit. besides, if i have to suffer just a little bit for good appearance's sake in a matter of intergalactic amity...." "a matter of showing off, you mean." "why, clee!" belle widened her eyes at him. "how you talk! but they're ready, lola--let's go." the two girls disappeared from the main, to appear on the speakers' stand in front of the capitol building. president benton was there, with his cabinet and certain other personages. general cordeen and his staff. and many others. "oh, miss bellamy, too? i'm _very_ glad you are here," benton said, as he shook hands cordially with both. "thank you. i came along as bodyguard. may i meet your secret service chief, please?" "why, of course. miss bellamy, may i present mr. avengord?" "you have the hospital room ready?... where is it, please?" "back of us, in the wing...." "just think of it, please, and i will follow your thought.... ah, yes, there it is. i hope it will not be used. you agree with general cordeen that there will be one or more attempts at assassination?" "i'm very much afraid so. this town is literally riddled with enemy agents, and of course we don't know all of them--especially the best ones. they know that if these meetings go through, they're sunk; so they're desperate. we've got this whole area covered like dew--we've arrested sixteen suspects already this morning--but all the advantage is theirs," avengord finished glumly. "not all of it, sir," belle smiled at him cheerfully. "you have me, and i am a prime operator. that is, a wielder of power of no small ability. oh, you are right. there is an attempt now being prepared." * * * while belle had been greeting and conversing, she had also been scanning. her range, her sensitivity, and her power were immensely greater than lola's; were probably equal to garlock's own. she scanned by miles against the scant yards covered by the secret service. "where?" "give me your thought." the secret service man did not know what she meant--telepathy was of course new to him--so she seized his attention and directed it to a certain window in a building a couple of miles away on a hill. "but they couldn't, from there!" "but they can. they have a quite efficient engine of destruction--a 'rifle' is their thought. large, and long, with a very good telescope on it--with crosshairs. if i scan their minds more precisely you may know the weapon.... ah, they think of it as a 'buford mark forty anti-aircraft rifle'." "a buford! my god, they can hit any button on her clothes--get her away, quick!" he tried to jump, but could not move. "as you were," she directed. "there was another buford there, and another over there." she guided his thought. "two men to each buford. there are now six handless men in your hospital room. if you will send men to those three places you will find the bufords and the hands. your surgeon will have no difficulty in matching the hands to the men. if any seek to remove either bufords or hands before your men get there, i will de-hand them, also." * * * to say that the secret service man was flabbergasted is to put it very mildly indeed. cordeen had told him, with much pounding on his desk and in searing, air-blueing language, what to expect-or, rather, to expect _anything_, no matter what and with no limits whatever--but he hadn't believed it then and simply could not believe it now. goddamn it, such things _couldn't_ happen. and this beautiful, beautifully-stacked, half-naked woman--girl, rather, she couldn't be a day over twenty-five--even if it had been their black-browed, toplofty leader, captain garlock himself.... "i am twenty-three of your years old, not twenty-five," she informed him, coldly, "and i will permit no distinction of sex. in your primitive culture the women may still be allowing you men to believe in the fallacy of the superiority of the male, but know right now that i can do anything any man ever born can do and do it better." "oh, i'm ... i'm sure ... certainly...." avengord's thought was incoherent. "if you want me to work with you you had better start believing right now that there are a lot of things you don't know," belle went on relentlessly. "stop believing that just because a thing has not already happened on this primitive, backward, mudball planet of yours, it can't happen anywhere or anywhen. you do believe, however, whether you want to or not, things you see with your own eyes?" "yes. i can _not_ be hypnotized." "i'm very glad you believe that much." avengord did not notice that she neither confirmed nor denied the truth of his statement. "to that end you will go now into the hospital room and see the bandaging going on. you will see and hear the news broadcast going out as i prepared it." he went, and came back a badly shaken man. "but they're sending it out exactly as it happened!" he protested. "they'll all scatter out so fast and so far we'll _never_ catch them!" "by no means. you see, the amputees didn't believe that they would lose their hands. their superiors didn't believe it, either; they assured each other and their underlings that it was just capitalistic bluff and nonsense. and since they are all even more materialistic and hidebound and unbelieving than you are, they all are now highly confused--at a complete loss." "you can say _that_ again. if i, working with you and having you pounding it into my head, couldn't more than half believe it...." "so they are now very frightened, as well as confused, and the director of their whole spy system is now violating rule and precedent by sending out messengers to summon certain high agents to confer with him in his secret place." "if you'll tell me where, i'll get over to my office...." "no. we'll both be in your office in plenty of time. we'll watch lola get started. it will be highly instructive for you to watch a really capable operator at work." * * * president benton had been introduced; had in turn finished introducing lola. the crowd, many thousands strong, was cheering. lola was stepping into the carefully marked speaker's place. "you may disconnect these," she waved a hand at the battery of microphones, "since i do not use speech. not only do i not know any of your various languages, but no one language would suffice. my thought will go to every person on this, your world." "world?" the president asked in surprise. "surely not behind the curtains? they will jam you, i'm afraid." "my thought, as i shall drive it, will not be stopped," lola assured him. "since this world has no telepathy, it has no mind-blocks and i can cover the planet as easily as one mind. nor does it matter whether it be day or night, or whether anyone is awake or asleep. all will receive my message. since you wish a record, the cameras may run, although they are neither necessary nor desirable for me. everyone will see me in his mind, much better than on the surface of any teevee tube." "and i was going to have her address _congress_!" the president whispered, aside, to general cordeen. then lola put her whole fine personality into a smile, directed apparently not only at each separate individual within sight, but also individually at every person on the globe; and when brownie montandon set out to make a production of a smile, it had the impact of a pile-driver. then came her smooth, gently-flowing, friendly thought: "my name, friends of this world ormolan, is lola montandon. those of you who are now looking at teevee screens can see my imaged likeness. all of you can see me very much better within your own minds. "i am not here as an invader in any sense, but only as a citizen of the first galaxy of this, our common universe. i have attuned my mind to each of yours in order to give you a message from the united galaxian societies. "there are four of us galaxians in this exploration team. as galaxians it is our purpose here and our duty here to open your minds to certain basic truths, to be of help to you in clearing your minds of fallacies, of lies, and of undefensible prejudices; to the end that you will more rapidly become galaxians yourselves...." "okay. this will go on and on. that's enough to give you an idea of what a trained and polished performer can do. what do you think of _them_ comfits, chief?" belle deliberately knocked the secret service man out of his lola-induced mood. "huh? oh, yes." avengord was still groggy. "she's phenomenal--good--i don't mean goody-goody, but sincere and really...." "yeah, but don't fall in love with her. everybody does and it doesn't do any of them a bit of good. that's her specialty and she's _very_ good at it. i told you she's a smooth, smooth worker." "you can say _that_ again." avengord did not know that he was repeating himself. "but it isn't an act. she means it and it's true." "of course she means it and of course it's true. otherwise even she, with all her training, couldn't sell such a big bill of goods." then, in answer to the man's unspoken question, "yes, we're all different. she's the contactor, the spreader of the good old oil, the shining example of purity and sweetness and light--in short, the greaser of the ways. i'm a fighter, myself. do you think she could actually have de-handed those men? uh-uh. at the last minute she would have weakened and brought them in whole. my job in this operation is to knock hell out of the ones lola can't convince, such as those spies you and i are going to interview pretty quick." "even they ought to be convinced. i don't see how anybody could help but be." "uh-uh. it'll bounce off like hailstones off of a tin roof. the only thing to do to that kind of scum is kill them. if you'll give me a thought as to where your office is we'll hop over and...." * * * belle and avengord disappeared from the stand; and, such was lola's hold, no one on the platform or in the throng even noticed that they were gone. they materialized in avengord's private office; he sitting as usual at his desk, she reclining in legs-crossed ease in a big leather chair. "... get to work." belle's thought had not been interrupted by any passage of time whatever. "what do you want to do first?" "but i thought you were covering miss montandon?" "i am. like a blanket. just as well here as anywhere. i will be, until she gets back to the _pleiades_. what first?" "oh. well, since i don't know what your limits are--if you have any--you might as well do whatever you think best and i'll watch you do it." "that's the way to talk. you're going to get a shock when you see who the head man is. george t. basil." "_basil_! i'll say it's a shock!" avengord steadied, frowned in concentration. "could be, though. _he_ would _never_ be suspected--but they're very good at that." "yeah. his name used to be baslovkowitz. he was trained for years, then planted. none of this can be proved, as his record is perfect. born citizen, highest standing in business and social circles. unlimited entry and top security clearance. right?" "right ... and getting enough evidence, in such cases as that, is pure, unadulterated hell." "i suppose i could kill him, after we've recorded everything he knows," belle suggested. "no!" he snapped. "too many people think of us as a strong-arm squad now. anyway, i'd rather kill him myself than wish the job off onto--you don't _like_ killing, do you?" "that's the understatement of the century. no civilized person does. in a hot fight, yes; but killing anyone who is helpless to fight back--in cold blood--ugh! it makes me sick in my stomach even to think of it." "with the way you can read minds, we can get evidence enough to send them all to jail, and that we'll have to do." "how about this?" belle grinned as another solution came to mind. "from those first eight top men, we'll find out a lot of others lower down, and so on, until we have 'em all locked up here. we'll announce that exactly so many spies and agents--giving names, addresses, and facts, of course--got panicky after lola's address. they fired up their hidden planes and flew back behind the curtain. then, when we've scanned their minds and recorded everything you want, i'll pack them all, very snugly and carefully, into sovig's private office. with the world situation what it then will be, he won't dare kill them--he simply won't know what to do when faced with it." * * * avengord agreed happily. he reached out and flipped the switch of his intercom. "miss kimling, come in, please." the door burst open. "why, it _is_ you! but you were on the rostrum just a minute.... oh!" she saw belle, and backed, eyes wide, toward the door she had just entered. "_she_ was there, too, and it's fifteen _miles_...." "steady, fram. i'd like to present you to prime operator belle bellamy, who is cleaning out the entire curtain organization for us." "but how did you...." "never mind that. teleportation. it took her half an hour to pound it into me, and we can't take time to explain anything now. i'll tell everybody everything i know as soon as i can. in the meantime, don't be surprised at anything that happens, and by that i mean _anything_. such as solid people appearing on this carpet--on that spot right there--instantaneously. i want you to pay close attention to everything your mind receives, put your phenomenal memory into high gear, listen to everything i record, stop me any time i'm wrong, and be _sure_ i get everything we need." "i don't know exactly what you're talking about, sir, but i'll try." "frankly, i don't, either--we'll just have to roll it as we go along. we're ready for george t. basil now, miss bellamy--i hope. don't jump, fram." * * * basil appeared and fram jumped. she did not scream, however, and did not run out of the office. the master spy was a big, self-assured, affluent type. he had not the slightest idea of how he had been spirited out of his ultra-secret sub-basement and into this room; but he knew where he was and, after one glance at belle, he knew why. he decided instantly what to do about it. "this is an outrage!" he bellowed, hammering with his fist on avengord's desk. "a stupid, high-handed violation of the rights...." belle silenced him and straightened him up. "high-handed? yes," she admitted quite seriously. "however, from the galaxian standpoint, you have no rights at all and you are going to be extremely surprised at just how high-handed i am going to be. i am going to read your mind to its very bottom--layer by layer, like peeling an onion--and everything you know and everything you think is going down in mr. avengord's big black book." belle linked all four minds together and directed the search, making sure that no item, however small, was missed. avengord recorded every pertinent item. fram kimling memorized and correlated and double-checked. soon it was done, and basil, shouting even louder about this last and worst violation of his rights--those of his own private mind--was led away by two men and "put away where he would keep." "but this _is_ a flagrant violation of law...." miss kimling began. "you can say _that_ again!" her boss gloated. "and if you only knew how tickled i am to do it, after the way they've been kicking _me_ around! "but i wonder ... are you sure we can get away with it?" "certainly," belle put in. "we galaxians are doing it, not your government or your secret service. we'll start you clean--but it'll be up to you to keep it clean, and that will be no easy job." "no, it won't; but we'll do it. come around again, say in five or six years, and see." "you know, i might take you up on that? maybe not this same team, but i've got a notion to tape a recommendation for a re-visit, just to see how you get along. it'd be interesting." "i wish you would. it might help, too, if everybody thought you'd come back to check. suppose you could?" "i've no idea, really. i'd like to, though, and i'll see what i can do. but let's get on with the job. they're all in what you call the 'tank' now. which one do you want next?" the work went on. that evening there was of course a reception; and then a ball. and belle's feet did hurt when she got back to the _pleiades_, but of course she would not admit the fact--most especially not to garlock. exactly at the expiration of the stipulated seventy-two hours, the galaxians began to destroy military atomic plants; and, shortly thereafter, the starship's crew was again ready to go. and james rammed home the red button that would send them--all four wondered--_where_? it turned out to be another hodell-type world; and, even with the high-speed comparator, it took longer to check the charts than it did to make them. * * * the next planet was similar. so was the next, and the next. the time required for checking grew longer and longer. "how about cutting out this checking entirely, clee?" james asked then. "what good does it do? even if we find a similarity, what could we do about it? we've got enough stuff now to keep a crew of astronomers busy for five years making a tank of it." "okay. we probably are so far away now, anyway, that the chance of finding a similarity is vanishingly small. keep on taking the shots, though; they'll prove, i think, that the universe is one whole hell of a lot bigger than anybody has ever thought it was. that reminds me--are you getting anywhere on that n-problem? i'm not." "i'm getting nowhere, fast. you should have been a math prof in a grad school, clee. you could flunk every advanced student you had with that one. belle and i together can't feed it to compy in such shape as to get a definite answer. we think, though, that your guess was right--if we ever stabilize anywhere it will probably be relative to hodell, not to tellus. but the cold fact of how far away we must be by this time just scares the pants off of me." "you and me both, my ripe and old. we're a _long_ ways from home." * * * jumping went on; and, two or three planets later, they encountered an arpalone inspector who did not test them for compatibility with the humanity of his world. "do not land," the creature said, mournfully. "this world is dying, and if you leave the protection of your ship, you too will die." "but _worlds_ don't die, surely?" garlock protested. "people, yes--but worlds?" "worlds die. it is the dilipic. the humans die, too, of course, but it is the world itself that is attacked, not the people. some of them, in fact, will live through it." garlock drove his attention downward and scanned. "you arpalones are doing what looks like a mighty good job of fighting. can't you win?" "no, it is too late. it was already too late when they first appeared, two days ago. when the dilipics strike in such small force that none of their--agents?--devices?--whatever they are?--can land against our beaming, a world can be saved; but such cases are very few." "but this thought, 'dilipic'?" garlock asked, impatiently. "it is merely a symbol--it doesn't _mean_ anything--to me, at least. what are they? where do they come from?" "no one knows anything about them," came the surprising answer. "not even their physical shape--if they have any. nor where they come from, or how they do what they do." "they can't be very common," garlock pondered. "we have never heard of them before." "fortunately, they are not," the inspector agreed. "scarcely one world in five hundred is ever attacked by them--this is the first dilipic invasion i have seen." "oh, you arpalones don't die with your worlds, then?" lola asked. she was badly shaken. "but i suppose the arpales do, of course." "practically all of the arpales will die, of course. most of us arpalones will also die, in the battles now going on. those of us who survive, however, will stay aloft until the rehabilitation fleet arrives, then we will continue our regular work." "rehab?" belle exclaimed. "you mean you can _restore_ planets so badly ruined that all the people die?" "oh, yes. it is a long and difficult work, but the planet is always re-peopled." "let's go down," garlock said. "i want to get all of this on tape." they went down, over what had been one of that world's largest cities. the air, the stratosphere, and all nearby space were full of battling vessels of all shapes and sizes; ranging from the tremendous globular spaceships of the invaders down to the tiny, one-man jet-fighters of the arpalones. * * * the dilipics were using projectile weapons only--ranging in size, with the size of the vessels, from heavy machine guns up to seventy-five-millimeter quick-firing rifles. they were also launching thousands of guided missiles of fantastic speed and of tremendous explosive power. the arpalones were not using anything solid at all. each defending vessel, depending upon its type and class, carried from four up to a hundred or so burnished-metal reflectors some four feet in diameter; each with a small black device at its optical center and each pouring out a tight beam of highly effective energy. it was at these reflectors, and particularly at these tiny devices, that the small-arms fire was directed, and the marksmanship of the dilipics was very good indeed. however, each projector was oscillating irregularly and each fighter-plane was taking evasive action; and, since a few bullet-holes in any reflector did not reduce its efficiency very much, and since the central mechanisms were so small and were moving so erratically, a good three-quarters of the arpalonian beams were still in action. * * * there was no doubt at all that those beams were highly effective. invisible for the most part, whenever one struck a dilipic ship or plane everything in its path flared almost instantly into vapor and the beam glared incandescently, blindingly white or violet or high blue--never anything lower than blue. almost everything material, that is; for guns, ammunition, and missiles were not affected. they did not even explode. when whatever fabric it was that supported them was blasted away, all such things simply dropped; simply fell through thousands or hundreds of thousands of feet of air to crash unheeded upon whatever happened to be below. the invading task force was arranged in a whirling, swirling, almost cylindrical cone, more or less like an earthly tornado. the largest vessels were high above the stratosphere; the smallest fighters were hedge-hoppingly close to ground. each dilipic unit seemed madly, suicidally determined that nothing would get through that furious wall to interfere with whatever it was that was coming down from space to the ground through--along?--the relatively quiet "eye" of the pseudo-hurricane. on the other hand, the arpalones were madly, suicidally determined to break through that vortex wall, to get into the "eye," to wreak all possible damage there. group after group after group of five jet-fighters each came driving in; and, occasionally, the combined blasts of all five made enough of opening in the wall so that the center fighter could get through. once inside, each pilot stood his little, stubby-winged craft squarely on her tail, opened his projectors to absolute maximum of power and of spread, and climbed straight up the spout until he was shot down. and the arpalones were winning the battle. larger and larger gaps were being opened in the vortex wall; gaps which it became increasingly difficult for the dilipics to fill. more and more arpalone fighters were getting inside. they were lasting longer and doing more damage all the time. the tube was growing narrower and narrower. all four galaxians perceived all this in seconds. garlock weighed out and detonated a terrific matter-conversion bomb in the exact center of one of the largest vessels of the attacking fleet. it had no effect. then a larger one. then another, still heavier. finally, at over a hundred megatons equivalent, he did get results--of a sort. the invaders' guns, ammunition, and missiles were blown out of the ship and scattered outward for miles in all directions; but the structure of the dilipic ship itself was not harmed. belle had been studying, analyzing, probing the things that were coming down through that hellish tube. "clee!" she drove a thought. "cut out the monkey-business with those damn firecrackers of yours and look here--pure, solid force, like ball lightning or our op field, but entirely different--see if you can analyze the stuff!" "alive?" garlock asked, as he drove a probe into one of the things--they were furiously-radiating spheres some seven feet in diameter--and began to tune to it. "i don't know--don't think so--if they are, they're a form of life that no sane human being could even imagine!" "let's see what they actually do," garlock suggested, still trying to tune in with the thing, whatever it was, and still following it down. this particular force-ball happened to hit the top of a six-story building. it was not going very fast--fifteen or twenty miles an hour--but when it struck the roof it did not even slow down. without any effort at all, apparently, it continued downward through the concrete and steel and glass of the building; and everything in its path became monstrously, sickeningly, revoltingly changed. "i simply can't stand any more of this," lola gasped. "if you don't mind, i'm going to my room, set all the gunther blocks it has, and bury my head under a pillow." "go ahead, brownie," james said. "this is too tough for _anybody_ to watch. i'd do the same, except i've got to run these cameras." lola disappeared. * * * garlock and belle kept on studying. neither had paid any attention at all to either lola or james. instead of the structural material it had once been, the bore that the thing had traversed was now full of a sparkling, bubbling, writhing, partly-fluid-partly-viscous, obscenely repulsive mass of something unknown and unknowable on earth; a something which, garlock now recalled, had been thought of by the arpalone inspector as "golop." as that unstoppable globe descended through office after office, it neither sought out people nor avoided them. walls, doors, windows, ceilings, floors and rugs, office furniture and office personnel; all alike were absorbed into and made a part of that indescribably horrid brew. nor did the track of that hellishly wanton globe remain a bore. instead, it spread. that devil's brew ate into and dissolved everything it touched like a stream of boiling water being poured into a loosely-heaped pile of granulated sugar. by the time the ravening sphere had reached the second floor, the entire roof of the building was gone and the writhing, racing flood of corruption had flowed down the outer walls and across the street, engulfing and transforming sidewalks, people, pavement, poles, wires, automobiles, people-anything and everything it touched. * * * the globe went on down, through basement and sub-basement, until it reached solid, natural ground. then, with its top a few inches below the level of natural ground, it came to a full stop and--apparently--did nothing at all. by this time, the ravening flood outside had eaten far into the lower floors of the buildings across the street, as well as along all four sides of the block, and tremendous masses of masonry and steel, their supporting structures devoured, were subsiding, crumbling, and crashing down into the noisome flood of golop--and were being transformed almost as fast as they could fall. one tremendous mass, weighing hundreds or perhaps thousands of tons, toppled almost as a whole; splashing the stuff in all directions for hundreds of yards. wherever each splash struck, however, a new center of attack came into being, and the peculiarly disgusting, abhorrent liquidation went on. "can you do anything with it, clee?" belle demanded. "not too much--it's a mess," garlock replied. "besides, it wouldn't get us far, i don't think. it'll be more productive to analyze the beams the arpalones are using to break them up, don't you think?" then, for twenty solid minutes, the two prime operators worked on those enigmatic beams. "we can't assemble _that_ kind of stuff with our minds," belle decided then. "i'll say we can't," garlock agreed. "ten megacycles, and cycling only twenty per second." he whistled raucously through his teeth. "my guess is it'd take four months to design and build a generator to put out that kind of stuff. it's worse than our op field." "i'm not sure i could _ever_ design one," belle said, thoughtfully, "but of course i'm not the engineer you are...." then, she could not help adding, "... yet." "no, and you never will be," he said, flatly. "no? that's what _you_ think!" even in such circumstances as those, belle bellamy was eager to carry on her warfare with her project chief. "that's _exactly_ what i think--and i'm so close to knowing it for a fact that the difference is indetectible." belle almost--but not quite--blew up. "well, what _are_ you going to do?" "unless and until i can figure out something effective to do, i'm not going to try to do anything. if you, with your vaunted and flaunted belief in the inherent superiority of the female over the male, can dope out something useful before i do, i'll eat crow and help you do it. as for arguing with you, i'm all done for the moment." belle gritted her teeth, flounced away, and plumped herself down into a chair. she shut her eyes and put every iota of her mind to work on the problem of finding something--_anything_--that could be done to help this doomed world and to show that big, overbearing jerk of a garlock that she was a better man than he was. which of the two objectives loomed more important, she herself could not have told, to save her life. and garlock looked around. the air and the sky over the now-vanished city were both clear of dilipic craft. the surviving arpalone fighters and other small craft were making no attempt to land, anywhere on the world's surface. instead, they were flying upward toward, and were being drawn one by one into the bowels of, huge arpalonian space-freighters. when each such vessel was filled to capacity, it flew upward and set itself into a more-or-less-circular orbit around the planet. around and around and around the ruined world the _pleiades_ went; recording, observing, charting. fifty-eight of those atrocious dilipic vortices had been driven to ground. every large land-mass surrounded by large bodies of water had been struck once, and only once; from the tremendous area of the largest continent down to the relatively tiny expanses of the largest islands. one land-mass, one vortex. one only. "what d'you suppose _that_ means?" james asked. "afraid of water?" "damfino. could be. let's check ... mountains, too. skip us back to where we started--oceans and mountains both fairly close there." the city had disappeared long since; for hundreds of almost-level square miles there extended a sparkling, seething, writhing expanse of--of what? the edge of that devouring flood had almost reached the foot-hills, and over that gnawing, dissolving edge the _pleiades_ paused. * * * small lakes and ordinary rivers bothered the golop very little if at all. there was perhaps a slightly increased sparkling, a slight stiffening, a little darkening, some freezing and breaking off of solid blocks; but the thing's forward motion was not noticeably slowed down. it drank a fairly large river and a lake one mile wide by ten miles long while the two men watched. the golop made no attempt to climb either foot-hills or mountains. it leveled them. it ate into their bases at its own level; the undermined masses, small and large, collapsed into the foul, corrosive semi-liquid and were consumed. nor was there much raising of the golop's level, even when the highest mountains were reached and miles-high masses of solid rock broke off and toppled. there was some raising, of course; but the stuff was fluid enough so that its slope was not apparent to the eye. * * * then the _pleiades_ went back, over the place where the city had been and on to what had once been an ocean beach. the original wave of degradation had reached that shore long since, had attacked its sands out into deep water, and there it had been stopped. the corrupt flood was now being reinforced, however, by an ever-rising tide of material that had once been mountains. and the slope, which had not been even noticeable at the mountains or over the plain, was here very evident. as the rapidly-flowing golop struck water, the water shivered, came to a weirdly unforgettable cold boil, and exploded into drops and streamers and jagged-edged chunks of something that was neither water nor land; or rock or soil or sand or satan's unholy brew. nevertheless, the water won. there was _so_ much of it! each barrel of water that was destroyed was replaced instantly and enthusiastically; with no lowering of level or of pressure. and when water struck the golop, the golop also shivered violently, then sparkled even more violently, then stopped sparkling and turned dark, then froze solid. the frozen surface, however, was neither thick enough nor strong enough to form an effective wall. again and again the wave of golop built up high enough to crack and to shatter that feeble wall; again and again golop and water met in ultimately furious, if insensate, battle. inch by inch the ocean's shoreline was driven backward toward ocean's depths; but every inch the ocean lost was to its tactical advantage, since the advancing front was by now practically filled with hard, solid, dead blocks of its own substance which it could neither assimilate nor remove from the scene of conflict. hence the wall grew ever thicker and solider; the advance became slower and slower. then, finally, ocean waves of ever-increasing height and violence rolled in against the new-formed shore. what caused those tremendous waves--earthquakes, perhaps, due to the shifting of the mountains' masses?--no tellurian ever surely knew. whatever the cause, however, those waves operated to pin the golop down. whenever and wherever one of those monstrous waves whitecapped in, hurling hundreds of thousands of tons of water inland for hundreds of yards, the battle-front stabilized then and there. all over that world the story was the same. wherever there was water enough, the water won. and the total quantity of water in that world's oceans remained practically unchanged. "good. a lot of people escaped," james said, expelling a long-held breath. "everybody who lives on or could be flown to all the islands smaller than the biggest ones ... if they can find enough to eat and if the air isn't poisoned." "air's okay--so's the water--and they'll get food," garlock said. "the arpalones will handle things, including distribution. what i'm thinking about is how they're going to rehabilitate it. that, as an engineering project, is a feat to end all feats." "_brother!_ you can play _that_ in spades!" james agreed. "except that it'll take too many months before they can even start the job, i'd like to stick around and see how they go about it. how does this kind of stuff fit into that theory you're not admitting is a theory?" "not worth a damn. however, it's a datum--and, as i've said before and may say again, if we can get _enough_ data we can build a theory out of it." then it began to rain. for many minutes the clouds had been piling up--black, far-flung, thick and high. immense bolts of lightning flashed and snapped and crackled; thunder crashed and rolled and rumbled; rain fell, and continued to fall, like a cloud-burst in colorado. and shortly thereafter--first by square feet and then by acres and then by square miles--the surface of the golop began to die. to die, that is, if it had ever been even partially alive. at least it stopped sparkling, darkened, and froze into thick skins; which broke up into blocks; which in turn sank--thus exposing an ever-renewed surface to the driving, pelting, relentlessly cascading rain. "well, i don't know that there's anything to hold us here any longer," garlock said, finally. "shall we go?" they went; but it was several days before any of the wanderers really felt like smiling; and lola did not recover from her depression for over a week. chapter supper was over, but the four were still at the table, sipping coffee and smoking. during a pause in the casual conversation, james suddenly straightened up. "i want an official decision, clee," he said, abruptly. "while we're out of touch with united worlds you, as captain of the ship and director of the project, are boss, with a capital b. the lord of justice, high and low. the works. check?" "on paper, yes; with my decisions subject to appeal and/or review when we get back to base. in practice, i didn't expect to have to make any very gravid rulings." "i never thought you'd have to, either, but belle fed me one with a bone in it, so...." "just a minute. how official do you want it? full formal, screens down and recorded?" "not unless we have to. let's explore it first. as of right now, are we under the code or not?" "of course we are." "not necessarily," belle put in, sharply. "not slavishly to the letter. we're so far away and our chance of getting back is so slight that it should be interpreted in the light of common sense." * * * garlock stared at belle and she stared back, her eyes as clear and innocent as a baby's. "the code is neither long enough nor complicated enough to require interpretation," garlock stated, finally. "it either applies in full and exactly or not at all. my ruling is that the code applies, strictly, until i declare the state of ultimate contingency. are you ready, belle, to abandon the project, find an uninhabited tellurian world, and begin to populate it?" "well, not quite, perhaps." "yes or no, please." "no." "we are under the code, then. go ahead, jim." "i broke pairing with belle and she refused to confirm." "certainly i refused. he had no reason to break with me." "i had plenty of reason!" james snapped. "i'm fed up to here--" he drew his right forefinger across his forehead, "--with making so-called love to a woman who can never think of anything except cutting another man's throat. she's a heartless conniver." "you both know that reasons are unnecessary and are not discussed in public," garlock said, flatly. "now as to confirmation of a break. in simple pairing there is no marriage, no registration, no declaration of intent or of permanence. thus, legally or logically, there is no obligation. morally, however, there is always some obligation. hence, as a matter of urbanity, in cases where no injury exists except as concerns chastity, the code calls for agreement without rancor. if either party persists in refusal to confirm, and cannot show injury, that party's behavior is declared inurbane. confirmation is declared and the offending party is ignored." "just how would you go about ignoring prime operator belle bellamy?" "you've got a point there, jim. however, she hasn't persisted very long in her refusal. as a matter of information, belle, why did you take jim in the first place?" "i didn't." she shrugged her shoulders. "it was pure chance. you saw me flip the tenth-piece." "am i to ignore the fact that you are one of the best telekineticists living?" "i don't _have_ to control things unless i want to!" she stamped her foot. "can't you conceive of me flipping a coin honestly?" "no. however, since this is not a screens-down inquiry, i'll give you--orally, at least--the benefit of the doubt. the next step, i presume, is for lola to break with me. lola?" "well ... i hate to say this, clee.... i thought that mutual consent would be better, but...." lola paused, flushing in embarrassment. "she feels," james said, steadily, "as i do, that there should be much more to the sexual relation than merely releasing the biological tensions of two pieces of human machinery. that's hardly civilized." "i confirm, lola, of course," garlock said; then went on, partly thinking aloud, partly addressing the group at large. "ha. reasons again, and very well put--not off the cuff. evasions. flat lies. something very unfunny here--as queer as a nine-credit bill. in sum, indefensible actions based upon unwarranted conclusions drawn from erroneous assumptions. the pattern is not clear ... but i won't order screens down until i have to ... if the reason had come from belle...." "_me_?" belle flared. "why from me?" "... instead of jim...." ignoring belle's interruption, garlock frowned in thought. after a minute or so his face cleared. "jim," he said, sharply, "have you been consciously aware of belle's manipulation?" "why, no, of course not. she _couldn't_!" "that's _really_ a brainstorm, clee," belle sneered. "you'd better turn yourself in for an overhaul." "nice scheme, belle," garlock said. "i underestimated--at least, didn't consider carefully enough--your power; and overestimated your ethics and urbanity." "what are you talking about, chief?" james asked. "you lost me ten parsecs back." "just this. belle is behind this whole operation; working under a perfectly beautiful smokescreen." "i'm afraid the boss is cracking up, kids," belle said. "listen to him, if you like, but use your own judgment." "but nobody could make jim and me really love each other," lola argued, "and we really do. it's real love." "admitted," garlock said. "but she could have helped it along; and she's all set to take every possible advantage of the situation thus created." "i still don't see it," james objected. "why, she wouldn't even confirm our break. she hasn't yet." "she would have, at the exactly correct psychological moment; after holding out long enough to put you both under obligation to her. there would have, also, been certain strings attached. her plan was, after switching the pairings...." "i wouldn't pair with you," belle broke in viciously, "if you were the only man left in the macrocosmic universe!" "part of the smokescreen," garlock explained. "the re-pairings would give her two lines of attack on me, to be used simultaneously. first, to work on me in bed...." "see?" belle interrupted. "he doesn't think i've got any heart at all." "oh, you may have one, but it's no softer than your head, and that could scratch a diamond. second, to work on you two, with no holds barred, to form a three-unit team against me. her charges that i am losing my grip made a very smart opening lead." "do you think i'd _let_ her work on me?" james demanded. "she's a prime--you wouldn't know anything about it. however, nothing will happen. nor am i going to let her confuse the real issue. belle, you are either inside the code or a free agent outside it. which?" "i have made my position clear." "to me, yes. to jim and lola, decidedly unclear." "unclear, then. you can _not_ coerce me!" "if you follow the code, no. if you don't, i can and will. if you make any kind of a pass at jim james from now on, i'll lock you into your room with a gunther block." "_you wouldn't dare_!" she breathed. "besides, you couldn't, not to another prime." "don't bet on it," he advised. after a full minute of silence garlock's attitude changed suddenly to his usual one of casual friendliness. "why not let this one drop right here, belle? i can marry them, with all the official trimmings. why not let 'em really enjoy their honeymoon?" "why not?" belle's manner changed to match garlock's and she smiled warmly. "i confirm, jim. you two are really serious, aren't you? marriage, declarations, registration, and everything? i wish--i sincerely and really wish you--every happiness possible." "we really _are_ serious," james said, putting his arm around lola's waist. "and you won't ... won't interfere?" "not a bit. i couldn't, now, even if i wanted to." belle grinned wryly. "you see, you kids missed the main feature of the show, since you can't know exactly what a prime operator is. especially you can't know what cleander simmsworth garlock really is--he's an out-and-out tiger on wheels. the three of us could have smacked him bow-legged, but of course all chance of that blew up just now. so if you two want to take the big jump you can do it with my blessing as well as clee's. i'll clear the table." * * * that small chore taken care of--a quick folding-up of everything into the tablecloth and a heave into the chute did it--belle set up the recorder. "are you both fully certain that you want the full treatment?" garlock asked. both were certain, and garlock read the brief but solemn marriage lines. as the newlyweds left the room, belle turned to garlock with a quizzical smile. "are you going to ask me to pair with you, clee?" "i certainly am." he grinned back at her. "i owe you that much revenge, at least. but seriously, i'd like it immensely and we fit like grace and poise. look at that mirror. did you ever see a better-matched couple? will you give me a try, belle?" "i will not," she said, emphatically. i'll take back what i said a while ago--if you were really the only man left, i would--but as it is, the answer is a definite, resounding, and final '_no_'." "'definite' and 'resounding,' yes. 'final,' i won't accept. i'll wait." "you'll wait a long time, buster. my door will be locked from now on. good night, doctor garlock, i'm going to bed." "so am i." he walked with her along the corridor to their rooms, the doors of which were opposite each other. "in view of the code, locking your door is a meaningless gesture. mine will remain unlocked. i invite you to come in whenever you like, and assure you formally that no such entry will be regarded as an invasion of privacy." without a word she went into her room and closed the door with a firmness just short of violence. her lock clicked sharply. * * * the next morning, after breakfast, james followed garlock into his room and shut the door. "clee, i want to tell you.... i don't want to get sloppy but...." "want to lep it?" "hell, no!" "it's about brownie, then." "uh-huh. i've always liked you immensely. admired you. hero, sort of...." "yeah. i quote. 'harder than pharaoh's heart.' 'colder than frozen helium,' and all the rest. but this thing about brownie...." he reached out; two hard hands met in a crushing grip. "how could you possibly lay off? just the strain, if nothing else." "a little strain doesn't hurt a man unless he lets it. i've done without for months at a stretch, with it running around loose on all sides of me." "but she's so ... she's got _everything_!" "there speaketh the ensorcelled bridegroom. for my taste, she hasn't. she told you, i suppose, when explaining a certain fact, that i told her she wasn't my type?" "yes, but...." "she still isn't. she's a very fine person, with a very fine personality. she is one of the two most nearly perfect young women of her race. her face is beautiful. her body is an artist's dream. her mind is one of the very best. besides all that, she's a very good egg and a mighty tasty dish. but put yourself in my place. * * * "here's this paragon we have just described. she has extremely high ideals and she's a virgin; never really aroused. also, she's so full of this sickening crap they've been pouring into us--propaganda, rocket-oil, prop-wash, and psychological gobbledygook--that it's running out of her ears. she's so stuffed with it that she's going to pair with you, ideals and virginity be damned, even if it kills her; even though she's shaking, clear down to her shoes--scared yellow. also, she is and always will be scared half to death of you--she thinks you're some kind of robot. she's a starry-eyed, soft-headed sissy. a sapadilla. a sucker for a smooth line of balloon-juice and flapdoodle. no spine; no bottom. a gutless doll-baby. strictly a pet--you could no more love her, ever, than you could a half-grown kitten...." "that's a _hell_ of a picture!" james broke in savagely. "even with your cold-blooded reputation." "people in love can't be objective, is all. if i saw her through the same set of filters you do, i'd be in love with her, too. so let's see if you can use your brain instead of your outraged sensibilities to answer a hypothetical question. if the foregoing were true, what would _you_ do, junior?" "i'd pass, i guess. i'd have to, if i wanted to look at myself in the mirror next morning. but that's such an _ungodly_ cockeyed picture, clee.... but if that's actually your picture of brownie--and you're no part of a liar--just what kind of a woman could you love? if any?" "belle." "_belle_! belle _bellamy_? hell's flaming furies! that iceberg? that egomaniac? that jezebel? she's the hardest-boiled babe that ever went unhung." "right, on all counts. also she's crooked and treacherous. she's a ground-and-lofty liar by instinct and training. i could add a lot more. but she's got brains, ability, and guts--guts enough to supply the women's army corps. she's got the spine and the bottom and the drive. so just imagine her thawed out and really shoveling on the coal--blasting wide open on all forty torches. back to back with you when you're surrounded; she wouldn't cave and she wouldn't give. or wing and wing--holding the beam come hell or space-warps. roll that one around on your tongue, jim, and give your taste-buds a treat." "well, maybe ... if i've got that much imagination ... that's a tough blueprint to read. i can't quite visualize the finished article. however, you're as hard as she is--even harder. you've got more of what it takes. maybe _you_ can make a christian out of her. if so, you might have something; but i'm damned if i can see exactly what. whatever it turned out to be, i wouldn't care for any part of it. you could have it all." "exactly; and you can have your brownie." "i'm beginning to see. i didn't think you had anything like that in your chilled-steel carcass. and i want to apolo...." "don't do it, boy. if the time ever comes when _you_ go so soft on me as to quit laying it on the line and start sifting out your language...." garlock paused. for one of the very few times in his life, he was at a loss for words. he thrust his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "hell, i don't want to get maudlin, either ... so ... well, how many men, do you think, could have gone the route with me on this hellish job without killing me or me killing them?" "oh, that's not...." "lay it on the line, jim. i know what i am. just one. you. one man in six thousand million. okay; how many women could live with me for a year without going crazy?" "lots of 'em; but, being masochists, they'd probably drive _you_ nuts. and you can't stand 'stupidity'; which, by definition, lets _everybody_ out. nope, it's a tough order to fill." "check. she'd have to be strong enough and hard enough not to be afraid of me, by any trace. able and eager to stand up to me and slug it out. to pin my ears back flat against my skull whenever she thinks i'm off the beam. do it with skill and precision and nicety, with power and control; yet without doing herself any damage and without changing her basic feeling for me. in short, a female jim james nine." "huh? hell's blowtorches! you think _i'm_ like belle bellamy?" "not by nine thousand megacycles. like belle bellamy could be and should be. like i hope she will be. i'd have to give, too, of course--maybe we can make christians out of each other. it's quite a dream, i admit, but it'll be belle or nobody. but i'm not used to slopping over this way--let's go." "i'm glad you did, big fellow--once in a lifetime is good for the soul. i'd say you were in love with her right now--except that if you were, you couldn't possibly dissect her like a specimen on the table, the way you've just been doing. are you or aren't you?" "i'll be damned if i know. you and brownie believe that the poets' concept of love is valid. in fact, you make a case for its validity. i never have, and don't now ... but under certain conditions ... i simply don't know. ask me again sometime; say in about a month?" "that's the surest thing you know. oh, _brother! this_ is a thing i'm going to watch with my eyes out on stalks!" * * * for the next week, belle locked her door every night. for another few nights, she did not lock it. then, one night, she left it ajar. the following evening, the two again walked together to their doors. "i left my door open last night." "i know you did." "well?" "and have you scream to high heaven that i opened it? and put me on a tape for willful inurbanity? for deliberate intersexual invasion of privacy?" * * * "blast and damn! you know perfectly well, clee garlock, i wouldn't pull such a dirty, lousy trick as that." "maybe i should apologize, then, but as a matter of fact i have no idea whatever as to what you wouldn't do." he stared at her, his face hard in thought. "as you probably know, i have had very little to do with women. that little has always been on a logical level. you are such a completely new experience that i can't figure out what makes you tick." "so you're afraid of me," she sneered. "is that it?" "close enough." "and i suppose it's you that cartoonist what's-his-name is using as a model for 'timorous timmy'?" "since you've guessed it, yes." "you ... you _weasel_!" she took three quick steps up the corridor, then back. "you say my logic is cockeyed. what system are you using now?" "i'm trying to develop one to match yours." "oh ... i invited that one, i guess, since i know you aren't afraid of god, man, woman, or devil ... and you're big enough so you don't have to be proving it all the time." she laughed suddenly, her face softening markedly. "listen, you big lug. why don't you ever knock me into an outside loop? if i were you and you were me, i'd've busted me loose from my front teeth long ago." "i'm not sure whether i know better or am afraid to. anyway, i'm not rocking any boat so far from shore." "says you. you're wonderful, clee--simply priceless. do you know you're the only man i ever met that i couldn't make fall for me like a rock falling down a cliff? and that the falling is altogether too apt to be the other way?" "the first, i have suspected. the second is chemically-pure rocket-oil." "i _hope_ it is.... i wish i could be as certain of it as you are.... you see, clee, i really expected you to come in, last night, and there really _wasn't_ any bone in it. surely, you don't think i'm going to _invite_ you into my room, do you?" "i can't see why not. however, since no valid system of logic seems to apply, i accept your decision as a fact. by the same reasoning--however invalid--if i ask you again you will again refuse. so all that's left, i guess, is for me to drag you into my room by force." he put his left arm around her and applied a tiny pressure against her side; under which she began to move slowly toward his door. "you admit that you're using force?" she asked. her face was unreadable; her mental block was at its fullest force. "that i'm being coerced? definitely?" "definitely," he agreed. "at least ten dynes of sheer brute force. not enough to affect a tape, but enough, i hope, to affect you. if it isn't, i'll use more." "oh, ten dynes is enough. just so it's force." she raised her face toward his and threw both arms around his neck. his right arm went into action with his left, and cleander garlock forgot all about dynes and tapes. after a time she disengaged one arm; reached out; opened his door. he gathered her up and, lips still locked to lips, carried her over the threshold. * * * a few jumps later they met their first really old arpalone. this inspector was so old that his skin, instead of the usual bright, clear cobalt blue, was dull and tending toward gray. the old fellow was strangely garrulous, for a guardian; he wanted them to pause a while and gossip. "yes, i am lonesome," he admitted. "it has been a long time since i exchanged thoughts with anyone. you see, nobody has visited this planet--groobe, its name is--since almost all our humanity was killed, a few periods ago...." "killed? how?" garlock asked sharply. "not dilipic?" "oh, you have seen them? i never have, myself. no, nothing nearly that bad. merely the ozobes. the world itself was scarcely harmed at all. rehabilitation will be a simple matter, so there's no real reason why some of those engineers...." "the beast!" lola shot a tight-beam thought at her husband. "who cares anything about the rock and dirt of a _planet_? it's the people that count and his are dead and he's perfectly _complaisant_ about it--just _lonesome_!" "don't let it throw you, pet," james soothed. "he's an arpalone, you know; not a sociological anthropologist." "... shouldn't come out here and spend a few hours once in a while, but they don't. too busy with their own business, they say. but while you are physically human, mentally you are not. you're all too ... too ... i can't put my thought exactly on it, but ... more as though you were human fighters, if such a thing could be possible." "we are fighters. where we come from, most human beings are fighters." "oh? i never heard of such a thing. where can you be from?" this took much explanation, since the arpalone had never heard of inter-galactic travel. "you are willing, then, to fight side by side with us arpalones against the enemies of humanity? you have actually done so, at times, and won?" "we certainly have." "i am glad. i am expecting a call for help any time now. will you please give me enough of your mental pattern, doctor garlock, so that i can call you in case of need? thank you." "what makes you think you're going to get an s.o.s. so soon? where from?" "because these ozobe invasions come in cycles, years apart, but there are always several planets attacked at very nearly the same time. we were the first, this time; so there will be one or two others very shortly." "do they always ... kill all the people?" lola asked. "oh, no. scarcely half of the time. depends on how many fighters the planet has, and how much outside help can get there soon enough." "your call could come from any of the other solar systems in this neighborhood, then?" garlock asked. "yes. there are fifteen inhabited planets within about six light-years of us, and we form a close-knit group." "what are these ozobes?" "animals. warm-blooded, but egg-layers, not mammals. like this," and the inspector spread in their minds a picture of a creature somewhat like the flying tigers of hodell, except that the color was black, shading off to iridescent green at the extremities. also, it was armed with a short and heavy, but very sharp, sting. "they say that they come from space, but i don't believe it," the old fellow went on. "what would a warm-blood be doing out in space? besides, they couldn't find anybody to lay their eggs in out there. no, sir, i think they live right here on groobe somewhere, maybe holed up in caves or something for ten or thirteen years ... but that wouldn't make sense, either, would it? i just don't know...." * * * garlock finally broke away from the lonesome inspector and the _pleiades_ started down. "that's the most utterly _horrible_ thing i ever heard of in my life!" lola burst out. "like wasps--only worse--_people_ aren't bugs! why don't all the planets get together and develop something to kill every ozobe in every system of the group?" "that one has got too many bones in it for me to answer," james said. "i'm going to get hold of that engineer as soon as we land," lola said, darkly, "and stick a pin into him." they found the engineering office easily enough, in a snug camp well outside a large city. they grounded the starship and went out on foot; enjoying contact with solid ground. the head engineer was an arpalone, too--engineers were not a separate race, but dwellers on a planet of extremely high technology--but he did know anything about space-drives. his specialty was rehabilitation; he was top boss of a rehab crew.... * * * then lola pushed garlock aside. yes, the ozobes came from space. he was sure of it. yes, they laid eggs in human bodies. yes, they probably stayed alive quite a while--or might, except for the rehab crew. no, he didn't _know_ what would hatch out--he'd never let one live that long, but what the hell else _could_ hatch except ozobes? no, not one. not one single damn one. if just one ever did, on any world where he bossed the job, he'd lose his job as boss and go to the mines for half a year.... "ridiculous!" lola snapped. "if ozobes hatched, they couldn't possibly have come from space. if they _did_ come from space, the adult form would have to be something able to get back into space, some way or other. _that_ is simple elementary biology. don't you see that?" he didn't see it. he didn't give a damn, either. it was none of his business; he was a rehab man. lola ran back to the ship in disgust. "something else is even more ridiculous, and _is_ your business," james told the head engineer. "garlock and i are both engineers--top ones. we know definitely that a one-hundred-percent clean-up on such a job as this--millions--simply can't be done. ever. under any conditions. are you lying in your teeth or are you dumb enough to believe it yourself?" "neither one," the engineer insisted, stubbornly. "i've wondered, myself, at how i could get 'em all, but i always do--every time so far. that's why they give me the big job. i'm good at it." "oh--lola's right, jim," garlock said. "it's the adult form that hatches; something so different they don't even recognize it. something able to get into space. enough survivors to produce the next generation." "sure. i'll tell brownie--she'll be tickled." "she'll be more than tickled--she'll want to hunt up somebody around here with three brain cells working and give 'em an earful." then, to the engineer, "do you know how they rehab a planet that's been leveled flat by the golop?" "you've _seen_ one? i never have, but of course i've studied it. slow, but not too difficult. after killing, the stuff weathers down in a few years--wonderful soil it makes--what makes it slow is that you have to wait fifty or a hundred years for the mountains to get built up again and for the earthquakes to quit...." "excuse me, please--i've got a call--we have to leave, right now." the call was from the inspector. the nearest planet, clamer, was being invaded by the ozobes and needed all the help they could get. * * * in seconds the _pleiades_ was at the port of entry. "where is this clamer?" garlock asked. the inspector pointed a thought; all four followed it. "let's go, jim. maybe...." "just a minute!" lola snapped. she was breathing hard, her eyes were almost shooting sparks as she turned to the old arpalone and drove a thought so forcibly that he winced. "do you so-called 'guardians of humanity' care at all about the humanity you're supposed to be protecting?" she demanded viciously, the thought boring in and twisting, "or are you just loafing on the job and doing as little as you possibly can without getting fired?" belle and garlock looked at each other and grinned. james was surprised and shocked. this woman blowing her top was no brownie montandon any of them knew. "we do everything we possibly can," the inspector was not only shocked, but injured and abused. "if there's any one possible thing we haven't done, even the tiniest...." "there's plenty!" she snapped. "plain, dumb stupidity, then, it must be. there must be _somebody_ around here who has been at least exposed to elementary biology! you should have exterminated these ozobe vermin ages ago. all you have to do is find out what its life cycle is. how many stages and what they are. how the adults get into space and where they go," and she went on, in flashing thoughts, to explain in full detail. "are you smart enough to understand that?" "oh, yes. your thought may be the truth, at that." "and are you interested enough to find out whose business it would be, and follow through on it?" "yes, of course. if it works, i'll be quite famous for suggesting it. i'll give you part of the credit...." "keep the credit--just see to it that it gets _done_!" she whirled on james. "this loss of human life is so _appallingly_ unnecessary! this time we're going to clamer, and nowhere else. push the button, jim." "all i can do is set up for it, pet. whether we...." "we'll get there!" she blazed. "it's high time we got a break. _punch_ it! _this_ time the ship's going to _clamer_, if we have to all get out and _push_ it there! now punch that button!" james pushed the button, glanced into his scanner, and froze; eyes staring. he did not even whistle. belle, however, did; with ear-shattering volume. garlock's mouth fell open in the biggest surprise of his life. they were in the same galaxy! all three had studied charts of nebular configurations so long and so intensely that recognition of a full-sphere identity was automatic and instantaneous. lola, head buried in scanner, had already checked in with the port inspector. "it _is_ clamer!" she shrieked aloud. "i _told_ you it was time for our luck to change, if we pulled hard enough! they are being invaded by ozobes and they did call for help and they didn't think we could possibly get here this fast and we don't need to be inspected because we're compatible or we couldn't have landed on groobe!" for five long minutes garlock held the starship motionless while he studied the entire situation. then he drove a probe through the mental shield of the general in charge of the whole defense operation. "battle-cruiser _pleiades_, captain garlock commanding, reporting for duty in response to your s.o.s. received on groobe." the general, furiously busy as he was, dropped all other business. "but you're _human_! you can't fight!" "watch us. you don't know, apparently, that the ozobe bases are on the far side of your moon. they're bringing their fighters in most of the way in transports." "why, they can't be! they're coming in from all directions from deep space!" "that's what they want you to think. they're built to stand many hours of zero pressure and almost absolute zero cold. question: if we destroy all their transport, say in three hours, can you handle all the fighters who will be in the air or in nearby space at that time?" "very easily. they've hardly started yet. i appoint you admiral-pro-tem garlock, in command of space operations, and will refer to you any other space-fighters who may come. i thank you, sir. good luck." the general returned his attention to his boiling office. his mind was seething with questions as to what these not-human beings were, how or if they knew so much, and so on; but he forced them out of his mind and went, fast and efficient, back to work. james shot the _pleiades_ up to within a thousand miles or so of the moon. "how long does it take to learn this bombing business, jim?" lola asked. "about fifteen seconds. all you have to do is _want_ to. do you, really?" "i really do. if i don't do something to help these people," it did not occur to her that she had already done a tremendous job, "i'll never forgive myself." james showed her; and, much to her surprise, she found it very easy to do. * * * the vessels transporting the invading forces were huge, spherical shells equipped with short-range drives--and with nothing else. no accommodations, no facilities, no food, no water, not even any air. each transport, when filled to the bursting-point with as-yet-docile cargo, darted away; swinging around to approach clamer from some previously-assigned direction. it did not, however, approach the planet's surface. at about two thousand miles out, great ports opened and the load was dumped out into space, to fall the rest of the way by gravity. then the empty shell, with only its one pilot aboard, rushed back for another load. "how heavy shots, clee?" james asked. he and lola were getting into their scanners. "wouldn't take as much as a kiloton equivalent, would it?" "half a kilo is plenty, but no use being too fussy about precision out here." * * * garlock and belle were already bombing; james and lola began. slow and awkward at first, lola soon picked up the technique and was firing blast for blast with the others. no more loaded transport vessels left the moon. no empty one, returning toward the moon, reached there. in much less than the three hours garlock had mentioned, every ozobian transport craft had been destroyed. "and now the real job begins," garlock said, as james dropped the starship down to within a few miles of the moon's surface. that surface was cratered and jagged, exactly like that of the half always facing clamer. no sign of activity could be seen by eye, nor anything unusual. even the immense trap-doors, all closed now, matched exactly their surroundings. underground, however, activity was violently intense; and, now, confused in the extreme. "why, there isn't a single adult anywhere!" lola exclaimed. "i thought the whole place would be full of 'em!" "so did i," belle said. "however, by hindsight, it's plain enough. their job done, they were killed and eaten. last meal, perhaps." "i'm afraid so. whatever they were, they had hands and brains. just _look_ at those shops and machines!" "what do we do, boss?" james asked. "run a search pattern first?" "we'll have to, i guess, before we can lay the job out." it was run and garlock frowned in thought. "almost half the moon covered--honeycombed. we'll have to fine-tooth it. around the periphery first, then spiral into the center. this moon isn't very big, but even so this is going to be a hell of a long job. any suggestions, anybody? jim?" "the only way, i guess. you can't do it hit-or-miss. i'm _damn_ glad we've got plenty of stuff in our op field and plenty of hydride for the engines. the horses will all know they've been at work before they get the field filled up again." "so will you, junior, believe me.... ready, all? start blasting." then, for three hours, the _pleiades_ moved slowly--for her--along a plotted and automatically-controlled course. it was very easy to tell where she had been; the sharply-cut, evenly-spaced, symmetrical pits left by the galaxian's full-conversion blasts were entirely different from the irregularly-cratered, ages-old original surface. "knock off, brownie," garlock said then. "go eat all you can hold and get some sleep. come back in three hours. jim, cut our speed to seventy-five percent." lola shed her scanner, heaved a tremendous sigh of relief, and disappeared. three silent hours later--all three were too intensely busy to think of anything except the work in hand--lola came back. "take belle's swath, brownie. okay, belle, you can lay off. three hours." "i'll stay," belle declared. "go yourself; or send jim." "don't be any more of a damn fool than you have to. i said beat it." "and i said i wouldn't. i'm just as good...." "chop it off!" garlock snapped. "it isn't a case of being just as good as. it's a matter of physical reserves. jim and i have more to draw on for the long shifts than you have. so get the hell out of here or i'll stop the ship and slap you even sillier than you are now." belle threw up her head, tossing her shoulder-length green mop in her characteristic gesture of defiance; but after holding garlock's hard stare for a moment she relaxed and smiled. "okay, clee--and thanks for the kind words." she disappeared and the work went on. and finally, when all four were so groggy that they could scarcely think, the job was done and checked. clamer's moon was as devoid of life as any moon had ever been. * * * lola pitched her scanner at its rack and threw herself face-down on a davenport, sobbing uncontrollably. james sat down beside her and soothed her until she quieted down. "you'd better eat something, sweetheart, and then for a good, long sleep." "eat? why, i couldn't, jim, not possibly." "let her sleep first, i think, jim," belle said, and followed with her eyes as jim picked his wife up and carried her into the corridor. "we'd better eat _something_, i suppose," belle said, thoughtfully. "i don't feel like eating, either, but i never realized until this minute just how much this has taken out of me and i'd better start putting it back in.... she did a wonderful job, clee, even if she couldn't take it full shift toward the last." "i'll say she did. i hated like the devil to let her work that way, but ... you knew i was scared witless every second until we topped off." exhausted and haggard as she was, belle laughed. "i know damn-blasted well you weren't; but i know what you mean. fighting something you don't know anything about, and can't guess what may happen next, is tough. seconds count." side by side, they strolled toward the alcove. "i simply didn't think she had it in her," belle marveled. "she didn't. she hasn't. it'll take her a week to get back into shape." "right. she was going on pure nerve at the last--nothing else ... but she did a job, and she's so sweet and fine.... i wonder, clee, if ... if i've been missing the boat...." "you have not." garlock sent the thought so solidly that belle jumped. "if you'd just let yourself be, you'd be worth a million of her, just as you stand." "yes? you lie in your teeth, cleander, but i love it.... oh, i don't know what i want to eat--if anything." "i'll think up yours, too, along with mine." "please. something light, and just a little." "yeah. sit down. just a light snack--a two-pound steak, rare; a bowl of mushrooms fried in butter; french fries, french dips, salad, and a quart of coffee. the same for me, except more of each. here we are." "why, clee, i couldn't _possibly_ eat half of that...." then, after a quarter of it was gone, "i _am_ hungry, at that--simply ravenous. i could eat a horse and saddle, and chase the rider." "that's what i thought. i knew i could, and figured you accordingly." * * * they ate those tremendous meals slowly, enjoying every bite and sip; in an atmosphere of friendliness and good fellowship; chatting on a wide variety of subjects as they ate. neither was aware of the fact that this was the first time they had ever been on _really_ friendly terms. and finally every dish and container was empty, almost polished clean. "one hundred percent capacity--can chew but can't swallow," garlock said then, lighting two cigarettes and giving belle one. "how's that for a masterly job of calibration?" "me, too. it'll pass." belle sighed in repletion. "your ability to estimate the exact capacity of containers is exceeded only by your good looks and by the size of your feet. and now to hit the good old sack for an indefinite but very long period of time." "you chirped it, birdie." still eminently friendly, the two walked together to their doors. belle put up a solid block and paused, irresolute, twisting the toe of one slipper into the carpet. "clee, i ... i wonder ... if...." her voice died away. "i know what you mean." he put his arms around her gently, tenderly, and looked deep into her eyes. "i want to tell you something, belle. you're a woman, not in seven thousand million women, but in that many planets full of women. what it takes, you very definitely and very abundantly have got. and you aren't the only one that's pooped. i don't need company tonight, either. i'm going to sleep until i wake up, if it takes all day. or say, if you wake up first, why not punch me and we'll have breakfast together?" "that's a thought. do the same for me. good night, clee." "good night, ace." he kissed her, as gently as he had been holding her, opened her door, closed it after her, and stepped across the corridor into his own room. "_what_ a man!" belle breathed to herself, behind the solid screens of her room. "he thought i was too tired, not just scared to death too. what a _man_! belle bellamy, you ought to be kicked from here to tellus...." then she threw back her head, drove a hard little fist into a pillow, and spoke aloud through clenched teeth. "no, damn and blast it, i _won't_ give in. i _won't_ love him. i'll take the project away from him if it's the last thing i ever do in this life!" * * * she woke up the next morning--not morning, either, since it was well after noon--a little before garlock did, but not much. when she went into his room he was shaved and fully dressed except for one shoe, which he was putting on. "hi, boss! better we eat, huh? not only am i starving by inches, but if we don't eat pretty quick we'll get only one meal today instead of three. did you eat your candy bar?" "i sure did, ace." "oh, i'm still 'ace'? you can kiss me, then," and she raised her face toward his. he kissed her, still tenderly, and they strolled to and through the main and into the alcove. james and lola, the latter looking terribly strained and worn, had already eaten, but joined them in their after-breakfast coffee and cigarettes. "you've checked, of course," garlock said. "everything on the beam?" "dead center. even to lola and her biologists. everybody's full of joy and gratitude and stuff--as well as information. and we managed to pry ourselves loose without waking you two trumpet-of-doom sleepers up. so we're ready to jump again. i wonder where in _hell_ we'll wind up _this_ time." "i'm glad you said that, jim." garlock said. "it gives me the nerve to spring a thing on you that i've been mulling around in my mind ever since we landed here." "nerve? you?" james asked, incredulously. "pass the coffee-pot around again, brownie. if that character there said what i heard him say, this'll make your hair stand straight up on end." "on our jumps we've had altogether too much power and no control whatever...." garlock paused in thought. "like a rookie pitcher," belle suggested. "uh-uh," lola objected. "it _couldn't_ be that wild. he'd have to stand with his back to the plate and pitch the ball over the center-field stands and seven blocks down-town." "cut the persiflage, you two," garlock ordered. "consider three things. first, as you all know, i've been trying to figure out a generator that would give us intrinsic control, but i haven't got any farther with it than we did back on tellus. second, consider all the jumps we've made except this last one. every time we've taken off, none of us has had his shield really up. you, jim, were concentrating on the drive, and so were wide open to it. the rest of us were at least thinking about it, and so were more or less open to it. not one of us has ever ordered it to take us to any definite place; in fact, i don't believe that anyone of us has ever even suggested a destination. each one of us has been thinking, at the instant of energization of the fields, exactly what you just said, and with exactly the same emphasis. "third, consider this last jump all by itself. it's the first time we've ever stayed in the same galaxy. it's the first time we've ever gone where we wanted to. and it's the first time--here's the crux, as i see it--that any of us has been concentrating on any destination at the moment of firing the charge. brownie was willing the _pleiades_ to this planet so hard that we all could taste it. the rest of us, if not really pushing to get here, were at least not opposed to the idea. check?" "check." "that's right." "yes, i was pushing with all my might," came from the three listeners, and james went on: "are you saying the damn thing's _alive_?" "no. i'm saying i don't believe in miracles. i don't believe in coincidence--that concept is as meaningless as that of paradox. i certainly do _not_ believe that we hit this planet by chance against odds of almost infinity to one. so i've been looking for a reason. i found one. it goes against my grain--against everything i've ever believed--but, since it's the only possible explanation, it must be true. the only possible director of the gunther drive _must_ be the mind." "hell's blowtorches--now you're _insisting_ that the damn thing's alive." "far from it. it's brownie who's alive. it was brownie who got us here. nothing else--repeat, _nothing_ else--makes sense." james pondered for a full minute. "i wouldn't buy it except for one thing. if you, the hardest-boiled skeptic that ever went unhung, can feed yourself the whole bowl of such a mess as that, i can at least take a taste of it. shoot." "okay. you know that we don't know anything really fundamental about either teleportation or the drive. i'm sure now that the drive is simply mechanical teleportation. if you tried to 'port yourself without any idea of where you wanted to go, where do you think you'd land?" "you might scatter yourself all over space--no, you wouldn't. you wouldn't move, because it wouldn't be teleportation at all. destination is an integral part of the concept." "exactly so--but only because you've been conditioned to it all your life. this thing hasn't been conditioned to anything." "like a new-born baby," lola suggested. "life again," james said. "i can't see it--too many bones in it. pure luck, even at those odds, makes a lot more sense." "and to make matters worse," garlock went on as though neither of them had spoken. "just suppose that a man had four minds instead of one and they weren't working together. then where would he go?" this time, james simply whistled; the girls stared, speechless. "i think we've proved that my school of mathematics was right--the thing was built to operate purely at random. fotheringham was wrong. however, i missed the point that if control is possible, the controller must be a mind. such a possibility never occurred to me or anyone working with me. or to fotheringham or to anybody else." "i can't say i'm sold, but it's easy to test and the results can't be any worse. let's go." "how would you test it?" "same way you would. only way. first, each one of us alone. then pairs and threes. then all four together. fifteen tests in all. no. three destinations for each set-up; near, medium, and far. except tellus, of course; we'd better save that shot until we learn all we can find out. everybody not in the set should screen up as solidly as they can set their blocks--eyes shut, even, and concentrating on something else. check?" james did not express the thought that tellus must by now be so far away that no possible effort could reach it; but he could not repress the implication. "check. i'll concentrate on a series of transfinite numbers. belle, you work on the possible number of shades of the color green. lola, on how many different perfumes you can identify by smell. jim, hit the button." chapter since the tests took much time, and were strictly routine in nature, there is no need to go into them in detail. at their conclusion, garlock said: "first: either jim alone, or lola alone, or jim and lola together, can hit any destination within any galaxy, but can't go from one galaxy to another. "second: either belle or i, or any combination containing either of us without the other, has no control at all. "third: belle and i together, or any combination containing both of us, can go intergalactic under control. "in spite of confession being supposed to be good for the soul, i don't like to admit that we've put gravel in the gear-box--do you, belle?" garlock's smile was both rueful and forced. "you can play _that_ in spades." belle licked her lips; for the first time since boarding the starship she was acutely embarrassed. "we'll have to, of course. it was all my fault--it makes me look like a damned stupid juvenile delinquent." "not by nineteen thousand kilocycles, since neither of us had any idea. i'll be glad to settle for half the blame." * * * "will you please stop talking sanskrit?" james asked. "or lep it, so we two innocent bystanders can understand it?" "will do," and garlock went on in thought. "remember what i said about this drive not being conditioned to anything? i was wrong. belle and i have conditioned it, but badly. we've been fighting so much that something or other in that mess down there has become conditioned to her; something else to me. my part will play along with anyone except belle; hers with anybody except me. anti-conditioning, you might call it. anyway, they lay back their ears and balk." "oh, hell!" james snorted. "talk about gobbledygook! you are still saying that that conglomeration of copper and silver and steel and insulation that we built ourselves has got intelligence, and i still won't buy it." "by no means. remember, jim, that this concept of mechanical teleportation, and that the mind is the only possible controller, are absolutely new. we've got to throw out all previous ideas and start new from scratch. i postulate, as a working hypothesis drawn from original data as modified by these tests, that that particular conglomeration of materials generates at least two fields about the properties of which we know nothing at all. that one of those properties is the tendency to become preferentially resonant with one mind and preferentially non-resonant with another. clear so far?" "as mud. it's a mighty tough blueprint to read." james scowled in thought. "however, it's no harder to swallow than sanderson's theory of teleportation. or, for that matter, the actual basic coupling between mind and ordinary muscular action. does that mean we'll have to rebuild half a million credits' worth of ... no, you and belle can work it, together." "i don't know." garlock paced the floor. "i simply can't see any _possible_. mechanism of coupling." "subconscious, perhaps," belle suggested. "for my money that whole concept is invalid," garlock said. "it merely changes 'i don't know' to 'i can't know' and i don't want any part of that. however, 'unconscious' could be the answer ... if so, we may have a lever.... belle, are you willing to bury your hatchet for about five minutes--work with me like a partner ought to?" "i certainly am, clee. honestly. screens down flat, if you say so." "half-way's enough, i think--you'll know when we get down there." her mind joined his and he went on, "ignore the machines themselves completely. consider only the fields. feel around with me--keep tuned!--see if there's anything at all here that we can grab hold of and manipulate, like an op field except probably very much finer. i'll be completely damned if i can see how this type of gunther generator can put out a manipulable field, but it must. that's the only--o-w-r-c-h-h!" this last was a yell of pure mental agony. both hands flew to his head, his face turned white, sweat poured, and he slumped down unconscious. he came to, however, as the other three were stretching him out on a davenport. belle was mopping his face with a handkerchief. "what happened, clee?" all three were exclaiming at once. "i found my manipulable field, but a bomb went off in my brain when i straightened it out." he searched his mind anxiously, then smiled. "but no damage done--just the opposite. it opened up a gunther cell i didn't know i had. didn't it sock you, too, belle?" "uh-uh," she said, more than half bitterly. "i must not have one. that makes you a super-prime, if i may name a new classification." "nonsense! of course you've got it. unconscious, of course, like me, but without it you couldn't have conditioned the field. but why.... oh, what bit me was the one conditioned to me." "oh, nice!" belle exclaimed. "come on, clee--let's go get mine!" "do you want a bit of knowledge _that_ badly, belle?" lola asked. "besides, wait, he isn't strong enough yet." "of course he's strong enough. a little knock like that? _want_ it! i'd give my right leg and ... and almost _anything_ for it. it didn't kill him, so it won't kill me." "there may be an easier way," garlock said. "i wouldn't wish a jolt like that onto my worst enemy. but that had two hundred kilovolts and four hundred kilogunts behind it. since i know now where and what the cell is, i think i can open it up for you without being quite so rough." "oh, lovely. come in, quick! i'm ready now." * * * garlock went in; and wrought. it took longer--half an hour, in fact--but it was very much easier to take. "what did it feel like, belle?" lola asked, eagerly. "you winced like he was drilling teeth and struck a couple of nerves." "uh-uh. more like being stretched all out of shape. like having a child, maybe, in a small way. let's go, clee!" they joined up and went. "ha, _there_ you are, you cantankerous little fabrication of nothings!" belle said aloud, in a low, throaty, gloating voice. "take _that_--and _that_! and now behave yourself. if you don't, mama spank--but _good_!" then, breaking connection, "thanks a million, clee; you're tall, solid gold. do you want to run some more tests, to see which of us is the intergalactic transporter?" "not unless you do." "who, me? i'll be tickled to death not to; just like i'd swallowed an ostrich feather. back to tellus, then?" "tellus, here we come," garlock said. "jim, what are the tellurian figures for exactly five hundred miles up?" "i'll punch 'em--got 'em in my head." james did so. "shall brownie and i set our blocks?" "no," belle said. "nothing can interfere with us now." "ready." garlock sat down in the pilot's seat. "cluster 'round, chum." * * * belle leaned against the back of the chair and put both arms around garlock's neck. "i'm clustered." "the spot we're shooting at is exactly over the exact center of the middle blast-pit at port gunther. in sync?" "to a skillionth of a whillionth of a microphase. i'm _exactly_ on and locked. shoot." "now, you sheet-iron bucket of nuts and bolts, _jump_!" and garlock snapped the red switch. earth lay beneath them. so did port gunther. "hu-u-u-uh!" garlock's huge sigh held much more of relief than of triumph. "they did it! we're home!" lola shrieked; and, breaking into unashamed and unrestrained tears, went into her husband's extended arms. "cry ahead, sweet. i'd bawl myself if garlock wasn't looking. maybe i will, anyway," james said. then, extending his right arm to garlock and to belle, "i was scared to death you couldn't make it except by back tracking. good going, you two primes," but his thoughts said vastly more than his words. belle's eyes, too, were wet; garlock's own were not quite dry. "you weren't as sure as you looked, then, that we could do it the hard way," belle said. "all inside, i was one quivering mass of jelly." "afterward, you mean. you were solid as gibraltar when i fired the charge. you're the kind of woman a man wants with him when the going's tough. slide around here a little, so i can get hold of you." garlock released belle--finally--and turned to the pilot, who was just pulling a data-sheet from compy the computer. "how far did we miss target, jim?" * * * james held up his right hand, thumb and forefinger forming a circle. "you're one point eight seven inches high, and off center point five three inches to the north northeast by east. i hereby award each of you the bronze medal of marksman first. shall i take her down now or do you want to check in from here first?" "neither ... i think. what do you think, belle?" "right. not until you-know-what." "check. until we decide whether or not to let them know just yet that we can handle the ship. if we do, how many of our taped reports we turn in and how many we toss down the chute." "i get it!" james exclaimed, with a spreading grin. "_that_, my dear people, is something i never expected to live long enough to see--our straight-laced doctor garlock applying the bugger factor to a research problem!" "i prefer the term 'monk's coefficient,' myself," garlock said, "from the standpoint of mathematical rigor." "at polytech we called it 'finagle's formula'," belle commented. "the most widely applicable operator known." "have you three lost your minds?" lola demanded. "that's nothing to joke about--you wouldn't destroy official reports! all that astronomy and anthropology that nobody ever even dreamed of before? you _couldn't_! not _possibly_!" "each of us knows just as well as you do how much data we have, exactly how new and startling it is; but we've thought ahead farther than you have. none of us likes the idea of destroying it a bit better than you do. we won't, either, without your full, unreserved, wholehearted consent, nor without your fixed, iron-clad, unshakable determination never to reveal any least bit of it." "that language is far too strong for me. i'd like to be able to go along with you, but on those terms, i simply can't." "i think you can, when you've thought it through. you've met alonzo p. ferber, haven't you? read him?" "one glimpse; that was all i could stand. he pawed me mentally and wanted to paw me physically, the first time i ever saw him." "check. so i'm going to ask you two questions, which you may answer as an anthropologist, as lola montandon, as mrs. james james james the ninth, as a member of our team, or as any other character you choose to assume. remembering that ferber's a gunther first--and pretends to be an operator whenever he can get away with it--should he, or anyone like him, _ever_ be allowed to visit hodell? second question: if there is any possible way for him to get there, can he be made to stay away?" "oh ... grand lady neldine and that perfectly stunning grand lady lemphi they picked out for jim ... they're such _nice_ people ... and the gunther genes...." as lola thought on, her expressive face showed a variety of conflicting emotions before it hardened into decision. "the answer to both questions--the only possible answer--is no. i subscribe; on the exact terms you stipulated. and you don't believe, clee, that my thesis had anything to do with my holding out at first?" "certainly i don't. besides...." "what thesis?" belle asked. * * * "for my ph.d. in anthropology. i thought i had it made, but it just went down the chute. and i don't know if any of you realize just how nearly impossible it is to make a really worthwhile original contribution to science in that field." "as i started to tell you, brownie," garlock said, "i don't think you've lost a thing. there's a bigger and better one coming up." "_what_?" "sh-h-h-h," belle stage-whispered. "he's got a theory--such a weirdie that he won't talk about it to anybody." "it isn't a theory yet--at least, not ripe enough to pick--but it's something more than a hunch," garlock said. "but what could _possibly_ make as good a thesis as those extra-galactic tapes?" lola wailed. "they would have made my thesis a summer breeze." "more like a hurricane--the hottest thing since doctorate disputations first started," garlock said. "however, as i started to say twice before, it still will be. intra-galactic tapes will be just as good. in this case, better." "w-e-l-l ... possibly. but we haven't any." "that is what this conference is about. we can't destroy the stuff we have unless we can replace it with something better. my idea is that we should visit a few--say fifty--tellus-type planets in this galaxy; the ones closest to tellus. i'm pretty sure they'll be inhabited by _homo sapiens_. there's a chance, of course, that they'll be like hodell and the others we've seen; in which case i don't see how we can keep gunther genes confined to earth. however, i'm pretty sure in my own mind that we'll find them all very much like tellus, gunther and all. what would you think of _that_ for a thesis, lola?" "oh, wonderful!" "okay. now to get back to whether we want to check in or not. i don't like to duck out without letting them know we can handle this heap--after a fashion, that is; they don't need to know we can really handle it--but we've got nothing we can report and fatso will blow his stack--oh-oh! should've remembered tellus isn't hodell; the tri-di's setting up! belle, you take it. she'd give me fatso, because he wants to chew me out, but she won't put him on for you. cut her throat, but good! brownie, hide somewhere! jim, set up for beta centauri--not alpha, but beta--and fast! give her hell, belle!" garlock sent this last thought from behind a davenport, from which hiding-place he could see the tri-di screen and both belle and james; but anyone on the screen could not see him. * * * miss foster's likeness appeared upon the screen. chancellor ferber's secretary was a big woman, but not fat; middle-aged, gray-haired, wearing consciously the aura and the domineering, overbearing expression of a woman who has great power and an even greater drive to exert her authority. "why haven't you reported in?" miss foster snapped, with a glare that was pure frost. "you arrived thirteen minutes ago. such delay is inexcusable. get garlock." "captain garlock is off-watch; asleep. i, commander bellamy, am in command." standing stiffly at attention, belle paused to exchange glares with the woman across the big desk. if miss foster's was frost, commander bellamy's was helium ice. "ready to go, jim?" belle flashed the thought. "half a minute yet." "any time after i sign off. pick your own spot." then aloud into the screen: "i will report to chancellor ferber. i will not report to chancellor ferber's secretary." "doctor james!" miss foster's voice was neither as cold nor as steady as it had been. "bring that ship down at once!" james made no sign that he had heard the order. belle stood changelessly stiff. she had not for an instant taken her coldly competent eyes from those of the woman on the ground. her emotionless, ultra-refrigerated voice went, as ever, directly into the screen. "i trust that this conversation is being recorded?" "it certainly is!" "good. i want it on record that we, the personnel of the starship _pleiades_, are not subject to the verbal orders of the chancellor's secretary. you will now connect me with chancellor ferber, please." "the chancellor is in conference and is not to be disturbed. i _have_ authority to act for him. you will report to me, and do it right now." foster's voice rose almost to a scream. "that ground has been covered. since you have taken it upon yourself to exceed your authority to such an extent as to refuse to connect the officer in command of the _pleiades_ with the chancellor, i cannot report to him either the reasons why we are not landing at this time or when we expect to return to tellus. you are advised that we may leave at any instant, just like that!" belle snapped her finger under the imaged nose. "you may inform the chancellor, or not inform him if you prefer, that our control of the starship _pleiades_ is something less than perfect. i do not know exactly how many seconds longer we will be here. commander bellamy signing off. over and out." "_commander_ bellamy, indeed! commander my left foot!" miss foster was screaming now, in thwarted fury. "you're no more a commander than my lowest office-girl is! just wait 'till you get down here, you green-haired hussy, you shameless notor...." the set went instantaneously from full volume to zero sound as james drove the red button home. "belle, you honey!" garlock scrambled out from behind the davenport, seized her around the waist, and swung her, feet high in air, through four full circles before he let her down and kissed her vigorously. "you little _sweetheart_! you're the first living human being ever to really pull foster's cork!" "_what_ a goat-getting!" james applauded. "that will go down in history as the star-spangled act of the century." * * * belle was, however, unusually diffident. "i stuck my neck out a mile--worse, clee's. i'm sorry, clee. i had to have some weight to throw around, and i had only a second to think, and that was the first thing i thought of, and after half a minute she made me so _damn_ mad that i went entirely too far." "uh-uh. just far enough. that was a _perfect_ job." "but she'll never forget that, and she'll crucify you, as well as me, when we land. she knows i'm not a commander." "she just thinks you ain't. the official log will show, though, that after only one day out i discovered that we should all be officers--one captain and three commanders--with pay and perquisites of rank. i'll think up good and sufficient reasons for it between now and when i make up the log." "but you can't! or can you, really?" "well, nobody told me i couldn't, so i assumed the right. besides, you didn't tell her commander of what, so i'll make it stick, too--see if i don't. or else i'll tear two or three offices apart finding out why i can't. you can be sure of that." "all that may not be necessary," lola said. "that tape will never be heard. i'll bet she's erased it already." "perhaps; but ours isn't going to be erased--it will be heard exactly where it will do the most good." "i'm awfully glad you don't think we're on the hook. all that's left, then, is that second-in-command business. both of you know, of course, that that was just window-dressing." "you were telling the truth and didn't know it," james said, cheerfully. "you have actually been second-in-command ever since the drive tests." "i haven't, and i won't. surely you don't think i'm enough of a heel, jim, to step on your toes like that?" "nothing like that involved. you tell her, clee." "gunther ability is what counts. you're a prime, jim's an operator; so, now that we can handle the heap, you'll have to be second-in-command whether you like it or not. any time you can out-gunther me we'll trade places. and you won't have to take the job away from me--i'll give it to you." "but ... no hard feelings, jim? no reservations? screens down?" "none whatever. in fact, i'm relieved. i'm gunthered for this board here--for that one i'm not. come in and look; and shake on it." * * * belle looked; and while they were shaking hands, she flashed a thought at lola. "do you know that we've got two of the finest men that ever lived?" "i've known that for a long time," lola flashed back, "but you've hardly started to realize what they _really_ are." "well, shall we start earning our pay and perquisites by getting to work on this planet, that we haven't even looked--wait a minute! we're just about to open up the galaxy, aren't we?" they were. "then there'll have to be some kind of a unifying and correlating authority--a galactic council or something--and the quicker it's set up the better; the less confusion and turmoil and jockeying-for-position there will be. question: should this authority be political?" "it should _not_!" james declared. "it takes united worlds seven solid days of debate to decide whether or not to buy one lead pencil." "military--or naval, i suppose it'd be--that's what clee's driving at," belle said. "you're wonderful, clee--simply priceless! we're officers of the brand-new galactic navy. subject to civilian control, of course, but the civilians will be the united galaxian societies of the galaxy, and nobody else. _beautiful_, clee! there are ten operators, jim. right?" * * * "check. brownie and i are here; the other eight are running the galaxian society under clee. and the whole society eats out of his hand." "i don't know about that, but belle and i together could swing it, i think." "i'll say we could," belle breathed. "and i simply can't wait to see you kick fatso's teeth in with _this_ one!" "i don't like the word 'navy'," garlock said. "it's tied definitely to warfare. how about calling it the 'galactic service'? applicable to either war or peace. brass hats will think of us in terms of war, even though we will actually work for peace. any objections?" there were no objections. "about the uniforms," lola said, eagerly. "space-black and star-white, with chromium comets and things on the shoulders...." "to hell with uniforms," garlock broke in. "why do women have to go off the deep end on clothes?" "she's right--you're wrong, clee," james said. "without a uniform you won't get off the ground, not even with the society. and you'll be talking to top planetary brass. also, they're gunthered plenty--you can feel their op field clear out here." "could be," garlock conceded. "okay, you girls dope it out to suit yourselves. but think you can stand it, belle, to wear more than twelve square inches of clothes?" "wait 'til you see it, chum. i've been designing a uniform for myself for positively _years_." "i can't wait. and you're a captain, of course." "huh? you can't have two cap.... oh, i see. primes. i appreciate that, clee. thanks." "hold on, both of you," james said. "you haven't thought this through far enough. suppose we meet forces already organized? better start high than low. you've got to be top admiral, clee." "rocket-oil! suppose we don't find anything at all?" "you're right, jim," belle said. "clee, you talk like a man with a paper nose. it's _you_ who's been yowling for two solid years about being ready for _anything_. we've got to do just that." "correction accepted. brief me." "ranks should be different from those of united worlds. they should be descriptive, but impressive. tops could be galactic admiral. that's you. vice galactic admiral; me...." "galactic vice admiral would be better," lola said. "accepted. those two we'll make stick come hell or space-warps. right?" garlock did not reply immediately. "up to either one of two points," he agreed, finally. "what points?" "war, or being out-gunthered. top gunther takes top place; man, woman, bird, beast, fish, or bug-eyed monster." "oh." belle was staggered for a moment. "no war, of course. as to the other ... i hadn't thought of that." "there are a lot of things none of us has thought of, but as amended i'll buy it." "then several regional admirals, each with his regional vice admiral. then system admirals and vices, and world or planetary--naming the planet, you know--admirals and vices. let the various galaxian societies take over from there down. how do you like _them_ potatoes, buster?" "nice. and formal address, intra-ship, will be mister and miss. jim and brownie?" they liked it. "where do we fit in?" james asked. "pick your own spots," garlock said. "if we stick to the solar system we aren't so apt to get bumped by primes. so make me solar system admiral and brownie my vice." "okay. how long will it take you, belle, to materialize those uniforms?" "fifteen seconds longer than it takes the converter to scan us. lola's color scheme is right, and i've got everything else down to the last curlicue of chrome. let's go." * * * they went: and came back into the main in uniform. belle had really done a job. that of the men, while something on the spectacular side, was more or less conventional, with stiff-visored, screened, heavily-chromed caps; but the women's! slippers, overseas caps, shorts and jackets--but what jackets! "well...." garlock said, after examining the two girls speechlessly for a good half minute. "it doesn't look _exactly_ like a spray-on job; but if you ever take a deep breath it'll split from here to there. fly off--leave you naked as a jay-bird." "oh, no. the fabric stretches a little. see? nothing like a sweater, but a similar effect--perhaps a bit more so." "quite a bit more so, i'd say. however, since operators and primes are automatically stacked like tennick towers, i don't suppose your recruits will be unduly perturbed at, or will squawk too much about, overexposure. are we finally ready to go down and get to work?" "i am," james said. "how do you want to handle it?" "run a search pattern. belle and i will center their op field and check on ops and primes. you two probe at will." around and around the planet, in brief bursts of completely incomprehensible speed, the huge ship darted; the biggest, solidest, yet most elusive and fantastic "flying saucer" ever to visit that world. the tremendous oceans and six great continents were traversed; the ice-caps; the frigid, the temperate, and the torrid zones. wherever she went, powerful and efficient radar scanned and tracked her; wherever she went, excitement seethed. "beta centauri five," garlock reported, after a few minutes. "margonia, they call it. biggest continent and nation named nargoda. capital city margon; margon base on coast nearby. lots of gunther firsts. all the real gunther, though, is clear across the continent. they're building a starship. fourteen ops and two primes--man and woman. deggi delcamp's a big bruiser, with a god-awful lot of stuff. ugly as hell, though. he's a bossy type." "i'm amazed," james played it straight. "i thought all male primes would be just like you. timorous timmies." "huh? oh...." garlock was taken slightly aback, but went on quickly, "what do you think of your opposite number, belle?" he whistled a wolf-call and made hour-glass motions with his hands. "i'd thought of trading you in on a new model, but fao talaho is no bargain, either--and _nobody's_ push-over." "_trade_! you _tomcat_!" belle's nostrils flared. "you know what that bleached-blonde tried to do? high-hat _me!_" "i noticed. when we four get down to business, face to face, there should be some interesting by-products." "you chirped it, boss. primes seem to be such _nice_ people." james rolled his eyes upward and steepled his hands. "if you've got all the dope, no use finishing this search pattern." "go ahead. window dressing. the brass hasn't any idea of what's going on, any more than ours did." the search went on until, "this is it," james reported. "where? over margon base?" "check. kick us over there, ten or twelve hundred miles up." "on the way, boss. looks like your theory is about ready to pick." "it isn't much of a theory yet; just that cultural and evolutionary patterns should be more or less homogeneous within galaxies. until it can explain why so many out-galaxies are just alike it doesn't amount to much. by the way, i'm glad you people insisted on organization and rank and uniforms. the brass is going to take a certain amount of convincing. take over, brownie--this is your dish." "i was afraid of that." the others watched lola drive her probe--a diamond-clear, razor-sharp bolt of thought that no gunther first could possibly either wield or stop--down into the innermost private office of that immense and far-flung base. through lola's inner eyes they saw a tall, trim, handsome, fiftyish man in a resplendent uniform of purple and gold; they watched her brush aside that officer's hard-held mental block. * * * "i greet you, supreme grand marshal entlore, highest commander of the armed forces of nargoda. this is the starship _pleiades_, of system sol, planet tellus. i am sol-system vice-admiral lola montandon. i have with me as guests three of my superior officers of the galactic service, including the galactic admiral himself. we are making a good-will tour of the tellus-type planets of this region of space. i request permission to land and information as to your landing conventions. the landing pad--bottom--of the _pleiades_ is flat; sixty feet wide by one hundred twenty feet long. area loading is approximately eight tons per square foot. solid, dry ground is perfectly satisfactory. while we land vertically, with little or no shock impact, i prefer not to risk damaging your pavement." they all felt the marshal's thoughts race. "starship! tellus--sol, that insignificant type g dwarf! interstellar travel a commonplace! a ship _that_ size and weight--an organized, uniformed, functioning galaxy-wide navy and they don't want to _damage_ my _pavement_! my god!" "good going, brownie! kiss her for me, jim." garlock flashed the thought. entlore, realizing that his every thought was being read, pulled himself together. "i admit that i was shocked, admiral montandon. but landing--really, i have nothing to do with landings. they are handled by...." "i realize that, sir; but you realize that no underling could possibly authorize my landing. that is why i always start at the top. besides, i do not like to waste time on officers of much lower rank than my own, and," lola allowed a strong tinge of good humor to creep into her thought, "the bigger they are, the less apt they are to pass the well-known buck." "you have had experience, i see," the marshal laughed. he _did_ have a sense of humor. "while landing here is forbidden--top secret, you know--would my refusal mean much to you?" "having made satisfactory contact, i introduce you to galactic admiral garlock. take over, sir, please." * * * entlore winced, for the probe garlock used then compared to lola's very much as a diamond drill compares to a piece of soft brass pipe. "it would mean everything to us," garlock assured him. "our mission is a perfectly friendly one. we will have a friendly visit or none. if you do not care for our friendship, another nation will." "that wouldn't do, either, of course." entlore paused in thought. "it boils down to this: i must either welcome you or destroy you." "you may try." garlock grinned in frankly self-satisfied amusement. "however, the best you can do is lithium-hydride fusion missiles in the hundreds-of-megatons range. firecrackers. every once in a while a planet has to try a few such things on us before it will believe that we are powerful as well as friendly. would you like to test our defenses? if so, i will neither take offense nor retaliate." supreme grand marshal entlore was floored. "why ... er ... not at all. i read in your mind...." he broke off, to quell an invasion into his own private office. "damn it, keep _still_!" all four "heard" him yell. "i know they ran a search pattern. i know _that_, too. i know _everything_ about it, i tell you! i'm in full rapport with their supreme grand admiral. there's only the one ship, they're friendly, and i'm inviting them to land here on margon base. give that to the press. say also that entrance restrictions to margon base will not be relaxed at present. grand marshal holson and comoff flurnoy, stay here and tune in. the rest of you get out and _stay_ out! throw all reports about any alien vessel or flying saucer or what-have-you into the waste-basket!" "resume command, please, miss montandon," garlock directed; and withdrew his probe from entlore's mind. "i thank you, supreme grand marshal entlore, for your welcome," lola sent. "i'm sorry that our visits cause so much disturbance, but i suppose it can't be helped. our gunther blocks are down. would you and your two assistants like to teleport out here to us, and con us down yourselves?" lola knew instantly that they could not, and covered deftly for them. "but of course you can't, without knowing a focus spot here in the main. shall i teleport you aboard?" * * * comoff flurnoy's face--she was an attractive, nicely-built red-head wearing throat-mike, earphone, and recorder--turned so pale that a faint line of freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose. she very evidently wanted to scream a protest, but would not. both men, strangely enough, were eager to go. instantly all three were standing in line on the deep-piled rug of the main, facing the four tellurians. seven bodies came rigidly to attention, seven right hands snapped into two varieties of formal salute. standing thus, each party studied the other for a couple of seconds. there was no doubt at all as to which two of the visitors the two nargodian men were studying; but neither of them could quite make up his mind as to which of the black-and-white-clad women to study first or most. the red-head's glance, too, flickered between belle and garlock--incredulous envy and equally incredulous admiration lit her eyes. "at rest, please, fellow-officers," garlock said, and lola performed the necessary introductions, adding, "we do not, however, use titles aboard ship. mister and miss are customary and sufficient." behind each row of officers a long davenport appeared; between them a table loaded with sandwiches, olives, pickles, relishes, fruits, nuts, soft drinks, cigars, and cigarettes. "help yourselves," garlock invited. "we serve neither intoxicants nor drugs, but you should find something there to your taste." "indeed we shall, and thank you," entlore said. "is there any objection, mr. garlock, to miss flurnoy transmitting information of this meeting and of this ship to our base?" "none whatever. send as you please, miss flurnoy, or as mr. entlore directs." "i'm glad i didn't quite scare myself out of coming up here," the communications officer said. "this is the biggest and nicest thrill i ever had. such a thrill that i don't know just where to begin." she cocked an eyebrow at her commanding officer. "as usual. whatever you think should be sent." entlore sent her a steadying thought. then, as the girl settled back with a sandwich in one hand and a tall glass of ginger-ale in the other, he went on, to garlock, "she is a very fine and very strong telepath--by our standards, at least." "by galactic standards also." garlock had of course been checking. "accurate, sharp, wide-range, clear-thinking, and fast. not one of us four could do it any better." "i thank you, mr. garlock," the girl said, with a blush of pleasure--and with scarcely a perceptible pause in her work. * * * a tour of the ship followed; and as it progressed, the more confused and dismayed the two nargodian commanders became. "but no crew at _all_?" holson demanded incredulously. "how can a thing like this _possibly_ work?" "it's fully gunthered," lola explained. "it works itself. that is, almost all the time. whenever we land on any planet for the first time, one of us has to control it. or for any other special job not in its memory banks. when you're ready for us to land i'll show you--it's my turn to work." "miss flurnoy, have they cleared the air over pylon six?" "yes, sir. clearance came through five minutes ago. they are holding it clear for us." "thank you. miss montandon, you may land at your convenience." "thank you, sir." lola took the pilot's chair. "this is the scanner. i pull it over my face and head, so. since i am always in tune with the field...." "what does _that_ mean?" entlore asked, dark foreboding in his mind. "i was afraid of that. you can't feel an operator field. i'm sorry, sir, but that means you can't handle these forces and never will be able to. certain gunther areas of your brain are inoperative. on our scale you are a gunther first...." "on ours, i'm an esper ten, the highest rating in the world--except for a few theoretical crackpots who.... excuse me, please, i shouldn't have said that, in view of what i see happening here." "no offense taken, sir. those who developed the gunther drive were crackpots until they got the first starship out into space. but with this scanner on, i think of where i want to look and i can see it. i then think the ship a few miles sidewise--so--and we are now directly over your pylon six. i'm starting down, but i won't go into free fall." apparent weight grew less and less, until: "this is about enough for you, miss flurnoy?" "just," the comoff agreed, with a gulp. "one pound less and i'm afraid i'll upchuck that lovely lunch i just ate." "we're going fast enough now. everyone sitting down? brace yourselves, please. you'll be about fifty percent overweight for a while." * * * as bodies settled deeper into cushions entlore sent garlock a thought. "we three weigh about five hundred pounds. you lifted us--instantaneously or nearly so, but i'll pass the question of acceleration for the moment--eleven hundred miles straight up. how did you repeal the law of conservation?" "we didn't. we have fusion engines of twenty million horsepower. our operator field, which has a radius of fifteen thousand miles and is charged to an electrogravitic potential of one hundred thousand gunts, stores energy. its action is not exactly like that of an electrical condenser or of a storage battery, but is more or less analogous to both. thus, the energy required to lift you three came from the field, but the amount was so small that it did not lower the potential of the field by any measurable amount. setting this ship down--call it sixty thousand tons for a thousand miles at one gravity--will increase the field's potential by approximately one-tenth of one gunt. have you studied paraphysics?" "no." "it wasn't practical, eh?" garlock smiled. "then i can't make even a stab at explaining instantaneous translation to you. i'll just say that there is no acceleration involved, no time lapse. there is no violation of the law of conservation since departure and arrival points are equi-guntherial. but what i am really interested in is that small group of high espers you mentioned." "yes, i inferred that from miss montandon's comments." entlore fell silent and garlock watched his somber thoughts picture margon base and his nation's capital being attacked and destroyed by a fleet of invincible and invulnerable starships like this _pleiades_. "you are wrong, sir," garlock put in, quietly. "the galactic service has not had, does not and will not have, anything to do with intra-planetary affairs. we have no connection with, and no responsibility to, any world or any group of worlds. we are an arm of the united galaxian societies of the galaxy. our function is to control space. to forbid, to prevent, to rectify any interplanetary or interstellar aggression. above all, to prevent, by means of procedures up to and including total destruction of planets if necessary, any attempt whatever to form any multi-world empire." the three nargodians gasped as one, as much at the scope of the thing as at the calmly cold certainty of ability carried by the thought. "you are transmitting this precisely, miss flurnoy?" entlore asked. "precisely, sir; including background, fringes, connotations, and implications; just as he is giving it to us." "let us assume that your nargodian government decides to conquer all the other nations of your planet margonia. assume farther that it succeeds. we will not object; in fact, we will, as a usual thing, not even be informed of it. if then, however, your government decides that one world is not enough for it to rule and prepares to conquer, or take aggressive action against, any other world, we will be informed and we will step in. first, warning will be given. second, any and all vessels dispatched on such a mission will be annihilated. third, if the offense is continued or repeated, trial will be held before the galactic council and any sentence imposed will be carried out." in spite of garlock's manner and message, both marshals were highly relieved. "you're in plenty of time, with us, sir," entlore said. "we have just sent our first rocket to our nearer moon ... that is, unless that group of--of espers gets their ship off the ground." "how far along are they?" "the ship itself is built, but they are having trouble with their drive. the hull is spherical, and much smaller than this one. it has atomic engines, but no blasts or ion-plates ... but neither has this one!" "exactly; they may be pretty well along. i'd like to get in touch with them as soon as possible. may i borrow a 'talker' like miss flurnoy for a few days? you have others, i suppose?" "yes, but i'll let you have her; it is of the essence that you have the best one available. miss flurnoy?" "yes, sir?" besides reporting, she had been conversing busily with james and belle. "would you like to be assigned to mr. garlock for the duration of his stay on margonia?" "oh, _yes_, sir!" she replied, excitedly. "you are so assigned. take orders from him or from any designate as though i myself were issuing them." "thank you, sir ... but what limits? and do i transmit to and/or record for you, sir?" "no limit. these four galaxians are hereby granted nation-wide top clearance. transmit as usual whatever is permitted." "full reporting is not only permitted, but urged," garlock said. "there is nothing secret about our mission." * * * as the _pleiades_ landed: "if you will give us your focus spot, mr. entlore, we can all 'port to your office and save calling staff cars." "and cause a revolution?" entlore laughed. "apparently you haven't been checking outside." "afraid i haven't. i've been thinking." "take a look. i got orders from the cabinet to put guards wherever people absolutely must not go, and open everything else to the public. i _hope_ there are enough guards to keep a lane open for us, but i wouldn't bet on it." garlock was very glad that the military men's stiff formality had disappeared. "you galaxians took this whole planet by storm while you were still above the stratosphere." * * * there is no need to go into detail concerning the reception and celebration. on earth, one inauguration of a president and one coronation of a monarch were each almost as well covered by broadcasters, if not as turbulently and enthusiastically prolonged. from the _pleiades_ they went to the administration building, where an informal reception was held. thence to the capitol, where the reception was very formal indeed. thence to the grand ballroom of the city's largest hotel, where a tremendous--and long-winded--banquet was served. at garlock's request, all sixteen members of the "crackpot" group--the most active members of the deep space club--had been invited to the banquet. and, even though garlock was a very busy man, his talker tuned in to each one of the sixteen, tuned them all to the galactic admiral, and in odd moments a great deal of business was done. after being told most of the story--in tight-beamed thoughts that comoff flurnoy could not receive--the whole group was wildly enthusiastic. they would change the name of their club forthwith to the galaxian society of margonia. they laid plans for a world-wide organization which would have tremendous prestige and tremendous income. they already had a field--garlock knew about their ship--they wanted the _pleiades_ to move over to it as soon as possible--yes, garlock thought he could do it the following day--if not, as soon as he could.... * * * the _pleiades_ had landed at ten o'clock in the forenoon, local time; the banquet did not come to an end until long after midnight. throughout all this time the four galaxians carried on, without a slip, the act that all this was, to them, old stuff. it was just a little before daylight when they returned, exhausted, to the ship. comoff flurnoy went with them. she was still agog at the wonder of it all as belle and brownie showed her to her quarters. chapter since everyone, including the ebullient comoff, slept late the following morning, they all had brunch instead of breakfast and lunch. all during the meal garlock was preoccupied and stern. "hold everything for a while, jim," he said, when everyone had eaten. "before we move, belle and i have got to have a conference." "not a fatso ferber nine-o'clock type, i hope." james frowned in mock reproach and comoff flurnoy cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "monkey-business on company time is only for big shots like him; not for small fry such as you." "well, it won't be exclusively monkey-business, anyway. while we're gone you might clear with the control tower and take us up into take-off position. come on, belle." he took her by one elbow and led her away. "why, _doctor garlock_." mincing along beside him, pretending high reluctance, she looked up at him wide-eyed. "i'm _surprised_, i really am. i'm _shocked_, too. i'm _not_ that kind of a _girl_, and if i wasn't _afraid_ of losing my _job_ i would _scream_. i _never_ even _suspected_ that _you_ would use your _position_ as my _boss_ to _force_ your _unwelcome attentions_ on a _poor_ and _young_ and _innocent_ and _suffering_...." [illustration: in an unparalleled blast of gunther power the primes of many worlds head toward the meeting on tellus.] inside his room garlock, who had been grinning, sobered down and checked every gunther block--a most unusual proceeding. * * * belle stopped joking in the middle of the sentence. "yeah, _how_ you suffer," he said. "i was just checking to be sure we're prime-proof. i'm not ready for deggi delcamp yet. that guy, belle, as you probably noticed, has got one god-awful load of stuff." "not as much as you have, clee. nor as much push behind what he has got. and his shield wouldn't make patches for yours." "huh? how sure are you of that?" "i'm positive. i'm the one who is going to get bumped, i'm afraid. that fao talaho is a hard-hitting, hard-boiled hellcat on wheels." "i'll be damned. you're wrong. i checked her from stem to gudgeon and you lay over her like a circus tent. what's the answer?" "oh? do i? i'm mighty glad ... funny, both of us being wrong ... it must be, clee, that it's sex-based differences. we're used to each other, but neither of us has ever felt a prime of the same sex before, and there must be more difference between ops and primes than we realized. suppose?" "could be--i hope. but that doesn't change the fact that we aren't ready. we haven't got enough data. if we start out with this grandiose galactic service thing and find only two or three planets gunthered, we make jackasses of ourselves. on the other hand, if we start out with a small organization or none, and find a lot of planets, it'll be one continuous cat-fight. on the third hand...." "three hands, clee? what are you, an octopussy or an arpalone?" "keep your beautiful trap shut a minute. on the third hand, we've _got_ to start somewhere. any ideas?" "i never thought of it that way.... hm-m-m-m ... i see." she thought for a minute, then went on, "we'll have to start without starting, then ... quite a trick.... but how about this? suppose we take a fast tour, with you and i taking quick peeks, without the peekees ever knowing we've been peeking?" "that's using the brain, belle. let's go." then, out in the main, "jim, we want to hit a few high spots, as far out as you can reach without losing orientation. beta centauri here is pretty bright, rigel and canopus are real lanterns. with those three as a grid, you could reach fifteen hundred or two thousand light-years, couldn't you?" "more than that. that many parsecs, at least." "good. belle and i want to make a fast, random-sampling check of primes and ops around here. we'll need five minutes at each planet--quite a ways out. so set up as big a globe as you can and still be dead sure of your locations; then sample it." "not enough data. how many samples do you want?" "as many as we can get in the rest of today. six or seven hours, say--eight hours max." "call it seven.... brownie on the guns, me on compy.... five minutes for you.... i should be able to lock down the next shot in five ... one minute extra, say, for safety factor ... that'd be ten an hour. seventy planets enough?" "that'll be fine." "okay. we're practically at number one now," and james and lola donned their scanners, ready for the job. * * * "miss flurnoy," garlock said, "you might tell mr. entlore that we're...." "oh, i already have, sir." "you don't have to come along, of course, if you'd rather stay here." "stay here, sir? why, he'd _kill_ me! i'm off the air for a minute," this last thought was a conspiratorial whisper. "besides, do you think i'd miss a chance to be the first person--and just a girl, too--of a whole world to see other planets of other suns? unless, of course, you invite mr. entlore and mr. holson along. they're both simply dying to go, i know, but of course won't admit it." "you'd be just as well pleased if i didn't?" "what do you think, sir?" "we'll be working at top speed and they'd be very much in the way, so they'll get theirs later--after you've licked the cream off the top of the...." "ready to roll, clee," james announced. "roll." "why, i lost contact!" miss flurnoy exclaimed. "naturally," garlock said. "did you expect to cover a distance it takes light thousands of years to cross? you can record anything you see in the plates. you can talk to jim or lola any time they'll let you. don't bother miss bellamy or me from now on." garlock and belle went to work. all four galaxians worked all day, with half an hour off for lunch. they visited seventy planets and got back to margonia in time for a very late dinner. comoff flurnoy had less than a quarter of one roll of recorder-tape left unused, and the primes had enough information to start the project they had in mind. and shortly after dinner, all five retired. "in one way, clee, i'm relieved," belle pondered, "but i can't figure out why all the primes--the grown-up ones, i mean--on all the worlds are just about the same cantankerous, you-be-damned, out-and-out stinkers as you and i are. how does _that_ fit into your theory?" "it doesn't. too fine a detail. my guess is--at least it seems to me to make sense--it's because we haven't had any competition strong enough to smack us down and make christians out of us. i don't know what a psychologist would say...." "and i know _exactly_ what you'd think of whatever he did say, so you don't need to tell me." belle laughed and presented her lips to be kissed. "good night, clee." "good night, ace." * * * and the next morning, early, garlock and belle teleported themselves--by arrangement and appointment, of course--across almost the full width of a nation and into the private office in which deggi delcamp and fao talaho awaited them. for a time which would not have been considered polite in tellurian social circles the four primes stood still, each couple facing the other with blocks set tight, studying each other with their eyes. delcamp was, as garlock had said, a big bruiser. he was shorter and heavier than the tellurian. heavily muscled, splendidly proportioned, he was a man of tremendous physical as well as mental strength. his hair, clipped close all over his head, was blonde; his eyes were a clear, keen, cold dark blue. fao talaho was a couple of inches shorter than belle; and a good fifteen pounds heavier. she was in no sense fat, however, or even plump--actually, she was almost lean. she was wider and thicker than was the earthwoman; with heavier bones forming a wider and deeper frame. she, too, was beautifully--yes, spectacularly--built. her hair, fully as thick as belle's own and worn in a free-falling bob three or four inches longer than belle's, was bleached almost white. her eyes were not really speckled, nor really mottled, but were regularly _patterned_ in lighter and darker shades of hazel. she was, garlock decided, a really remarkable hunk of woman. both nargodians wore sandals without either socks or stockings. both were dressed--insofar as they were dressed at all--in yellow. fao's single garment was of a thin, closely-knitted fabric, elastic and sleek. above the waist it was neckless, backless, and almost frontless; below, it was a very short, very tight and clinging skirt. delcamp wore a sleeveless jersey and a pair of almost legless shorts. garlock lowered his shield enough to send and to receive a thin layer of superficial thought; delcamp did the same. "so far, i like what i see," garlock said then. "we are well ahead of you, hence i can help you a lot if you want me to and if you want to be friendly about it. if you don't, on either count, we leave now. fair enough?" "fair enough. i, too, like what i have seen so far. we need help, and i appreciate your offer. thanks, immensely. i can promise full cooperation and friendship for myself and for most of our group; and i assure you that i can and will handle any non-cooperation that may come up." "nicely put, deggi." garlock smiled broadly and let his guard down to a comfortable lepping level. "i was going to bring that up--the faster it's cleared the better. belle and i are paired. some day--unless we kill each other first--we may marry. however, i'm no bargain and she's one-third wildcat, one-third vixen, and one-third cobra. how do you two stand?" "you took the thought right out of my own mind. your custom of pairing is not what you call 'urbane' on this world. nevertheless, fao and i are paired. we had to. no one else has ever interested either of us; no one else ever will. we should not fight, but we do, furiously. but no matter how vigorously we fly apart, we inevitably fly together again just as fast. no one understands it, but you two are pretty much the same." "check. just one more condition, then, and we can pull those women of ours apart." belle and fao were still staring at each other, both still sealed tight. "the first time fao talaho starts throwing her weight at me, i'm not going to wait for you to take care of her--i'm going to give her the surprise of her life." "it'd tickle me silly if it could be done," delcamp smiled and was perfectly frank, "but the man doesn't live that can do it. how would you go about trying it?" "set your block solid." delcamp did so, and through that block--the supposedly impenetrable shield of a prime operator--garlock insinuated a probe. he did not crack the screen or break it down by force; he neutralized and counter-phased, painlessly and almost imperceptibly, its every component and layer. * * * "like this," garlock said, in the depths of the margonian's mind. "my god! you can do _that_?" "if i tell her, this deep, to play ball or else, do you think she'd need two treatments?" "she certainly oughtn't to. this makes you galactic admiral, no question. i'd thought, of course, of trying you out for top gunther, but this settles that. we will support you, sir, wholeheartedly--and my heartfelt thanks for coming here." "i have your permission, then, to give fao a little discipline when she starts rocking the boat?" "i wish you would, sir. i'm not too easy to get along with, i admit, but i've tried to meet her a lot more than half-way. she's just too damned cocky for _anybody's_ good." "check. i wish somebody would come along who could knock hell out of belle." then, aloud, "belle, delcamp and i have the thing going. do you want in on it?" delcamp spoke to fao, and the two women slowly, reluctantly, lowered their shields to match those of the men. "your galaxian shaking of the hands--handshake, i mean--is very good," delcamp said, and he and garlock shook vigorously. then the crossed pairs, and lastly the two girls--although neither put much effort into the gesture. "snap out of it, belle!" garlock sent a tight-beamed thought. "she isn't going to bite you!" "she's been trying to, damn her, and i'm going to bite her right back--see if i don't." * * * garlock called the meeting to order and all four sat down. the tellurians lighted cigarettes and the others--who, to the earthlings' surprise, also smoked--assembled and lit two peculiar-looking things half-way between pipe and cigarette. and both pairs of smokers, after a few tentative tests, agreed in not liking at all the other's taste in tobacco. "you know, of course, of the trip we took yesterday?" garlock asked. "yes," delcamp admitted. "we read comoff flurnoy. we know of the seventy planets, but nothing of what you found." "okay. of the seventy planets, all have op fields and all have two or more operators; one planet has forty-four of them. only sixty-one of the planets, however, have primes old enough for us to detect. each of these worlds has two, and only two, primes--one male and one female--and on each world the two primes are of approximately the same age. on fifteen of these worlds the primes are not yet adult. on the forty-six remaining worlds, the primes are young adults, from pretty much like us four down to considerably younger. none of these couples is married-for-family. none of the girls has as yet had a child or is now pregnant. "now as to the information circulating all over this planet about us. part of it is false. part of it is misleading--to impress the military mind. thus, the fact is that the _pleiades_, as far as we know, is the only starship in the whole galaxy. also, the information is very incomplete, especially as to the all-important fact that we were lost in space for some time before we discovered that the only possible controller of the gunther drive is the human mind...." "_what!!!!_" and argument raged until garlock stopped it by declaring that he would prove it in the margonians' own ship. then garlock and belle together went on to explain and to describe--not even hinting, of course, that they had ever been outside the galaxy or had even thought of trying to do so--their concept of what the galaxian societies of the galaxy would and should do; or what the galaxian service could, should, and _would_ become--the service to which they both intended to devote their lives. it wasn't even in existence yet, of course. fao and deggi were the only other primes they had ever talked to in their lives. that was why they were so eager to help the margonians get their ship built. the more starships there were at work, the faster the service would grow into a really tremendous.... "_fao's getting ready to blow her top_," delcamp flashed garlock a tight-beamed thought. "_if i were doing it i'd have to start right now._" * * * "_i'll let her work up a full head of steam, then smack her bow-legged._" "_cheers, brother! i hope you can handle her!_" ... organization. then, when enough ships were working and enough galaxian societies were rolling, there would be the regional organizations and the galactic council.... "so, on a one-planet basis and right out of your own little fat head," fao sneered, "you have set yourself up as grand high chief mogul, and all the rest of us are to crawl up to you on our bellies and kiss your feet?" "if that's the way you want to express it, yes. however, i don't know how long i personally will be in the pilot's bucket. as i told you, i will enforce the basic tenet that top gunther is top boss--man, woman, snake, fish, or monster." "top gunther be damned!" fao blazed. "i don't and won't take orders from _any_ man--in hell or in heaven or on this earth or on any planet of any...." "fao!" delcamp exclaimed, "please keep still--_please_!" "let her rave," garlock said, coldly. "this is just a three-year-old baby's tantrum. if she keeps it up, i'll give her the damnedest jolt she ever got in all her spoiled life." belle whistled sharply to call fao's attention, then tight-beamed a thought. "if you've got any part of a brain, slick chick, you'd better start using it. the boy friend not only plays rough, but he doesn't bluff." "to hell with all that!" fao rushed on. "we don't have anything to do with your organization--go on back home or anywhere else you want to. we'll finish our own ship and build our own organization and run it to suit ourselves. we'll...." "that's enough of that." garlock penetrated her shield as easily as he had the man's, and held her in lock. "you are _not_ going to wreck this project. you will start behaving yourself right now or i'll spread your mind wide open for belle and deggi to look at and see exactly what kind of a half-baked jerk you are. if that doesn't work, i'll put you into a gunther-blocked cell aboard the _pleiades_ and keep you there until the ship is finished and we leave margonia. how do you want it?" fao was shocked as she had never been shocked before. at first she tried viciously to fight; but, finding that useless against the appalling power of the mind holding hers, she stopped struggling and began really to think. "that's better. you've got what it takes to think with. go ahead and do it." and fao talaho did have it. plenty of it. she learned. "i'll be good," she said, finally. "honestly. i'm ashamed, really, but after i got started i couldn't stop. but i can now, i'm sure." "i'm sure you can, too. i know exactly how it is. all us primes have to get hell knocked out of us before we amount to a whoop in hades. deggi got his one way, i got mine another, you got yours this way. no, neither of the others knows anything about this conversation and they won't. this is strictly between you and me." "i'm awfully glad of that. and i think i ... yes, damn you, thanks!" garlock released her and, after a few sobs, a couple of gulps, and a dabbing at her eyes with an inadequate handkerchief, she said: "i'm sorry, deggi, and you, too, belle. i'll try not to act like such a fool any more." delcamp and belle both stared at garlock; belle licked her lips. "no comment," he thought at the man; and, to belle, "she just took a beating. will you sheathe your claws and take a lot of pains to be extra nice to her the rest of the day?" "why, surely. i'm _always_ nice to anybody who is nice to me." "says you," garlock replied, skeptically, and all four went to work as though nothing had happened. * * * they went through the shops and the almost-finished ship. they studied blueprints. they met all the operators and discussed generators and fields of force and mathematics and paraphysics and guntherics. they argued so hotly about mental control that garlock had james bring the _pleiades_ over to new-christened galaxian field so that he could prove his point then and there. entlore and holson came along this time, as well as the comoff; and all three were nonplussed and surprised to see each member of the "crackpot" group hurl the huge starship from one solar system to any other one desired, apparently merely by thinking about it. and the "crackpots" were extremely surprised to find themselves hopelessly lost in uncharted galactic wildernesses every time they did not think, definitely and positively, of one specific destination. then garlock took a chance. he had to take it sometime; he might just as well do it now. "see if you can hit andromeda, deggi," he suggested. while belle, james, and lola held their breaths, delcamp tried. the starship went toward the huge nebula, but stopped at the last suitable planet on the galaxy's rim. "can _you_ hit andromeda?" delcamp asked, more than half jealously, and belle tensed her muscles. "never tried it," garlock said, easily. "i suppose, though, since you couldn't kick the old girl out of our good old home galaxy, she'll just sit right here for me, too." he went through the motions and the _pleiades_ did sit right there--which was exactly what he had told her to do. and everybody--even the "crackpots"--breathed more easily. * * * and belle was "nice" to fao; she didn't use her claws, even once, all day. and, just before quitting time-- "does he ... i mean, did he ever ... well, sort of knock you around?" fao asked. "i'll say he hasn't!" belle's nostrils flared slightly at the mere thought. "i'd stick a knife into him, the big jerk." "oh, i didn't mean physically...." "through my blocks? a _prime's_ blocks? don't be ridiculous, fao!" "what do you mean, 'ridiculous'?" fao snapped. "you tried _my_ blocks. what did they feel like to you--mosquito netting? what i thought was.... oh, all he really said was that all primes had to have hell knocked out of them before they could be any good. that he had had it one way, deggi another, and me a third. i see--you haven't had yours yet." "i certainly haven't. and if he ever tries it, i'll...." "oh, he won't. he couldn't, very well, because after you're married, it would...." "did the big lug tell you i was going to marry him?" "of course not. no fringes, even. but who else are you going to marry? if the whole universe was clear full of the finest men imaginable--pure dreamboats, no less--can you even conceive of you marrying any one of them except him?" "i'm not going to marry anybody. ever." "no? you, with your prime's mind and your prime's body, not have any children? and you tell _me_ not to be ridiculous?" that stopped belle cold, but she wouldn't admit it. instead--"i don't get it. what did he _do_ to you, anyway?" fao's block set itself so tight that it took her a full minute to soften it down enough for even the thinnest thought to get through. "that's something nobody will ever know. but anyway, unless ... unless you find another prime as strong as clee is--and i don't really think there are any, do you?" "of course there aren't. there's only one of his class, anywhere. he's it," belle said, with profound conviction. "that makes it tough for you. you'll have the toughest job imaginable. the _very_ toughest. i know." "huh? what job?" "since clee won't do it for you, and since nobody else can, you'll have to just simply knock hell out of yourself." and in garlock's room that night, getting ready for bed, belle asked suddenly, "clee, what in hell did you do to fao talaho?" "nothing much. she's a mighty good egg, really." "could you do it, whatever it was, to me?" "i don't know; i never tried it." "_would_ you, then, if i asked you to?" "no." "why not?" "answer that yourself." "and it was 'nothing much,' it says here in fine print. but i think i know just about what it was. don't i?" "i wouldn't be surprised." "you knocked hell out of yourself, didn't you?" "i lied to her about that. i'm still trying to." "so i've got to do it to myself. and i haven't started yet?" "check. but you're several years younger than i am, you know." * * * belle thought it over for a minute, then stubbed out her cigarette and shrugged her shoulders. "no sale. put it back on the shelf. i like me better the way i am. that is, i _think_ i do.... in a way, though, i'm sorry, clee darling." "darling? something new has been added. i wish you really meant that, ace." "i'm still 'ace' after what i just said? i'm glad, clee. 'ace' is ever so much nicer than 'chum.'" "ace. the top of the deck. you are, and always will be." "as for meaning it, i wish i didn't." ready for bed, belle was much more completely and much less revealingly dressed than during her working hours. she slid into bed beside him, pulled the covers up to her chin, and turned off the light by glancing at the switch. "if i thought anything could ever come of it, though, i'd do it if i had to pound myself unconscious with a club. but i wouldn't be here, then, either--i'd scoot into my own room so fast my head would spin." "you wouldn't have to. you wouldn't be here." "i wouldn't, at that. that's one of the things i like so much about you. but honestly, clee--seriously, screens-down honestly--can you see any possible future in it?" "no. neither of us would give that much. neither of us can. and there's nothing one-sided about it; i'm no more fit to be a husband than you are to be a wife. and god help our children--they'd certainly need it." "we'd never have any. i can't picture us living in marriage for nine months without committing at least mayhem. why, in just the little time we've been paired, how many times have you thrown me out of this very room, with the fervent hope that i'd drown in deep space before you ever saw me again?" "at a guess, about the same number of times as you have stormed out under your own power, slamming the door so hard it sprung half the seams of the ship and swearing you'd slice me up into sandwich meat if i ever so much as looked at you again." "that's what i mean. but how come we got off on _this_ subject, i wonder? because when we aren't fighting, like now, it's purely wonderful. so i'll say it again. good night, clee, darling." "good night, ace." in the dark his lips sought hers and found them. the fervor of her kiss was not only much more intense than any he had ever felt before. it was much, very much more intense than belle bellamy had either wanted it or intended it to be. * * * next morning, at the workman's hour of eight o'clock, the four tellurians appeared in the office of margonia's galaxian field. "the first thing to do, deggi, is to go over in detail your blueprints for the generators and the drive," garlock said. "i suppose so. the funny pictures, eh?" delcamp had learned much, the previous day; his own performance with the _pleiades_ had humbled him markedly. "by no means, my friend," garlock said, cheerfully. "while your stuff isn't exactly like ours--it couldn't be, hardly; the field is so big and so new--that alone is no reason for it not to work. james can tell you. he's the solar system's top engineer. what do you think, jim?" "what i saw in the ship yesterday will work. what few of the prints i saw yesterday will fabricate, and the fabrications will work. the main trouble with this project, it seems to me, is that nobody's building the ship." "what do you mean by _that_ crack?" fao blazed. "just that. you're a bunch of prima donnas; each doing exactly as he pleases. so some of the stuff is getting done three or four times, in three or four different ways, while a lot of it isn't getting done at all." "such as?" delcamp demanded, and-- "well, if you don't like the way we are doing things you can...." fao began. "just a minute, everybody." lola came in, with a disarming grin. "how much of that is hindsight, jim? you've built one, you know--and from all accounts, progress wasn't nearly as smooth as your story can be taken to indicate." "you've got a point there, lola," garlock agreed. "we slid back two steps for every three we took forward." "well ... maybe," james admitted. "so why don't you, fao and deggi, put jim in charge of construction?" fao threw back her silvery head and glared, but delcamp jumped at the chance. "would you, jim?" "sure--unless miss talaho objects." "she won't." delcamp's eyes locked with fao's, and fao kept still. "thanks immensely, jim. and i know what you mean." he went over to a cabinet of wide, flat drawers and brought back a sheaf of drawings. not blueprints, but original drawings in pencil. "such as this. i haven't even got it designed yet, to say nothing of building it." * * * james began to leaf through the stack of drawings. they were full of erasures, re-drawings, and such notations as "see sheets -b, -a, and -f." halfway through the pile he paused, turned backward three sheets, and studied for minutes. then, holding that one sheet by a corner, he went rapidly through the rest of the stack. "this is it," he said then, pulling the one sheet out and spreading it flat. "what we call unit eight--the heart of the drive." then, tight-beamed to garlock: "this is the thing that you designed _in toto_ and that i never could understand any part of. all i did was build it. it must generate those prime fields." "probably," garlock flashed back. "i didn't understand it any too well myself. how does it look?" "he isn't even close. he's got only half of the constants down, and half of the ones he has got down are wrong. look at this mess here...." "i'll take your word for it. i haven't your affinity for blueprints, you know, or your eidetic memory for them." "do you want me to give him the whole works?" "we'll have to, i think. or the ship might not work at all." "could be--but how about intergalactic hops?" "he couldn't do it with the _pleiades_, so he won't be able to with this. besides, if we change it in any particular he _might_. you see, i don't know very much more about unit eight than you do." "_that_ could be, too." then, as though just emerging from his concentration on the drawings, james thought at delcamp and fao, but on the open, general band. "a good many errors and a lot of blanks, but in general you're on the right track. i can finish up this drawing in a couple of hours, and we can build the unit in a couple of days. with that in place, the rest of the ship will go fast. "_if_ miss talaho wants me to," he concluded, pointedly. "oh, i do, jim--really i do!" at long last, stiff-backed fao softened and bent. she seized both his hands. "if you can, it'd be too wonderful for words!" "okay. one question. why are you building your ship so small?" "why, it's plenty big enough for two," delcamp said. "for four, in a pinch. why did you make yours so big? your main is big enough almost for a convention hall." "that's what we figured it might have to be, at times," garlock said. "but that's a very minor point. with yours so nearly ready to flit, no change in size is indicated now. but belle and i have got to have another conference with the legal eagle. so if you and brownie, jim, will 'port whatever you need out of the _pleiades_, we'll be on our way. "so long--see you in a few days," he added, and the _pleiades_ vanished; to appear instantaneously high above the stratosphere over what was to become the galaxian field of earth. * * * "got a minute, gene?" he sent a thought. "for you two primes, as many as you like. we haven't started building or fencing yet, as you suggested, but we have bought all the real estate. so land the ship anywhere out there and i'll send a jeep out after you." "thanks, but no jeep. nobody but you knows that we've really got control of the _pleiades_, and i want everybody else to keep on thinking it's strictly for the birds. we'll 'port in to your office whenever you say." "i say now." in no time at all the two primes were seated in the private office of eugene evans, head of the legal department of the newly re-incorporated galaxian society of sol, inc. evans was a tall man, slightly thin, slightly stooped, whose thick tri-focals did nothing whatever to hide the keenness of his steel-gray eyes. "the first thing, gene," garlock said, "is this employment contract thing. have you figured out a way to break it?" "it can't be broken." the lawyer shook his head. "huh? i thought you top-bracket legal eagles could break anything, if you really tried." "a good many things, yes, especially if they're long and complicated. the standard employment contract, however, is short, explicit, and iron-clad. the employer can discharge the employee for any one of a number of offenses, including insubordination; which, as a matter of fact, the employer himself is allowed to define. on the other hand, the employee cannot quit except for some such fantastic reason as the non-tendering--not non-payment, mind you, but non-_tendering_--of salary." "i didn't expect that--it kicks us in the teeth before we get started." garlock got up, lighted a cigarette, and prowled about the big room. "okay. jim and i will have to get ourselves fired, then." "fired!" belle snorted. "clee, you talk like a man with a paper nose! who else could run the project? that is," her whole manner changed; "he doesn't know i can run it as well as you can--or better--but i could tell him--and maybe you think i wouldn't!" "you won't have to. gene, you can start spreading the news that belle bellamy is a real, honest-to-god prime operator in every respect. that she knows more about project gunther than i do and could run it better. ferber undoubtedly knows that belle and i have been at loggerheads ever since we first met--spread it thick that we're fighting worse than ever. which, by the way, is the truth." "fighting? why, you seemed friendly enough...." "yeah, we can be friendly for about fifteen minutes if we try real hard, as now. the cold fact is, though, that she's just as much three-quarters hellcat and one-quarter potassium cyanide as she...." "i like _that!_" belle stormed. she leaped to her feet, her eyes shooting sparks. "all _my_ fault! why, you self-centered, egotistical, domineering jerk, i could write a book...." "that's enough--let it go--_please!_" evans pleaded. he jumped up, took each of the combatants by a shoulder, sat them down into the chairs they had vacated, and resumed his own seat. "the demonstration was eminently successful. i will spread the word, through several channels. chancellor ferber will get it all, rest assured." "and _i'll_ get the job!" belle snapped. "and maybe you think i won't take it!" "yeah?" came garlock's searing thought. "you'd do anything to get it and to keep it. yeah. i _do_ think." "oh?" belle's body stiffened, her face hardened. "i've heard stories, of course, but i couldn't quite ... but surely, he can't be _that_ stupid--to think he can buy me like so many pounds of calf-liver?" "he surely is. he does. and it works. that is, if he's ever missed, nobody ever heard of it." "but how could a man in such a big job _possibly_ get away with such foul stuff as that?" "because all the sse is interested in is money, and alonzo p. ferber is a tremendously able top executive. in the big black-and-red money books he's always 'way, 'way up in the black, and nobody cares about his conduct." * * * belle, even though she was already convinced, glanced questioningly at evans. "that's it, miss bellamy. that's it, in a precise, if somewhat crude, nutshell." "that's that, then. but just how, clee--if he's as smart as you say he is--do you think you can make him fire you?" "i don't know--haven't thought about it yet. but i could be pretty insubordinate if i really tried." "that's the understatement of the century." "i'll devote the imponderable force of the intellect to the problem and check with you later. now, gene, about the proposed galactic service, the council, and so on. what is the reaction? yours, personally, and others?" "my personal reaction is immensely favorable; i think it the greatest advance that humanity has ever made. i have been very cautious, of course, in discussing, or even mentioning the matter, but the reaction of everyone i have sounded--good men; big men in their respective fields--has been as enthusiastic as my own." "good. it won't surprise you, probably, to be told that you are to be this system's councillor and--if we can swing it and i think we can--the first president of the galactic council?" evans was so surprised that it was almost a minute before he could reply coherently. then: "i _am_ surprised--very much so. i thought, of course, that you yourself would...." "far from it!" garlock said, positively. "i'm not the type. you are. you're better than anyone else of the galaxians--which means than anyone else period. with the possible exception of lola, and she fits better on our exploration team. check, belle?" "check. for once, i agree with you without reservation. _that's_ a job we can work at all the rest of our lives, and scarcely start it." "true--indubitably true. i appreciate your confidence in me, and if the vote so falls i will do whatever i can." "we know you will, and thank _you_. how long will it take to organize? a couple of weeks? and is there anything else we have to cover now?" "a couple of _weeks!_" evans was shocked. "you are naive indeed, young man, to think anything of this magnitude can even be started in such a short time as that. and yes, there are dozens of matters--hundreds--that should be discussed before i can even start to work intelligently." hence discussions went on and on and on. it was three days before garlock and belle 'ported themselves up into the _pleiades_ and the starship displaced itself instantaneously to margonia. * * * meanwhile, on margonia, james james james the ninth went directly to the heart of his job by leading lola and fao into delcamp's office and setting up its gunther blocks. "you said you want me to build your starship. okay, but i want you both--fao especially--to realize exactly what that means. i know what to do and how to do it. i can handle your operators and get the job done. however, i can't handle either of you, since you both out-gunther me, and i'm not going to try to. but there can't be two bosses on any one job, to say nothing of three or seventeen. so either i run the job or i don't. if either of you steps in, i step out and don't come back in. and remember that you're not doing us any favors--it's strictly vice versa." "jim!" lola protested. fao's hackles were very evidently on the rise; delcamp's face was hardening. "don't be so rough, jim, _please_. that's no way to...." "if you can pretty this up, pet, i'll be glad to have you say it for me. here's what you have to work on. if i do the job they'll have their starship in a few weeks. the way they've been going, they won't have it in twenty-five years. and the only way to get that bunch out there to really work is to tell each one of them to cooperate or else--and enforce the 'or else.'" "but they'd quit!" delcamp protested. "they'll _all_ quit!" "with suspension or expulsion from the society the consequences? hardly." james said. "but you wouldn't do that--you couldn't." "i wouldn't?" "of course he wouldn't," lola put in, soothingly, "except as a very last resort. and, even at worst, jim could build it almost as easily with common labor. you primes don't really _have_ to have any operators at all, you know; but all your operators together would be perfectly helpless without at least one prime." "how come?" and "in what way?" delcamp and fao demanded together. "oh, didn't you know? after the ship is built and the fields are charged and so on, everything has to be activated--the hundred and one things that make it so nearly alive--and that is strictly a prime's job. even jim can't do it." "i see ... or, rather, i don't see at all," fao said, thoughtfully. she was no longer either excited or angry. "a few weeks against twenty-five years ... what do you think of his time estimate, deg my dear?" "i hadn't thought it would take nearly that long; but this 'activation' thing scares me. nothing in my theory even hints at any such thing. so--if there's so much i don't know yet, even in theory, it would take a long time. maybe i'd never get it." "well, anyway, i want our _celestial queen_ done in weeks, not years," fao said, extending her hand to james and shaking his vigorously. "so i promise not to interfere a bit. if i feel any such urge coming on, i'll dash home and lock myself up in a closet until it dies. fair enough?" since fao really meant it, that was fair enough. * * * for a whole day james did nothing except study blueprints; going over in detail and practically memorizing every drawing that had been made. he then went over the ship, studying minutely every part, plate, member, machine and instrument that had been installed. he noted what each man and woman was doing and what they intended to do. he went over material on hand and material on order, paying particular attention to times of delivery. he then sent a few--surprisingly few--telegrams. finally he called all fourteen operators together. he told them exactly what the revised situation was and exactly what he was going to do about it. he invited comments. there was of course a riot of protest; but--in view of what james had said anent suspensions and expulsions from the galaxian society--not one of them actually did quit. four of them, however, did appeal to delcamp, considerably to his surprise, to oust the interloper and to put things back where they had been; but they did not get much satisfaction. "james says that he can finish building this starship in a few weeks," delcamp told them, flatly. "specifically, three weeks, if we can get the special stuff made fast enough. fao and i believe him. therefore, we have put him in full charge. he will remain in charge unless and until he fails in performance. you are all good friends of fao's and mine, and we hope that all of you will stay with the project. if, however, we must choose now between you--any one of you or all of you--and james, there is no need to tell you what the choice will be." wherefore all fourteen went back to work; grudgingly at first and dragging their feet. in a very few hours, however, it became evident to all that james did in fact know what he was doing and that the work was going faster and smoother than ever before; whereupon all opposition and all malingering disappeared. they were operators, and they were all intensely interested in their ship. morale was at a high. thus, when the _pleiades_ landed beside the now seething _celestial queen_, garlock found james with feet on desk, hands in pockets, and scanner on head; doing--apparently--nothing at all. nevertheless, he was a very busy man. "hey, jim!" a soprano shriek of thought emanated from a gorgeous seventeen-year-old blonde. "i can't read this funny-picture, it's been folded too many times. where does this lead go to?" "data insufficient. careful, vingie; i'd hate to have to send you back to school." "'scuse, please, junior. unit six, sub-assembly tee dash ni-yun. terminal fo-wer. from said terminal, there's a lead--bee sub something-or-other--goes somewhere. where?" "b sub four. it goes to unit seven, sub-assembly q dash three, terminal two. and watch your insulation--that's a mighty hot lead." "uh-huh, i got that. double sink mill mill; class albert dog kittens. thanks, boss!" * * * "hi, jim," garlock said. then, to delcamp. "i see you're rolling." "_he's_ rolling, you mean." delcamp had not yet recovered fully from a state of near-shock. "so _that's_ what an eidetic memory is? he knows every nut, bolt, lead, and coil in the ship!" "more than that. he's checking every move everybody makes. when they're done, you won't have to just hope everything was put together right--you'll _know_ it was." jim was their man. * * * and fao sidled over toward belle. there was something new about the silver-haired girl, belle decided instantly. the difference was slight--belle couldn't put her finger on it at first. she seemed--quieter? softer? more subdued? no, definitely. more feminine? no; that would be impossible. more ... more adult? belle hated to admit it, even to herself, but that was what it was. "deg and i got married day before yesterday," fao confided, via tight beam. "oh--so you're _pregnant!_" "of course. i saw to that the first thing. i knew you'd want to be the first one to know. oh, isn't it _wonderful_?" she seized belle's arm and hugged it ecstatically against her side. "just too perfectly marvelous for _anything_?" "oh, i'm sure it is; and i'm so happy for you, fao!" and it would have taken the mind of a garlock to perceive anything either false or forced in thought or bearing. nevertheless, when belle went into garlock's room that night, storm signals were flying high in her almost-topaz eyes. "fao talaho-delcamp is _pregnant_!" she stormed, "and it's all _your_ fault!" "uh-huh," he demurred, trying to snap her out of her obviously savage mood. "not me, ace. not a chance in the world. it was deggi." "you ... you _weasel_! you know very well, clee garlock, what i meant. if you hadn't given her that treatment she'd have kept on fighting with him and they wouldn't have been married and had any children for positively _years_. so now she'll have the first double-prime baby and it ought to be _mine_. i'm older than she is--our group is 'way ahead of theirs--we have the first and _only_ starship--and then you do _that_. and you wouldn't give _me_ that treatment. oh, no--just to _her_, that bleached-blonde! i'd like to strangle you to death with my own bare hands!" "what a hell of a logic!" garlock had been trying to keep his own temper in leash, but the leash was slipping. "assume i tried to work on you--assume i succeeded--what would you be? what would i have? what age do you think this is--that of the vikings? when sop in getting a wife was to beat her unconscious with a club and drag her into the longboat by her hair? hardly! i do not want and will not have a conquered woman. nor a spoiled-rotten, mentally-retarded brat...." "you unbearable, conceited, overbearing jerk! why, i'd rather...." "get out! and _this_ time, _stay_ out!" belle got out--and if door and frame had not been built of super-steel, both would have been wrecked by the blast of energy she loosed in closing the door behind her. in her own room, with gunther blocks full on, she threw herself face down on the bed and cried as she had not cried since she was a child. and finally, without even taking off her clothes, she cried herself to sleep. chapter next morning, early, belle tapped lightly on garlock's door. "come in." she did so. "have you had your coffee?" "yes." "so have i." neither belle nor garlock had recovered; both faces showed strain and drain. "i think we'd better break this up," belle said, quietly. "check. we'll have to, if we expect to get any work done." belle could not conceal her surprise. "oh, not for the reason you think," garlock went on, quickly. "your record as a man-killer is still one hundred point zero zero zero percent. i've been in love with you ever since we paired. before that, even." "flapdoodle!" she snorted, inelegantly. "why, i...." "keep still a minute. and i'm not going to fight with you again. ever. i'm not going to touch you again until i can control myself a lot better than i could last night." "oh? that was mostly my fault, of course. but in love? uh-uh, i've seen men in love. you aren't. i couldn't make you be, not with the best i could do. not even in bed. you aren't, clee--if you are, i'm an australian bushman." "perhaps i'm an atypical case. i'm not raving about your perfect body--you know what that is like already. nor about your mind, which is the only one i know of as good as my own. maybe i'm in love with what i think you ought to be ... or what i hope you will be. anyway, i'm in love with _something_ connected with you--and with no other woman alive. shall we go eat?" "uh-huh--let's." they joined lola and james at the table; and if lola noticed anything out of the ordinary, she made no sign. and after breakfast, in the main-- "about three weeks, jim, you think?" garlock asked. "give or take a couple of days, yes." "and belle and i would just be in the way--at least until time to show deggi about the activation ... and all those primes to organize ... we'd better leave you here, don't you think, and get going?" "i'll buy that. we'll finish as soon as possible." lola and james moved a few personal belongings planetside; garlock and belle shot the _pleiades_ across a vast gulf of space to one of the planets they had scanned so fleetingly on their preliminary survey. its name was, both remembered, lizoria; its two primes were named rezdo semolo and mirea mitala--male and female, respectively. after sending down a very brief and perfunctory request for audience--which was in effect a declaration of intent and nothing else--garlock and belle teleported themselves down into semolo's office, where both lizorian primes were. both got up out of peculiar-looking chairs to face their visitors. both were tall; both were peculiarly thin. not the thinness of emaciation, but that of bodily structure. "on them it looks good," belle tight-beamed a thought to garlock. both moved fast and with exquisite control; both were extraordinarily graceful. "snaky" was belle's thought of the woman; "sinuous" was garlock's of the man. both were completely hairless, of body and of head--not by nature, but via electric-shaver clipping. both wore sandals. the man wore shorts and a shirt-like garment of nylon or its like; the woman wore just enough ribbons and bands to hold a hundred thousand credits' worth of jewels in place. she appeared to be about twenty years--tellurian equivalent--old; he was probably twenty-three or twenty-four. "we did not invite you in and we do not want you here," semolo said, coldly. "so get out, both of you. if you don't, when i count three i'll throw you out, and i won't be too careful about how many of your bones i break. one.... two...." "pipe down, rezdo!" the girl exclaimed. "they have something we haven't, or they wouldn't be here. whatever it is, we want it." "oh, let him try, miss mitala," garlock said, through her hard-held block, in the depth of her mind. "he won't hurt us a bit and it may do him some good. while he's wasting effort i'll compare notes with my partner here, galactic vice-admiral belle bellamy. i'm glad to see that one of you has at least a part of a brain." "... three!" semolo did his best, with everything he had, without even attracting garlock's attention. he then tried to leap at the intruder physically, despite the latter's tremendous advantage in weight and muscle, but found that he could not move. then, through belle's solidly-set blocks, "how are you doing, ace? getting anywhere?" "my god!" came belle's mental shriek. "what--how can--but no, you _didn't_ give _that_ to fao, surely!" "i'll say i didn't--nor to delcamp. but you're going to need it, i'm thinking." "but _can_ you? even if you _would_--and i'm just beginning to realize how big a man you really are--can that kind of stuff be taught? i probably haven't got the brain-cells it takes to handle it." "i'm not sure, but i've reworked our prime fields into one and made a couple of other changes. theoretically, it ought to work. shall i come in and try it?" "don't be an idiot, darling. _of course!_" * * * as impersonally as a surgeon exploring an organ, garlock went into belle's mind. "tune to the field ... that's it--fine! then--i'll do it real slow, and watch me close--you do like so ... get it?" "uh-huh!" belle breathed, excitedly. "got it!" "then this ... and this ... and there you are. you can try it on me, if you like." "uh-uh. no sale. i don't need practice and i'd like to preserve the beautiful illusion that maybe i _could_ crack your shield if i wanted to. i'll work on miss snake-hips here, the serpentine charmer--but say, i'll bet there's a bone in it. _you_ can block it, can't you?" "yes. it goes like this." he showed her. "it takes full mastery of the prime field, but you've got that." "oh, wonderful! thanks, clee darling. but do you mean to actually say i can now completely block you or any other prime out?" "you're going too far, ace. me, yes--but don't forget that there very well may be people--or things--as far ahead of us as we are ahead of pointer pups." "huh! balloon-juice and prop-wash! i just _know_, clee, that you're the absolute tops of the whole, entire, macrocosmic universe." "well, we can dream, of course." garlock withdrew his mind from belle's and turned his attention to the now quiet semolo. "well, my over-confident and contumacious young squirt; are you done horsing around or do you want to keep it up until you addle completely what few brains you have?" the lizorian made no reply; but merely glared. "the trouble with you half-baked, juvenile--i almost added 'delinquent' to that, and perhaps i should have--primes is that you know too damned much that isn't true. as an old tellurian saying hath it, 'you're altogether too big for your britches.' "thus, simply because you have lived a few years on one single planet and haven't encountered anyone able to stand up to you, you've sold yourself on the idea that there's nobody, anywhere, who can. you're wrong--you couldn't be more so if you had an army to help you. "what, actually, have you done? what, actually, have you got? practically nothing. you haven't even started a starship; you've scarcely started making plans. you realize dimly that the theory is not in any of the books, that you'll have to slug it out for yourself, but that is _work_. so you're still just posing and throwing your weight around. "as a matter of fact, you're merely a drop in a lake. there are thousands of millions of planets, and thousands of millions of prime operators. most of them are probably a lot stronger than you are; many of them may be stronger than my partner and i are. i am not at all certain that you will pass even the first screening; but since you are without question a prime operator, i will deliver the message we came to deliver. miss mitala, do you want to listen or shall we drive it into you, too?" "i want to listen to anyone or anything who has a working starship and who can do what you have just done." "very well," and garlock told the general-distribution version of the story of the galactic service. "quite interesting," semolo said loftily, at its end. "whether or not i would be interested depends, of course, on whether there's a position high enough for...." "i doubt very much if there's one low enough," garlock cut in sharply. "however, since it's part of my job, i'll get in touch with you later. okay, belle." and in the main--"what a jerk!" belle exclaimed. "what a half-cooked, half-digested _pill_! i simply marvel at your forbearance, clee. you should have turned him inside out and hung him up to dry--especially behind the ears!" then, suddenly, she giggled. "but do you know what i did?" "i can guess. a couple of shots in the arm?" "uh-huh. next time he pitches into her she'll slap his ears right off. oh, _brother_!" "check and double-check. but let's hop to number two.... here it is." * * * "oh, yes," came a smooth, clear, diamond-sharp thought in reply to garlock's introductory call. "this world, as you have perceived, is falne. i am indeed baver wd , my companion prime is indeed glarre wd . you are, we perceive, bearers of the truth; of great skill and of high advancement. your visit here will, i am sure, be of immense benefit to us and possibly, i hope, of some small benefit to you. we will both be delighted to have you both 'port yourselves to us at once." the tellurians did so--and in the very instant of appearance garlock was met by a blast of force the like of which he had never even imagined. the two falnian primes, capable operators both, had built up their highest possible potentials and had launched both terrific bolts without any hint of warning. belle's mind, however, was already fused with garlock's. their combined blocks were instantaneous in action; their counter-thrust was nearly so. both falnians staggered backward until they were stopped by the room's wall. "ah, yes," garlock said, then. "you are indeed, in a small and feeble way, seekers after the truth; of which we are indeed bearers. lesser bearers, perhaps, but still bearers. you will indeed profit greatly from our visit. you err, however, in thinking that we may in any respect profit from you. you have nothing whatever that we have not had for long. now let us, if you please, take a few seconds of time to get acquainted, each with the other." "that, indeed, is the logical and seemly thing to do." both falnians straightened up and stepped forward; neither arrogantly nor apologetically, but simply as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had taken place. each pair studied the other. physically, the two pairs were surprisingly alike. baver was almost as big as garlock; almost as heavily muscled. glarre could have been cast in belle's own mold. * * * with that, however, all resemblance ceased. both falnians were naked. the man wore only a belt and pouch in lieu of pockets; the woman only a leather carryall slung from one shoulder--big enough, garlock thought, to hold a week's supplies for an explorer scout. his hair was thick, bushy, unkempt; sun-bleached to a nondescript blend of pale colors. hers--long, heavy, meticulously middle-parted and dressed--was a startling two-tone job. to the right of the part it was a searingly brilliant red; to the left, an equally brilliant royal blue. his skin was deeply tanned. the color of hers was completely masked by a bizarrely spectacular overlay of designs done in semi-indelible, multi-colored dyes. "ah, you are worthy indeed of receiving an increment of truth. hear, then, the message we bring," and again garlock told the story. "we thank you, sir and madam, from our hearts. we will accept with joy your help in finishing our ship; we will do all that in us lies to further the cause of the galactic service. until a day, then?" "until a day." then, to belle, "okay, ace. ready? go!" and up in the main--"sweet sin!" belle exclaimed. "what a pair _they_ turned out to be! clee, that simply scared me witless." "you can play that in spades." garlock jammed his hands into his pockets and prowled about the room, his face a black scowl of concentration. until, finally, he pulled himself out of the brown study and said: "i've been trying to think if there's any other thing, however slight, that i have and you haven't. there isn't. you've got it all. you're just as fast as i am, just as sharp and as accurate--and, since we now draw on the same field, just as strong." "why clee! you're worrying about _me_? you've done altogether too much for me, already." "anything i can do, i've got to do ... well, shall we go?" "we shall." * * * they visited four more planets that day. and after supper that night, standing in the corridor between their doors, belle began to soften her shield, as though to send a thought. almost instantly, however, she changed her mind and snapped it back to full on. "good night, clee," she said. "good night, belle," and each went into his own room. the next day they worked nine planets, and the day after that they worked ten. they ate supper in friendly fashion; then strolled together across the main, to a davenport. "it's funny," belle said thoughtfully, "having this tremendous ship all to ourselves. to have a private conference right out here in the main ... or is it?" he triggered the shields, she watched him do it. "it is now," he assured her. "prime-proof? not ordinary gunther blocks?" "uh-huh. two hundred kilovolts and four hundred kilogunts. backed by all the force of the prime and op fields and the full power of the engines. i told you i'd made some changes in the set-up." "private enough, i guess ... what a mess those primes are! and we'll have to make the rounds twice more--when we alert 'em and when we pick 'em up." "not necessarily. this new set-up ought to give us a galaxy-wide reach. let's try semolo, on lizoria, shall we?" "uh-huh--let's." "tune in, then ace." "_ace_, darling?" "ace, _darling_?" "darling. you said you weren't going to fight with me any more. okay--i'm not going to try any more to lick you until after i've licked myself. i'm tuned--you may fire when ready, gridley." they fired--and hit the mark dead center. top-lofty and arrogant and belligerent as ever, the lizorian prime took the call. "i thought all the time you wanted something. well, i neither want nor need...." "cut it, you unlicked cub, until you can begin to use that half-liter of golop you call a brain," garlock said, harshly. "we're just trying out a new ultra-communicator. thanks for your help." on the fourth day they worked eleven planets; the fifth day saw the forty-sixth planet done and the immediate job finished. all during supper, it was very evident that belle had something on her mind. after eating, she went out into the main and slumped down on a davenport. garlock followed her. a cigarette leaped out of a closed box and into place between her lips. it came alight. she smoked it slowly, without relish; almost as though she did not know that she was smoking. "might as well get it out of your system, belle," garlock said aloud. "what are you thinking about at the moment?" belle exhaled; the half-smoked butt vanished. "at the moment i was thinking about gunther blocks. specifically, their total inability to cope with that new prime probe of yours." she stared at him, narrow-eyed. "it goes through them just like nothing at all." she paused; eyed him questioningly. "no comment." "and yet you gave it to me. freely, of your own accord. even before i needed it. why?" "still no comment." "you'd better comment, buster, before i blow my top." "there is such a thing as urbanity." "i've heard of it, yes; even though you never did believe i ever had any. you _talk_ a good game of urbanity, but your brand of it would never carry you _that_ far...." she paused. he remained silent. she went on. "of course, it does put a lot of pressure on me to develop myself." "i'm glad you used the word 'develop' instead of 'treat.'" "oh, sometimes--at rare intervals--i'm not exactly dumb. but you knew--you _must_ have known--what a horrible risk you took in making me as tremendously powerful as you are." * * * "some, perhaps, but very definitely less risky than not doing it." "getting information out of you is harder than pulling teeth. clee garlock, i want you to tell me _why!_" "very well." garlock's jaw set. "you've had it in mind all along that this is some kind of a lark; that you and i are gunther tops of the universe. or did that belief weaken a bit when we met baver wd ?" "well, perhaps--a little. however, the probability is becoming greater with every planet we visit. after all, _some_ race has to be tops. why _shouldn't_ it be us?" "_what_ a logic--excuse me, skip it...." "oh, you really _meant_ it when you said you weren't going to fight with me any more?" "i'm going to try not to. now, remembering that i don't consider your premise valid, just suppose that when we visit some planet some day, you get your mind burned out and i don't--solely because i had something i could have given you and wouldn't. what then?" "oh. i thought that was what you ... but suppose i can't...." "we won't suppose anything of the kind. but that wasn't all that was on your mind. nor most." "how true. those primes. the women. honestly, clee, i never saw--never imagined--such a bunch of exhibitionistic, obstreperous, obnoxious, swell-headed, hussies in my whole life. and every day it was borne in on me more and more that i was--am--exactly like the rest of them." garlock was wise enough to say nothing, and belle went on: "i've been talking a good game of licking myself, but this time i'm going to _do_ it." she jumped up and doubled her fists. "if you can do it, i can," she declared. "like the ancient ballad--'anything you can do i can do better.'" she tried to be jaunty, but the jauntiness did not ring quite true. "that's an unfortunate quotation, i'm afraid. the trouble is, i haven't." "huh? don't be an idiot, clee. you certainly have--what else do _you_ suppose put me so far down into the dumps?" "in that case, you _certainly_ will. so come on up out of the dumps." "wilco--and i certainly will. but for a woman who has been talking so big, i feel low in my mind. a good-night kiss, clee, darling? just one--and just a little one, at that?" "sweetheart!" there were more than one, and none of them was little. eventually, however, the two stood, arms still around each other, in the corridor between their doors. "but kissing's as far as it goes, isn't it," belle said. the remark was not a question; nor was it quite a statement. "that's right." "so good night, darling." "good night, ace." * * * and when they next saw each other, at the breakfast table, belle was apparently her usual dauntless self. "hi, darling--sit down," she said, gaily. "your breakfast is on the table. bacon, eggs, toast, strawberry jam, and a liter of coffee." "nice! thanks, ace." they ate in silence for a few minutes; then her hand crept tentatively across the table. he pressed it warmly. "you look a million, belle. out of the dumps?" "pretty much--in most ways. one way, though, i'm in deeper than ever. you see, i know exactly what you did to fao talaho; and why neither you or anybody else could do it to me. or if they could, what would happen if they did." "i was hoping you would. i couldn't very well tell you, before, but...." "of course not. i see that." "... the fact is that fao, and all the others we've met, are young enough, unformed enough--plastic enough--yes, damn it, _weak_ enough--to bend. but you are tremendously strong, and twelve rockwell numbers harder than a diamond. you wouldn't bend. if enough stress could be applied--and that's decidedly questionable--you wouldn't bend. you'd break, and i can't figure it. you're a little older, of course, but not enough to...." "how about the fact that i've been banging myself for eight years against cleander garlock, the top prime of the universe and the hardest? that might have something to do with it, don't you think?" garlock said, "indefensible conclusions drawn from insufficient data. that's just what i've been talking about. no matter how we got the way we are, though, the fact is that you and i have got to fight our own battles and bury our own dead." "check. like having a baby, but worse. there's nothing anybody else can do--even you--except maybe hold my hand, like now." "that's about it. but speaking of holding hands, would it help if we paired again?" belle studied the question for two full minutes; her fine eyes clouded. "no," she said, finally. "i would enjoy it too much, and you'd ... well, you wouldn't...." "huh?" he demanded. "oh, physically, of course; but that isn't enough, or good enough, now. you see, i know what your personal code is. it's unbelievable, almost--i never heard of one like it, except maybe a priest or two--but i admire you tremendously for it. you would never, willingly, pair with a woman you really loved. that was why you were so glad to break ours off. you can't deny it." "i won't try to deny it. but you can't bluff me, belle, so please quit trying. basically, your code is the same as mine. why else did you initiate our break?" belle's block went solid, and garlock said hastily, aloud, "excuse it, please. cancel. i've just said, and know as an empirical fact, that you've got to do the job alone--but i can't seem to help putting my big, flat foot in it by blundering in anyway. let's get to work, shall we?" "what at? interview the primes, i'd say--tell them to hold themselves in readiness to attend...." "on very short notice...." "yes. to attend the big meeting on tellus. we'll have to make a schedule. it shouldn't be held until after fao and deggi get their ship built--it _can't_ be held, of course, until after you and jim are out of sse. have you got _that_ figured out yet?" "pretty much." he told her his plan. belle giggled, then burst into laughter. "so _i'm_ in it, too? _wonderful!_" "you have to be. if we make him mad enough, he'll fire you, too." "without hiring me first? he couldn't." "he could, very easily. he doesn't know one-tenth of one percent of his people. if we work it right he'll assume that you're one of us wage-slaves, too. lola, too, for that matter." "careful, clee. you and i think this is funny, but lola wouldn't. she'd be shocked to her sweet little core, and she'd louse up the whole deal. so be very sure she doesn't get in on it." "i guess you're right ... well, shall we go out and insult our touchy young friend semolo? ready.... go!" * * * "oh, it's _you_ again. i tell you...." the lizorian began. "you will tell me nothing. you will listen. link your mind to mitala's," and the linked tellurian minds enforced the order. "in about two weeks the primes of many worlds will meet in person on tellus. arrange your affairs so that on ten minutes' notice you both can leave lizoria for tellus aboard our starship, the _pleiades_. that is all." "he'll come, too," belle chortled. "he'll writhe and scream, but he'll come." "you couldn't keep him away," garlock agreed. on the next planet, falne, the procedure was a little different. the information was the same, but--"one word of warning," garlock added. "it is to be a meeting of minds; not a contest to set up a pecking-order. if you try any such business you will be disciplined; sharply and in public." "suppose that, under such conditions, we refuse to attend the meeting?" "that is your right. there is no coercion whatever. whether or not you come will depend upon whether or not you two are in reality seekers after truth. until a day." and so it went. planet after planet. on not one of those worlds had any prime changed his thinking. not one was really interested in the galactic service as an instrument for the good of all mankind. there were almost as many attitudes as there were primes; but all were essentially self-centered and selfish. "that tears it, belle--busts it wide open. i can--i mean we together can do either job. that is, either be top boss and run the thing or put in full time beating some sense into those hard skulls. we can't do both." "on paper, we should," belle said, thoughtfully. "you're galactic admiral; i'm your vice. one job apiece. but we're _not_ going to be separated. besides...." "two (minds) (brains) are much better than one," both said, except for one word, in unison. belle laughed. "that settles that. the garlock-bellamy fusion is galactic admiral--so we need a good vice. who? deggi and fao? they're cooperative and idealistic enough, but.... oh, i don't know exactly what it is they lack. do you?" "no; i can't put it into words or thoughts. probably the concept is too new for pigeon-holing. it isn't exactly strength or hardness or toughness or resilience or brisance--maybe a combination of all five. what we need is a pair like us but better." "there _aren't_ any." "don't be too sure." belle glanced at him in surprise and he went on: "not that we've seen, no. but each of those worlds centers a volume of space containing thousands of planets. including the tellurian and the margonian, we now have forty-eight regions defined. let's run a very fast search-pattern of region forty-nine and see what we come up with." "all right ... but suppose we do find somebody who out-gunthers us?" "i'd a lot rather have it that way than the way it is now. i'll do the hopping, you the checking. here's the first one--what do you read?" "n. g." "and this one?" "the same." "and this?" "ditto." until, finally: "clee, just how long are you going to keep this up?" "until we find something or run out of time for the meeting. belle, i really _want_ to find somebody who amounts to something." "so do i, really, so go ahead." * * * but they did not run out of time. at planet number four-hundred-something, belle suddenly emitted a shriek--vocally as well as mentally. "clee! hold it! here's something, i think!" "i'm sure there is, and i'm gladder to see you two people than can possibly be expressed." belle whirled; so did garlock. a man stood in the middle of the main; a man shaped very much like garlock, but with long, badly-tousled hair and a bushy wilderness of fiery-red whiskers. "please excuse this intrusion, admiral--or should it be plural? improper address, i'm sure, but your joint tenure is a concept so new and so vast that i am not yet able to grasp it fully--but you are working at such high speed that i had to do something drastic. you will, i trust, remain here long enough to discuss certain matters with my wife and me?" "we'll be very glad to." "thank you. i will return, then, more decorously, and bring her. one moment." he disappeared. "_wife!_" belle exclaimed, more than half in dismay. "they must be, then...." "yeah." the thought of a wife did not bother garlock at all. "talk about _power!_ and _speed!_ to get all that stuff and 'port up here in the millisecond or so we had the screens open? baby doll, there's a guy who is what a prime operator _ought_ to be!" in less than a minute the man reappeared, accompanied by a woman who was very obviously pregnant--eight months or so. like the man, she was dressed in tight-fitting coveralls. her hair, however--it was a natural red, too--was cut to a uniform length of eight inches, and each hair individually stood out, perfectly straight and perfectly perpendicular to the element of the scalp from which it sprang. "friends belle and clee of tellus, i present therea, my wife; and alsyne, myself; of this planet thaker. we have numbers, too, but they are never used among friends." acknowledgments were made and a few minutes of conversation ensued, during which the two couples studied each other. "this looks mighty good to me," garlock said then. "shall we go screens half-down, alsyne, and cry in each other's beer?" * * * in thirty seconds of flashing communication each became thoroughly informed. those minds could send, and could receive, an incredibly vast amount of information in an incredibly brief space of time. "your ship should work and doesn't," garlock said. "show me; in detail." alsyne showed him. "oh, i see. you didn't work out quite all the theory. it has to be activated. like this...." garlock showed alsyne. "i see. thanks." alsyne disappeared and was gone for some ten minutes. he reappeared, grinning hugely behind his flaming wilderness of beard. "it works perfectly; for which our heartfelt thanks. and now that my mind is at complete peace with the universe, we will consider the utterly fascinating subject of your proposed galactic service. you two tellurians, immature although you are, have made two tremendous contributions to the advancement of the scheme of things--three, if you count the starship, which is comparatively unimportant--each of such import that no human mind can foresee any fraction of its consequences. first, your prime field, the probe and its screen...." "clee!" belle drove the thought. "you _didn't_ give him _that_, surely!" "tut-tut, my child," therea soothed her. "you are alarming yourself about nothing." "the only trouble with you two youngsters is that you aren't quite--very nearly, of course, but very definitely not quite--grown up." alsyne smiled again; not only with mouth and eyes, but with his whole hairy face. "to the mature mind there is no such thing as status. each knows what he can do best and does it as a matter of course. rank is not necessary. "second, the unimaginably important contribution of the ability to combine two dissimilar but intimately compatible minds into one tremendously effective fusion. while therea and i have had only a few moments to play with it, we realize some of its possibilities. thus, since she is a doctor of humanities...." "oh," belle interrupted. "_that's_ why you knew what i was thinking about, even though i tight-beamed the thought and my screens were tight?" "exactly so. but to continue. with her sympathy and empathy, and my driving force and so on, the job of licking these young primes into shape is, as your idiom has it, 'strictly our dish.' it is a truly delicious thought. "you two, on the other hand, have much that we lack. breadth and depth and scope of imagination and of vision; yet almost incredible will-power and stamina and resolve...." "_that's the word i was trying to think of--will-power_," belle flashed a thought at garlock. "... qualities virtually always mutually exclusive; but the combination of which makes your fusion uniquely qualified to lead and direct this new and magnificent movement. but therea and i have been idle and frustrated far too long. we can be of most use, at the moment, on margonia; working with the fao-deggi unit. therefore, with renewed deep thanks, we go." * * * man and wife disappeared; and, ten seconds later, the thakern starship vanished from its world. "well, _what_ do you think of _that_?" belle gasped. "i was actually afraid to think, even behind a prime screen. i don't know _yet_ whether i want to kiss 'em or kill 'em." "i do. that guy is really a prime, belle. he's older, bigger, and a lot better than i am." "uh-uh," she demurred, positively. "older, yes. more mature--you _baby_, you!" she snickered gleefully. "if he hadn't included you in that crack i'd've stabbed him, so help me, even though it wasn't true. he said himself it's _you_ who has got what it takes to lead and direct, not him." "us. we, i mean," he corrected, absently. "uh-huh; us-we. one, now and forever. hot dog! anyway, he wants us to and we want to so everything's lovely and so let's get to work on fatso and his foster. i think we ought to have some fun for a change and that'll be a lot. when do we want to hit him?" "any day monday through friday. nine-fifteen a.m. eastern daylight time. plus or minus one minute." "nice! catch him _in flagrante delicto_. lovely--shovel on the coal, my intrepid engineer!" on a wednesday morning, then, at twelve minutes past nine edt, the _pleiades_ hung poised, high over the chancellery of solar system enterprises, incorporated. "remember, belle!" garlock was pacing the main. "to keep 'em staggering we'll have to land slugging and beat 'em to every punch. you did a wonderful job on her last time, and it's been eating on her ever since. she's probably been rehearsing in front of a mirror just how she's going to tear you apart next time and just how she's going to spit out the pieces. last time, you were cold, stiff, rigidly formal, and polite. so this time it'll be me, and i'll be hot and bothered, dirty, low, coarse, lewd, and very, very rough." belle threw back her head and laughed. "rough? yes. vicious, contemptuous, or ugly; yes. a master of fluent, biting, and pyrotechnic profanity; yes. but low or dirty or coarse or lewd, clee? or any one of the four, to say nothing of them all? uh-uh. ferber's a filthy beast, of course; but even he knows you're one of the cleanest men that ever lived. they'd _know_ it was an act." "not unless i give 'em time to think--or unless you do, before he fires jim--in which case we'll lose the game anyway. but how about you? if i can knock 'em too groggy to think, will you carry on and keep 'em that way?" "watch my blasts!" belle giggled gleefully. "i never tried anything like that--any more than you have--but i'll guarantee to be just as low, dirty, coarse, lewd, and crude as you are. probably more so, because in this particular case it'll be fun. you see, you're a man--you can't possibly despise and detest that slimy stinker either in the same way or as much as i do." "this ought to be good. cut the rope, jim." even before the starship came to rest, garlock drove a probe into the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the chancellery--an utterly unheard-of act of insolence. "foster! this is the _pleiades_ coming in. garlock calling. hot up the tri-di and the recorder, toots. put fatso on, and snap into it.... i said shake a leg!" "why, i.... you...." "stop stuttering and come to life, you half-witted bag! gimme ferber and hurry it up--this ship's tricky." "why, you ... i never...." ferber's outraged first secretary could scarcely talk. "he ... he is...." "i know, babe, i know--i could set that to music and sing it, with gestures. 'chancellor ferber is in conference and cannot be disturbed,'" he mimicked, savagely. "put him on now--but _quick_!" * * * the tri-di tank brightened up; chancellor ferber's image appeared. he was disheveled, surprised and angry, but garlock gave him no chance to speak. "well, fatso--at last! where the _hell_ have you been all morning? i want some stuff, just as fast as god will let you get it together," and he began to read off, as fast as he could talk, a long list of highly technical items. ferber tried for many seconds to break in, and garlock finally allowed him to do so. "are you crazy, garlock?" he shouted. "what in hell's name are you bothering _me_ with _that_ stuff for? you know better than that--make out your requisitions and send them through channels!" "channels, hell!" garlock shouted back. "hasn't it got through your four-inch-thick skull into your idiot's brain yet that i'm in a hurry? i don't want this stuff today; i want it day before yesterday--this damned junk-heap is apt to fall apart any minute. so quit goggling and slobbering at me, you wall-eyed, slimy, fat toad. get that three hundred weight of suet into action. _hump_ yourself!" "you ... you ... why, i was never so insulted...." "insulted? you?" garlock out-roared him. "listen, fatso. if i ever set out to really insult you, you'll know it--it'll blister all the paint off the walls. all i'm trying to do now is get you off that fat butt of yours and get some action." ferber became purple and pounded his desk in consuming anger. garlock yelled louder and pounded harder. "start rounding up this stuff--but _fast_--or i'll come down there and take your job away from you and do it myself--and for your own greasy hide's sake you'd better believe i'm not just chomping my choppers, either." "you'll _what?_" ferber screamed. "_you're fired!_" "_you_ fire _me_?" garlock mimicked the scream. "and make it stick? you'd better write that one up for the funnies. why, you lard-brain, you couldn't fire a cap-pistol." "foster!" ferber yelled. "terminate garlock as of now. insubordination, and misconduct, abuse of position, incompetence, malfeasance--everything else you can think of. blacklist him all over the system!" at the word "fired" belle, had leaped to her feet and had stopped laughing. "miss bellamy!" ferber snapped. "yes, sir?" she answered, sweetly. "you are hereby promoted to be head of the...." "oh, yeah?" belle sneered, her voice cutting like a knife. "you unprincipled, lascivious, lecherous _hitler!_ have you got the unmitigated gall to take _me_ for a floozie? to think you can add _me_ to your collection of bootlicking, round-heeled tramps?" "you're fired and blacklisted too!" "how nice! you know, i don't know of _anything_ i'd rather have happen to me?" * * * "get james on there--you, james...." "you don't need to fire me, you fat-headed old goat," james said, contemptuously. "i've already quit--the exact second you fired clee." "no you didn't!" ferber screamed. "resignation not accepted. you're _fired_! dishonorably discharged--blacklisted everywhere--you'll _never_ get another job--_anywhere_! and here's your slip, too!" miss foster was very fast on the machines. james 'ported his slip up into the _pleiades_, just as garlock and belle had done with theirs, and disappeared with it as they had; reappearing almost instantly. "montandon!" "chancellor ferber, are you completely out of your mind? you can't discharge either miss bellamy or me." "i can't?" he gloated. "why not?" "because neither of us is employed. by anybody." "that's right, fatso," belle said. "we just came along. just to keep the boys company. it's lonesome, you know, 'way out in deep space." miss foster ripped a half-filled-out termination form out of her machine and hurled it into a waste-basket. ferber's jaw dropped and his eyes stared glassily, but he rallied quickly. "i can blacklist her, though, and maybe you think i won't. belle bellamy will never get another job in this whole solar system as long as she lives, except through me! maybe i'll hire her some day, for something, and maybe i won't. are you listening, bellamy?" "not only listening, i'm reveling in every word." belle laughed derisively. "i hate to shatter such wonderful dreams--or do i? you see, the _pleiades_ really works, and the galaxians own her; lock, stock, and barrel. you wouldn't have any part of her, remember? insisted on payment for every nut, wire, and service? now, they want to hire us four for a big operation with this starship. since you only loaned garlock and james to them, you might have made some legal trouble on that score, but now that you've fired them both--and in such _conclusive_ language!--we're all set. so when you blacklist us with the society, _please_ let me know--i want to take a tri-di in technicolor of you doing it. how do you like _them_ parsnips, your royal fatness?" "i'll see about that!" ferber stormed. "we'll have an injunction out in an hour!" "go ahead," garlock said, with a wide grin. "have fun--the galaxians have legal eagles too, you know. one thing belle forgot. just in case you recover consciousness some time and want to steal our termination papers back--especially belle's; what a howler _that_ was!--don't try it. they're in a gunther-blocked safe." then, as comprehension began to dawn on ferber's face: "s-u-c-k-e-r," garlock drawled. the _pleiades_ disappeared. chapter the _pleiades_ landed on margonia's galaxian field, where the tellurians found the project running smoothly, a little ahead of schedule. delcamp and fao were working at their fast and efficient pace, but the hairy pair from thaker seemed to be, literally, everywhere at once. "hi, belle." fao 'ported up and shook hands warmly. "i thought i was going to have the first double-prime baby, until _she_ appeared on the scene." "didn't it make you mad? i'd've been furious." "maybe a little at first, but not after i'd talked with her for half a minute. she'd never even thought of that angle. besides, she thinks the whole galaxy is fairly crawling with double-primes." "that's funny--so does clee. but there are other things--strictly not angles--that she hasn't thought of, too. if those coveralls were half an inch tighter they'd choke her to death. you'd think she'd...." "huh?" fao interrupted. "_you_ should scream--oh, that ridiculous tellurian prud...." "it _isn't_ ridiculous!" belle snapped. "and it isn't prudishness, either--not with me, anyway. it's just that," she ran an indicative glance over fao's lean, trim flanks and hard, flat abdomen, "it spoils your figure. it's only temporary, of course, but...." "_spoils_ it! why, how _utterly_ idiotic! why, it's magnificent! just as soon as it starts to show on me, belle, i'm going to start wearing only half as many clothes as i've got on now." "you couldn't." belle eyed the other girl's bathing-suit-like garment. except for being blue instead of yellow, it was the same as the one she had worn before. "not without the league for public decency sending the wagon out after you." "oh, miss experience? well, three-quarters, maybe...." "hey, you two!" came delcamp's hail. "how about cutting the gab and getting some work done?" "coming, boss! 'scuse it, please!" and two fast and skillful women went efficiently to work. * * * with six prime operators on the job the work went on very rapidly, yet without error. the _celestial queen_ was finished, tested, and found perfect, one full day ahead of james' most optimistic estimate for construction alone. the six primes conferred. "do you want us to help you pick up the other primes?" delcamp asked. "your main, big as it is, will be crowded, and we have three ships here now instead of one." "i don't think so ... no," garlock decided. "we told 'em we'd do it, and in the _pleiades_, so we'd better. unless, alsyne, you don't agree?" "i agree. the point, while of course minor, is very well taken. we and our operators--we brought six along; experts in their various fields--can serve best by working on tellus with its galaxian society in getting ready for the meeting." "oh, of course," fao said. "probably deg and i should do the same thing?" "that would be our thought." the two thakerns were thinking--and lepping--in fusion. "however," they went on carefully, "it must not be and is not our intent to sway you in any action or decision. while not all of you four, perhaps, are as yet fully mature, not one of you should be subjected to any additional exterior stresses." "i hope you don't think that way about _all_ primes," garlock said, grimly. "i'm going to smack some of those kids down so hard that their shirt-tails will roll up their backs like window shades." "if you find such action either necessary or desirable, we will join you quite happily in it. we go." the four remaining primes looked at each other in puzzled surprise. "_what_ do you think about _that_?" garlock asked finally, of no one in particular. "i don't understand them," fao said, "but they're mighty nice people." "do you suppose, clee," belle nibbled at her lower lip, "that we're getting off on the wrong foot with uniforms and admirals and things? that with really adult primes running things the galactic service would run itself? no bosses or anything?" "umnngk." garlock grunted as though belle had slugged him. "i hope not. or do i? anyway, not enough data yet to make speculation profitable. but i wonder, miss bellamy, if it would be considered an unjustifiable attempt to sway you in any action or decision if i were to suggest--oh, ever so diffidently!--that if we're going to saddle up our bronks and ride out on roundup tomorrow morning we ought to be logging some sack-time right now?" "considering the source, as well as and/or in connection with the admittedly extreme provocation," belle straightened up into a regal pose, "you may say, mister garlock, without fear of successful contradiction, that in this instance no umbrage will be taken, at least for the moment." she broke the pose and giggled infectiously. "'night, you two lovely people!" * * * belle was still sunny and gay when the _pleiades_ reached lizoria; garlock was inwardly happy and outwardly content. semolo, however, was his usual intransigent self. in fact, if it had not been for mirea mitala, and the fact that she--metaphorically--did pin semolo's ears back, garlock would not have taken him aboard at all. thus, after loading on only one pair of primes, that auspiciously-beginning day had lost some of its luster; and as the day wore on it got no better fast. baver of falne had not learned anything, either--only garlock's intervention saved the cocky and obstreperous semolo from a mental blast that would have knocked him out cold. then there were onthave and lerthe of crenna; korl and kirl of gleer; parleof and ginseona of pasquerone; atnim and sotara of flandoon, and eighty others. very few of them were as bad as semolo; some of them, particularly the pasqueronians and the gleerans, were almost as good as delcamp and fao. this was the first time that any pair of them had ever come physically close to any other prime. many of them had not really believed that any primes abler than themselves existed. the _pleiades_ was crowded, and garlock and belle were not giving to any of them the deference and consideration and submissive respect which each considered his unique due. wherefore the undertaking was neither easy nor pleasant; and both tellurians were tremendously relieved when, the last pair picked up, they flashed the starship back to tellus and delcamp, fao, and the thakerns 'ported themselves aboard. "give me your attention, please," garlock said, crisply. then, after a moment, "any and all who are not tuned to me in five seconds will be returned immediately to their home planets and will lose all contact with this group.... "that's better. for some of you this has been a very long day. for all of you it has been a very trying day. you were all informed previously as to what we had in mind. however, since you are young and callow, and were thoroughly convinced of your own omniscience and omnipotence, it is natural enough that you derived little or no benefit from that information. you are now facing reality, not your own fantasies. "each pair of you has been assigned a suite of rooms in galaxian hall. each suite is furnished appropriately; each is fully gunthered for self-service. "this meeting has not been announced to the public and, at least for the present, will not be. therefore none of you will attempt to communicate with anyone outside galaxian hall. anyone making any such attempt will be surprised. "the meeting will open at eight o'clock tomorrow morning in the auditorium. the thakerns and the margonians will now inform you as to your quarters." there was a moment of flashing thought. "dismissed." * * * at one second before eight o'clock the auditorium was empty. at eight o'clock, ninety-eight human beings appeared in it; six on the stage, the rest occupying the first few rows of seats. "good morning, everybody," garlock said, pleasantly. "everyone being rested, fed, and having had some time in which to consider the changed reality faced by us all, i hope and am inclined to believe that we can attain friendship and accord. we will spend the next hour in becoming acquainted with each other. we will walk around, not teleport. we will meet each other physically, as well as mentally. we will learn each other's forms of greeting and we will use them. this meeting is adjourned until nine o'clock--or, rather, the meeting will begin then." for several minutes no one moved. all blocks were locked at maximum. each prime used only his eyes. physically, it was a scene of almost overpowering perfection. the men were, without exception, handsome, strong, and magnificently male. the women, from heroically-framed fao talaho up--or down?--to surprisingly slender mirea mitala, all were arrestingly beautiful; breathtakingly proportioned; spectacularly female. clothing varied from complete absence to almost complete coverage, with a bewildering variety of intermediate conditions. color was rampant. * * * hair--or lack of it--was also an individual and highly variant matter. some of the women, like belle and fao, were content with one solid but unnatural shade. one shaven head--mirea mitala's--was deeply tanned, but unadorned, even though the rest of her body was almost covered by precious stones. another was decorated with geometrical and esoteric designs in eye-searing colors. a third supported a structure--it could not possibly be called a hat--of spun metal and gems. among the medium-and long-hairs there were two-, three-, and multi-toned jobs galore. some of the color-combinations were harmonious; some were sharply contrasting, such as black and white; some looked as though their wearers had used the most violently-clashing colors they could find. the prize-winner, however, was therea of thaker's enormous, inexplicable mop; and it was that phenomenon that first broke the ice. the girl with the decorated scalp had been glancing questioningly at neighbor after neighbor, only to be met by uncompromising stares. finally, however, her gaze met another, as interested as her own. this second girl, whose coiffure was a high-piled confection of black, white, yellow, red, blue, and green, half-masted her screen and said: "oh, thanks, jethay of lodie-yann. i'm glad everybody isn't going to stay locked up all day. i'm ginseona of pasquerone. they call me 'jin' whenever they want to call me anything printable. and _this_," she dug a knuckle into her companion's short ribs, whereupon he jumped, whirled around, lowered his screen, and grinned, "is my ... the boy friend, parleof. also of pasquerone, of course. par, both jethay and i...." "call me 'jet'--everybody does," jethay said: almost shyly, for a prime. "both jet and i have been wondering about that woman's hair--over there. how could you _possibly_ give a head of hair a static charge of fifty or a hundred kilovolts and not have it leak off?" "you couldn't, unless it was a perfectly-insulated wig ... but it looks as though she did, at that...." and parleof paused in thought. "maybe byuk would have an idea or two," and jet uttered aloud a dozen or so crackling syllables that sounded as though they could have been ladylike profanity. whatever they were, byuk jumped, too, and tuned in with the other three. "oh, it's quite easy, really," therea said then. "look." her mass of hair cascaded gracefully down around her neck and shoulders. "look again." each hair stood fiercely out all by itself, exactly as before. "all you young people will learn much more difficult and much more important things before this meeting is over. i cannot tell you how glad i am that so many of you are here." * * * and so it went, all over the auditorium. once cracked, the ice broke up fast. fao and delcamp worked hard; so did belle and garlock. alsyne was a potent force indeed--his abounding vitality and his tremendous smile broke down barriers that logic could not affect. and therea worked near-miracles; did more than the other five combined. her sympathy, her empathy, her understanding and feeling, were as great as lola's own; her operative ability was as much greater than lola's as lola's was greater than that of a bobby-soxed babysitter. thus, when half of the hour was gone, garlock heaved a profound sigh of relief. he wouldn't have half the trouble he had expected--it was not going to be a riot. and when he called the meeting to order he was pleasanter and friendlier than belle had ever before seen him. "while i am calling this meeting to order, it is only in the widest possible sense that i am its presiding officer, for we have as yet no organization by the delegated authority of which any man or any woman has any right to preside. yesterday i ruled by force; simply because i am stronger than any one of you or any pair of you. today, in the light of the developments of the last hour, that rule is done; except, perhaps, for one or two isolated and non-representative cases which may develop today. by this time tomorrow, i hope that we will be forever done with the law of claw and fang. for, as a much abler man has said--'to the really mature mind, the concept of status is completely invalid.'" "_he's putting that as a direct quote, alsyne, and it isn't._" belle lanced the thought. "_he thinks it is_," alsyne flashed back. "_that is the way his mathematician's mind recorded it._" "this meeting is informal, preliminary and exploratory. a meeting of minds from which, we hope, a useful and workable organization can be developed. since you all know what we think it basically should be, there is no need to repeat it. "i must now say something that a few of you will construe as a threat. you are all prime operators. each pair of you is the highest development of a planet, perhaps of a solar system. you can learn if you will. you can cooperate if you will. any couple here who refuses to learn, and hence to cooperate, will be returned to its native planet and will have no further contact with this group. "i now turn this meeting over to our first moderators, alsyne and therea of thaker; the oldest and ablest prime operators of us all." "thank you, garlock of tellus. one correction, however, if you please. i who speak am neither this man nor this woman standing here, but both. i am the prime unit of thaker. for brevity, and for the purposes of this meeting only, i could be called simply 'thaker.' before calling for general discussion i wish to call particular attention to two points, neither of which has been sufficiently emphasized. "first, the purpose of a prime operator is to serve, not to rule. thus, no prime should be or will be 'boss' of anything, except possibly of his own starship. "second, since we have no data we do not know what form the proposed galactic service will assume. one thing, however, is sure. whatever power of enforcement or of punishment it may have will derive, not from its primes, but from the fact that it will be an arm of the galactic council, which will be composed of operators only. no prime will be eligible for membership." * * * thaker went on to explain how each pair could obtain instruction and assistance in many projects, including starships. how each pair would, when they were mature enough, be coached in the use of certain abilities they did not as yet have. he suggested procedures and techniques to be employed in the opening up of each pair's volume of space. he then asked for questions and comments. semolo was the first. "if i'm a good little boy," he sneered, "and do exactly as i'm told, and take over the region you tell me to and not the one i want to, what assurance have i that some other prime, just because he's a year older than i am, won't come along and take it away from me?" "your question is meaningless," thaker replied. "since you will not 'take over,' or 'have,' or 'own,' any region, it cannot be 'taken away from you.'" "then i will...." semolo began. "you will keep still!" came a clear, incisive thought, just as garlock was getting ready to intervene. miss mitala then switched from thought, which everyone there could understand, and launched a ten-second blast of furious speech. semolo wilted and the girl went on in thought: "he'll be good--or else." a girl demanded recognition and got it. "semolo's right. what's the use of being primes if we can't get any good out of it? we're the strongest people of our respective worlds. i say we're bosses and should keep on being bosses." garlock got ready to shut her up, then paused; holding his fire. "ah, yes, friend garlock, you are maturing fast," came thaker's thought and, in answer to garlock's surprise, it went on, "this situation will, i think, be self-adjusting; just as will be those in the as yet unexplored regions of space." the girl kept on. "i, at least, am going to keep on bossing my own planet, milking it just as i...." her companion had been trying to crack her shield. failing in that, he stepped in close and tapped her--solidly, but with carefully-measured force--behind the ear. before she could fall, he 'ported her back up into their quarters. "this happens all the time," he explained to the group at large. "carry on." discussion went on, with less and less acrimony, all the rest of the day. and the next day, and the next. then, argument having reached the point of diminishing returns, the three starships took the forty-six couples home. * * * the six primes went into evans' office, where the lawyer was deeply engaged with gerald banks, the galaxians' public relations chief. banks was holding his head in both hands. "garlock, maybe _you_ can tell me," banks demanded. "how much of this stuff, if any, can i publish? and if so, _how_?" "nothing," garlock said, flatly. "what do you think, thaker?" belle asked. "you're smarter than we are." "what thaker thinks has no bearing," garlock said. belle, fao, and delcamp all began to protest at once, but they were silenced by thaker himself. "garlock is right. my people are not your people; i know not at all how your people think or what they will or will not believe. i go." "that lets deg and me out too; then, double-plus," fao said with a grin, "so we'll leave that baby on your laps. we go, too." "well, little miss weisenheimer," garlock smiled quizzically at belle, "you grabbed the ball--what are you going to do with it?" "nothing, i guess...." belle thought for a minute. "we couldn't stuff any part of that down the throat of a simple-minded six-year-old. we haven't really _got_ anything, anyway. time enough, i think, when we have six or seven hundred planets in each region, instead of only one planet. maybe we'll know something by then. does that make sense?" "it does to me," garlock said, and the others agreed. "that thakern 'we go' business sounds rough at first, but it's contagious. fao and deggi caught it, and i feel like i'm coming down with it myself. how about you, clee?" "we go," belle and garlock said in unison, and vanished. * * * aboard the _pleiades_, the next few days passed quietly enough. james set up, in the starship's memory banks, a sequence to mass-produce instruction tapes and blueprints. garlock and belle began systematically to explore the tellurian region. now, however, their technique was different. if either prime of any world was not enthusiastic about the project-- "very well. think it over," they would say. "we will get in touch with you again in about a year," and the starship would go on to the next planet. on earth, however, things became less and less tranquil with every day that passed. for, in deciding not to publish anything, garlock had not considered at all the basic function and the tremendous ability, power, and scope of _the press_. and galaxian hall had never before been closed to the public; not for any hour of any day of any year of its existence. a non-profit organization, dependent upon the public for its tremendous income, the galaxian society had always courted that public in every possible ethical way. thus, in the first hour of closure, a bored reporter came out, read the smoothly-phrased notice, and lepped it in to the desk. it might be worth, he thought, half an inch. later in the day, however, the world's most sensitive news-nose began to itch. did, or did not, this quiet, unannounced closing smell ever-so-slightly of cheese? wherefore, benjamin bundy, the newscaster who had covered the starship's maiden flight, went out himself to look the thing over. he found the whole field closed. not only closed, but gunther-blocked impenetrably tight. he studied the announcement, his sixth sense--the born newsman's sense for news--probing every word. "regret ... research ... of such extreme delicacy ... vibration ... temperature control ... one one-hundredth of one degree centigrade...." he sought out his long-time acquaintance banks; finding him in a temporary office half a block away from the hall. "what's the story, jerry?" he asked. "the _real_ story, i mean?" "you know, as much about it as i do, ben. garlock and james don't waste time trying to detail me on that kind of business, you know." this should have satisfied any newshawk, but bundy's nose still itched. he mulled things over for a minute, then probed, finding that he could read nothing except banks' outermost, most superficial thoughts. "well ... maybe ... but...." then bundy plunged. "all you have to do, jerry, is tell me screens-half-down that your damn story is true." "and that's the one thing i can't do," banks admitted; and bundy could not detect that any part of his sheepishness was feigned. "you're just too damned smart, ben." "oh--one of _those_ things? so that's it?" "yup. i told evans it might not work." that should have satisfied the reporter, but it didn't. "now it doesn't smell just a trifle cheesy; it stinks like rotten fish. you won't go screens down on that one, either." "no comment." "oh, joy!" bundy exulted. "so big that gerald banks, the top press-agent of all time, actually doesn't _want_ publicity! the starship works--this lack-of-control stuff is the bunk--from here to another star in nothing flat--garlock's back, and he's brought--what _have_ you got in there, jerry?" "the only way i can tell you is in confidence, for evans' release. i'd like to, ben, believe me, but i can't." "confidence, hell! do you think we won't get it?" "in that case, no comment." the interview ended and the siege began. * * * newshounds and detectives questioned and peered and probed. they dug into morgues, tabulating and classifying. they recalled and taped and sifted all the gossip they had heard. they got a picture of sorts, but it was maddeningly confusing and incomplete. and, since it was certain that inter-systemic matters were involved, they could not extrapolate--any guess was far too apt to be wrong. thus nothing went on the air or appeared in print; and, although the surface remained calm, all newsdom seethed to its depths. wherefore haggard banks and harried evans greeted garlock with shouts of joy when the four wanderers came back to spend the week end on earth. "i'll talk to 'em," garlock decided, after the long story had been told. "have somebody get hold of bundy and ask him to come out." "get _hold_ of him!" banks snorted. "he's here. twenty-four hours a day. eating sandwiches and cat-napping on chairs in the lobby. all you have to do is unseal that door." garlock flung the door wide. bundy rushed in, followed by a more-or-less steady stream of some fifty other top-bracket newspeople, both men and women. "well, garlock, perhaps _you_ will give us some screens-down facts?" bundy asked, angrily. "i'll give you _all_ the screens-down...." "clee!" "you're crazy!" "you can't!" "don't!" belle and all the operators protested at once. * * * ignoring the objections, garlock cut his shield to half and gave the whole group a true account of everything that had happened in the galaxy. then, while they were all too stunned to speak, a grin of saturnine amusement spread over his dark, five-o'clock-shadowed face. "you pestiferous gnats insisted on grabbing the ball," he sneered. "now let's see you run with it." bundy came out of his trance. "_what_ a story!" he yelled. "we'll plaster it...." "yeah," garlock said, dryly. "_what_ a story. exactly." "oh." bundy deflated suddenly. "you'll have to prove it--demonstrate it--of course." "of course? you tickle me. not only do i not have to prove it, i won't. i won't even confirm it." bundy glared at garlock, then whirled on banks. "if you don't give me this in shape to use, you'll never get another line or mention anywhere!" "oh, no?" for the first time in his professional life banks gloated, openly and avidly. "from now on, my friend, who is in the saddle? who is going to come to whom? oh, _brother_!" when the fuming newsmen had gone, garlock said, "it'll leak, of course." "of course," banks agreed. "'it is rumored ...' 'from a usually reliable source ...' and so on. nothing definite, but each one of them will want to put out the first and biggest." "that's what i figured. it'll have to break sometime and i thought easing it out would be best ... but wait a minute...." he thought for two solid minutes. "but we're going to need a lot of money, and we're just about broke, aren't we?" this thought was addressed to frank macey, the galaxians' treasurer. "worse than broke--much worse." "i could loan you a couple of credits, frank," belle said, brightly. "but go ahead, clee." "people like to be sidewalk superintendents. suppose they could watch the construction of an outpost so far away that nobody ever dreamed of ever getting there. could you do anything with that, jerry?" "_could i! just!_" and banks, went into a rhapsody. "that's the first good idea any one of you crackpots has had for five years," macey said, suddenly. "but wouldn't transportation of material and so on present problems?" "no; just buying it," garlock said, soberly. "oh, rather, paying for it." "no trouble there...." "what?" belle exclaimed. "'no trouble,' it says here in fine print? how the old skinflint has changed--instead of screaming his head off about spending money he's actually _offering_ to. frank, i'll loan you _three_ credits!" "hush, honey-chile, the men-folks are talking man-business. look, clee. we'll use the _pleiades_ at first, while we're building a regular transport. a hundred passengers per trip, one thousand credits one way...." "wow!" belle put in. "our ex-skinflint is now a bare-faced, legally-protected robber." "by no means, belle," evans said. "how much would that be per mile?" "say ten round trips per day. that would be twenty million a day gross for a small ship not intended for passenger service. when we get ships built ... and the extras...." the money-man went into a financial revel of his own. "lots of extras," banks agreed. "and oh, _brother_, what a public-relations dream of heaven!" "maybe i'm dumb," garlock broke in, "but just what are you going to use for money to get started?" "the minute we confirm any part of the story, the credit of the galaxian society will jump from x-o to aa-a ." "oh. so belle and i will have to lose our _pleiades_ for a while. i don't like that, but we do need the money ... but we can have her for this coming week?" "of course." "so maybe we'd better break the story now, instead of letting it leak." "can you, after what you just told them?" "sure i can." he set his mind and searched. "bundy, this is garlock...." "so what am i supposed to do--burst into tears of joy?" "save it. i changed my mind. you can break it as fast and as hard as you like. i'll play along." * * * "yeah? why the switch? what's the angle?" "strictly commercial. get it from banks." "and you'll--personally--go on my hour with it?" "yes. also, we'll demonstrate--take you to any star-system in the galaxy. you and all the rest of the newshawks who were here and any fifty vip's you want to invite. tomorrow morning all right with you?" "you, personally, in the _pleiades_?" bundy insisted. "better than that. the other two starships, too. you've got them--particularly those four primes--clearly in mind?" "not exactly, there was so much of it. spread it on me now, huh?" garlock did so. "thanks, pal, for the scoop. i'll crash it right now, and follow up with banks. 'bye!" "think you can deliver on that, clee?" banks asked. "sure. both deggi and alsyne will need a lot of extra money, fast. they'll play along." they did; and that three-starship tour--which visited twenty solar systems instead of one--was the most sensational thing old earth had ever spawned. belle and garlock did not spend that week end on earth. "we go," they said, as soon as the _pleiades_ was empty of pressmen, and they took james and lola along. "if we _never_ see another such brawl as this is going to be," belle told banks, who was basking in glory and entreating them to stay on for the show, "it will be exactly twenty minutes too soon." thus it came about that earth's first four deep-spacemen were completely out of reach when unexpected developments began. * * * alonzo p. ferber was one of the vip's on bundy's personally-conducted tour of the stars. as has been said, he was a very able executive. he had an extremely keen profit-sense. this new thing smelled--simply reeked--of money. sse would _have_ to get in on it. ferber was not thin-skinned; where money was concerned it would never even occur to him to cherish grudges or to retain animosities. wherefore sse's purchasing department suggested to the galaxian society that negotiations be opened concerning licenses, franchises, royalties, and so on. these suggestions were politely but firmly brushed off. then emissaries were sent, of ever-increasing caliber and weight. next, ferber himself tried the tri-di; and finally, he came in person. rebuffed, he made such legally-sound threats that evans and macey agreed to a meeting; stating flatly, however, that no commitments could possibly be made without the knowledge and approval of the society's president, cleander garlock. thus, at the meeting, the galaxians made only two statements that were even approximately definite. one was that garlock would probably return to earth during the afternoon or evening of the following friday; the other that they would take the matter up with garlock as soon as they could. after that meeting macey was unperturbed, but evans was a deeply worried man. "you see," he explained, "the real crux was not even mentioned." "no? what is it, then?" "operators, primes, and the practically non-existent laws pertaining to their ... what? labor? skill? genius? for instance, could garlock be forced to do whatever it is that he does? on the other hand, if ferber offered belle bellamy five million credits a year to 'work' for sse, is there anything we could do about it?" "oh. i thought all there was to it was that you'd delay 'em for a year or so and that'd be it." "far from it. to date i have listed fifty-eight points for which, as far as we can learn, there are no precedents," and the lawyer called a meeting of his staff. for belle and garlock, the week went fast. on friday afternoon, high above earth's galaxian field, garlock said, more than half regretfully, "no more fun. back to the desk. back to the salt-mines." "i weep for you," belle snickered. "sob, sob. shed him a tear, lola." "one tear coming up. oh, woe; oh, woe...." "oh, whoa!" james snorted. "why the sob-and-moan routine, clee, from a guy who's going to be monarch of all he surveys?" "his conscience aches him," belle explained. "this monarching business is tough if you haven't thought about how to monarch, and he hasn't. have you, clee?" "not a lick." garlock smiled slightly. "i been busy." "you better start to," she advised, darkly. "you aren't busy now and we have an hour. we better confer--i'll make like a slave-driver." they 'ported into his room and he set the blocks. his attitude changed instantly. "nice act, belle. what was it all about?" "that theory of yours. your predictions are too uncannily accurate to be guesswork, and the more times you dead-center the bullseye the worse scared i get. i really want to know, clee." "okay. it isn't complete--i need a lot more data--but i'll show you what i have. it's fairly strong medicine and it comes in big chunks." "it would have to--it covers the whole macrocosmic universe, doesn't it?" "yes. i'll start with the striking fact that, on every out-galaxy planet we visited, the human beings were _homo sapiens_ to n decimal places. fertile with each other and, according to expert testimony, with us. all planets had humanoid 'guardians,' the arpalones and arpales. some, but not all, had one or more non-human, more-or-less-intelligent races, such as the fumapties, the lemarts, the sencors, and so on. these other races never seemed to fight each other, but both races of guardians fought any and all of them, on sight and to the death. what do those facts mean to you?" * * * "nothing beyond face value. i've thought about them but i haven't been able to come up with anything." "i have." he unrolled a sheet of drafting paper covered with diagrams, symbols, and equations. "but before i go into this stuff, consider the human body. how many red cells are there in your blood stream?" "billions, i suppose." "and there are billions of human beings on billions of planets; each having red blood cells identical, as far as we know, with yours and mine. also white cells. also, sometimes, various kinds of pathogenic micro-organisms, such as staphs, streps, viruses, spiros, and so on. "okay. my thought is that the lemarts, ozobes, and the like are analogous to disease-producing organisms. we saw the full range of effects--from none at all up to death itself." "but they--the ozobes and so on--died, too." * * * "how long do disease germs live in a human body after they've killed it?" "but that horrible dilipic--the golop. they don't seem to fit." "try that on for size as cancer. also, the arpalones typed us before they'd let us land on any planet. why didn't we blast them out of the way and land anyway?" "why, we didn't want to. it wasn't worth while." "we couldn't. psychic block. and if we had, we would have died. different blood-types don't mix." "so you and i are merely two red cells in the bloodstream of a super-dooper-galactic super-monster? phooie!" she jeered. "that chestnut was propounded a thousand years ago. are you trying to take me for a ride on _that_ old sawhorse?" "that's the attitude i had at first. so now we're ready for the chart." he pointed to a group of symbols. "we start with symbolic logic; manipulating like so to get this." there was a long mathematical dissertation; a mind-to-mind, rigorous, point-by-point proof. "q. e. d." garlock concluded. "i see your math, and if i believed half of it i'd be scared witless. those few pieces fit, but they're scattered around in vast areas of blankness and you're jumping around like the swiss miss leaping from alp to alp. and how about our own galaxy, the most important piece of all? it's different, and we're different, mentally. that wrecks your whole theory." "no. i told you i need a lot more data. also, beyond a certain point the analogy appears to get looser." "_appears_ to! it's as loose as a goose!" "think a minute. is it actually loose, or are we getting up into concepts that no human mind can grasp? that might be the case, you know." "oh.... you're quite a salesman, clee, but i'm still not buying." "our galaxy is a bit of specialized tissue--part of a ganglion, maybe. over here, see? i'll have to leave it dangling until we find some more like it." "i see. but anyway, you haven't a tenth's worth of real material on that whole sheet. feed everything you have there into a computer and it'd just laugh at you." "sure it would. the great advantage of the human brain is its ability to arrive at valid conclusions from incomplete data. for instance, what would your computer do with the figures you shot at me the day we started out? 'thirty-nine, twenty-two, thirty-nine. five seven. one thirty-five.' yet they're completely informative." "to anyone interested in that kind of figures, yes." "which includes practically all adults. then take the figure three point one four one five nine. compy would still be baffled; but, unlike the first set, most people would be, too." "yes. perhaps two out of ten would get your message." "now take something really new, like the original work on gravitation or relativity. no possible computer would be of any use. that takes a _brain_!" "the brain of a newton or an einstein, yes." belle thought for a minute, then grinned at him impishly. "now watch the brain of a bellamy perform. get into high gear, brain.... i wish i knew something about biochemical embryology; but i read somewhere that ova are sterile, so our galaxy is an ovum. therefore our super-galooper is a gal--which incontrovertible fact accounts for and explains rigorously the long-known truth that women always have been, are now, and always will be vastly superior to men in every quality, aspect, and...." "hold it!" garlock snapped. his face hardened into intense concentration. then: "do you think you're kidding, belle?" "why, of _course_ i'm kidding, you big...." "look here, then." he picked up a pencil and filled in blank after blank after blank. "i'm making one unjustifiable assumption--that the _pleiades_ is the first intergalactic starship. the super-being is a female, and she is just becoming pregnant...." "flapdoodle! there are no blood cells in a sperm, and i don't think there are any in an ovum." "i didn't mention either sperm or ovum. the analogy is so loose here that it holds only in the broadest, most general terms. the actual process of reproduction is unknowable. but wherever we went, we changed things. not only by what we actually did, but also as a catalyst--no...." "no, not a catalyst. a hormone." "exactly. each of these changes would cause others, and so on. an infinite series. calling the first three terms alpha, beta, and gamma, we operate like this...." garlock's pencil was flying now. "following me?" "on your tail." belle was breathing hard; as the blank spaces became fewer and fewer her face began to turn white. "from this we get that ... and _that_ makes the whole bracket tie into the same conclusion i had before. so, except for that one assumption, it's solid." * * * "my lord, clee!" belle studied the chart. "i mentioned newton and einstein ... add to that 'the brain of a garlock, better than either.'" then, seeing his reaction, "you're blushing. i didn't think...." "cut the comedy. you know i couldn't carry either of their hats to a dog-fight." "and i would _never_ have believed that you are basically modest." "i said cut out the kidding, belle." "i'm deadly serious. a brain that could do _that_," she waved at the chart, "... well, even i am not enough of a heel to belittle one of the most tremendous intuitions ever achieved by man. not that i like it. it's horrible. it denies mankind everything that made him come up from the slime--everything that made him man." * * * "not at all. nothing is changed, in man's own frame of reference. it merely takes our thinking one step farther. that step, of course, isn't easy." "_that_ is the understatement of all time. what it will _do_, though, is set up an inferiority complex that would wipe out the whole human race." "there might be some slight tendency. also, since my basic assumption can't be justified, the whole thing may be fallacious. so i'm not going to publish it." he glanced at the chart and it vanished. "clee!" belle stared, almost goggle-eyed. "with your name? the tremendous splash ... i see. you're really grown up." "not all the way, probably; but pretty nearly--i hope." "but some of the ... not exactly corollaries, but...." belle's face, which had regained some of its color, began again to pale. "which one of the many?" "the most shattering one, to me, concerns intelligence. if it is true that our vaunted mentality is only that of one blood cell compared to that of a whole brain ... and that intelligence is banked, level upon level ... well, it's simply mind-wrecking. i've been trying madly not to think of that concept, at all, but i can't put it off much longer." "now's as good a time as any. i'll hold your hand." "you'd better hold more of me than that, i think." "i'll do even that, in a good cause." he put his arms around her; held her close. "go ahead. face it. all the way down and all the way up. you've got what it takes. you'll come back sane and it'll never bother you again." she closed her eyes, put her head on his shoulder. her every muscle went tense. neither of them ever knew how long they stood there, close-clasped and motionless in silence; but finally her muscles loosened. she lifted her head; raised her brimming eyes. "all the way down?" he asked. "to almost a geometrical point." "and all the way up?" "i touched the fringe of infinity." "intelligence all the way?" "all the way. i couldn't understand any of them, of course, but i looked each one squarely in the eye." "good girl. and you're still sane." "as much so as ever ... more so, maybe." she disengaged herself, sat down on the bed, lighted a cigarette, and smoked half of it. then she stood up. "clee, if anything in the whole universe ever knocked hell out of anything, that did out of me. i'm going to do something that will take about ten minutes. will you wait right here?" "of course. take all the time you want." * * * when she came back garlock leaped to his feet and stared speechlessly. he could not even whistle. belle's hair was now its natural deep, rich chestnut, her lipstick was red, her nails were bare, and she wore a white shirt and an almost-knee-length crimson skirt. "here's what i'm going to do," she said, quietly. "i'm going to be a plain, ordinary brownette. i'm going to marry you as soon as we land; registered permanent family. i'm going to have six kids and spoil them rotten. in short, i have grown up--partly up, at least--too." "plain?" he managed, finally. "ordinary? you? yes--like a super-nova going off under a man's feet!" with a visible effort, garlock pulled himself together. "i don't need to tell you what a surprise this is, and can't tell you what it means to me. but you never have said you love me. hadn't you better?" "i'm afraid to. our next kiss will be different. i'd spoil all this nice new make-up." she tried to grin in her old-time fashion, but failed. she sobered, then, and went on with a completely new intensity. "listen, clee. i'm all done--forever--lying and pretending to you. i love you so much that ... well, there simply aren't any thoughts. and when i think of how i acted, it hurts--lord, how it hurts! i don't see how you can love me at all. it'd take a miracle." "miracles happen, then." he put both arms around her, very gently. "for the first time in my life i'm cutting my screens to zero. come in." "what?" for a moment she was unable to believe the thought. then, cutting her own shield, she went fully into his mind. "oh, i didn't dare hope you could _possibly_ feel.... oh, this is wonderful, clee--simply _wonderful_!" as the two fully-opened minds met and joined she threw both arms around him and their embrace tightened as though their bodies were trying to become as nearly one as were their minds. finally she pulled herself away and put up a solid block. "what a mess!" she said, shakily. "lipstick all _over_ you." "why words, sweetheart? that was perfect." "oh, it was ... but wide open, with such a mind as yours...." she paused, then came back to normal almost with a snap. "... but say; i'll bet that's what therea and alsyne were doing. that 'fusion' thing. we'll practise it tonight." he pondered briefly. "sure it was." "but he said they learned it from us. how could he have, when we.... oh, we did, of course, in moments of high stress ... but we didn't actually _know_ it...." she paused. "we wouldn't admit it, you mean, even to ourselves." "maybe; and of course it never occurred to us--callow youngsters we were then, weren't we?--that it could be done for more than a microsecond at a time. or that two people could ever, possibly, _live_ that way." "or what a life it would be. so let's chop this and get back to you and me." "uh-huh, let's," she agreed, but in a severely practical tone. "you've got lipstick even on your shirt. so change it and i'll go put on a new face and bring over some stuff and clean you up." while she cleaned, she talked. "i told you our next kiss would be different, but i had no idea ... wow! _that_ will be as much different, too, i'm sure.... hm-h-h-nh?" again she pressed herself against him; this time in a somewhat different fashion. "stop that, you little devil, or i'll...." his arms came up of themselves, but he forced them back down. "... no, i won't. we'll save that for tonight, too." "i'll behave myself!" she laughed, pure joy in voice, eyes, and smile. "i bet myself you wouldn't and i won! you're tall, solid gold, clee darling--the absolute top." "thanks, sweetheart. i wish that were true," he said, soberly. "but i can't help wondering if two such hellions as you and i are can make a go of marriage--no, cancel that. we'll do it--all we have to figure out is how." "i know what you mean. not at first--it'll be purely wonderful then. after five years, say, when the glamor has worn off and i've had three of our six children and two of them are in bed with the epizootic and i'm all frazzled out and you're strung up tight as a bowstring with overwork and...." "hold it! uh-uh. no. if we can live together six months--or even six weeks--without killing each other, we'll have it made. it's at first that it'll be rugged. no matter how rugged it gets, though, we'll know one thing for certain sure. we _couldn't_ live apart. that'll give us enough leverage. check?" "and double check." she giggled sunnily. "i'll take care of any and all situations, whatever they are, that arise in the first six months. you'll be responsible for the next sixty years. that's a perfectly fair and equitable division of responsibility. now kiss me and we'll go." * * * when garlock cut the gunther blocks, however, james' thought came instantly in. "been trying to get you for twenty minutes," and in a couple of seconds he brought garlock and belle up to date. "so fatso's been waiting in evans' office. he's throwing fits all over the place and evans and macey are going quietly mad." "he'll have to wait," garlock decided instantly. "no matter how many fits he has, no such decision is going to be made until there's enough of a galactic council to make it." "well, you'll have to tell him that yourself. in person." "i'll do just that, and tell him so he'll stay told." "okay, but shake a...." belle and garlock 'ported out into the main, arms around each other like a couple of college freshmen. "... leg-g--ug--gug...." james gurgled. "_belle!_" lola shrieked. "_why--belle--bellamy!_" "_what_ goes _on_ here?" james demanded. "nothing much," garlock replied, although he blushed almost as deeply as belle did. "we just decided to quit fighting, is all. cut the rope, junior, and let the old bucket drop." the end the revolt on venus the tom corbett space cadet stories by carey rockwell stand by for mars! danger in deep space on the trail of the space pirates the space pioneers the revolt on venus [illustration: frontispiece] a tom corbett space cadet adventure the revolt on venus by carey rockwell willy ley _technical adviser_ grosset & dunlap _publishers_ new york copyright, , by rockhill radio all rights reserved illustrations by louis glanzman printed in the united states of america +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | transcriber's note | | | | the dp team has failed to uncover any evidence that the | | copyright on this work was renewed. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ illustrations _frontispiece_ "she tried to get farther into the cave" they were completely surrounded by the jungle astro kept his blaster aimed at the monsters his eyes probed the jungle for further movement "mr. sinclair!" cried tom, suddenly relieved the solar guard troops landed on the rim of the canyon sinclair wasn't able to get clear in time the revolt on venus chapter "emergency air lock open!" the tall, broad-shouldered officer, wearing the magnificent black-and-gold uniform of the solar guard, spoke into a small microphone and waited for an acknowledgment. it came almost immediately. "cadet corbett ready for testing," a voice crackled thinly over the loud-speaker. "very well. proceed." seated in front of the scanner screen on the control deck of the rocket cruiser _polaris_, captain steve strong replaced the microphone in its slot and watched a bulky figure in a space suit step out of the air lock and drift away from the side of the ship. behind him, five boys, all dressed in the vivid blue uniforms of the space cadet corps, strained forward to watch the lone figure adjust the nozzles of the jet unit on the back of his space suit. "come on, tom!" said the biggest of the five boys, his voice a low, powerful rumble as he rooted for his unit mate. "if tom makes this one," crowed the cadet next to him, a slender boy with a thick shock of close-cropped blond hair, "the _polaris_ unit is home free!" "this is the last test, manning," replied one of the remaining three cadets, the insigne of the _arcturus_ unit on the sleeve of his uniform. "_if_ corbett makes this one, you fellows deserve to win." aboard the rocket cruiser _polaris_, blasting through the black void of space two hundred miles above earth, six space cadets and a solar guard officer were conducting the final test for unit honors for the term. all other academy units had been eliminated in open competition. now, the results of the individual space orientation test would decide whether the three cadets of the _arcturus_ unit or the three cadets of the _polaris_ unit would win final top unit honors. roger manning and astro kept their eyes glued to the telescanner screen, watching their unit mate, tom corbett, drift slowly through space toward his starting position. the young cadet's task was basically simple; with his space helmet blacked out so that he could not see in any direction, he was to make his way back to the ship from a point a mile away, guided only by the audio orders from the examining officer aboard the ship. his score was measured by the time elapsed, and the amount of corrections and orders given by the examining officer. it was an exercise designed to test a cadet's steadiness under emergency conditions of space. the three members of the _arcturus_ unit had completed their runs and had returned to the ship in excellent time. roger and astro had also taken their tests and now it depended on tom. if he could return to the _polaris_ in less than ten minutes, with no more than three corrections, the _polaris_ unit would be victorious. seated directly in front of the scanner, captain steve strong, the examining officer, watched the space-suited figure dwindle to a mere speck on the screen. as the regular skipper of the _polaris_ crew, he could not help secretly rooting for tom, but he was determined to be fair, even to the extent of declaring the _arcturus_ unit the winner, should the decision be very close. he leaned forward to adjust the focus on the scanner, bringing the drifting figure into a close-up view, and then lifted the microphone to his lips. "stand by, corbett!" he called. "you're getting close to range." "very well, sir," replied tom. "standing by." behind strong, roger and astro looked at each other and turned back to the screen. as one, they crossed the fingers of both hands. "ready, corbett!" called strong. "you'll be clocked from the second you're on range. one hundred feet--seventy-five--fifty--twenty-five --ten--_time_!" as the signal echoed in his blacked-out space helmet, tom jerked his body around in a sudden violent move, and grasping the valve of the jet unit on his back, he opened it halfway. he waited, holding his breath, expecting to hear captain strong correct his course. he counted to ten slowly, and when no correction came over the headphones, he opened the valve wide and blindly shot through space. aboard the polaris, astro and roger shouted with joy and strong could not repress a grin. the tiny figure on the scanner was hurtling straight for the side of the _polaris_! as the image grew larger and larger, anxious eyes swiveled back and forth from the scanner screen to the steady sweeping hand of the chronometer. roger bit his lip nervously, and astro's hands trembled. when tom reached a point five hundred feet away from the ship, strong flipped open the audio circuit and issued his first order. "range five hundred feet," he called. "cut jets!" "you're already here, spaceboy!" yelled roger into the mike, leaning over strong's shoulder. the captain silenced him with a glare. no one could speak to the examinee but the testing officer. tom closed the valve of his jet unit and blindly jerked himself around again to drift feet first toward the ship. strong watched this approach closely, silently admiring the effortless way the cadet handled himself in weightless space. when tom was fifty feet away from the ship, and still traveling quite fast, strong gave the second order to break his speed. tom opened the valve again and felt the tug of the jets braking his acceleration. he drifted slower and slower, and realizing that he was close to the hull of the ship, he stretched his legs, striving to make contact. seconds later he felt a heavy thump at the soles of his feet, and within the ship there was the muffled clank of metal boot weights hitting the metal skin of the hull. "_time!_" roared strong and glanced at the astral chronometer over his head. the boys crowded around as the solar guard captain quickly computed tom's score. "nine minutes, fifty-one seconds, and two corrections," he announced, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "we win! we win!" roared roger. "term honors go to the _polaris_!" roger turned around and began pounding astro on the chest, and the giant venusian picked him up and waltzed him around the deck. the three members of the _arcturus_ unit waited until the first flush of victory died away and then crowded around the two boys to congratulate them. "don't forget the cadet who did it," commented strong dryly, and the five cadets rushed below to the jet-boat deck to wait for tom. when tom emerged from the air lock a few moments later, roger and astro swarmed all over him, and another wild dance began. finally, shaking free of his well-meaning but violent unit mates, he grinned and gasped, "well, from that reception, i guess i did it." "spaceboy"--roger smiled--"you made the _arcturus_ unit look like three old men in a washtub counting toes!" "congratulations, corbett," said tony richards of the _arcturus_ crew, offering his hand. "that was really fast maneuvering out there." "thanks, tony." tom grinned, running his hand through his brown curly hair. "but i have to admit i was a little scared. wow! what a creepy feeling to know you're out in space alone and not able to see anything." their excitement was interrupted by strong's voice over the ship's intercom. "stand by, all stations!" "here we go!" shouted roger. "back to the academy--and leave!" "_yeeeeooooow!_" astro's bull-like roar echoed through the ship as the cadets hurried to their flight stations. as command cadet of the _polaris_, tom climbed up to the control deck, and strapping himself into the command pilot's seat, prepared to get under way. astro, the power-deck cadet who could "take apart a rocket engine and put it back together again with his thumbs," thundered below to the atomic rockets he loved more than anything else in the universe. roger manning, the third member of the famed _polaris_ unit, raced up the narrow ladder leading to the radar bridge to take command of astrogation and communications. while captain strong and the members of the _arcturus_ unit strapped themselves into acceleration cushions, tom conducted a routine check of the many gauges on the great control panel before him. satisfied, he flipped open the intercom and called, "all stations, check in!" "radar deck, aye!" drawled roger's lazy voice. "power deck, aye!" rumbled astro. "energize the cooling pumps!" ordered tom. "cooling pumps, aye!" the whine of the mighty pumps was suddenly heard, moaning eerily throughout the ship. "feed reactant!" the sharp hiss of fuel being forced into the rocket engines rose above the whine of the pumps, and the ship trembled. "stand by to blast," called tom. "standard space speed!" instantly the _polaris_ shot toward earth in a long, curving arc. moments later, when the huge round ball of the mother planet loomed large on the scanner screen, roger's voice reported over the intercom, "academy spaceport control gives us approach orbit for touchdown on ramp twelve, tom." " ramp twelve," repeated tom. "got it!" "twelve!" roared astro suddenly over the intercom. "couldn't you make it closer to the academy than that, manning? we'll have to walk two miles to the nearest slidewalk!" "too bad, astro," retorted roger, "but i guess if i had to carry around as much useless muscle and bone as you do, i'd complain too!" "i'm just not as lucky as you, manning," snapped astro quickly. "i don't have all that space gas to float me around." "knock it off, fellows," interjected tom firmly. "we're going into our approach." lying on his acceleration cushion, strong looked over at tony richards of the _arcturus_ unit and winked. richards winked and smiled back. "they never stop, do they, sir?" "when they do," replied strong, "i'll send all three of them to sick bay for examination." "two hundred thousand feet to earth's surface," called tom. "stand by for landing operations." as tom adjusted the many controls on the complicated operations panel of the ship, roger and astro followed his orders quickly and exactly. "cut main drive rockets and give me one-half thrust on forward braking rockets!" ordered tom, his eyes glued to the altimeter. the _polaris_ shuddered under the sudden reverse in power, then began an upward curve, nose pointing back toward space. tom barked another command. "braking rockets full! stand by main drive rockets!" the sleek ship began to settle tailfirst toward its destination--space academy, u.s.a. in the heart of a great expanse of cleared land in the western part of the north american continent, the cluster of buildings that marked space academy gleamed brightly in the noon sun. towering over the green grassy quadrangle of the academy was the magnificent tower of galileo, built of pure titan crystal which gleamed like a gigantic diamond. with smaller buildings, including the study halls, the nucleonics laboratory, the cadet dormitories, mess halls, recreation halls, all connected by rolling slidewalks--and to the north, the vast area of the spaceport with its blast-pitted ramps--the academy was the goal of every boy in the year a.d. , the age of the conquest of space. founded over a hundred years before, space academy trained the youth of the solar alliance for service in the solar guard, the powerful force created to protect the liberties of the planets. but from the beginning, academy standards were so high, requirements so strict, that not many made it. of the one thousand boys enrolled every year, it was expected that only twenty-one of them would become officers, and of this group, only seven would be command pilots. the great solar guard fleet that patrolled the space lanes across the millions of miles between the satellites and planets possessed the finest, yet most complicated, equipment in the alliance. to be an officer in the fleet required a combination of skills and technical knowledge so demanding that eighty per cent of the solar guard officers retired at the age of forty. high over the spaceport, the three cadets of the _polaris_ unit, happy over the prospect of a full month of freedom, concentrated on the task of landing the great ship on the academy spaceport. watching the teleceiver screen that gave him a view of the spaceport astern of the ship, tom called into the intercom, "one thousand feet to touchdown. cut braking rockets. main drive full!" the thunderous blast of the rockets was his answer, building up into roaring violence. shuddering, the great cruiser eased to the ground foot by foot, perfectly balanced on the fiery exhaust from her main tubes. seconds later the giant shock absorbers crunched on the ramp and tom closed the master switch cutting all power. he glanced at the astral chronometer over his head and then turned to speak into the audio log recorder. "rocket cruiser _polaris_ completed space flight one-seven-six at ." captain strong stepped up to tom and clapped him on the shoulder. "secure the _polaris_, tom, and tell astro to get the reactant pile from the firing chamber ready for dumping when the hot-soup wagon gets here." the solar guard officer referred to the lead-lined jet sled that removed the reactant piles from all ships that were to be laid up for longer than three days. "and you'd better get over to your dorm right away," strong continued. "you have to get ready for parade and full corps dismissal." tom grinned. "yes, sir!" "we're blasting off, sir," said tony richards, stepping forward with his unit mates. "congratulations again, corbett. i still can't figure out how you did it so quickly!" "thanks, tony," replied tom graciously. "it was luck and the pressure of good competition." richards shook hands and then turned to strong. "do i have your permission to leave the ship, sir?" he asked. "permission granted," replied strong. "and have a good leave." "thank you, sir." the three _arcturus_ cadets saluted and left the ship. a moment later roger and astro joined strong and tom on the control deck. "well," said strong, "what nonsense have you three planned for your leave? try and see liddy tamal. i hear she's making a new stereo about the solar guard. you might be hired as technical assistants." he smiled. the famous actress was a favorite of the cadets. strong waited. "well, is it a secret?" "it was your idea, astro," said roger. "go ahead." "yeah," said tom. "you got us into this." "well, sir," mumbled astro, turning red with embarrassment, "we're going to venus." "what's so unusual about going to venus?" asked strong. "we're going hunting," replied astro. "hunting?" "yes, sir," gulped the big venusian. "for tyrannosaurus." strong's jaw dropped and he sat down suddenly on the nearest acceleration cushion. "i expected something a little strange from you three whiz kids." he laughed. "it would be impossible for you to go home and relax for a month. but this blasts me! hunting for a tyrannosaurus! what are you going to do with it after you catch it?" he paused and then added, "if you do." "eat it," said astro simply. "tyrannosaurus steak is delicious!" strong doubled with laughter at the seriousness of astro's expression. the giant venusian continued doggedly, "and besides, there's a bounty on them. a thousand credits for every tyranno head brought in. they're dangerous and destroy a lot of crops." strong straightened up. "all right, all right! go ahead! have yourselves a good time, but don't take any unnecessary chances. i like my cadets to have all the arms and legs and heads they're supposed to have." he paused and glanced at his watch. "you'd better get hopping. astro, did you get the pile ready for the soup wagon?" "yes, sir!" "very well, tom, secure the ship." he came to attention. "unit, _stand--to_!" the three cadets stiffened and saluted sharply. "unit dismissed!" captain strong turned and left the ship. hurriedly, tom, roger, and astro checked the great spaceship and fifteen minutes later were racing out of the main air lock. hitching a ride on a jet sled to the nearest slidewalk, they were soon being whisked along toward their quarters. already, cadet units were standing around in fresh blues waiting for the call for final dress parade. at exactly fifteen hundred, the entire cadet corps stepped off with electronic precision for the final drill of the term. by threes, each unit marching together, with the _polaris_ unit walking behind the standard bearers as honor unit, they passed the reviewing stand. senior officers of the solar guard, delegates from the solar alliance, and staff officers of the academy accepted their salute. commander walters stood stiffly in front of the stand, his heart filled with pride as he recognized the honor unit. he had almost washed out the _polaris_ unit in the beginning of their academy training. major lou connel, senior line officer of the solar guard, stepped forward when the cadets came to a stop and presented tom, roger, and astro with the emblem of their achievement, a small gold pin in the shape of a rocket ship. he, too, had had his difficulties with the _polaris_ unit, and while he had never been heard to compliment anyone on anything, expecting nothing but the best all the time, he nevertheless congratulated them heartily as he gave them their hard-won trophy. after several other awards had been presented, commander walters addressed the cadet corps, concluding with "... each of you has had a tough year. but when you come back in four weeks, you'll think this past term has been a picnic. and remember, wherever you go, whatever you do, you're space cadets! act like one! but above all, have a good time! spaceman's luck!" a cadet stepped forward quickly, turned to face the line of cadets, and held up his hands. he brought them down quickly and words of the academy song thundered from a thousand voices. "_from the rocket fields of the academy to the far-flung stars of outer space, we're space cadets training to be ready for dangers we may face. up in the sky, rocketing past, higher than high, faster than fast, out into space, into the sun, look at her go when we give her the gun. we are space cadets, and we are proud to say our fight for right will never cease. like a cosmic ray, we light the way to interplanet peace!_" "_dis_-missed!" roared walters. immediately the precise lines of cadets turned into a howling mob of eager boys, everyone seemingly running in a different direction. "come on," said roger. "i've got everything set! let's get to the station ahead of the mob." "but what about our gear?" said tom. "we've got to get back to the dorm." "i had it sent down to the station last night. i got the monorail tickets to atom city last week, and reserved seats on the _venus lark_ two weeks ago! come on!" "only roger could handle it so sweetly," sighed astro. "you know, hotshot, sometimes i think you're useful!" the three cadets turned and raced across the quadrangle for the nearest slidewalk that would take them to the academy monorail station and the beginning of their adventure in the jungles of venus. [illustration] chapter "the situation may be serious and it may not, but i don't want to take any chances." commander walters sat in his office, high up in the tower of galileo, with department heads from the academy and solar guard. behind him, an entire wall made of clear crystal offered a breath-taking view of the academy grounds. before him, their faces showing their concern over a report walters had just read, captain strong, major connel, dr. joan dale, and professor sykes waited for the commanding officer of the academy to continue. "as you know," said walters, "the resolution passed by the council in establishing the solar guard specifically states that it shall be the duty of the solar guard to investigate and secure evidence for the solar alliance council of any acts by any person, or group of persons, suspected of overt action against the solar constitution or the universal bill of rights. now, based on the report i've just read to you, i would like an opinion from each of you." "for what purpose, commander?" asked joan dale, the young and pretty astrophysicist. "to decide whether it would be advisable to have a full and open investigation of this information from the solar guard attaché on venus." "why waste time talking?" snapped professor sykes, the chief of the nucleonics laboratory. "let's investigate. that report sounds serious." major connel leveled a beady eye on the little gray-haired man. "professor sykes, an investigation is serious. when it is based on a report like this one, it is doubly serious, and needs straight and careful thinking. we don't want to hurt innocent people." sykes shifted around in his chair and glared at the burly solar guard officer. "don't try to tell me anything about straight thinking, connel. i know more about the solar constitution and the rights of our citizens than you'll know in ten thousand light years!" "yeah?" roared connel. "and with all your brains you'd probably find out these people are nothing more than a harmless bunch of colonists out on a picnic!" the professor shot out of his chair and waved an angry finger under connel's nose. "and that would be a lot more than i'm finding out right now with that contraption of yours!" he shouted. connel's face turned red. "so that's how you feel about my invention!" he snapped. "yes, that's the way i feel about your invention!" replied sykes hotly. "i know three cadets that could build that gadget in half the time it's taken you just to figure out the theory!" commander walters, captain strong, and joan dale were fighting to keep from laughing at the hot exchange between the two veteran spacemen. "they sound like the _polaris_ unit," joan whispered to strong. walters stood up. "gentlemen! please! we're here to discuss a report on the activities of a secret organization on venus. i will have to ask you to keep to the subject at hand. dr. dale, do you have any comments on the report?" he turned to the young physicist who was choking off a laugh. "well, commander," she began, still smiling, "the report is rather sketchy. i would like to see more information before any real decision is made." walters turned to strong. "steve?" "i think joan has the right idea, sir," he replied. "while the report indicates that a group of people on venus are meeting regularly and secretly, and wearing some silly uniform, i think we need more information before ordering a full-scale investigation." "he's right, commander," connel broke in. "you just can't walk into an outfit and demand a look at their records, books, and membership index, unless you're pretty sure you'll find something." "send a man from here," strong suggested. "if you use anyone out of the venus office, he might be recognized." "good idea," commented sykes. joan nodded. "sounds reasonable." "how do you feel about it, connel?" asked walters. connel, still furious over sykes's comment on his spectrum recorder, shot an angry glance at the professor. "i think it's fine," he said bluntly. "who're you going to send?" walters paused before answering. he glanced at strong and then back at connel. "what about yourself?" "me?" "why not?" continued walters. "you know as much about venus as anyone, and you have a lot of friends there you can trust. nose around a while, see what you can learn, unofficially." "but what about my work on the spectrum recorder?" asked connel. "that!" snorted sykes derisively. "huh, that can be completed any time you want to listen to some plain facts about--" "i'll never listen to anything you have to say, you dried-up old neutron chaser!" blasted connel. "of course not," cackled sykes. "and it's the same bullheaded stubbornness that'll keep you from finishing that recorder." "i'm sorry, gentlemen," said walters firmly. "i cannot allow personal discussions to interfere with the problem at hand. how about it, connel? will you go to venus?" lou connel was the oldest line officer in the solar guard, having recommended the slightly younger walters for the post of commandant of space academy and the solar guard so that he himself could escape a desk job and continue blasting through space where he had devoted his entire life. while walters had the authority to order him to accept the assignment, connel knew that if he begged off because of his work on the recorder, walters would understand and offer the assignment to strong. he paused and then growled, "when do i blast off?" walters smiled and answered, "as soon as we contact venus headquarters and tell them to expect you." "wouldn't it be better to let me go without any fanfare?" mused the burly spaceman. "i could just take a ship and act as though i'm on some kind of special detail. as a matter of fact, higgleston at the venusport lab has some information i could use." "anything higgleston could tell you," interjected sykes, "i can tell you! you're just too stubborn to listen to me." connel opened his mouth to blast the professor in return, but he caught a sharp look from walters and he clamped his lips together tightly. "i guess that's it, then," said walters. "anyone have any other ideas?" he glanced around the room. "joan? steve?" dr. dale and captain strong shook their heads silently. strong was disappointed that he had not been given the assignment on venus. four weeks at the deserted academy would seem like living in a graveyard. walters sensed his feelings, and smiling, he said, "you've been going like a hot rocket this past year, steve. i have a specific assignment for you." "yes, sir!" strong looked up eagerly. "i want you to go to the sweet water lakes around new chicago--" "yes, sir?" "--go to my cabin--" "sir?" "--_and go fishing_!" strong grinned. "thanks, skipper," he said quietly. "i guess i could use a little relaxation. i was almost tempted to join corbett, manning, and astro. they're going hunting in the jungle belt of venus for a tyrannosaurus!" "blast my jets!" roared connel. "those boys haven't killed themselves in line of duty, so they go out and tangle with the biggest and most dangerous monster in the entire solar system!" "well," said joan with a smile, "i'll put my money on astro against a tyranno any time, pound for pound!" "hear, hear!" chimed in sykes, and forgetting his argument with connel, he turned to the spaceman. "say, lou," he said, "when you get to venus tell higgy i said to show you that magnetic ionoscope he's rigging up. it might give you some ideas." "thanks," replied connel, also forgetting the hot exchange of a few minutes before. he stood up. "i'll take the _polaris_, commander. she's the fastest ship available with automatic controls for a solo hop." "she's been stripped of her reactant pile, major," said strong. "it'll take a good eighteen hours to soup her up again." "i'll take care of it," said connel. "are there any specific orders, commander?" "use your own judgment, lou," said walters. "you know what we want and how far to go to get it. if you learn anything, we'll start a full-scale investigation. if not, we'll forget the whole matter and no one will get hurt." "and the solar guard won't get a reputation of being nosy," added strong. connel nodded. "i'll take care of it." he shook hands all around, coming to sykes last. "sorry i lost my temper, professor," he said gruffly. "forget it, major." sykes smiled. he really admired the gruff spaceman. the thick-set senior officer came to smart attention, saluted crisply, turned, and left the office. for the time being, the mysterious trouble on venus was his responsibility. * * * * * "atom city express leaving on track four!" a metallic voice boomed over the station loud-speaker, as last-minute passengers boarded the long line of gleaming white monorail cars, hanging from a single overhead steel rail. in the open doorway of one of the end cars, a conductor lifted his arm, then paused and waited patiently as three space cadets raced down the stairs and along the platform in a headlong dash for the train. they piled inside, almost one on top of the other. "thanks for waiting, sir," gasped tom corbett. "not at all, cadet," said the conductor. "i couldn't let you waste your leave waiting for another train." the elderly man flipped a switch in the narrow vestibule and the door closed with a soft hiss of air. he inserted a light key into a near-by socket and twisted it gently, completing a circuit that flashed the "go" light in the engineer's cab. almost immediately, the monorail train eased forward, suspended on the overhead rail. by the time the last building of space academy flashed past, the train was rolling along at full speed on its dash across the plains to atom city. the ride to the great metropolis of the north american continent was filled with excitement and anticipation for the three members of the _polaris_ crew. the cars were crowded with cadets on leave, and while there was a lot of joking and horseplay, the few civilian passengers were impressed with the gentlemanly bearing of the young spacemen. tom and roger finally settled down to read the latest magazines supplied by the monorail company. but astro headed for the dining car where he attracted a great deal of attention by his order of a dozen eggs, followed by two orders of waffles and a full quart of milk. finally, when the dining-car steward called a halt, because it was closing time, astro made his way back to tom and roger with a plastic bag of french fried potatoes, and the three boys sat, munching them happily. the countryside flashed by in a blur of summer color as the train roared on at a speed of two hundred miles an hour. a few hours and four bags of potatoes later, astro yawned and stretched his enormous arms, nearly poking roger in the eye. "hey, ya big ape!" growled roger. "watch the eye!" "you'd never miss it, manning," said astro. "just use your radar." "never mind, i like this eye just the way it is." "we're almost there," called tom. he pointed out the crystal window and they could see the high peaks of the rocky mountain range looming ahead. "we cut through the new tunnel in those mountains and we'll be in atom city in ten minutes!" there was a bustle of activity around them as other cadets roused themselves and collected their gear. once again conversation became animated and excited as the train neared its destination. flashing into the tunnel, the line of cars began to slow down, rocking gently. "we'd better go right out to the spaceport," said tom, pulling his gear out of the recessed rack under his seat. "our ship blasts off for venus in less than a half-hour." "boy, it'll be a pleasure to ride a spaceship without having to astrogate," said roger. "i'll just sit back and take it easy. hope there are some good-looking space dolls aboard." tom turned to astro. "you know, astro," he said seriously, "it's a good thing we're along to take care of this romeo. if he were alone, he'd wind up in another kind of hunt." "i'd like to see how manning's tactics work on a female dasypus novemcinctur maximus," said astro with a sly grin. "a female what?" yelled roger. "a giant armadillo, roger," tom explained, laughing. "very big and very mean when they don't like you. don't forget, everything on venus grows big because of the lighter gravity." "yeah," drawled roger, looking at astro. "big and dumb!" "what was that again?" bellowed the giant venusian, reaching for the flip cadet. the next moment, roger was struggling futilely, feet kicking wildly as astro held him at arm's length six inches off the floor. the cadets in the car roared with laughter. "atom city!" a voice over the intercar communicator boomed and the boys looked out the window to see the towering buildings of atom city slowly slide by. the train had scarcely reached a full stop when the three cadets piled out of the door, raced up the slidestairs, and jumped into a jet cab. fifteen minutes later they marched up to one of the many ticket counters of the atom city interplanetary spaceport. "reservations for cadets corbett, manning, and astro on the _venus lark_, please," announced tom. the girl behind the counter ran her finger down a passenger manifest, nodded, and then suddenly frowned. she turned back to tom and said, "i'm sorry, cadet, but your reservations have been pre-empted by a priority listing." "priority!" roared roger. "but i made those reservations two weeks ago. if there was a change, why didn't you tell us before?" "i'm sorry, sir," said the girl patiently, "but according to the manifest, the priority call just came in a few hours ago. someone contacted space academy, but you had already left." "well, is there another ship for venusport today?" "yes," she replied and picked up another manifest. glancing at it quickly, she shook her head. "there are no open reservations," she said. "i'm afraid the next flight for venusport with open reservations isn't for four days." "blast my jets!" growled roger disgustedly. "four days!" he sat down on his gear and scowled. astro leaned against the desk and stared gloomily at the floor. at that moment a young man with a thin face and a strained intense look pushed tom to one side with a curt "excuse me!" and stepped up to the desk. "you're holding three reservations on the _venus lark_," he spoke quickly. "priority number four-seven-six, s.d." tom, roger, and astro looked at him closely. they saw him nervously pay for his tickets and then walk away quickly without another look at the ticket girl. "were those our seats, miss?" asked tom. the girl nodded. the three cadets stared after the young man who had bumped them off their ship. "the symbol s.d. on the priority stands for solar delegate," said roger. "maybe he's a messenger." the young man was joined by two other men also dressed in venusian clothing, and after a few words, they all turned and stepped onto the slidewalk rolling out to the giant passenger ship preparing to blast off. "this is the most rocket-blasting bit of luck in the universe!" growled roger. "four days!" "cheer up, roger," said tom. "we can spend the four days in atom city. maybe liddy tamal is here. we can follow captain strong's suggestion." "even she doesn't make four days delay sound exciting," interrupted roger. "come on. we might as well go back to town or we won't even get a room." he picked up his gear and walked back to the jet cab-stand. astro and tom followed the blond-haired cadet glumly. the stand was empty, but a jet cab was just pulling up to the platform with a passenger. as the boys walked over to wait at the door, it opened and a familiar figure in a black-and-gold uniform stepped out. "captain strong!" [illustration] "corbett!" exclaimed strong. "what are you doing here? i thought you were aboard the _venus lark_." "we were bumped out of our reservation by an s.d. priority," said astro. "and we can't get out of here for another four days," added roger glumly. strong sympathized. "that's rough, astro." he looked at the three dour faces and then said, "would you consider getting a free ride to venus?" the three cadets looked up hopefully. "major connel's taking the _polaris_ to venus to complete some work with professor higgleston in the venus lab," explained strong. "if you can get back to the academy before he blasts off, he might give you a ride." "no, thanks!" said roger. "i'd rather sit here." "wait a minute, roger," said tom. "we're on leave, remember? and it's only a short hop to venus." "yeah, hotshot," added astro. "we'll get to venus faster than the _venus lark_, and save money besides." "o.k.," said roger. "i guess i can take him for a little while." strong suppressed a smile. roger's reluctance to go with connel was well founded. any cadet within hailing distance of the hard-bitten spaceman was likely to wind up with a bookful of demerits. "are you on an assignment, sir?" asked tom. "vacation," said strong. "four weeks of fishing at commander walters' cabin at sweet water lakes." "if you pass through new chicago," said tom, "you would be welcome to stop in at my house. mom and dad would be mighty happy to meet you. and i think billy, my kid brother, would flip a rocket." "thank you, tom. i might do that if i have time." he looked at his watch. "you three had better hurry. i'd advise taking a jetcopter back to the academy. you might not make it if you wait for a monorail." "we'll do that, sir," said tom. the three boys threw their gear into the waiting cab and piled in. strong watched them roar away, frowning in thought. an s.d. priority, the highest priority in space, was used only by special couriers on important missions for one of the delegates. he shrugged it off. "getting to be as suspicious as an old space hen," he said to himself. "fishing is what i need. a good fight with a trout instead of a space conspiracy!" chapter "blast off--minus--five--four--three--two--one--_zero_!" as the main drive rockets blasted into life, tom fell back in his seat before the control panel of the _polaris_ and felt the growing thrust as the giant ship lifted off the ground, accelerating rapidly. he kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen and saw space academy fall away behind them. on the power deck astro lay strapped in his acceleration cushion, his outstretched hand on the emergency booster rocket switch should the main rockets fail before the ship could reach the free fall of space. on the radar bridge roger watched the far-flung stars become brighter as the rocket ship hurtled through the dulling layers of the atmosphere. as soon as the ship reached weightless space, tom flipped on the gravity generators and put the _polaris_ on her course to venus. almost immediately the intercom began to blast. "now hear this!" major connel's voice roared. "corbett, manning, and astro! i don't want any of your space-blasted nonsense on this trip! get this ship to venusport in the shortest possible time without burning out the pump bearings. and, manning--!" "yes, sir," replied the blond-haired cadet. "if i so much as hear one wisecrack between you and that overgrown rocket jockey, astro, i'll log both of you twenty-five demerits!" "i understand, sir," acknowledged roger lazily. "i rather appreciate your relieving me of the necessity of speaking to that space ape!" listening to their voices on the control deck, tom grinned and waited expectantly. he wasn't disappointed. "ape!" came a bull-like roar from the power deck. "why, you skinny moth-eaten piece of space junk--" "cadet astro!" "yes, sir?" astro was suddenly meek. "if you say one more word, i'll bury you in demerits!" "but, sir--" "no _buts_!" roared connel. "and you, manning--!" "yes, sir?" chimed in roger innocently. "keep your mouth shut!" "very well, sir," said roger. "corbett?" "yes, sir?" "i'm putting you in charge of monitoring the intercom. if those two space idiots start jabbering again, call me. that's an order! i'll be in my quarters working." connel switched off abruptly. "you hear that, fellows?" said tom. "knock it off." "o.k., tom," replied roger, "just keep him out of my sight." "that goes for me, too," added astro. "ape! just wait till i--" "astro!" tom interrupted sharply. "o.k., o.k.," groaned the big cadet. glancing over the panel once more and satisfying himself that the ship was functioning smoothly, tom sighed and settled back in his seat, enjoying the temporary peace and solitude. it had been a tough year, filled with intensive study in the quest for an officer's commission in the solar guard. space academy was the finest school in the world, but it was also the toughest. the young cadet shook his head, remembering a six-weeks' grind he, roger, and astro had gone through on a nuclear project. knowing how to operate an atomic rocket motor was one thing, but understanding what went on inside the reactant pile was something else entirely. never had the three cadets worked harder, or more closely together. but astro's thorough, practical knowledge of basic nucleonics, combined with roger's native wizardry at higher mathematics, and his own understanding of the theory, had enabled them to pull through with a grade of seventy-two, the highest average ever made by a cadet unit not specializing in physics. as the ship rocketed smoothly through the airless void of space toward the misty planet of venus, tom made another quick but thorough check of the panel, and then returned to his reflections on the past term. it had been particularly difficult since they had missed many valuable hours of classroom work and study because of their adventure on the new colony of roald (as described in _the space pioneers_), but they had come through somehow. he shook his head wondering how they had made it. forty-two units had washed out during the term. instead of getting easier, the courses of study were getting more difficult all the time, and in his speech on the parade grounds, commander walters had promised-- "emergency!" roger's voice over the intercom brought tom out of his reverie sharply. "all hands," continued the cadet on the radar bridge hurriedly, "secure your stations and get to the jet-boat deck on the double! emergency!" as the sharp clang of the emergency alarm rang out, tom did not stop to question roger's sudden order. neutralizing all controls, he leaped for the hatch leading below. taking the ladder four steps at a time, tom saw major connel tear out of his quarters. the elder spaceman dived for the ladder himself, not stopping to ask questions. he was automatic in his reliance on the judgment of others. the few seconds spent in talk could mean the difference between life and death in space where you seldom got a second chance. tom and connel arrived on the jet-boat deck to find astro already preparing the small space craft for launching. as they struggled into space suits, roger appeared. in answer to their questioning looks, he explained laconically, "unidentifiable object attached to ship on fin parallel to steering vanes. thought we'd better go outside first and examine later." connel nodded his mute agreement, and thirty seconds later the tiny jet boat was blasting out of the escape lock into space. circling around the ship to the stern, the jet boat, under major connel's sure touch, stopped fifty feet from the still glowing, exhaust tubes. he and the three cadets stared out at a small metallic boxlike object attached to the underside of the stabilizer fin. "what do you suppose it is?" asked astro. "i don't know," replied roger, "but it sure doesn't belong there. that's why i rang the emergency on you." "you were absolutely right, manning," asserted connel. "if it's harmless, we can always get back aboard and nothing's been lost except a little time." he rose from the pilot's seat and stepped toward the hatch. "come with me, corbett. we'll have a look. and bring the radiation counter along." "aye, aye, sir!" tom reached into a near-by locker, and pulling out a small, rectangular box with a round hornlike grid in its face, plunged out of the hatch with major connel and blasted across the fifty-foot gap to the stabilizer fin of the _polaris_. connel gestured toward the object on the fin. "see if she's hot, corbett." the young cadet pressed a small button on the counter and turned the horn toward the mysterious box. immediately the needle on the dial above the horn jumped from white to pink and finally red, quivering against the stop pin. "hot!" exclaimed tom. "she almost kicked the pin off!" "get off the ship!" roared connel. "it's a fission bomb with a time fuse!" tom dove at the box and tried to pull it off the stabilizer, but major connel grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him out into space. "you space-blasted idiot!" connel growled. "that thing's liable to go off any second! get away from here!" with a mighty shove, the spaceman sent tom flying out toward the jet boat and then jumped to safety himself. within seconds he and the young cadet were aboard the jet boat again and, not stopping to answer astro's or roger's questions, he jammed his foot down hard on the acceleration lever, sending the tiny ship blasting away from the _polaris_. not until they were two miles away from the stricken rocket ship did connel bring the craft to a stop. he turned and gazed helplessly at the gleaming hull of the _polaris_. "so they know," he said bitterly. "they're trying to stop me from even reaching venus." the three cadets looked at each other and then at the burly spaceman, bewilderment in their eyes. "what's this all about, sir?" roger finally asked. "i'm not at liberty to tell you, manning," replied connel. "though i want to thank you for your quick thinking. how did you happen to discover the bomb?" "i was sighting on regulus for a position check and regulus was dead astern, so when i swung the periscope scanner around, i spotted that thing stuck to the fin. i didn't bother to think about it, i just yelled." [illustration] "glad you did," nodded connel and turned to stare at the _polaris_ again. "now i'm afraid we'll just have to wait until that bomb goes off." "isn't there anything we can do?" asked tom. "not a blasted thing," replied connel grimly. "thank the universe we shut off all power. if that baby had blown while the reactant was feeding into the firing chambers, we'd have wound up a big splash of nothing." "this way," commented astro sourly, "it'll just blast a hole in the side of the ship." "we might be able to repair that," said tom hopefully. "there she goes!" shouted roger. [illustration] staring out the windshield, they saw a sudden blinding flash of light appear over the stern section of the _polaris_, a white-hot blaze of incandescence that made them flinch and crouch back. "by the craters of luna!" exclaimed connel. before their eyes they saw the stabilizer fin melt and curl under the intense heat of the bomb. there was no sound or shock wave in the vacuum of space, but they all shuddered as though an overwhelming force had swept over them. within seconds the flash was gone and the _polaris_ was drifting in the cold blackness of space! the only outward damage visible was the twisted stabilizer, but the boys realized that she must be a shambles within. "i guess we'll have to wait a while before we go back aboard. there might be radioactivity around the hull," roger remarked. "i don't think so," said tom. "the _polaris_ was still coasting when we left her. we cut out the drive rockets, but we didn't brake her. she's probably drifted away from the radioactivity already." "corbett's right," said connel. "a hot cloud would be a hundred miles away by now." he pressed down on the acceleration lever and the jet boat eased toward the ship. edging cautiously toward the stern of the spaceship, they saw the blasted section of the fin already cooling in the intense cold of outer space. "think i'd better call a solar guard patrol ship, sir?" asked roger. "let's wait until we check the damage, manning," replied connel. "yeah," chimed in astro grimly, "if i can help it, i'm going to bring the _polaris_ in." he paused and then added, "if i have to carry her on my back." as soon as a quick check with the radiation counter showed them that the hull was free of radioactivity, major connel and the three cadets re-entered the ship. while the lack of atmosphere outside had dissipated the full force of the blast, the effect on the inside of the ship, where earth's air pressure was maintained, was devastating. whole banks of delicate machinery were torn from the walls and scattered over the decks. the precision instruments of the inner hull showed no signs of leakage, and the oxygen-circulating machinery could still function on an auxiliary power hookup. completing the quick survey of the ship, major connel realized that they would never be able to continue their flight to venus and instructed roger to contact the nearest solar guard patrol ship to pick them up. "the _polaris_ will have to be left in space," continued connel, "and a maintenance crew will be sent out to see if she can be repaired. if they decide it isn't worth the labor, they'll junk her here in space." the faces of the three cadets fell. "but there's no real damage on her power deck, sir," said astro. "and the hull is in good shape, except for the stabilizer fin and some of the stern plates. why, sometimes a green earthworm unit will crack a fin on their first touchdown." "and the radar deck can be patched up easy, sir," spoke up roger. "with some new tubes and a few rolls of wire i could have her back in shape in no time." "that goes for the control deck, too!" said tom doggedly. then, after a quick glance at his unit mates, he faced connel squarely. "i think it goes without saying, sir, that we'd appreciate it very much if you could recommend that she be restored instead of junked." connel allowed himself a smile in the face of such obvious love for the ship. "you forget that to repair her out in space, the parts have to be hauled from venus. but i'll see what i can do. meantime, roger, see if you can't get that patrol ship to give us a lift to venusport. tell the c.o. i'm aboard and on urgent official business." "yes, sir," said roger. "and," continued the spaceman, noticing the downcast looks of tom and astro, "it wouldn't hurt if you two started repairing as much as you can. so when the maintenance crew arrives, they won't find her in such a mess." "yes, sir!" chorused the two cadets happily. connel returned to his quarters and sat down heavily in the remains of his bunk, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. somehow, word had gotten out that he was going to check on the secret organization on venus and someone had made a bold and desperate attempt to stop him before he could get started. it infuriated him to think that anyone would interrupt official business. as far as connel was concerned, nothing came before official business. and he was doubly furious at the danger to the three cadets, who had innocently hitched a ride on what was almost a death ship. someone was going to pay, connel vowed, clenching his huge fists--and pay dearly. [illustration] chapter "_yeeooowww!_" roaring with jubilation and jumping high in the air at every other step, astro raced out of the gigantic maintenance hangar at the venusport spaceport and charged at his two unit mates waiting on the concrete apron. "everything's o.k.," he yelled, throwing his arms around them. "the _polaris_ is going to be brought in for full repairs! i just saw the audiograph report from the maintenance chief!" tom and roger broke into loud cheers and pounded each other on the back. "great jupiter," gasped roger, "i feel as though i've been sitting up with a sick friend!" "your friend's going to make a full recovery," asserted astro. "did you see major connel?" asked tom. "yeah," said astro. "i think he had a lot to do with it. i saw him talking to the head maintenance officer." "well, now that we've sweated the old girl through the crisis," asserted roger, "how's about us concentrating on our vacation?" "great," agreed tom. "this is your party, astro. lead the way." the three cadets left the spaceport in a jet cab and rode happily into the city of venusport. as they slid along the superhighway toward the first and largest of the venusian cities, astro pointed out the sights. like slim fingers of glass, the towering titan crystal buildings of the city arose before them, reaching above the misty atmosphere to catch the sunlight. "where do we get our safari gear, astro?" asked roger. "in the secondhand shops along spaceman's row," replied the big venusian. "we can get good equipment down there at half the price." the cab turned abruptly off the main highway and began twisting through a section of the city shunned by the average venusian citizen. spaceman's row had a long and unsavory history. for ten square blocks it was the hide-out and refuge of the underworld of space. the grimy stores and shadowy buildings supplied the needs of the countless shadowy figures who lived beyond the law and moved as silently as ghosts. leaving the jet cab, the three cadets walked along the streets, past the cheaply decorated store fronts and dingy hallways, until they finally came to a corner shop showing the universal symbol of the pawnshop: three golden balls. tom and roger looked at astro who nodded, and they stepped inside. the interior of the shop was filthy. rusted and worn space gear was piled in heaps along the walls and on dusty counters. an old-fashioned multiple neon light fixture cast an eerie blue glow over everything. roger grimaced as he looked around. "are you sure we're in the right place, astro?" tom winked. roger had a reputation for being fastidious. "this is it," nodded astro. "i know the old geezer that runs this place. nice guy. name's spike." he turned to the back of the shop and bawled, "hey, spike! customers!" out of the gloomy darkness a figure emerged slowly. "yeah?" the man stepped out into the pale light. he dragged one foot as he walked. "whaddaya want?" astro looked puzzled. "where's spike?" he asked. "doesn't spike freyer own this place?" "he died a couple months ago. i bought him out just before." the crippled man eyed the three cadets warily. "wanna buy something?" astro looked shocked. "spike, dead? what happened?" "how should i know," snarled the little man. "i bought him out and he died a few weeks later. now, you wanna buy something or not?" "we're looking for jungle gear," said tom, puzzled by the man's strange belligerence. "jungle gear?" the man's eyes widened. "going hunting?" "yeah," supplied roger. "we need complete outfits for three. but you don't look like you have them. let's go, fellas." he turned toward the door, anxious to get out into the open air. "just a minute! just a minute, cadet," said the proprietor eagerly. "i've got some fine hunting gear here! a little used, but you won't mind that! save you at least half on anything you'd buy up in the city." he started toward the back of the store and then paused. "where you going hunting?" "why?" asked tom. "so i'll know what kind of gear you need. light--heavy--kind of guns--" "jungle belt in the eastern hemisphere," supplied astro. "big game?" asked the man. "yeah. tyrannosaurus." "tyranno, eh?" nodded the little man. "well, now, you'll need heavy stuff for that. i'd say at least three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols for side arms, and three shock rifles. then you'll need camping equipment, synthetics, and all the rest." he counted the items off on grubby little fingers. "let's take a look at the blasters," said tom. [illustration] "right this way," said the man. he turned and limped to the rear of the shop, followed by the three cadets. opening a large cabinet, he pulled out a heavy rifle, a shock gun that could knock out any living thing at a range of a thousand yards, and stun the largest animal at twice the distance. "this blaster will knock the scales off any tyranno that you hit," he said, handing the weapon over to tom who expertly broke it down and examined it. as tom checked the gun, the proprietor turned to the other cadets casually. "why would three cadets want to go into that section of the jungle belt?" "we just told you," said roger. "we're hunting tyranno." "uh, yes, of course." he turned away and pulled three heavy-duty paralo-ray pistols out of the cabinet. "now these ray guns are the finest money can buy. standard solar guard equipment...." "where did you get them?" demanded roger sharply. "well, you know how it is, cadet." the man laughed. "one way or another, we get a lot of gear. a man is discharged from the solar guard and he can keep his equipment, then he gets hard up for a few credits and so he comes to me." tom closed the shock rifle and turned to astro. "this gun is clean enough. think it can stop a tyranno, astro?" "sure," said the big cadet confidently. "easy." "o.k.," announced tom, turning back to the proprietor. "give us the rest of the stuff." "and watch your addition when you make out the bill," said roger blandly. "we can add, too." a half-hour later the three cadets stood in front of the shop with all the gear they would need and hailed a jet cab. they stowed their newly purchased equipment inside and started to climb in as astro announced, "spaceport, driver!" "huh?" roger paused. "why back there?" "how do you think we're going to get to the jungle belt?" asked astro. "walk?" "well, no, but--" "we have to rent a jet launch," said astro. "or try to buy a used one that we can sell back again. pile in, now!" as the cab shot away from the curb with the three cadets, the proprietor of the pawnshop stepped out of the doorway and watched it disappear, a puzzled frown on his face. quickly he re-entered the shop, and limping to a small locker in the rear, opened it, exposing the screen of a teleceiver. he flipped on the switch, tuned it carefully, and in a moment the screen glowed to life. "hello, this is the shop," called the little man. "lemme speak to lactu! this is urgent!" as he waited he stared out through the dirty window to the street where the cadets had been a moment before and he smiled thinly. * * * * * arriving at the spaceport, astro led his unit mates to a privately owned repair hangar and dry dock where wealthier venusian citizens kept their space yachts, jet-powered craft, and small runabouts. astro opened the door to the office with a bang, and a young girl, operating an automatic typewriter, looked up. "astro!" she cried. "how wonderful to see you!" "hiya, agnes," replied astro shyly. the big cadet was well known and liked at the repair hangar. his early life had been spent in and around the spaceport. first just listening to the stories of the older spacemen and running errands for them, then lending a helping hand wherever he could, and finally becoming a rigger and mechanic. this all preceded his years as an enlisted spaceman and his eventual appointment to space academy. his big heart and honesty, his wild enthusiasm for any kind of rocket power had won him many friends. "is mr. keene around?" asked astro. "he's with a customer right now," replied agnes. "he'll be out in a minute." her eyes swept past astro to tom and roger who were standing in the doorway. "who are your friends?" "oh, excuse me!" mumbled astro. "these are my unit mates, cadet corbett and cadet manning." before tom could acknowledge the introduction, roger stepped in front of him and sat on the edge of the desk. looking into her eyes, he announced, "tell you what, astro, you and tom go hunting. i've found all i could ever want to find right here. tell me, my little space pet, are you engaged for dinner tonight?" agnes looked back into his eyes innocently. "as a matter of fact i am." then, grinning mischievously, she added, "but don't let that stop you." "i wouldn't let a tyranno stop me," bragged the blond-haired cadet. "tell me who your previous engagement is with and i'll get rid of him in nothing flat!" the girl giggled and looked past roger. he turned to see a tall, solidly built man in coveralls scowling at him. "friend of yours, agnes?" the newcomer asked. "friend of astro's, roy," said agnes. "cadet manning, i'd like you to meet my brother, roy keene." roger jumped up and stuck out his hand. "oh--er--ah--how do you do, sir?" "quite well, cadet," replied keene gruffly, but with a slight twinkle in his eye. he turned to astro and gripped the big cadet's hand solidly. "well, astro, it's good to see you. how's everything going at space academy?" "swell, sir," replied astro, and after introducing tom and bringing keene up to date on his life history, he explained the purpose of their visit. "we're on summer leave, sir, and we'd like to go hunting tyrannosaurus. but what we need most right now is a jet boat. we'd like to rent one, or if you've got something cheap, we'd buy it." keene rubbed his chin. "i'm afraid i can't help you, astro. there's nothing available in the shop right now. i'd lend you my beetle, but one of the boys has it out on a three-day repair job." astro's face fell. "oh, that's too bad." he turned to tom and roger. "well, we could drop in from a stratosphere cruiser and then work our way back to the nearest colony in three or four weeks." "wait a minute!" exclaimed keene. "i've got an idea." he turned and called to a man standing on the other side of the hangar, studying a radar scanner for private yachts. "hey, rex, mind coming over here a minute." the man walked over. he was in his late thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, his hair was almost snow-white, contrasting sharply with his deeply tanned and handsome features. "this is the _polaris_ unit from space academy, rex," said keene. "boys, meet rex sinclair." after the introductions were completed, keene explained the cadets' situation. sinclair broke into a smile. "it would be a pleasure to have you three boys as my guests!" "guests!" exclaimed tom. sinclair nodded. "i have a plantation right on the edge of the jungle belt. things get pretty dull down there in the middle of the summer. i'd be honored if you'd use my home as a base of operations while you hunt for your tyrannosaurus. as a matter of fact, you'd be helping me out. those brutes destroy a lot of my crops and we have to go after them every three or four years." "well, thanks," said tom, "but we wouldn't want to impose. we'd be happy to pay you--" sinclair held up his hand. "wouldn't think of it. do you have your gear?" "yes, sir," replied astro. "arms, synthetics, the works. everything but transportation." "well, that's sitting out on the spaceport. that black space yacht on ramp three." sinclair smiled. "get your gear aboard and make yourselves at home. i'll be ready to blast off in half an hour." astro turned to keene. "thanks a lot, sir. it was swell of you to set us up this way." keene slapped him on the shoulder. "go on. have a good time." shaking hands all around and saying quick good-bys, the three boys hurried out to stow their gear aboard sinclair's luxurious space yacht. while roger and tom relaxed in the comfortable main cabin, astro hurried below to inspect the power deck. roger laughed as the big cadet disappeared down the hatch. "that guy would rather play with a rocket tube than do anything else in the universe!" "yes," said tom. "he's a real lucky guy." "how?" "ever meet anyone that didn't love that big hick?" "nope," said roger with a sly grin. "and that goes for me too! but don't you ever tell him!" * * * * * major connel had been waiting to see the solar alliance delegate from venus for three hours. and major connel didn't like to wait for anyone or anything. he had read every magazine in the lavish outer office atop the solar guard building in downtown venusport, drunk ten glasses of water, and was now wearing a path in the rug as he paced back and forth in front of the secretary who watched him shyly. the buzzer on the desk finally broke the silence and the girl answered quickly as connel stopped and glared at her expectantly. she listened for a second, then replacing the receiver, turned to the seething solar guard officer and smiled sweetly. "delegate james will see you now, major." "thank you," said connel gruffly, trying hard not to take his impatience out on the pretty girl. he stepped toward an apparently solid wall that suddenly slid back as he passed a light beam and entered the spacious office of e. philips james, venusian delegate to the grand council of the solar alliance. e. philips james was a small man, with small hands that were moving nervously all the time. his head was a little too large for his narrow body that was clothed in the latest fashion, and his tiny black mustache was carefully trimmed. as connel stalked into the room, james bounced out of his chair to meet him, smiling warmly. "major connel! how delightful to see you again," he said, extending a perfumed hand. "you could have seen me a lot sooner," growled connel. "i've been sitting outside for over three hours!" james lifted one eyebrow and sat down without making any comment. a true diplomat, e. philips james never said anything unless it was absolutely necessary. and when he spoke, he never really said very much. he sat back and waited patiently for connel to cool off and get to the point of his call. in typical fashion, connel jumped to it without any idle conversational prologue. "i'm here on a security assignment. i need confidential information." "just one moment, major," said james. he flipped open his desk intercom and called to his secretary outside. "record this conversation, please." "record!" roared connel. "i just told you this was secret!" "it will be secret, major," assured james softly. "the record will go into the confidential files of the alliance for future reference. a precaution, major. standard procedure. please go on." connel hesitated, and then, shrugging his shoulders, continued, "i want to know everything you know about an organization here on venus known as the venusian nationalists." james's expression changed slightly. "specific information, major? or just random bits of gossip?" "no rocket wash, mr. james. information. everything you know!" "i don't know why you've come to me," replied james, visibly annoyed at the directness of the rough spaceman. "i know really very little." "i'm working under direct orders of commander walters," said connel grimly, "who is also a delegate to the solar council. his position as head of the solar guard is equal to yours in every respect. this request comes from his office, not out of my personal curiosity." "ah, yes, of course, major," replied james. "of course." the delegate rose and walked over to the window, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. after a moment he turned back. "major, the organization you speak of is, so far as i know, an innocent group of venusian farmers and frontier people who meet regularly to exchange information about crops, prices, and the latest farming methods. you see, major"--james's voice took on a slightly singsong tone, as though he were making a speech--"venus is a young planet, a vast new world, with venusport the only large metropolis and cultural center. out in the wilderness, there are great tracts of cultivated land that supply food to the planets of the solar alliance and her satellites. we are becoming the breadbasket of the universe, you might say." james smiled at connel, who did not return the smile. "great distances separate these plantations," continued james. "life is hard and lonely for the venusian plantation owner. the venusian nationalists are, to my knowledge, no more than a group of landowners who have gotten together and formed a club, a fraternity. it's true they speak the venusian dialect, these groups have taken names from the old venusian explorers, but i hardly think it is worth while investigating." "do they have a headquarters?" connel asked. "a central meeting place?" "so far as i know, they don't. but al sharkey, the owner of the largest plantation on venus, is the president of the organization. he's a very amiable fellow. why don't you talk to him?" "al sharkey, eh?" connel made a mental note of the name. "and there's rex sinclair, a rather stubborn individualist who wrote to me recently complaining that he was being pressured into joining the organization." "what kind of pressure?" asked connel sharply. james held up his hand. "don't get me wrong, major. there was no violence." the delegate suddenly became very businesslike. "i'm afraid that's all the information i can give you, major." he offered his hand. "so nice to see you again. please don't hesitate to call on me again for any assistance you feel we can give you." "thank you, mr. james," said connel gruffly and left the office, a frown creasing his forehead. being a straightforward person himself, major connel could not understand why anyone would hesitate about answering a direct question. he didn't for a moment consider the delegate anything but an intelligent man. it was the rocket wash that went with being a diplomat that annoyed the ramrod spaceman. he shrugged it off. perhaps he would find out something from al sharkey or the other plantation owner, rex sinclair. when he crossed the slidewalk and waited at the curb for a jet cab, connel suddenly paused and looked around. he felt a strange excitement in the air--a kind of tension. the faces of passing pedestrians seemed strained, intense, their eyes were glowing, as though they all were in on some huge secret. he saw groups of men and women sitting in open sidewalk cafés, leaning over the table to talk to each other, their voices low and guarded. connel shivered. he didn't like it. something was happening on venus and he had to find out what it was before it was too late. [illustration] chapter "wow!" exclaimed roger. "jumping jupiter!" commented tom. "blast my jets!" roared astro. rex sinclair smiled as he maneuvered the sleek black space yacht in a tight circle a thousand feet above the titan crystal roof of his luxurious home in the heart of the wild venusian jungle. "she's built out of venusian teak," said sinclair. "everything but the roof. i wanted to keep the feeling of the jungle around me, so i used the trees right out of the jungle there." he pointed to the sea of dense tropical growth that surrounded the house and cleared land. the ship nosed up for a thousand yards and then eased back, smoothly braked, to a concrete ramp a thousand yards from the house. the touchdown was as gentle as a falling leaf, and when sinclair opened the air lock, a tall man in worn but clean fatigues was waiting for them. "howdy, mr. sinclair," he called, a smile on his lined, weather-beaten face. "have a good trip?" "fine trip, george," replied sinclair, climbing out of the ship. "i want you to meet some friends of mine. space cadets tom corbett, roger manning, and astro. they're going to stay with us during their summer leave while they hunt for tyranno. boys, this is my foreman, george hill." the boys shook hands with the thick-set, muscular man, who smiled broadly. "glad to meet you, boys. always wanted to talk to someone from the academy. wanted to go there myself but couldn't pass the physical. bad eyes." reaching into the ship, he began lifting out their equipment. "you chaps go on up to the house now," he said. "i'll take care of your gear." with sinclair leading the way, the boys slowly walked up a flagstone path toward the house, and they had their first chance to see a venusian plantation home at close range. the sinclair house stood in the middle of a clearing more than five thousand yards square. at the edges, like a solid wall of green vegetation, the venusian jungle rose more than two hundred feet. it was noon and the heat was stifling. they were twenty-six million miles closer to the sun, and on the equator of the misty planet. while astro, george, and sinclair didn't seem to mind the temperature, tom and roger were finding it unbearable. "can you imagine what it'll be like in the house with that crystal roof!" whispered roger. "i'll bet," replied tom. "but as soon as the sun drops out of the zenith, it should cool off some." when the group stepped up onto the porch, two house servants met them and took their gear. then sinclair and the foreman ushered the cadets inside. they were surprised to feel a distinct drop in temperature. "your cooling unit must be pretty large, mr. sinclair," commented tom, looking up at the crystal roof where the sun was clearly visible. sinclair smiled. "that's special crystal, mined on titan at a depth of ten thousand feet. it's tinted, and shuts out the heat and glare of the sun." george then left to lay out their gear for their first hunt the next morning, and sinclair took them on a tour of the house. they walked through long corridors looking into all the rooms, eventually winding up in the kitchen, and the three boys marveled at the simplicity yet absolute perfection of the place. every modern convenience was at hand for the occupant's comfort. when the sun had dropped a little, they all put on sunglasses with glareproof eye shields and walked around the plantation. sinclair showed them his prize-winning stock and the vast fields of crops. aside from the main house, there were only four other buildings in the clearing. they visited the smallest, a cowshed. "where do your field hands live, mr. sinclair?" asked tom, as they walked through the modern, spotless, milking room. "i don't have any," replied the planter. "do most of the work with machinery, and george and the houseboys do what has to be done by hand." as they left the shed and started back toward the main house they came abreast of a small wooden structure. thinking they were headed there, roger started to open the door. "close that door!" snapped sinclair. roger jerked back. astro and tom looked at the planter, startled by the sharpness in his voice. sinclair smiled and explained, "we keep some experiments on different kinds of plants in there at special low temperatures. you might have let in hot air and ruined something." "i'm sorry, sir," said roger. "i didn't know." "forget it," replied the planter. "well, let's get back to the house. we're having an early dinner. you boys have to get started at four o'clock in the morning." "four o'clock!" exclaimed roger. "why?" asked tom. "we have to go deep into the thicket," astro explained, using the local term for the jungle, "so that at high noon we can make camp and take a break. you can't move out there at noon. it gets so hot you'd fall on your face after fifteen minutes of fighting the creepers." "everything stops at noon," added sinclair. "even the tyrannosaurus. you have to do your traveling in the cool of the day, early and late. six hours or so will take you far enough away from the plantation to find tracks, if there are any." "tell me, mr. sinclair," asked roger suddenly, "is this the whole plantation?" he spread his hands in a wide arc, taking in the clearing to the edge of the jungle. sinclair grinned. "roger, it'd take a man two weeks to go from one corner of my property to another. this is just where i live. three years ago i had five hundred square miles under cultivation." back in the house, they found george setting the table on the porch and his wife busy in the kitchen. mrs. hill was a stout woman, with a pleasant face and a ready smile. with very little ceremony, the cadets, sinclair, george, and his wife sat down to eat. the food was simple fare, but the sure touch of mrs. hill's cooking and the free use of delicate venusian jungle spices added exotic flavor, new but immensely satisfying to the three hungry boys, a satisfaction they demonstrated by cleaning their plates quickly and coming back for second helpings. astro, of course, was not happy until he had polished off his fourth round. mrs. hill beamed with pleasure at their unspoken compliment to her cooking. after the meal, mrs. hill stacked the dishes and put them into a small carrier concealed in the wall. pressing a button, near the opening, she explained, "that dingus takes them to the sink, washes them, dries them, and puts everything in its right place. that's the kind of modern living i like!" as the sun dropped behind the wall of the jungle and the sky darkened, they all relaxed. sinclair and george smoked contentedly, mrs. hill brought out some needle point, and the three cadets rested in comfortable contour chairs. they chatted idly, stopping only to listen to the wild calls of birds and animals out in the jungle as george, or sinclair, identified them all. george told of his experiences on tyrannosaurus hunts, and astro described his method of hunting as a boy. "i was a big kid," he explained. "and since the only way of earning a living was by working, i found i could combine business with pleasure. i used to hitch rides over the belt and parachute in to hunt for baby tyrannos." he grinned and added, "when i think back, i wonder how i ever stayed in one piece." "land sakes!" exclaimed mrs. hill. "it's a wonder you weren't eaten alive! those tyrannos are horrible things." "i was almost a meal once," confessed astro sheepishly, and at the urging of the others he described the incident that had cured him of hunting alone in the jungles of venus with only a low-powered shock blaster. "if i didn't get it at the base of the brain where the nerve centers aren't so well protected with the first shot, i was in trouble," he said. "i took a lot of chances, but was careful not to tangle with a mama or papa tyrannosaurus. i'd stalk the young ones. i'd wait for him to feed and then let him have it. if i was lucky, i'd get him with one shot, but most of the time i'd just stun him and have to finish him off with a second blast. then i'd skin him, take the hams and shoulders, and get out of there fast before the wild dogs got wind of the blood. i'd usually hunt pretty close to a settlement where i could get the meat frozen. after that, i'd just have to call a couple of the big restaurants in venusport and get the best price. i used to make as much as fifty credits on one kill." "how would you get the meat to venusport?" asked roger, who, for all his braggadocio, was awed by his unit mate's calm bravery and skill as a hunter. "the restaurant that bought it would send a jet boat out for it and i'd ride back with it. after a while the restaurant owners got to know me and would give me regular orders. i was trying to fill a special order on that last hunt." "what happened?" asked tom, equally impressed with astro's life as a boy hunter. "i had just about finished hunting in a section near a little settlement on the other side of venus," began the big cadet, "but i thought there might be one more five-hundred-pound baby around, so i dropped in." astro paused and grinned. "i didn't find a baby, i found his mother! she must have weighed twenty-five or thirty tons. biggest tyranno i've ever seen. she spotted me the same time i saw her and i didn't even stop to fire. i never could have dented her hide. i started running and she came after me. i made it to a cave and went as far back inside as i could. she stuck her head in after me, and by the craters of luna, she was only about three feet away, with me backed up against a wall. she tried to get farther in, opened her mouth, and snapped and roared like twenty rocket cruisers going off at once." [illustration: "_she tried to get farther into the cave._"] tom gulped and roger's eyes widened. "i figured there was only one thing to do," continued astro. "use the blaster, even though it couldn't do much damage. i let her have one right in the eye!" astro shook his head and laughed. "you should have seen her pull her head out of that cave! i couldn't sleep for months after that. i used to dream that she was sticking her head in my window, always getting closer." "did the blaster do any damage at all?" asked sinclair. "oh, yes, sir," said astro. "i was close enough for the heat charge from the muzzle to get her on the side of the head. nothing fatal, but she's probably still out there in the jungle more ugly than ever with half a face." the group fell silent, each thinking of how he would have reacted under similar conditions; each silently thankful that it hadn't happened to him. finally mrs. hill rose and said good night, and george excused himself to take a last look at the stock. remembering their early call for the next morning, the cadets said good night to sinclair and retired to their comfortable rooms. in bed at last, each boy stretched full length on his bed and in no time was sound asleep. it was still dark, an hour and a half before the sun would burst over the top of the jungle, when sinclair went to the cadets' room to rouse them. he found them already up and dressed in their jungle garb. each boy was wearing skin-tight trousers and jerseys made of double strength space-suit cloth and colored a dark moldy green. a hunter dressed in this manner and standing still could not be seen at twenty paces. the snug fit of the suit was protection against thorns and snags that could find no hold on the hard, smooth-surfaced material. after a hearty breakfast the three cadets collected their gear, the paralo-ray pistols, the shock rifles, and the small shoulder packs of synthetic food and camping equipment. each boy also carried a two-foot jungle knife with a compass inlaid in the handle. a helmet of clear plastic with a small mesh-covered opening in the face covered each boy's head. dressed as they were, they could walk through the worst part of the jungles and not get so much as a scratch. "well," commented sinclair, looking them over, "i guess you boys have everything. i'd hate to be the tyranno that crosses your path!" the boys grinned. "thanks for everything, sir," said tom. "you've been a lot of help." "think nothing of it, tom. just bring back a pair of tyranno scalps!" "where are mr. and mrs. hill?" asked astro. "we'd like to say good-by to them." "they left before you got up," replied sinclair. "they're taking a few days off for a visit to venusport." the boys pulled on their jungle boots. knee-length and paper-thin, they were nonetheless unpenetrable even if the boys should step on one of the needle-sharp ground thorns. they waved a last good-by to their host, standing on the steps of the big house, and moved across the clearing to the edge of the jungle wall. as the cadets approached the thick tangle of vines, the calls and rustling noises from the many crawling things hidden in the forbidding thicket slowly died down. they walked along the edge of the tangle of jungle creepers until they found an opening and stepped through. [illustration: _they were completely surrounded by the jungle_] after walking only ten feet they were completely surrounded by the jungle and could not even see the clearing they had just left. it was dark, the network of vines, the thick tree trunks and rank growing vegetation shutting out the sun, leaving the interior of the jungle strangely plunged in gloom. astro moved ahead, followed by roger, with tom bringing up the rear. they followed the path they had entered, as far as it went, and then began cutting their way through the underbrush, stopping only to cut notches in the trees to mark their passage. their long-bladed knives slicing through vines and brush easily, tom, roger, and astro hacked their way deeper and deeper into the mysterious and suffocating green world. [illustration] chapter "i guess that's the sharkey place over there," mumbled major connel to himself, banking his jet launch over the green jungles and pointing the speedy little craft's nose toward the clearing in the distance. the solar guard officer wrenched the scout around violently in his approach. he was still boiling over the venusian delegate's indifference toward his mission. the launch skimmed the jungle treetops and glided to a perfect stop near the largest of a group of farm buildings. cutting the motors, connel sat and waited for someone to appear. he sat there for ten minutes but no one came out to greet him. finally he climbed out of the launch and stood by the hatch, peering intently at the buildings around him, his eyes squinting against the glare of the fiery sun overhead. the plantation seemed deserted. reaching back into the launch and pulling out a paralo-ray gun, he strapped its reassuring bulk to his side and stepped toward the building that was obviously the main house. nothing else moved in the hot noon sun. as he strode purposefully toward the house, eyes alert for any sign of life, he thought for a moment everyone might be taking a midday nap. many of the venusian colonists adapted the age-old custom of the tropics to escape the intense heat of midday. but he dismissed the thought immediately, realizing that his approach in the jet would have awakened the deepest of sleepers. entering the house, he stopped in the spacious front hall and called: "hello! anybody home? halloo!" the only answer was the echo of his own voice, vibrating through the large rooms. "funny," muttered the spaceman. "why is this place deserted?" he walked slowly through the house, opening doors and looking into all the rooms, searching the whole place thoroughly before returning to the clearing. going to the nearest of the outbuildings, he opened one of the wide doors and stared into the gloomy interior. with his experienced eye he saw immediately that the building had been used to house a large jet craft. there was the slightly pungent odor of jet fuel, and on the floor the tire marks of a dolly used to roll the craft out to the launching strip. he followed the tracks outside and around to the side of the building where he saw the dolly. it was empty. shaking his head grimly, connel made a quick tour of the remaining buildings. they were all deserted but the last one, which seemed to be built a little more sturdily than the others. unlike the others, it was locked. he looked for a window and discovered that the walls were solid. there were no openings except the locked door. he hesitated in front of the door, looking down at the ground for a sign of what might have been stored in the building. the surrounding area revealed no tracks. he pulled out a thick-bladed pocketknife and stepped to the lock, then suddenly stopped and grinned. "great," he said to himself. "a solar guard officer about to break into private property without a warrant. fine thing to have known back at the academy!" he turned abruptly and strode back to the scout. climbing into the craft, he picked up the audioscriber microphone and recorded a brief message. removing the threadlike tape from the machine, he returned to the house and left it on the spool of the audioscribe-replay machine near the front door. a few moments later the eerie silence of the sharkey plantation was once again shattered by the hissing roar of jets as the launch took off and climbed rapidly over the jungle. air-borne, connel glanced briefly at a chart, changed course, and sent the launch hurtling at full speed across the jungle toward the sinclair plantation. * * * * * "how far do you think we've come?" asked tom sleepily. astro yawned and stretched before answering. "i'd say about fifteen miles, tom." "seems more like a hundred and fifteen," moaned roger who was sprawled on the ground. "i ache all over. start at the top of my head and work down, and you won't find one square inch that isn't sore." tom grinned. he was tired himself, but the three-day march through the jungle had been three of the most exciting days in his life. coming from a large city where he had to travel two hours by monorail to get to open green country, the curly-haired cadet found this passage through the wildest jungle in the solar system new and fascinating. he had seen flowers of every color in the spectrum, some as large as himself; giant shrubs with leaves so fine that they looked like spider webs; venusian teakwood trees fifty to a hundred feet thick at the base with some twisted into strange spirals as their trunks, shaded by another larger tree, sought a clear avenue to the sun. there were bushes that grew thorns three inches long, hard as steel and thin as needles; jungle creepers, vines two and three feet thick, twisting around tree trunks and strangling them. he saw animals too, all double the size of anything on earth because of the lighter venusian gravity; insects the size of rats, rats the size of dogs, and wild dogs the size of ponies. up in the trees, small anthropoids, cousins to the monkeys of earth, scampered from limb to limb, screaming at the invaders of their jungle home. smooth-furred animals that looked like deer, their horns curling overhead, scampered about the cadets like puppies, nuzzling them, nipping at their heels playfully, and barking as though in laughter when astro roared at them for getting in the way. but there were dangerous creatures in the jungle too; the beautiful but deadly poisonous brush snakes that lurked unseen in the varicolored foliage, striking out at anything that passed; animals resembling chipmunks with enlarged razor-sharp fangs, whose craving for raw meat was so great that they would attack an animal ten times its size; lizards the size of elephants with scales like armor plate that rooted in swampy ground for their food, but which would attack any intruder, charging with amazing speed, their three horns poised; and, finally, there were the monsters of venus--giant beasts whose weights were measured in tons, ruled over by the most horrible of them all--the tyrannosaurus. fights to death between the jungle creatures were common sights for the boys during their march. they saw a weird soundless fight between a forty-foot snake and a giant vulture with talons nearly two feet across and a beak resembling a mammoth nutcracker. the vulture won, methodically cutting the reptile's body into sections, its beak slicing through the snake as easily as a knife going through butter. more than once astro spotted a dangerous creature, and telling roger and tom to stand back, he would level his shock rifle and blast it. so far they had seen nothing of their prey--the tyrannosaurus. tracks around the steaming swamps were as close as they had come. once, late in the evening of the second day they caught a fleeting glimpse of a plant-eating brontosaurus lumbering through the brush. all three of the boys had found it difficult to sleep in the jungle. the first two nights they had taken turns at staying on guard and tending the campfire. nothing had bothered them, and on the third night out, they decided the fire would be enough to scare off the jungle animals. it was risky, but the continual fight through the jungle underbrush had tired the three boys to the bone and the few hours they stood guard were sorely missed the next day, so they decided to chance it. roger was already asleep. astro had just finished checking his rifle to be ready for instant fire, when tom threw the last log on the campfire and crawled into his sleeping bag. "think it'll be all right, astro?" asked tom. "i'm not anxious to wake up inside one of these critter's stomachs." "most of them have never seen fire, tom," astro said reassuringly. "it scares them. besides, we're getting close to the big stuff now. you might see a tyranno or a big bronto any time. and if they come along, you'll hear 'em, believe me. they're about as quiet as a squadron of cruisers on battle emergency blasting off from the academy in the middle of the night!" "o.k.," replied tom. "you're the hunter in this crew." suddenly he laughed. "you know i really got a bang out of the way roger jumped back from that waddling ground bird yesterday." astro grinned. "yeah, the one thing in this place that's as ferocious as a kitten and he pulls his ray gun like an ancient cowboy!" a very tired voice spoke up from the other sleeping bag. "is that so! well, when you two brave men came face to face with that baby lizard on a tree root, you were ready to finish your leave in atom city!" roger unzipped the end of the bag, stuck his blond head out, and gave his unit mates a sour look. "sack in, will you? your rocket wash is keeping me awake!" laughing, astro and tom nodded good night to each other and closed their sleeping bags. the jungle was still, the only movement being the leaping tongues of flame from the campfire. an hour later it began to rain, a light drizzle at first that increased until it reached the steady pounding of a tropical downpour. tom awoke first, opening the flap of his sleeping bag only to get his face full of slimy water that spilled in. spluttering and coughing he sat up and saw that the campfire was out and the campsite was already six inches deep in water. "roger, astro!" he called and slapped the nearest sleeping bag. astro opened the flap a little and peered out sleepily. instantly he rolled out of the bag and jumped to his feet. "wake roger up!" he snapped. "we've got to get out of here!" "what's the matter?" roger mumbled through the bag, not opening it. "why the excitement over a little rain?" "the fire's out, hotshot," said astro. "it's as dark as the inside of a cow's number-four belly. we've got to move!" "why?" asked tom, not understanding the big cadet's sudden nervous excitement. "what's the matter with staying right where we are? why go trooping around in the dark?" "we can't light a fire anywhere," added roger, finally sticking his head out of his sleeping bag. "we've got to get on high ground!" said astro, hurriedly packing the camping equipment. "we're in a hollow here. the rain really comes down on venus, and in another hour this place will be a pond!" sensing the urgency in astro's voice, roger began packing up his equipment and in a few moments the three boys had their gear slung over their shoulders and were slogging through water already knee-deep. "i still don't see why we have to go tracking through the jungle in the middle of the night," grumbled roger. "we could climb up a tree and wait out the storm." "you'd have to wait long after the rain stops," replied astro. "there is one thing in this place nothing ever gets enough of, and that's water. animals know it and hang around all the water holes. if a small animal tries to get a drink, he more than likely winds up in something's stomach. when it rains like this, hollows fill up like the one we just left, and everything within running, hopping, and crawling distance heads for it to get a bellyful of water. in another hour our camp will be like something out of a nightmare, with every animal in the jungle coming down for a drink and starting to fight one another." "then if we stayed there--" roger stopped. "we'd be in the middle of it," said astro grimly. "we wouldn't last two minutes." walking single file, with astro in the lead, followed by roger and then tom, they stumbled through the pitch-black darkness. astro refused to shine a light, for fear of being attacked by a desperate animal, more eager for water than afraid of the light. they carried their shock blasters cocked and ready to fire. the rain continued, increasing in fury until they were enveloped in a nearly solid wall of water. in a little while the floor of the jungle became one continuous mudhole, with each step taking them ankle-deep into the sucking mud. their climb was uphill, and the water from above increased, washing down around them in torrents. more than once one of the cadets fell, gasping for breath, into the dirty water, only to be jerked back to more solid footing by the other two. stumbling, their hands groping wildly in the dark, they pushed forward. they were reaching higher ground when astro stopped suddenly. "listen!" he whispered hoarsely. the boys stood still, the rain pounding down on their plastic headgear, holding rifles ready and straining their ears for some sound other than the drumming of rain. "i don't hear anything," said roger. "_shhh!_" hissed astro. they waited, and then from a distance they heard the faint crashing of underbrush. gradually it became more distinct until there was no mistaking its source. a large monster was moving through the jungle near them! "what is it?" asked tom, trying to keep his voice calm. "a big one," said astro. "a real big one. and i think it's heading this way!" "by the craters of luna!" gasped roger. "what do we do?" "we either run, or stay here and try to blast it." "whatever you say, astro," said roger. "you're the boss." "same here," said tom. "call it." astro did not answer right away. he strained his ears, listening to the movements of the advancing monster, trying to ascertain the exact direction the beast was taking. the noise became more violent, the crashing more sharply defined as small trees were crushed to the ground. "if only i knew exactly what it is!" said astro desperately. "if it's a tyranno, it walks on its hind legs and has its head way up in the trees, and could pass within ten feet of us and not see us. but if it's a bronto, it has a long snakelike neck that he pokes all around and he wouldn't miss us at a hundred feet!" "make up your mind quick, big boy," said roger. "if that thing gets any closer, i'm opening up with this blaster. he might eat me, but i'll sure make his teeth rattle first!" the ground began to shake as the approaching monster came nearer. astro remained still, ears straining for some sound to indicate exactly what was crashing down on them. above them, the shrill scream of an anthropoid suddenly pierced the dark night as its tree home was sent crashing to the ground. there was a growing roar and the crashing stopped momentarily. "let's get out of here," said astro tensely. "that's a tyranno, but he's down on all fours now, looking for that monkey! keep together and make as little noise as you can. no talking. keep your blasters and emergency lights ready. if he discovers us, you shine the light on his face roger, and tom and i will shoot. o.k.?" tom and roger agreed. "all right," said astro, "let's go--and spaceman's luck!" chapter "what can i do for you, officer?" connel heaved his bulk out of the jet launch and looked hard at the man standing in front of him. "you rex sinclair?" sinclair nodded. "that's right." connel offered his hand. "major connel, solar guard." "glad to meet you," replied the planter, gripping the spaceman's hand. "have something to cool you off." "thanks," said connel. "i can use it. whew! must be at least one twenty in the shade." sinclair chuckled. "this way, major." they didn't say anything more until connel was resting comfortably in a deep chair, admiring the crystal roof of sinclair's house. after a pleasant exchange about crops and problems of farming on venus, the gruff spaceman squared his back and stared straight at his host. "mr. james, the solar delegate, told me you've resisted pressure to join the venusian nationalists." sinclair's expression changed slightly. his eyebrows lifting quizzically. "why--yes, that's true." "i'd like you to tell me what you know about the organization." "i see," mused sinclair. "is that an order?" he added, chuckling. "that's a request. i'd like to learn as much about the nationalists as possible." "for what purpose?" connel paused and then said casually, "a spot check. the solar guard likes to keep its eyes open for trouble." "trouble?" exclaimed sinclair. "you're not serious!" connel nodded his head. "it's probably nothing but a club. however, i'd like to get some facts on it." "have you spoken to anyone else?" asked sinclair. "i just came from the sharkey plantation. it's deserted. not a soul around. i'll drop back by there before i return to venusport." connel paused and looked squarely at sinclair. "well?" "i don't know much about them, major," replied the planter. "it always seemed to me nothing more than a group of planters getting together--" connel cut him off. "possibly, but why didn't you join?" "well--" "aren't all your friends in it?" "yes, but i just don't have time. i have a big place, and there's only me and my foreman and housekeeper now. all the field hands left some time ago." "where'd they go?" "venusport, i guess. can't get people to farm these days." "all right, mr. sinclair," declared connel, "let's lay our cards on the table. i know how you must feel talking about your friends, but this is really important. vitally important to every citizen in the solar alliance. suppose the nationalists were really a tight organization with a purpose--a purpose of making venus independent of the solar alliance. if they succeeded, if venus did break away, mercury might follow, then mars--the whole system fall apart--break up into independent states. and when that happens, there's trouble--customs barriers, jealousies, individual armies and navies, and then, ultimately, a space war. it's more than just friendship, sinclair, it's the smallest crack in the solid front of the solar alliance, but it's a crack that _can_ be opened further if we don't stop it now." sinclair was impressed. "very well, major, i'll tell you everything i know about them. and you're right, it is hard to talk about your friends. i've grown up here in the venusian jungle. i helped my father clear this land where the house is built. most of the men in the nationalists are friends of mine, but"--he sighed--"you're right, i can't allow this to happen to the solar alliance." "allow what to happen?" asked connel. "just what you said, about venus becoming an independent state." "tell me all you know," said connel. "the group began to form about three years ago. al sharkey came over here one night and said a group of the planters were getting together every so often to exchange information about crops and farming conditions. i went a few times, we all did, on this part of venus. at first it was fun. we even had picnics and barn dances every three or four weeks. then one night someone suggested we come dressed in old costumes--the type worn by our forefathers who founded venus." connel nodded. "well, one thing led to another," continued sinclair. "they started talking about the great history of our planet, and complaining about paying taxes to support the solar alliance. instead of opening up new colonies like the one out on pluto, we should develop our own planet. we stopped dancing, the women stopped coming, and then one night we elected a president. al sharkey. the first thing he did was order all members to attend meetings in the dress of our forefathers. he gave the organization a name, the venusian nationalists. right after that, i stopped going. i got tired of listening to speeches about the wonderful planet we live on, and how terrible it was to be governed by men on earth, millions of miles away." "didn't they consider that they had equal representation in the solar alliance chamber?" asked connel. "no, major. there wasn't anything you could say to any of them. if you tried to reason with them, they called you a--a--" sinclair stopped and turned away. "what did they call you?" demanded connel, getting madder by the minute. "anyone that disagreed with them was called an earthling." "and you disagreed?" asked connel. "i quit," said sinclair stoutly. "and right after that, i started losing livestock. i found them dead in the pens, poisoned. and some of my crops were burned." "did you protest to the solar guard?" "of course, but there wasn't any proof any one of my neighbors had done it. they don't bother me any more, but they don't speak to me either. it's as though i had a horrible disease. there hasn't been a guest in this house in nearly two years. three space cadets are the first visitors here since i quit the organization." "space cadets?" connel looked at the planter quizzically. "yes, nice young chaps. corbett, manning, and a big fellow named astro. they're out in the jungle now hunting for tyrannosaurus. i met them through a friend in venusport and invited them to use my house as a base of operations. do you know them?" connel nodded. "very well. finest cadet unit at the academy. how long have they been in the jungle?" "about four and a half days now." "hope they get themselves a tyranno. but at the same time"--connel couldn't help chuckling--"if they do, space academy will never hear the end of it!" suddenly the hot wilting silence around the house was shattered by a thunderous roar. connel jumped up, followed sinclair to the window, and stared out over the clearing. they saw what appeared to be a well-organized squadron of jet boats come in for a landing with near military precision. the doors opened quickly and men poured out onto the dusty field. they were dressed alike in coveralls with short quarter-length space boots and round plastic crash helmets. each man carried a paralo-ray gun strapped to his hips. the uniforms were a brilliant green, with a white band across the chest. the men formed ranks, waited for a command from a man dressed in darker green, and then marched up toward the house. "by the craters of luna!" roared connel. "who are they?" "the nationalists!" cried sinclair. "they threatened to burn down my house and destroy my farm if i wrote that letter to the delegate. they've come to carry out their threat!" connel pulled the paralo-ray gun from his hip and gripped it firmly. "do you want those men in your house?" he asked sinclair. "no--no, of course not!" "then you have solar guard protection." "how--?" sinclair asked. "there are no solar guardsmen around here!" "what in blazes do you think i am, man!" roared connel as he lunged for the door and stepped out onto the porch. the men were within a hundred feet of the porch when they saw connel. the solar guard officer spread his legs and stuck out his jaw, his paralo-ray gun leveled. "the first one of you tin soldiers that puts a foot on these steps gets frozen stiffer than a snowball on pluto! now stand where you are, state your business, and then _blast off_!" "halt!" the leader of the column of men held up his hand. connel saw that the plastic helmets were frosted over, except for a clear band across the eye level. all of the faces were hidden. the leader stepped forward, his hand on his paralo-ray gun. "greetings, major connel." connel snorted. "if you'd take off that halloween mask, i might know who i'm talking to!" "my name is hilmarc." "hilmarc?" "yes. i am the leader of this detachment." "leader, huh?" grunted connel. "leader of what? a bunch of little tin soldiers?" "you shall see, major." hilmarc's voice was low and threatening. "i'm going to count to five," announced connel grimly, lifting his paralo-ray gun, "and if you and your playmates aren't back in your ships, i start blasting." "that would be unwise," replied hilmarc. "your one gun against all of ours." connel grinned. "i know. it's going to be a whale of a fight, isn't it?" then, without pause, he shouted, "_one--two--three--four--five!_" he opened fire, squeezing the trigger rapidly. the first row of green-clad men were immediately frozen. dropping to one knee, the spaceman again opened fire, and men in the second row stiffened as they tried to return the fire. "fire! cut him down!" roared hilmarc frantically. [illustration] the men broke ranks and the area in front of sinclair's house crackled with paralo-ray gunfire. darting behind a chair, connel dropped to the floor, his gun growing hot under the continuous discharge of paralyzing energy. in a matter of moments the solar guard officer had frozen nearly half of the attacking troop, their bodies scattered in various positions. suddenly his gun spit fire and began to smoke. the energy charge was exhausted. connel jumped to his feet and snapped to attention. he knew from experience that if being hit was inevitable, the best way to receive the charge was by standing at attention, taking the strain off the heart. he faced the clearing and a dozen shots of paralyzing energy hit him simultaneously. he became rigid and the short furious battle was over. [illustration] one of the green-clad men released hilmarc from the effects of connel's ninth shot and he stepped forward to stare straight into connel's eyes. "i know you can hear me, major. i want to compliment you on your shooting. but your brave resistance now is as futile as the resistance of the entire solar guard in the near future." hilmarc smiled arrogantly and stepped back. "now, if you'll excuse me, i will attend to the business i came here for--to take care of a weakling and an informer!" he turned and shouted to his men. "you have your orders! get sinclair and then burn everything in sight." * * * * * "astro, tom," gasped roger. "i--i can't go on." the blond-haired cadet fell headlong to the ground, almost burying himself in the mud. tom and astro turned without a word, and gripping roger under each arm, helped him to his feet. behind them, the thunder of the stalking tyrannosaurus came closer, and they forced themselves to greater effort. for two days they had been running before the monster. it was a wild flight through a wild jungle that offered them little protection. and while their fears were centered on the brute behind them, their sleepy, weary eyes sought out other dangers that lay ahead. more than once they stopped to blast a hungry, frightened beast that barred their path, leaving it for the tyrannosaurus and giving themselves a momentary respite in their flight. astro led the way, tirelessly slashing at the vines and creepers with his jungle knife, opening the path for roger and tom. the venusian cadet was sure that they were near the clearing around the sinclair plantation. since early morning he had seen the trail markers they had left when they started into the jungle. the cadets knew that if they didn't reach the clearing soon they would have to stand and fight the terrible thing that trailed them. during the first wild night, they had stumbled into a sinkhole, and as tom wallowed helplessly in the clinging, suffocating mud, astro and roger stood and fought the giant beast. the shock rifles cracked against the armorlike hide of the monster, momentarily stunning him, but in the darkness and rain, they were unable to get a clear head shot. when tom finally pulled himself out of the mudhole, they struggled onward through the jungle, with only one shot left in each blaster. "how much farther, astro?" asked tom, his voice weak with fatigue. "i'm starting to fold too." "not too far now, tom," the big cadet assured him. "we should be hitting the clearing soon now." he turned and looked back. "if we could only get a clear shot at that brute's head!" "hang on, roger," said tom. "just a little more now." roger didn't answer, merely bobbing his head in acknowledgment. behind them, the crashing thunderous steps seemed to be getting closer and astro drove himself harder, slashing at the vines and tangled underbrush, sometimes just bursting through by sheer driving strength. but the heavy-footed creature still stalked them ponderously. suddenly astro stopped and sniffed the air. "smoke!" he cried. "we're almost there!" tom and roger smiled wanly and they pushed on. a moment later the giant cadet pointed through the underbrush. "there! i see the clearing! and--by the stars--there's a fire! the house is burning!" forgetting the danger behind them, the three boys raced toward the clearing. just before they emerged from the jungle, they stopped and stood openmouthed with astonishment, staring at the scene before them. "by the craters of luna!" gasped astro. "look!" the outbuildings of the plantation were burning furiously, sending up thick columns of smoke. the wind blew the dense fumes toward them and they began to cough and gag. through the smoke they saw a strange array of jet craft in the clearing. then suddenly their attention was jerked back to another danger. the tyrannosaurus was nearly upon them. "run!" roared astro. he broke for the clearing, followed by roger and tom. once in the open, the boys ran several hundred yards to the nearest jet craft, and safely in the hatch, turned to see the monster come to the edge of the clearing and stop. they saw the brute clearly for the first time. it stood up on its hind legs, standing almost a hundred feet high. it moved its flat, triangular-shaped head in a slow arc, peering out over the clearing. the smoke billowed around it. it snorted several times in fear and anger. astro looked at it, wide-eyed, and finally spoke in awed tones. "by the rings of saturn, it is!" "is what?" asked tom. "the same tyranno i blasted when i was a kid, the one that trapped me in the cave!" "impossible!" snorted roger. "how can you tell?" "there on the head, the scars--and that eye. that's the mark of a blaster!" "well, i'll be a rocket-headed earthworm!" said tom. the smoke thickened at the moment, and when it cleared again, the great beast was gone. "i guess the smoke chased him away," said astro. "smoke!" he whirled around. with the threat of the tyrannosaurus gone, they could face the strange happenings around the clearing. "come on," said tom. he started for the burning buildings in back of the house. just at that moment a group of the green-clad men came around the side of the house. astro grabbed tom by the arm and pulled him back. "what's going on here? all these ships, buildings burning, and those men dressed in green. what is it?" the three boys huddled behind the jet and studied the scene. "i don't get it," said tom. "who are those men? they almost look as if they're soldiers of some kind, but i don't recognize the uniform." "maybe it's the fire department," suggested roger. "wait a minute!" roared tom suddenly. "there on the porch! major connel!" "omigosh!" said astro. "it is, but what's the matter with him? why is he standing there like that?" "he's been paralo-rayed!" exclaimed roger. "see how still he is! whatever these jokers in uniforms are, they're not friendly!" he raised his shock rifle. "this last shot in my blaster should--" "wait a minute, roger," said tom, "don't go off half-cocked. we can't do much with just three shots. we'd better take over one of these ships. there must be guns aboard." "yeah," said astro. "how about that big one over there?" he pointed to the largest of the assembled crafts. "o.k.," said tom. "sneak around this side and make a dash for it." gripping their rifles, they slipped around the stern of the small ship, and keeping a wary eye on the milling men around the front of the building, they dashed toward the bigger ship. on the porch of the main house, major connel, every muscle in his body paralyzed, saw the three cadets dart across the field and his heart skipped a beat. immediately before him, two of the green-clad men were holding sinclair while hilmarc addressed him arrogantly. "this is just the beginning, sinclair. don't try to cross us again. neither you nor anyone else can stop us!" he whirled around and faced connel. "and as for you and your solar guard, major connel, you can tell them--" hilmarc's tirade was suddenly interrupted by a shrill whistle and the glare of a red flare overhead. there was a chorus of shouts as the men ducked for cover. a voice, connel recognized as tom's, boomed out over the loud-speaker of the large jet ship near the edge of the clearing. "now hear this! you are covered by an atomic mortar. drop your guns and raise your hands!" the men stared at the ship, confused, but hilmarc issued a curt command. "return to the ships!" "but--but he'll blast us," whined one of the men. "he'll kill us all." "you fool!" roared hilmarc. "it must be a friend of connel's or sinclair's. he won't dare fire an atomic shell near this house, for fear of killing his friends! now get aboard your ships and blast off!" from their ship, tom, roger, and astro saw the men scatter across the field, and realizing their bluff had failed, they opened fire with the paralo-ray guns. but their range was too far. in a few moments the clearing around the sinclair home was alive with the coughing roar of the jets blasting off. as soon as they were alone, sinclair snatched up an abandoned ray gun and released the major from the charge. connel immediately jumped for another gun. but then, as the jets started to take off, he saw that it would be useless to pursue the invaders. thankful that the cadets had arrived in time, he trotted across the clearing to meet them as they climbed wearily from the remaining jet ship. "by the craters of luna," he roared good-naturedly, "you three space-brained idiots had me scared! i thought you would really let go with that mortar!" tom and roger grinned, relieved to find the spaceman unhurt, while astro looked off at the disappearing fleet of ships. "what's happened, sir?" asked tom. "what's it all about?" "haven't time to explain now," said connel. "i just want you three to know you got back here in time to save the rest of this man's property." he turned toward sinclair, who was just approaching. "did you recognize any of them?" he asked the planter. sinclair shook his head. "i thought i did--by their voices, i mean. but i couldn't see anyone through that frosted headgear they were wearing." "well, they left a ship. we'll find out who that belongs to," said connel. "all right, corbett, manning, astro. stand by to blast off!" "blast off?" exclaimed roger. "but we're on leave, sir!" [illustration] "not any more, you're not!" snapped connel. "you're recalled as of now! get this ship ready to blast off for venusport in five minutes!" chapter "are you sure they went south, astro?" major connel was examining a map of the southern hemisphere of venus. the three cadets were grouped around him in the small control room of the jet ship. "i think so, sir," replied astro. "i watched them circle and then climb. there would be no reason to climb unless they were going over the mountains." "what do you think, tom?" asked connel. "i don't know, sir. the map doesn't show anything but jungle for about a thousand square miles. unless there's a secret base somewhere between here and there"--he placed his fingers on the map where the sharkey and sinclair plantations were marked--"i don't see where they could have gone." "well, that must be the answer, then," sighed the gruff spaceman. "our alert to the patrol ships in this area narrows it down. nothing was spotted in the air. and they couldn't have blasted off into space. all their ships were low-flying stuff." blasting off from the sinclair plantation immediately, the three cadets and the major had hoped to find the operations base of the green-clad invaders, but the ships had disappeared. the ship they had captured proved to be a freighter with no name and all identifying marks removed. they had asked the solar guard ship registry in venusport to check on the vessel's title but so far had received no answer. now blasting back to venusport at full speed, connel told the boys the real nature of his mission to venus. the boys were shocked, unable to believe that anyone, or any group of persons, would dare to buck the authority of the solar guard. yet they had seen with their own eyes a demonstration of the strength of the nationalists. roger had sent a top-secret teleceiver message to commander walters at space academy, requesting an immediate conference with connel, and had received confirmation within a half-hour. "i think captain strong will be along too," said roger to tom after connel had retired to a compartment with a recorder to transcribe a report of the affair at sinclair's. "the message said we were to prepare a full report for consideration by commander walters, professor sykes, and captain strong." "boy," said the curly-haired cadet, "this thing is too big for me to swallow. imagine a bunch of dopes dressing up in uniforms and burning a guy's buildings because he wrote a letter to his delegate!" "i'd hate to be a member of that organization when commander walters gets through with them," said roger in a slow drawl. "and particularly the guy that ordered connel blasted with that ray gun. ten shots at once! wow! that guy must have nerves made of steel!" within an hour the jet freighter was circling venusport and was given priority clearance for an immediate landing. immediately upon landing, the ship swarmed with solar guardsmen, grim-faced men assigned to guard it, while technicians checked the ship for identification. the three boys were still wearing the jungle garb when they presented themselves to major connel with the request for a little sleep. "take an aspirin!" roared connel. "we've got important work to do!" "but, sir," said roger, his eyes half-closed, "we're dead on our feet! we've been out in the jungle for three days and--" "manning," interrupted the spaceman, "everything you saw during that business back at sinclair's might be valuable. i'm sorry, but i'll have to insist that you talk to the solar guard security officers first. as tired as you are, you might forget something after a heavy sleep." there was little else the boys could do but follow the burly officer out of the ship to a well-guarded jet cab which took them through the streets of venusport to the solar guard headquarters. they rode the elevator to the conference room in silence, each boy feeling at any moment that he would collapse from exhaustion. in the long corridor they passed tough-looking enlisted guardsmen who were heavily armed, and before being allowed into the conference room, they were scrutinized by a burly officer. finally inside, they were allowed to sit down in soft chairs and were given hot cups of tea to drink while precise, careful interrogators took down the story of their first meeting with the venusian nationalists. they were forced to repeat details many times, in the hope that something new might be added. groggy after nearly two hours of this, the boys felt sure that the time had come for them to be allowed to get some sleep, but after the last question from the interrogators, they were ushered into the presence of commander walters, major connel, professor sykes, captain strong, and several recording secretaries. before the conference began, delegate e. philips james arrived with his personal secretary. he offered his excuses for being late and took his place at the long table. tom shot a glance at the secretary. the man looked vaguely familiar to him. the cadet tried to place him, but he was so tired that he could not think. "major connel," began commander walters abruptly, "what do you consider the best possible move for the solar guard to make? under the present circumstances, do you think we should undertake a full-scale investigation? we talked to al sharkey, and while he admits being head of an organization known as the venusian nationalists, he denies any knowledge of any attack on sinclair such as you describe. and he claims to have been in venusport when the incident happened." connel thought a moment. "i don't know about sharkey, but i don't think a public investigation should be made yet. i think it would arouse a lot of speculation and achieve no results." "then you think we should move against them merely on the basis of this encounter at the sinclair plantation," asked e. philips james in his smoothest manner. connel shook his head. "i think our best bet is to locate their base. if we can nail them with solid evidence, we'll have a good case to present before the grand council of the solar alliance." "i agree with you, major." james smiled. behind him, his secretary was busy transcribing the conversational exchange on his audioscriber. "what would you require to locate the base?" asked walters. "i haven't worked out the details yet," said connel, "but a small expedition into the jungle would be better than sending a regiment of guardsmen, or a fleet of ships." "do you have any idea where the base might be?" sykes suddenly spoke up. "most of those men were supposed to be planters who know the jungle well. isn't it possible that they might have their base well hidden and a small party, such as you suggest, could cover too little ground?" connel turned to astro. "astro, do you know that section of the belt?" "yes, sir," replied astro. "i hunted all over that area when i was a boy." the big cadet went on to explain how he had become so familiar with the jungle, and described briefly their experience with the tyrannosaurus. all of the men at the table were impressed by his knowledge of jungle lore. "i gather you plan to take these cadets on your expedition, major," commented james. "yes, i do. they work well together and have already been in the jungle," answered connel. "what do you three boys think of the idea?" asked walters. "i don't have to remind you that you'll be up against two kinds of danger: the jungle itself, and the nationalists." "we understand, sir," replied tom, without even waiting for his unit mates' quick nods. "there's another factor," captain strong broke in. "you'll be giving up your leave. there won't be any extra time off. should this mission be completed before the next term at the academy begins, fine. but if not, you'll have to return to work immediately." "we understand that too, sir," said tom. "we're willing to do anything we can. and if i might offer a personal opinion"--he glanced at astro and roger--"i think the _polaris_ unit appreciates the seriousness of the situation and we agree with the major. a small party, especially ours, since we're already established as hunters, would be less suspect than a larger one." "i think we all agree that the _polaris_ unit is qualified for the mission, corbett," said walters, who saw through tom's eagerness to be assigned to go with the major. the meeting broke up soon afterward. connel remained with strong and walters to work out the details of the mission and to draft a top-secret report to the grand council of the solar alliance. the three weary cadets were quartered in the finest hotel in venusport and had just stumbled into bed when the room teleceiver signal buzzed. tom shuffled over to the screen near the table where the remains of a huge supper gave mute evidence of their hunger. switching on the machine, he saw strong's face come into focus. "i hope you boys aren't too comfortable," announced strong. "i'm afraid the sleep you're so hungry for will have to wait. this is an emergency!" "oh, no!" groaned roger. "i can't understand why emergencies come up every time i try to pound the pillow!" astro fell back onto his bed with the look of a martyred saint and groaned. "what is it, sir?" asked tom, who was as tired as the others. nonetheless he felt the urgency in strong's voice. "you blast off in half an hour," said the solar guard captain. "the _polaris_ has been refitted and you're to check her over before returning to sinclair's. everything has been prepared for you. get dressed and you'll find a jet cab waiting for you in front of the hotel. i had hoped to see you again before you left, but i've been ordered back to the academy with commander walters. we've got to report to the solar council, personally." "o.k., sir," said tom, then smiled and added, "we're sorry your fishing was interrupted." "i wasn't catching anything, anyway." strong laughed. "i've got to go. see you back at the academy. spaceman's luck!" "same to you, sir," replied tom. the screen blurred and the image faded as the connection was broken. tom turned to face his sleepy-eyed unit mates. "well, i guess we'd better take another aspirin. it looks like a hard night!" hastily donning fresh jungle gear supplied the night before in anticipation of the mission, the three cadets trouped wearily out of their rooms and rode down to the lobby in the vacuum elevator. they walked across the deserted lobby as though in a trance and outside to the quiet street. a jet cab stood at the curb, the driver watching them. he whistled sharply and waved at them. "hey, cadets! over here!" still in a fog, the three cadets climbed into the back seat, flopping into the soft cushions with audible groans as the cab shot away from the hotel and sped into the main highway which led to the spaceport. the traffic was light and the cab zoomed along at a smooth, fast clip, lulling the boys into a fitful doze. but they were rudely awakened when the car spun into a small country lane and the driver slammed on the brakes. he whirled around and grinned at them over a paralo-ray pistol. "sorry, boys, the ride ends here. now climb out and start stripping." the three sleepy cadets came alive instantly. without a word they moved in three different directions simultaneously. tom dived for one door, astro the other, while roger flopped to the floor. the driver fired, missing all of them, and before he could fire again he was jerked out of his seat and held in a viselike grip by astro. tom quickly wrenched the paralo-ray gun from his hand. "all right, you little space crawler," growled astro, "start talking!" [illustration] "take it easy, astro," said tom. "how do you expect him to talk when you've got him around the adam's apple!" "yeah, you big ape," said roger in a slow drawl. "find out what he has to say before you twist his head off!" astro released the man, pushing him against the cab door and pinning him there. "now let's have it," he growled. "what's this all about?" "i didn't mean any harm," whined the cab driver. "a guy calls me and says for me to meet three space cadets." "what guy?" snapped tom. "a guy i once knew when i was working the fields in the jungle belt. i worked on a plantation as a digger." "what's his name?" asked roger. "i don't know his name. he's just a guy. he calls me and says it's worth a hundred credits to pick up three space cadets from the hotel and hold 'em for an hour. i figured the best way to hold you would be to make you take your clothes off." "what did he look like?" asked roger. "a little guy, with a bald head and a limp. that's all i know--honest." "a limp, eh?" asked tom. "a little fellow?" "how little?" asked astro, getting the drift of tom's question. "real little. about five feet maybe, not much more'n that!" the three boys looked at each other and nodded. "the guy we bought our jungle gear from in the pawnshop!" exclaimed astro. "yeah," said tom. "it sure sounds like him. but why would he want to stop us? and more important, who told him that captain strong was sending a cab for us?" they turned back to the cab driver for further explanation, but the man was now actually crying with fright. "we won't get anything more out of this little creep," said astro. "let's just turn him over to the solar guard at the spaceport. they'll know how to handle him." "right," tom agreed. "we've lost enough time as it is." "no, no--please!" moaned the cabman. "lemme go! take the cab. drive it to the spaceport and just leave it, but please don't turn me over to the solar guard. if i'm seen with them, i'll be--" suddenly the man darted to one side, eluded astro's lunge, and scampered away. in a moment he was swallowed up in the darkness. "boy," breathed astro, "he was sure scared of something!" "yes," said tom. "and i'm beginning to get a little scared myself!" the cadets climbed into the cab and roared off toward the spaceport, each boy with the feeling that he was sitting on a smoldering volcano that was suddenly starting to erupt around him. [illustration] chapter "rocket cruiser _polaris_ to solar guard venusport! request emergency relay circuit to commander walters en route earth!" on the radar bridge of the _polaris_, roger manning spoke quickly into the teleceiver microphone. just a few minutes before the giant spaceship had blasted off from venusport, heading for the sinclair plantation, major connel had ordered roger to get in touch with walters to report the latest security leak. on the control deck the major paced back and forth restlessly as tom guided the _polaris_ on its short flight. "i'll find the spy in the solar guard if i have to tear venusport apart piece by piece!" fumed connel. "what about that jet freighter we took away from the nationalists, sir?" asked tom. "did you ever find out where it came from?" connel nodded. "it was an old bucket on the southern colonial run. she was reported lost last year. somehow those jokers got hold of her and armed her to the teeth." "you think maybe the crew could have mutinied, sir?" "it's highly possible, corbett," answered connel, and glanced around. "if they have any other ships of that size, the _polaris_ will be able to handle them." "yes, sir." tom smiled. "the repair crew did a good job on her." the cadet paused. "do you suppose one of the nationalists planted that bomb on her fin?" "no doubt of it," replied connel. "and it seems to tie in with a rather strange thing that happened in the venusian delegate's office the day before it happened." "what was that, sir?" asked tom. "three priority orders for seats aboard a venusport--atom city express were stolen. before a check could be made, the ship had made its run and the people using the priorities were gone. they must have been the ones that bumped you off your seats." "how do you think that ties in with the bomb on the _polaris_, sir?" "we're trying to figure that out now," said connel. "if only we knew what they looked like it would help. the girl at the ticket office doesn't remember them and neither does the ship's stewardess." "but we saw them, sir!" exclaimed tom. "you what!" roared connel. "yes, sir. we were standing there at the ticket counter when they called for their tickets." "do you think you'd recognize them again?" "i'll say!" asserted tom. "and i'm sure astro and roger would, too. we were so mad, we could have blasted them on the spot." connel turned to the intercom and shouted, "manning, haven't you got that circuit through yet?" "working on it, sir." roger's voice was smooth and unruffled over the intercom. "i'm in contact with the commander's ship now. they're calling him to the radar bridge now." tom suddenly jumped out of his seat as though stung. "say! i saw one of the fellows again too!" connel whirled quickly to face the young cadet. "where?" he demanded. "where did you see him?" "i--i'm trying to remember." tom began pacing the deck, snapping his fingers impatiently. "it was sometime during the past few days--i know it was!" "in venusport?" demanded connel, following tom around the deck. "yes, sir--" "before or after your trip into the jungle?" "uhh--before, i think," tom replied hesitantly. "no. no. it was after we came back." "well, out with it, corbett!" exploded the major. "when? where? you didn't do that much visiting! you were too tired to move!" "that's just it, sir," said tom, shaking his head. "i was so tired everything was a blur. faces are all mixed up. i--i--" the boy stopped and put his hands to his head as though trying to squeeze the one vital face out of his hazy memory. connel kept after him like a hungry, stalking animal. "where, corbett? when?" he shouted. "you've got to remember. this is important! think, blast you!" "i'm trying, sir," replied the cadet. "but it just won't come to me." the buzz of the intercom suddenly sounded and connel reluctantly left tom to answer it. roger's voice crackled over the speaker. "i have commander walters now, sir. feeding him down to the control-deck teleceiver." "oh, all right," replied connel and turned to tom. "come on, corbett. i want you to report to the commander personally." "yes, sir," replied tom, walking slowly to the teleceiver. "i'm sorry i can't remember where i saw that man." "forget it," connel said gruffly. "it'll come to you again sometime." he paused and then added as gently as he could, "sorry i blasted you like that." when commander walters' face appeared on the teleceiver screen, connel reported the incident of the cab driver and the news that tom, roger, and astro had seen the three men who had taken the priorities on the _venus lark_. "just a minute," said walters. "i'll have a recorder take down the descriptions." connel motioned to tom, who stepped before the screen. when he saw walters nod, he gave a complete description of the three men he had seen in the atom city spaceport. "let's see, now," said walters, after tom had concluded his report. "the man who asked for the tickets was young, about twenty-two, dressed in venusian clothing, dark, six feet tall, weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds. right?" "yes, sir," replied tom. connel suddenly stepped before the screen to interject, "and corbett saw him in venusport again sometime during the last two days." "really? where?" connel glanced at tom and then replied hurriedly, "well, he can't be sure, sir. we rushed him around pretty fast and he saw a lot of people. but at least we know he's in venusport somewhere." "yes," nodded walters. "that's something to work on, at least. and you have nothing more to add to the descriptions of the other two, corbett?" "not anything particular, sir," said tom. "they were dressed in venusian-type clothes also, but we didn't get a close look at them." "very well," said walters. "proceed with your mission, major. i'll have an alert sent out for the cab driver, and i'll have the owner of the pawnshop picked up. there must be someone on the solar delegate's staff who stole those priorities. we'll start searching there first, and if we come up with anyone who can't explain his absence from venusport at the time the priorities were used, and fits corbett's description, we'll contact you. end transmission!" "end transmission!" repeated connel. the screen blanked out and roger's voice came over the intercom immediately. "we'll be over sinclair's in three minutes," he called. "stand by." tom turned to the controls and in exactly two minutes and fifty seconds the clearing surrounding sinclair's home and the burned outbuildings came into view. working effortlessly, with almost casual teamwork, the three cadets brought the giant spaceship to rest in the middle of the clearing. as the power was cut, the cadets saw george and mrs. hill jumping into a jet car and speeding out to greet them. after tom introduced connel to the couple, the major questioned them closely about their absence during the attack by the shock troops. "mr. sinclair often gives us time off for a trip into venusport," explained hill. "it gets pretty lonely out here." "is mr. sinclair in now?" asked connel. "no, he isn't," replied the plantation foreman. "he's on his weekly trip around the outer fields. i don't expect him back for another day or two." "for goodness sakes," exclaimed mrs. hill, "you can ask your questions just as easily and a darn sight more comfortably in the house! come on. let's get out of the sun." the small group climbed into the jet car and roared off across the clearing toward the house. the lone building left standing by the nationalists looked strange amid the charred ruins of the other buildings. in the house, the three cadets busied themselves with home-baked apple pie which the housekeeper had brought out, while connel was telling george of the attack on the plantation. [illustration] "i've known about them all along, of course," said the foreman. "but i never paid any attention to them. i just quit, like mr. sinclair, when they started all that tomfoolery about wearing uniforms and stuff." "well," said connel, accepting a wedge of pie at mrs. hill's insistence, "now they've made the wrong move. burning sinclair's property and attacking an officer of the solar guard is going too far." "what are you going to do about it?" asked george. "i'm not at liberty to say, mr. hill," replied connel. "but i can tell you this. when any person, or group of persons, tries to dictate to the alliance, the solar guard steps in and puts a stop to it!" suddenly the silence of the jungle clearing was shattered by the roar of a single jet craft coming in for a landing. without looking out the window, george smiled and said, "there's mr. sinclair now! i know the sound of his jets." the group crowded out onto the front porch while george took the jet car and drove off to pick up his employer. a few moments later sinclair was seated before connel, wiping his sweating brow and accepting a cool drink from mrs. hill. "i was on my way to the north boundary when i saw your ship landing," explained sinclair. "at first i thought it might be those devils coming back, but then i saw the solar guard insigne on the ship and figured it might be you." he looked at connel closely. "anything new, major?" "not yet," replied connel. "but you can rest assured that you won't be bothered by them again." sinclair paused, eying the major speculatively. "you know, as soon as you left, i went over to talk to al sharkey. i was plenty mad and really blasted him, but he swears that he was in venusport at the time and doesn't know a thing about the raid." connel nodded. "that's true. we checked on him. but while he might not have been in on the raid itself, there's nothing that says he didn't order it done!" "i doubt it," said sinclair, with a queer apologetic note in his voice. "i'm inclined to believe that it was nothing more than a bunch of the younger, more hotheaded kids in the organization. as a matter of fact, sharkey told me he was quitting as president. seems you fellows in venusport scared him plenty. not only that, but i heard him calling up the other planters telling them what happened and every one of them is chipping in to rebuild my plantation." connel looked at the planter steely-eyed. "so you think it was done by a bunch of kids, huh?" sinclair nodded. "wouldn't be surprised if they're not scared too!" "well, you are entitled to your opinion, mr. sinclair. and if the other planters are going to rebuild your buildings, that's fine and charitable of them." suddenly connel's voice became harsh. "that does not, however, erase the fact that a group of uniformed men, armed with paralo-ray guns and with ships equipped with blasters, attacked you! atomic blasters, mr. sinclair, are not bought at the local credit exchange. they are made exclusively for the solar guard! that bunch of hotheaded kids, as you call them, are capable of attacking any community--even ships of the solar guard itself! that is a threat to the peace of the solar system and must be stopped!" sinclair nodded quickly. "oh, i agree, major, i agree. i'm just saying that--" connel stopped him. "i understand, mr. sinclair. you're a peaceful man and want to keep your life peaceful. but my job is to ensure that peace. as long as a group of militant toughs like we had here are on the loose, you won't have peace. you'll have pieces!" tom, roger, and astro, sitting quietly and listening, felt like standing up and cheering as the major finished. "i know you can't tell me what you're going to do, major connel," said the planter, "but i hope that you'll allow me to help in any way i can." connel hesitated before answering. "thank you, mr. sinclair. but i'm not here officially now." and then he added, "nor in regard to the nationalists." sinclair's eyes lit up slightly. "oh?" "no. as you know, the cadets had quite a time with a tyrannosaurus. they wounded it and it might still be dangerous. that is, more dangerous than normally. i've got orders to track him down and finish him off." "but i thought you said you were going to put a stop to this business with the nationalists," said the planter. "i said the solar guard would, sinclair." "oh, yes," mumbled sinclair, "the solar guard. of course." connel got up abruptly. "i would appreciate it if you would look after our ship, though," he said. "i don't think we'll be longer than a week. shouldn't be hard to track a tyrannosaurus, especially if it's wounded." "i suppose you have all the equipment you need," said sinclair. "yes, thank you," replied connel. then, thanking mrs. hill for the refreshments, the burly spaceman and the three cadets said good-by and left the house. an hour later, ready to strike off into the jungle, the solar guard officer took four of the latest model shock rifles out of the arms locker of the _polaris_ and gave one to each boy with extra ammunition. "never go after a giant with a popgun," he said. "it's a wonder you didn't kill yourselves with those old blasters you used, let alone kill a tyranno." the three cadets examined the rifles closely and with enthusiasm. "these are the latest solar guard issue," said connel. "when you pull that trigger, you release a force three times greater than anything put into a rifle before." then, checking the _polaris_ and cutting all power, connel removed the master switch and hid it. "that's so no one will get any bright ideas while we're gone," he explained as the boys watched curiously. "you think someone might try to steal her, sir?" asked tom. "you never can tell, corbett," answered connel noncommittally. once again the three boys moved across the clearing toward the jungle wall. astro took the lead as before, followed by roger and tom, and connel brought up the rear. they moved directly to the spot where they had last seen the tyrannosaurus, found the trampled underbrush and massive tracks, and moved purposefully into the dank, suffocating green world. the trail was plain to see. where the boys once had to hack their way through the thick underbrush, the monster had created a path for them. the three cadets felt better about being back in the jungle with more reliable equipment and joked about what they would do to the tyrannosaurus when they saw it again. "i thought you were supposed to be the home-grown venusian hick that could manage in the jungle like that fairy-tale character, tarzan," roger teased astro. "listen, you sleepwalking space romeo," growled astro, "i know more about this jungle than you could learn in ten years. and i'm not foolish enough to battle with a tyranno with the odds on his side. i ran for a good reason!" "boy, did you run!" taunted roger. "you were as fast as the _polaris_ on emergency thrust!" "knock off that rocket wash!" roared connel. "the nationalists might have security patrols in this area. they could hear you talking and blast you before you could bat an eyelash! now keep quiet and stay alert!" the three cadets quieted down after that, walking carefully, stepping around dead brush that might betray their presence. after working their way along the tyrannosaurus's trail for several hours, connel called a halt, and after a quick look at his compass, motioned for them to cut away from the monster's tracks. "we'll start working around in a circle," he said. "one day east, one south, west, and north. then we'll move in closer to the heart of the circle, and repeat the same procedure. that should cover a lot of ground in eight days. if anything's moving around out here, besides what should be here, we'll find it. from now on, we'll have a scout. astro, you know the jungle, you take the point, about five hundred yards ahead. if you see anything, signs of a patrol or any danger from the jungle, fall back and report. don't try to do anything yourself. four guns in a good position are better than one popping off by itself." "aye, aye, sir," said astro. with a quick nod to tom and roger, he moved off through the jungle. in ten feet he was invisible. in thirty seconds his footsteps were lost in the thousands of jungle sounds around them. "i'll take the lead now," said connel. "corbett, you bring up the rear. all right, move out!" from above, in the leafy roof covering the jungle; from the side, in the thick tangle of vines; and from below, in the thorny underbrush, the eyes of living things, jungle things, followed the movements of the three spacemen, perhaps wondering if these new beasts were a threat to their lives. chapter "hal-loo-ooo!" astro's voice boomed out over the tops of the trees, where the birds fluttered in sudden fright. it echoed through the darkness around him, where smaller creatures crawled and slithered into the protection of their holes. the voice of the big cadet was loud, but it was not loud enough for his mates to hear. astro was lost. he couldn't understand how it had happened. over and over during the past six hours he had retraced his steps mentally, trying to visualize the trail, trying to locate the telltale marks he had made with his jungle knife, and so find major connel, tom, and roger. it was dark now and the big cadet had to face the dangerous jungle alone. he laughed ironically. connel had given him the point because he knew the jungle! and now he was lost. astro was a little frightened too. it was his frank realization of trouble that made him afraid. he knew what was in the jungle, and though he had been there alone before, he had never been in it as deeply as this, nor had he ever been lost in the nightmarish place after sundown. while he was desperately anxious to find his unit mates, he had not fired his rifle. the threat of exposing his position to a possible nationalist patrol prevented him from signaling with the blaster or even from building a fire. during the last hours of the day, when the suspicion that he was lost became a concrete fact, the big cadet had been reluctant even to yell. now, with pitch-black night closing around him, he dared to call, hoping it would be heard and recognized by his friends, or if not, considered the howl of a jungle beast by an enemy patrol should one be near. he stood with his back against the rough bark of a teakwood tree to protect his rear and to face out toward the pitch-black night. more than once the big cadet felt the sudden ripple of a crawling thing moving around him, across his toes or down the tree trunk. there was a sudden thrashing in the underbrush near by and he brought the shock rifle up quickly, ears tuned for the growl, or scream, or hiss of an attacking beast. the luminous dial of his watch showed it to be three thirty in the morning, two and a half hours to go before the sun would drive the fearful darkness away. he had been calling every five minutes. and every time he shouted, the movements in the darkness around him increased. "hal-loo-ooo!" he waited, turning his head from one side to the other, intent on the sounds that came from a distance; the answering call of the waddling ground bird that had confused him at first until he recognized it; the shrill scream of the tiny swamp hog; the distant chattering of the monkeylike creatures in the treetops. but there was no sound from a human throat. astro called again and again. the seconds dragged by into minutes, the minutes into an hour, and then two hours, and finally, as every muscle in his body ached from standing backed up to the tree all night and holding his rifle on alert, the gray murky dawn broke over the jungle and he began to see the green of the jungle around him. when the sun at last broke over the venusian horizon, the night's frost on the leaves and bushes danced and glittered like jewels. he washed his face in a near-by pool, careful not to drink any of the water. he opened a can of synthetic food, and after eating his fill, cleared away the brush down to the naked black soil and banking it high on all sides he stretched full length on the ground. he dared not sleep. hungry animals were moving about freely now. a paralo-ray gun and the rifle, both cocked and ready to fire, were held in his hands. he relaxed as completely as he could, idly watching the mother of a brood of the anthropoids scamper through the branches of the trees overhead, bringing her squalling young their breakfast. an hour later, refreshed, he started through the jungle again, eyes open for signs of recent activity, human activity, for the big cadet wanted to return to his comrades. stopping occasionally to climb a tree, astro searched the sky above the treetops for smoke that would mark a campsite. he felt that sure if there was any, he would find roger, tom, and connel, since a nationalist patrol wouldn't advertise its presence in the jungle. but there were no smoke signs. the top of the jungle stretched green and still as far as he could see, steaming under the burning rays of the sun. astro knew that it would be impossible to spend another night like the first in the jungle, so after searching through the forest until three in the afternoon, he stopped, opened another can of synthetic food, and ate. he was used to being alone now. the first wave of fear had left him and he was beginning to remember things he knew as a young boy; jungle signs that warned him of dangers, the quick identification of the animal cries, and the knowledge of the habits of the jungle creatures. after eating, he took his jungle knife and hacked at a long, tough vine, yanking it down from its lofty tangle. he started weaving it into a tight oblong basket and two hours later, just before the sun dropped into the jungle for the night, he was finished. he had a seven-foot bag woven tightly and pulled together with a small opening at one end. just before the sky darkened, the big cadet crawled into this makeshift sleeping bag, pulled the opening closed with a tight draw cord, and in thirty seconds was asleep. nothing would be able to bite through the tough vine matting, and the chances of a larger beast accidentally stepping on him were small. nevertheless, astro had pulled the bag close to a huge tree and placed it deep between the swollen roots. he awoke with a start. the ground was shaking violently. he was sweating profusely and judged that it must be late in the morning with the sun beating directly on him. carefully he opened the end of the makeshift sleeping bag and peered out. he gasped and reached for his shock rifle, bringing it up into firing position. the sight that confronted him was at once horrifying and fascinating. a hundred yards away, a giant snake, easily a hundred feet long and five feet thick, was wrapped around a raging tyrannosaurus. the monsters were in a fight to death. astro shuddered and pulled back into the bag, keeping the blaster aimed at the two struggling beasts. [illustration: _astro kept his blaster aimed at the monsters_] the big cadet deduced that the snake must have been surprised in its feeding by the tyrannosaurus, and was trying to defend itself. there wasn't a living thing in the jungle that would deliberately attack a tyrannosaurus. only man, with his intelligence and deadly weapons, could win over the brute force and cunning of the jungle giant. and even that had failed with this monster. astro quickly saw it was the same beast that had chased the three cadets out of the jungle! with three coils wrapped around the tyrannosaurus's body, the snake was trying to wrap a fourth around its neck and strangle it, but the monster was too wily. rearing back, it suddenly fell to the ground, its weight crushing the three coils around its middle. the snake jerked spasmodically, stunned, as the tyrannosaurus scrambled up again. the ground trembled and branches were ripped from near-by trees. all around the jungle had been leveled. everything fell before the thrashing monsters. recovering, the snake's head darted in again, trying to circle the tyrannosaurus's head and complete the last and fatal coil, but the giant beast lunged, its massive jaws snapping, and the snake drew back. suddenly its tail lashed out and circled the left legs of the tyrannosaurus. astro could see the beast straining against the sudden pressure, at the same time alert for the swooping head of the snake. the pressure on the leg was too great, and the beast fell to the ground, giving the snake a momentary advantage. its head darted in again, but the tyrannosaurus drew its head into its narrow shoulders, then shot out again as the snake missed. astro saw the snake quiver and jerk back as the tyrannosaurus clamped its jaws closed and bit a chunk out of the green, scaly body. the snake had enough. it wanted to get away, to slip to the top of the tallest tree in the forest, out of reach of the tyrannosaurus, and wait for the wound to heal or for death to come. it unwound in a maddened convulsive movement and slithered toward the tree where astro lay. but the monster was after it, immediately grabbing it by the tail and jerking it back. the snake was forced to turn and fight back. astro knew that if the snake could get away it would head for the teakwood above his head, the highest tree around, and the tyrannosaurus would stamp the ground around its base into powder. he had to move! a hundred feet to the left was a wild thicket of ground thorns, their needlelike tips bristling. even the snake would stay away from them. it was his only chance should the snake get loose from the tyrannosaurus again. making up his mind quickly, the cadet opened the end of the sleeping bag and shoved his weapons out before him. then hugging the ground, he dashed across the clearing. this gave the tyrannosaurus its final advantage. the snake pulled back, momentarily attracted by astro's move, and the tyrannosaurus struck, catching the snake just behind the head in a grip of death. the thorns ripped at astro's tight-fitting jungle dress, tearing into his flesh as he dove into the thicket. but once inside the cadet lay still, pointing his rifle at the tyrannosaurus who was methodically finishing off the giant snake. in a few seconds the snake was dead and the tyrannosaurus began to feast. astro stayed in the thicket, watching the monster devour nearly all of the dead reptile foe and then rise up and move off through the jungle. astro knew that in no time the scavengers of the jungle would be swarming over the remains of the snake. once again he had to move. getting out of the thicket was painful. from every direction the thorns jabbed at him, and but for the toughness of his jungle suit, astro would have been ripped to shreds. after easing his way back into the clearing, the cadet pulled out the remains of his jungle pack. he then saw that his suit was torn to ribbons, and the many slashes on his chest and arms were bleeding profusely. the scent of the blood would attract the carnivorous creatures, so he stripped off the bloody jungle suit, dropping it back in the thicket, and hurried away. a short time later he came to a water hole where he sponged himself off and applied medication from his emergency kit to the scratches. finished, he took stock. the night's sleep had refreshed him, and except for the loss of his protective clothing, he was in good shape. he shouldered the pack, strapped the paralo-ray gun to his hips, and gripping the rifle tightly, he moved off through the jungle once more. he decided to follow the tyrannosaurus. the beast would leave a path for him, saving him the effort of hacking his way through the vines and creepers, and should an enemy patrol be out, it would stay away from the tyrannosaurus. finally, he knew tom, roger, and connel would go after the beast if they saw it. the sun shone down on the half-naked giant moving through the jungle, a new white-skinned animal who was braver than the rest, a creature who dared to trail the king of the jungle. * * * * * "it's all my fault!" said connel disgustedly. "i should have been able to read his trail signs." tom did not answer. he pulled the straps of his jungle pack tighter and slung it over his shoulder. roger stood to one side, watching major connel. both boys sensed what was coming. "well, this is the last day we can spend searching for him," said connel. "we've already lost two days." roger glanced at tom and said casually, "it wouldn't hurt to keep our eyes open for signs of him, would it, sir?" "now listen, boys," said connel firmly, "i know how you feel about astro. i have to admit i have a liking for the lad myself. but we've been sent out here to locate the base of operations of the nationalists. the best way to do that is to work around the jungle in a given area. we haven't done that so far. we've put all our time and effort into a random search for astro. we can't signal him, build a fire, shoot off a blaster--or use any of the simple communication devices. we have to work under cover, for fear of giving away our presence here in the jungle." he slung his gear over his shoulder and added, "we'll continue our search for astro until noon and then we simply will have to abandon it. and stop worrying about him. he's a big strong lad and he's been in this jungle alone before. i have every confidence that he can make his way back to sinclair's plantation safely." the solar guard officer paused and looked at the two downcast cadets before him. "none of that sulking business!" he growled. "you're cadets on an urgent mission. now move out. i'll take the point first and you bring up the rear, corbett." without another word, the burly spaceman turned and moved off through the jungle. roger hung back to talk to tom. "what do you think, tom?" tom shook his head before answering. "he's right, roger. we're on a job. it's the same here in the jungle as it is in space. we know that something is liable to happen to any one of us at any time. and the mission always comes first." roger nodded. "sure, that's the way it is in the book. but this is real. that big hick might be hurt--or trapped. maybe he needs our help!" "i know how you feel, roger," replied tom. "i want to take off and hunt for astro myself, but connel needs us. don't forget that bunch of guys in uniforms back at sinclair's. commander walters and the others don't hold conferences like that one back in venusport for the fun of it. this is serious." roger shrugged and started off after connel, tom following slowly behind. their march through the jungle was made in silence, each hoping for a miracle. but as the sun grew higher and the deadline hour of noon approached, they steeled themselves to the fact that they might never see the venusian cadet again. a short time later, when tom was taking his turn at cutting the trail through the brush, he broke through into a clearing. he stopped and called out, "major! roger! quick!" connel and the blond-haired cadet rushed forward, stopping beside tom to stare in amazement. before them, a large area of the jungle was pounded down and lying amidst the tangle of giant creepers and uprooted bushes was the remains of a giant snake. "by the rings of saturn!" gasped connel, walking forward to inspect the clearing. tom and roger followed, breaking to the side, their rifles at ready. the two boys had become jungle-wise quickly and knew that death lurked behind the wall of green surrounding the cleared area. "it must have been some fight!" connel pointed to the tracks of the tyrannosaurus. "the tyranno must have stumbled on the snake while it was feeding," said connel. "otherwise it would have lit out for that tree over there." he pointed to the giant teakwood that astro had slept under. the three spacemen saw the makeshift sleeping bag at the same time. "major! look!" cried tom and raced to the base of the tree. "it's astro's, all right," said connel, examining the woven bag. "i wonder if he was here when those two things were going after each other." "yes, sir," said roger in a choked whisper, "he was." he pointed to the ragged remains of astro's jungle suit dangling on the near-by thornbush. the blood was stiff on the material. the three earthmen stared at the suit, each too horrified to speak. connel's face was set in hard lines as he finally found his voice and growled, "our search is over. let's get back to our job." [illustration] chapter it was not until late the same afternoon that astro, following the trail of the tyrannosaurus, realized that the giant beast was seriously hurt. at first the traces of blood on the ground and underbrush were slight, but gradually the blood spots became more profuse and the trail was covered with huge blotches of red. the venusian cadet grew more cautious. the tyrannosaurus would be ten times as dangerous now. and it might be close by, lying in the jungle, licking its wounds. as the sun began to sink in the western venusian sky, astro began to think about the coming night. he would have to hole up. he couldn't chance stumbling into the beast in the dark. but it would also mean taking time to make another sleeping bag. suddenly he saw a movement in the brush to his left. he dropped to the ground and aimed the shock rifle in that direction, eyes probing the green tangle for further movement. "make one move and you'll die!" a harsh voice cut through the jungle. astro remained still, his eyes darting to left and right, trying to locate the owner of the voice. "throw down your gun and stand up with your hands over your head!" came another voice, this one immediately behind him. [illustration: _his eyes probed the jungle for further movement_] a patrol! astro swore at himself for blindly walking into a trap and dropped his gun. he stood up and raised his hands over his head, turning slowly. "don't turn around! stand still!" astro stopped. he could hear the rustle of movement in the underbrush behind him and then someone called, "circle around to the right. spread out and see if there are any others!" off to the side, he could hear the crashing of footsteps moving away in the jungle. "all right," continued the unknown voice, "drop that paralo-ray pistol to the ground. but no smart tricks. we can see you and you can't see us, so take it easy and do as we say." astro lowered his hands and unbuckled the gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. there was a sudden burst of movement behind him and powerful arms gripped his wrists. within seconds his hands were tied quickly and expertly, and he was spun around to face his captors. there were ten men, all dressed in the same green uniforms and plastic headgear he had seen at the sinclair plantation. they stood in a semicircle around him, their guns leveled at his naked chest. the leader of the party nudged the nearest man and commented, "never thought i'd see any animal like this in the jungle!" the other men laughed appreciatively. "who are you?" the leader demanded. "what are you doing here?" "my name is astro," replied the big cadet boldly. "i'm a space cadet, _polaris_ unit, space academy, u.s.a. i'm here in the jungle with the rest of my unit hunting tyrannosaurus." "tyranno, eh?" queried the man. "how long have you been trailing this one?" "just today. i saw him fight a big snake and lost my jungle gear in a thicket where i was hiding. i was separated from my space buddies two days ago." "say, helia," suddenly called one of the other men, "he sounds like a venusian." "is that true?" asked the leader. "are you from venus?" astro nodded. "venusport." "then why are you in space academy?" "i want to be a spaceman." "why didn't you go to school on venus, instead of earth. we have good space schools here." "i want a commission in the solar guard. you can only get that through the academy," replied astro stoutly. "solar guard!" snorted the leader, and then turned to the nearest man, speaking rapidly in a strange tongue. for a moment the language confused astro, then he recognized it as the ancient venusian dialect. he understood it and started to answer, but then, on second thought, he decided not to reveal his knowledge of the language. the leader turned back to astro and asked a question. astro shook his head and said, "if you're talking to me, you have to speak english. i know that's the venusian dialect you're speaking, but i never learned it." the leader's fist shot out and crashed against astro's jaw. the big cadet rocked back with the punch and then he lunged forward, straining against his bonds. "why, you--!" he exploded angrily. "that was for not being a true venusian!" snapped the leader. "every son of venus should understand his mother tongue!" astro bit his lip and fell silent. the leader turned away, and shouting a command, started off through the jungle. astro knew that the patrol had been ordered to move out, but he stood still, waiting for them to push him. they did. a hard jab in his naked side with the butt of a gun sent him stumbling forward in the center of the patrol. well, there was one consolation, he thought grimly. at least he wouldn't have to spend the night out in the jungle alone again! astro had expected a long march, but to his surprise, he was pushed along a well-worn jungle trail for only three hundred yards in from the tyrannosaurus's track. finally they stopped before a huge teakwood tree. the leader pounded his rifle butt on the trunk three times. mystified, astro watched a small section of the trunk open to reveal a modern vacuum-tube elevator shaft. he was pushed inside with the men of the patrol and the tree-trunk door was closed. the leader pushed a lever and the car dropped so suddenly that astro nearly lost his balance. he judged that they must have fallen two hundred feet when the car stopped and another door opened. he was pushed out into a high-vaulted tunnel with cement walls. "hurry up!" snapped the leader. the big cadet moved along the tunnel, followed by the patrol, turning from one tunnel into another, all of them slanting downhill. astro guessed that he was being taken to some subterranean cave. he asked his captors where they were taking him. "don't talk!" snapped one of the men at his side. "this jungle will be swarming with solar guardsmen once they discover i'm lost," said astro. "who are you and what are you holding me prisoner for?" the big cadet decided it would be better to feign ignorance of the existence of the rebel organization. "let the solar guard come!" snapped the leader. "they'll find something they never expected." "but what do you want with _me_?" asked the cadet. "you'll know soon enough!" they had been walking for nearly an hour and the tunnels still slanted downward but more sharply now. turning into a much larger tunnel than any of the rest, astro noticed a huge door on one side. through its crystal-covered ports he saw racks of illegal heat blasters and paralo-ray guns. a man stepped out of the door, and raising his hand in a form of salute, called out a few words in the venusian tongue. astro recognized it as a greeting, "long live venusians!" and suppressed a smile. one by one, the men of the patrol handed over their rifles and ray guns, while the man in the armory checked off their names. then they all removed their knee-length jungle boots and traded their plastic helmets for others of the same design but of a lighter material. each man turned his back while switching helmets, obviously to avoid being recognized by any of the others, since the new helmet was also frosted except for a slit at eye level. wearing the lighter headgear and common street shoes, the men continued their march through the tunnel. they passed into a still larger tunnel, and for the first time, astro could see daylight. as they drew nearer to the mouth of the tunnel, the cadet could see outside, and the scene before him made him gasp for breath. a full twenty miles long and fifteen miles wide, a canyon stretched before him. and it seemed to the big cadet that every square inch of the canyon floor was occupied by buildings and spaceships. hundreds of green-clad men were moving around the ships and buildings. "by the craters of luna!" gasped astro as the patrol paused in the mouth of the tunnel. "what--what is this?" "the first city of venus. true venus. built by venusians with venusian materials only!" said the leader proudly. "there's the answer to your solar guard!" "i don't understand," said astro. "what are you going to do?" "you'll see." the man chuckled. "you'll see. move on!" as they trooped out of the tunnel and down into the canyon they passed groups of men working on the many ships. the cadet recognized what they were doing at once. the unmistakable outlines of gun ports were being cut into the sides of several bulky space freighters. elsewhere, the steady pounding of metal and grinding of machinery told the cadet that machine shops were going at full blast. he noticed a difference between the men of the patrol and the workers. neither spoke to the other. in fact, astro saw that it was rarely that a worker even glanced at them as they passed by. up ahead, astro saw a huge building, wide and sprawling but only a few stories high. it was nearly dark now and lights began to wink on in the many windows. he guessed that he was being taken to the building and was not surprised when the leader pulled him by the arm, guiding him toward a small side door. there was a curious look about the building and the cadet couldn't figure out what it was. glancing quickly at the wall as he passed through the door, he nearly burst out laughing. the building was made of wood! he guessed that the rebels were using materials at hand rather than importing anything from outside planets. and since venus was largely a planet of jungles and vegetation, with few large mineral deposits, wood would be the easiest thing to use. the inside of the building was handsomely decorated and designed. he saw walls covered with carvings, depicting old legends about the first colonists. he shook his head. "boy," he thought, "they sure go for the venusian stuff in a big way!" "all right!" snapped the leader. "stop here!" astro stood before a huge double door that had been polished to a brilliant luster. the cadet waited for the leader to enter, but the nationalist stood perfectly still, eyes straight ahead. suddenly the doors swung open, revealing a huge chamber, at least a hundred and fifty feet long. at the far end a man dressed in white with a green band across his chest sat in a beautifully carved chair. arrayed on either side of him were fifty or more men dressed in various shades of green. the man in white lifted his hand and the patrol leader stepped forward, pushing astro before him. they walked across the polished floor and stopped ten feet away from the man in white, the patrol leader bowing deeply. astro glanced at the men standing at either side of the man in white. the bulge of paralo-ray pistols was plainly visible beneath their flowing robes. the man in white lifted his hand in the salute astro had seen before. then the patrol leader straightened up and began to speak rapidly in the venusian dialect. translating easily, astro heard him report his capture. when he concluded, the man in white looked at astro closely and spoke three words. astro shook his head. "he does not speak our mother tongue, lactu," volunteered the patrol leader. the man in white nodded. "how is it," he said in english, "that you are a native-born venusian and do not speak the language of your planet?" "i was an orphan. i had very little formal education," said astro. "and as long as we're asking questions around here, how about my asking a few? who in space are you? what's the idea of holding me a prisoner?" "one question at a time, please, brother venusian," said the man in white. "and when you address me, my name is lactu." "lactu what?" asked astro belligerently. "your own name should tell you that we on venus only have one name." "never mind that rocket wash!" barked astro. "when do i get out of here?" "you will never leave here as you came," said lactu quietly. "what does that mean?" demanded the cadet. "you have discovered the existence of our base. ordinarily you would have been burned to a crisp and left in the jungle. fortunately, you are a venusian by birth, and therefore have the right to join our organization." "what does that mean?" "it means," said lactu, "that you will take an oath to fight until death if necessary to free the planet venus and the venusian citizens from the slavery of the solar alliance and--" "awright, buster!" roared astro. "i've had enough of that rocket wash! i took an oath of allegiance to the solar guard and the solar alliance, to uphold the cause of peace throughout the universe and defend the liberties of the planets. your idea is to destroy peace and make slaves out of the people of venus--like these dummies you've got here!" astro gestured contemptuously at the men standing on both sides of lactu. "i don't want any part of you, so start blasting!" continued the big cadet, his voice booming out in the big room. "but make it good, 'cause i'm tough!" there was a murmur among the men and several put their hands on the butts of their paralo-ray guns. even the calm expression in lactu's eyes changed. "you are not afraid of us, are you?" he asked in a low, almost surprised tone of voice. "you, nor anything that crawls in the jungle like you!" shouted astro. "if you're not happy with the way things are run on venus, why don't you take your beef to the solar alliance?" "we prefer to do it our way!" snapped one of the men near lactu. "and as for you, a few lashes with a venusian wet whip will teach you to keep a civil tongue!" astro turned around slowly, looking at each of the men individually. "i promise you," he said slowly, "the first man who lays a whip on me will die." "and who, pray, will do the killing?" snorted a short, stout figure in the darkest of the green uniforms. "you? hardly!" "if it isn't me"--astro turned to face the man--"it will be any one of a thousand space cadets." "you have a lot of confidence in yourself and your friends," said lactu. "death apparently doesn't frighten you." "no more than it does any man of honor," said the cadet. "i've faced death before. as for my friends"--astro shrugged and grinned--"touch me and wait for what happens. and by the stars, mister, you can depend on it happening!" "enough of this, lactu!" said a man near the end of the group. "we have important business to conduct. take this foolish boy out and do away with him!" lactu waved his hand gently. "observe, gentlemen, here is the true spirit of venus. this boy is not an earthman, nor a martian. he is a venusian--a proud venusian who has drifted with the tides of space and taken life where he found it. tell me honestly, gentlemen, what would you have thought of astro, a venusian, if he had acted any differently than he has? if he had taken an oath he does not believe and groveled at our feet? no, gentlemen, to kill this proud, freeborn venusian would be a crime. tell me, astro, do you have any skills?" "i can handle nuclear materials in any form." "we are wasting time, lactu!" exclaimed one of the men suddenly. "settle with this upstart later. now let us take a vote on the issue before us. the ship is waiting to blast off for mercury. do we ask for her assistance, or not?" there was a loud murmur among the assembled men, and lactu held up his hand. "very well, we will vote. all in favor of asking the people of mercury to join our movement against the alliance will say aye!" "aye," chorused the men. "against?" lactu looked around, but there was no reply. lactu turned back to astro. "well, venusian, this is your last chance to join forces with us and to fight for your mother planet." "go blast your jets!" snapped astro. immediately lactu's eyes became hard steely points. "that was your last chance!" he said. "take him out and kill him!" the door suddenly burst open and a green-clad trooper raced across the bare floor, bowing hastily before lactu. "forgive this interruption, lactu," he said breathlessly. "there are men in the jungle headed for the canyon rim. three of them!" lactu turned to astro. "your friends, no doubt!" he snapped an order. "capture them and bring them to me. and as for you, astro, we are in need of capable men to build war heads for our space torpedoes. to ensure the safety of your friends, i would advise your working for us. if not, your friends will die before another night falls." chapter "you're right, tom," said major connel. "they must be around here somewhere. start looking. if they're not here, it may mean he's still alive." it was tom who had thought of looking for astro's weapons. refusing to believe that his unit mate had been killed, the curly-haired cadet was examining the torn jungle suit when the idea occurred to him. quickly roger, connel, and tom spread out over the trampled area, searching the underbrush for astro's paralo-ray pistol or shock rifle. connel examined the underbrush and vines closely for scorch marks made by the blaster. finding none, he rejoined the boys. "well?" he asked. "nothing, sir," replied roger. "can't find them, major," said tom. connel smacked his fists together and spoke excitedly. "i'm sure astro wouldn't be caught unawares by a couple of things like a snake or a tyrannosaurus without putting up a fight. if he was attacked suddenly, he would have fired at least one shot, and if it went wild, it would have burned the vines and brush around here. you didn't find his weapons, and there are no scorched areas. i'll stake my life on it, astro's alive!" roger's and tom's faces brightened. they knew connel had no proof, but they were willing to believe anything that would keep their hopes for their giant unit mate alive. "now," said connel, "assuming he is not dead, and that he is somewhere in the jungle, we have to figure out what he would do." roger was thoughtful a moment. "how long would he last without his jungle suit, sir?" "what do you mean?" asked connel. tom's eyes lit up. "if he's alive, sir, then he's probably following a path or trail that would keep him away from heavy underbrush," he said. connel thought a moment. "there's only one trail away from here." he turned and pointed to the trail made by the tyrannosaurus. "that one." the three spacemen stared at the wide path left by the huge beast. connel hesitated. "it's due north," he said finally. "we've come a full day west and should be making a turn north. we'll follow the tyrannosaurus's trail for a full day." roger and tom grinned. they knew connel was making every effort to find astro, while still keeping his mission in mind. the three spacemen moved along the trail quickly, eyes alert for any sign astro might have left. connel saw the great bloodstains left by the tyrannosaurus and cautioned the two cadets. "this tyranno is wounded pretty badly. it might be heading back for its lair, but it might not make it, and stop along the way. be careful and keep your eyes open for any sign that he might have--" connel was stopped by tom's sudden cry. "major! look!" connel turned and stared. a thousand yards ahead of them on the broken trail they saw the monstrous bulk of a tyrannosaurus emerge from the gloom. "by the rings of saturn," breathed connel, "that's the one!" the great beast spotted the three earthmen at the same instant. it raised itself on its hind legs, and shaking its massive head in anger, started to charge down its own trail toward them. "disperse!" cried connel. "take cover!" tom and roger darted to one side of the trail while connel dived for the other. taking cover behind a tree, the boys turned and pointed their rifles down the trail. they saw that the tyrannosaurus had already covered half the distance between them. "aim for the legs!" shouted connel, from his place of concealment. "don't try for a head shot! he's moving too fast! give it to him in the legs. try to cut him down!" roger and tom lay flat on the ground and trained their rifles on the approaching beast. "i'll take the right leg," said roger. "you take the left, tom." "on target!" replied tom, squinting through the sight. "ready!" connel's voice roared across the trail. only a hundred and fifty feet away the tyrannosaurus, hearing connel's voice, suddenly stopped. its head weaved back and forth as though it suspected a trap. "fire!" roared connel. tom and roger fired together, but at the same moment the monster lunged toward connel's position. both shots missed, the energy charges merely scorching its sides. [illustration] the tyrannosaurus roared with anger and turned toward the boys, head down and the claws of its short forelegs extended. at that moment connel opened fire, aiming for the monster's vulnerable neck. but it was well protected behind its shoulders and the spaceman only succeeded in drawing the beast's attention back to himself. at this instant tom and roger opened fire again, sending violent shock charges into the beast's hide. caught in the withering cross fire, it turned blindly on the boys and charged at them. the two cadets fired coolly, rapidly, unable to miss the great bulk. the air became acrid with the sharp odor of ionized air. maddened now beyond the limits of its endurance, hit at least twenty times and wild with pain, the great king of the venusian jungle bore down on the two cadets. [illustration] roger and tom saw that their fire was not going to stop the tyrannosaurus's charge. they were pouring a nearly steady stream of fire into the monster now, while on the other side of the trail connel was doing the same, raking the monstrous hulk from the forelegs to the hindquarters. the boys jumped back, tom still facing the beast and firing his rifle from the waist. but roger stumbled in the tangle of the underbrush and fell backward, dropping his rifle. the beast's head swooped low, jaws open. seeing roger's danger, tom jumped downward again without hesitation and fired point-blank at the beast's scaly head, only ten feet away. the monster roared in sudden agony and pulled back, jerking his head up against a thick branch of the tree overhead. the limb tore loose under the impact and fell crashing to the ground on top of roger. from behind, connel stepped closer to the tyrannosaurus and fired from a twenty-five-foot range. it wavered and stumbled back, obviously mortally wounded. from both sides tom and connel poured their weapons' power into the giant beast. blinded, near death, the monster wavered uncertainly. bellowing in fear and pain, it turned and lumbered back down the trail. connel and tom watched it until they were certain it could not attack them without warning again, and then they hurried to roger. the heavy tree limb had landed across his back, pinning him to the ground. "roger!" yelled tom. "roger, are you all right?" the blond-haired cadet didn't answer. grabbing a stout branch lying on the ground near by, connel and tom worked it beneath the limb which lay across roger's body and pried it up. "i've got it," said connel, holding the weight of the limb on his shoulder. "pull him out!" tom quickly pulled the unconscious cadet clear and laid him on the ground. dropping the limb, connel bent down to examine the boy. he ran his fingers along roger's spine, feeling the bones one by one through the skin-tight jungle suit. finally he straightened and shook his head. "i can't tell anything," he said. "we'll have to take him back to sinclair's right away." he stood up. "i'll make a stretcher for him. meanwhile, you go after that tyranno and finish him off. he's pretty far gone, but you never can tell." "aye, aye, sir," replied tom. he picked up his rifle and reloaded it, checking it carefully. he repeated the precaution with roger's blaster. "hurry up," urged connel, already reaching for a suitable branch. "time means everything now." "be right back, sir," replied tom. and as he walked away, he looked back at the unconscious form of his unit mate. he could not help reflecting on the bitter fact that already two members of the expedition were in danger, and they were no closer to their goal of finding the nationalists' hidden base. moving carefully, one of the two rifles slung over his shoulder, the other in his hand ready for use, tom followed the trail of the tyrannosaurus. two thousand yards farther along he saw a place where the monster had fallen and then struggled back to its feet to stagger on. rounding a turn in the trail, tom stopped abruptly. before him, not a hundred feet away, the beast lay sprawled on the ground. the area all around was devoid of any vegetation. it was trampled down to the black soil. tom deduced that it was the beast's lair. he pressed forward cautiously until he was a scant thirty feet away, and crouched between the roots of a huge tree where he would be protected should the monster be able to rise and fight again. sighting carefully on the base of the monster's neck, he squeezed the trigger of the shock rifle. a full energy charge hit the tyrannosaurus in its most vulnerable spot. it jerked under the sudden blast, involuntarily tried to rise to its feet, and then fell back, the ground shaking under the impact of its thirty tons. then, after one convulsive kick with its hind legs that uprooted a near-by tree, the beast stiffened and lay still. tom waited, watching the beast for signs of life. after five minutes he stepped forward cautiously, his rifle ready. he circled the tyrannosaurus slowly. the great bulk towered above him, and the cadet's eyes widened in amazement at the size of the fallen giant. stopping at its head, which was as wide as he was tall, tom looked at the jaws and teeth that had torn so many foes into bloody bits, and shook his head. he had come to the jungle to kill just such a beast. but with astro missing and roger unconscious the thrill of victory was somehow missing. he turned and headed back down the trail. connel had finished the litter by the time tom returned, and the officer was leaning over the blond-haired cadet, examining his back again. "we'd better move out right away, tom," said connel. "i still can't tell what's wrong. it may be serious, and then it may be nothing more than just shock. but we can't take a chance." tom nodded. "very well, sir." he adjusted his shoulder pack, slung both rifles over his shoulder, and started to pick up his end of the litter when suddenly the jungle silence was shattered by a deafening roar. connel jumped to his feet! "corbett!" he cried. "that's a rocket ship blasting off!" "it sure sounded like it, sir," replied tom. "and i'll stake my life it's not more than a half mile away!" the two men jumped out into the trail and scanned the sky. the unmistakable roar of a spaceship echoed through the jungle. the ship was accelerating, and the reverberations of the rocket exhaust rolled over the treetops. suddenly a flash of gleaming metal streaked across the sky and connel roared. "we've found it, corbett!" he slapped the cadet on the back. "the nationalists' base! we've found it!" tom nodded, a half-smile on his face. "we sure have, major." he hesitated a moment. "you know, sir, if roger is really badly hurt we might not make it back to sinclair's in time, so--" he stopped. "i know what you're thinking, tom," said the officer, "and i agree. but one of us has to go back with the information." "you go, sir," said tom. "i'll take roger and--" "you can't carry him alone--" "i can make it somehow," protested tom. connel shook his head. "i'll help you." "you mean, you're going to allow yourself to be captured too?" spluttered tom. "not quite." connel smiled. "but a good intelligence agent gets as much information as he can. and he gets correct information! i'll help you get him to the base and you can take him on in for medical attention. i'll get back to sinclair's later." tom tried to protest, but the burly spaceman had turned away. chapter "stand where you are!" tom and major connel stiffened and looked around, the unconscious form of roger stretched between them on the litter. from the jungle around them, green-clad nationalists suddenly emerged, brandishing their guns. "put roger down," muttered connel quietly. "don't try anything." "very well, sir," replied tom, and they lowered the litter to the ground gently. "raise your hands!" came the second command from a man who appeared directly in front of them. standing squarely in front of them, the little man said something in the venusian dialect and waited, but connel and tom remained silent. "i guess you don't speak the venusian tongue," he sneered. "so i'll have to use the disgusting language of earth!" he looked down at the unconscious form of roger. "what happened to him?" "he was injured in a fight with a tyrannosaurus," replied connel. "may i remind you that you and these men are holding guns on an officer of the solar guard. such a crime is punishable by two years on a prison asteroid!" "you'll be the one to go to prison, my stout friend!" the man laughed. "a little work in the shops will take some of that waistline off you!" "are you taking us prisoner?" "what do you think?" "i see." connel seemed to consider for a moment. "who are you?" he asked. "i am drifi, squad officer of the jungle patrol." "connel, senior officer, solar guard," acknowledged connel. "if we are being held prisoner, i wish to make a request." "prisoners don't make requests," said drifi, and then added suspiciously, "what is it?" "see that this man"--connel indicated roger--"is given medical attention at once." drifi eyed the major cautiously. "i make this request as one officer to another," said connel. "a point of honor between opponents." drifi's eyes gleamed visibly at the word _officer_, and tom almost grinned at connel's subtle flattery. "you--and you," snapped drifi at the green-clad men around them, "see that this man is taken to the medical center immediately!" two men jumped to pick up the litter. "thank you," said connel. "now will you be so kind as to tell me what this is all about?" "you'll find out soon enough. we have a special way of treating spies." "spies!" roared connel. the officer sounded so indignant that tom was almost fooled by his tone. "we're hunters! one of our party is lost here in the jungle. we were searching for him when we were attacked by a tyrannosaurus. during the fight, this man was injured. we're not spies!" drifi shrugged his shoulders, and barking a command to his men, turned into the jungle. connel and tom were forced to follow. they were taken to the giant teakwood that astro had seen, and tom and connel watched silently as the door opened, revealing the vacuum tube. the men crowded into the car and it dropped to the lower level. following the same twisting turns in the tunnels, tom and connel were brought to the armory and saw the men surrender their weapons and change their helmets and shoes. they tried desperately to get a look at the faces of the men around them while the headgear was being changed, but, as before, the men were careful to keep their faces averted. continuing down the tunnel, connel tried to speak to drifi again. "i would appreciate it greatly, sir," he said in his most formal military manner, "if you could give me any news about the other man of our party. have you seen him?" drifi did not answer. he marched stiffly ahead, not even bothering to look at connel. as they neared the exit, connel drifted imperceptibly closer to tom and whispered out of the side of his mouth, "keep your eyes open for ships. count as many as you can. how many are armed, their size, and so on. look for ammunition dumps. check radar and communications installations. get as much information as you can, in case only one of us can escape." "yes, sir," whispered tom. "do you think they might have astro?" "it's a good guess. we were following the tyrannosaurus's trail when they caught us, and i'm pretty sure astro had been doing the same thing." "stop that talking!" snapped drifi, suddenly whirling on them. "you," he shouted at one of the guards, "get up here and keep them apart!" a guard stepped quickly between tom and connel, and the conversation ended. at the exit connel and tom stopped involuntarily at the sight before them. astro had entered the canyon near twilight, but the two spacemen got a view of the nationalists' base under the full noon sun. connel gasped and muttered a space oath. tom turned halfway to his superior and was starting to speak when both were shoved rudely ahead. "keep moving," a guard growled. as they walked, their eyes flicked over the canyon, alert for details. tom counted the ships arrayed neatly on the spaceport some distance away, then counted others outside repair shops with men scurrying over them like so many ants. near the center of the canyon the bare trunk of a giant teakwood soared skyward, a gigantic communications tower. tom scanned the revolving antenna, and from its shape and size deduced the power and type of radar being used at the base. he admitted to himself that the nationalists had the latest and best. connel was busy too, noting buildings of identical design scattered around the canyon floor that were too small to be spaceship hangars or storage depots. he guessed that they were housings for vacuum-tube elevator shafts that led to underground caves. the canyon echoed with the splutter of arc welders, the slow banging of iron workers, the cough and hissing of jet sleds, the roar of activity that meant deadly danger to the solar alliance. connel noticed as he moved across the canyon floor that the workers were in good spirits. the morale of the rebels, thought the space officer, was good! too good! at a momentary halt in their march, when drifi stopped to speak with a sentry, tom and connel found an opportunity to speak again. "i've counted a dozen big converted freighters on the blast ramps, sir," whispered tom hurriedly. "three more being repaired, nearly finished, and there are about fifty smaller ships, all heavily armed." "that checks with my count, tom," replied connel hurriedly. "what do you make of the radar?" "at least as good as we have!" "i thought so, too! if a solar guard squadron tried to attack this base now, they'd be spotted and blasted out of space!" "what about stores, sir?" asked tom. "i didn't see anything like a supply depot." connel told him of the small buildings which he believed housed the elevator shafts to underground storerooms. "only one thing is missing!" he concluded. "what's that, sir?" "the nuclear chambers where they produce ammunition for their fleet." "it must be underground too, sir," said tom. "there isn't a building in the canyon that's made of concrete and steel." "right. either that, or it's back up there in the cliffs in one of those tunnels!" the officer snorted. "by the stars, corbett, this place is an atom bomb ready to go off in the lap of the solar alliance." "what are we going to do, sir?" asked tom. "so far, it looks as if it's going to be tough to get out again." "we'll have to wait for a break, tom," sighed connel. "i hope they've taken good care of roger," said the cadet in a low voice. "and i hope they've got astro." "watch it," warned connel. "drifi's coming back. remember, if we're separated and you do manage to escape, get back to sinclair's. contact commander walters and tell him everything that's happened. the code name for direct emergency contact through solar guard communications center in venusport is juggernaut!" "juggernaut!" repeated tom in a whisper. "very well, sir. but i sure hope we aren't separated." "well have to take what comes. _sh!_ here he comes." "all right, let's go," said the patrol leader. they continued across the canyon until they reached a four-story wooden structure without windows. drifi opened a small door and motioned them inside. "what is this?" connel demanded. "this is where you'll stay until lactu sends for you. right now, he is in conference with the division leaders." "divisions of what? ships? men?" asked connel offhandedly, trying not to show any more than idle curiosity. "you'll find out when the solar guard comes looking for a fight," said drifi. "now get in there!" tom and connel were shoved inside and the door closed behind them. it was pitch black, and they couldn't see an inch in front of their faces. but both tom and connel knew instantly that they were not alone. * * * * * "come on. gimme that wrench!" barked astro. the little man beside him handed up the wrench and leaned over the side of the engine casing to watch astro pull the nut tight. "now get over there and throw on the switch," snapped the big cadet. the little man scurried over to one side of the vast machine shop and flipped on the wall switch. there was an audible hum of power and then slowly the machine astro had just worked on began to speed up, soon revving up to ten thousand revolutions per minute. "is it fixed?" demanded the shop foreman, coming up beside astro. "yeah, she's fixed. but i don't work on another job until you give me another helper. that asteroid head you gave me doesn't know a--" astro stopped. something out beyond the double doors caught his eye. it was the sight of tom and connel entering the wooden building. "what's the matter with him?" demanded the foreman. "huh? what? oh--ah--well, he's o.k., i guess," astro stammered. "it's just that he's a little green, that's all." "well, get to work on that heater in chamber number one. it's burned a bearing. change it, and hurry up about it!" "sure--sure!" the big cadet grinned. "say, what's the matter with you?" asked the foreman, staring at him suspiciously. "i'm o.k.," replied astro quickly. the foreman continued to stare at astro as the big cadet turned to his assistant nonchalantly. "come on, genius, get that box of tools over to the heater!" he shouted. as he turned away, the foreman nodded to the green-clad guard, who followed closely behind astro, his hand on the butt of his paralo-ray gun. seeing the little assistant struggling with the heavy box, astro stopped and picked it out of his arms with one hand. grinning, he held it straight out and then slowly brought it around in a complete circle over his head, still holding it with only one hand. the guard's eyes widened behind his plastic helmet at this show of strength. "you're very strong, astro," he said, "but you are altogether too contemptuous of a fellow venusian." he nodded to the small assistant. "that's right," said astro. his grin hardened and he leaned forward slightly, balancing on the balls of his feet. "that goes for you and every other green space monkey in this place. drop that ray gun and i'll tie you up in a knot!" frightened, the guard pulled the paralo-ray gun out of its holster, but astro quickly stepped in and sank his fist deep into the guard's stomach. the man dropped like a stone. astro grinned and turned his back to walk toward the heater. he heard the other workers begin to chatter excitedly, but he didn't pay any attention to them. "astro! astro!" his little assistant ran up beside him. "you hit a division guard!" "i did, huh?" replied the big cadet in an innocent tone. "what kind of a division?" "don't you know? venus has been divided into areas called divisions. each division has a chief, and every venusian citizen in that division is under his personal jurisdiction." "uh-huh," said astro vaguely. he climbed up on to the machine and began taking off the outer casing. "the best men in the division are made the division chief's personal guards." "what happens to the second and third and fourth best men?" "well, they're given jobs here according to their knowledge and capacities." "what was your job before you came here?" "i was a field worker on my chief's plantation." "why did you join?" asked astro. "did you think it better to have venusians ruling venus, instead of belonging to the solar alliance?" "i didn't think about it at all," admitted the little man. "besides, i didn't join. i was recruited. my chief just put me on a ship and here i am." "well, what do you think of it, now that you're here?" asked astro. he began running his fingers along a few of the valves, apparently paying no attention to the guard who was just now staggering to his feet. the little assistant paused and considered astro's question. finally he replied weakly, "i don't know. it's all right, i guess. it's better here in the shops than in the caves where the others go." "others? what others?" "those that don't like it," replied the man. "they're sent to the caves." "what caves?" "up in the cliff. the tunnels--" he suddenly stopped when an angry shout echoed in the machine shop. the guard astro had hit rushed up. he turned to several workmen near by. "take this blabbering idiot to the caves!" he ordered angrily. astro slowly climbed down from the machine and faced the guard menacingly. as the guard's finger tightened on the trigger of his paralo-ray gun, the foreman suddenly rushed up and knocked the gun out of his hand. "you fool! you stiffen this man and we'll be held up in production for hours!" "so what!" sneered the guard. "lactu and your division chief will tell you so what!" barked the foreman. he turned to astro. "and as for you, if you try anything like that again, i'll--" "you won't do a thing," said astro casually. "i'm the best man you've got and you know it. lactu knows it too. so don't threaten me and keep these green space jerks away from me! i'll fix your machines, because i want to, not because you can make me!" the foreman eyed the big cadet curiously. "because you want to? you've changed your tune since you first came here." "maybe," said astro. "maybe i like what i see around here. it all depends." "well, make up your mind later," barked the foreman. "now get that machine fixed!" "sure," said astro simply, turning back to the machine and starting to whistle. strangely enough, he was happy. he was a prisoner, but he felt better than he had in days. just knowing that tom and major connel were right across the canyon gave him a surge of confidence. working over the machine quickly, surely, the big cadet began to formulate a plan. now was the time! they were together again. now was the time to escape! [illustration] chapter "put your back against the door, tom!" snapped connel. "quickly!" tom felt the powerful grip of the solar guard officer's fingers on his arm as he was pulled backward. he closed his eyes, then opened them, hoping to pierce the darkness, but he saw nothing. beside him, he could sense the tenseness in connel's body. there was a rustle of movement to the right of them. "careful, tom," cautioned connel. "to your right!" "i hear it, sir," said tom, turning toward the noise and bracing himself. "my name is connel," the burly spaceman suddenly spoke up in loud tones. "i'm an official in the solar guard! whoever you are, speak up! identify yourself." there was a moment of silence and then a voice spoke harshly in the darkness. "how do we know you're a solar guard officer? how do we know you're not a spy?" "do you have any kind of light?" asked connel. "yes, we have a light. but we are not going to give away our positions. we know how to move in here. you don't." "then how do you expect me to prove it?" "the burden of proof lies with you." "have you ever heard of me?" asked connel after a pause. "we know there is an officer in the solar guard named connel." "i am that officer," asserted connel. "i was sent into the jungle to find this base, but one of our party was injured and we were captured by a patrol." tom and connel heard voices whispering in the darkness and then a loud order. "lie down on the floor, both of you!" the two spacemen hesitated and then got down flat on their backs. "close your eyes and lie still. one of us here knows what connel looks like. i hope for your sake that you're telling the truth. if you're not--" the voice stopped but the threat was plain. "do as they say, tom," said connel. the cadet closed his eyes and he heard the shuffle of feet around them. suddenly there was a flash of light on his face but he kept his eyes tightly closed. the light moved away, but he could tell that it was still burning. "it's connel, i think," said a high-pitched voice directly over them. "are you sure?" "pretty sure. i met him once in atom city at a scientific meeting. he was making a speech with a professor sykes." "that's right," said connel, hearing the remark. "i was there." "do you remember meeting a man from venus wearing a long red robe?" asked the high-pitched voice. connel hesitated. "no," he said. "i only remember talking to three men. two were from venus and one was from mars. but neither of the two from venus wore a red robe. they wore purple--" "he's right," acknowledged the voice. "this is connel." "open your eyes," said the first voice. connel and tom opened their eyes and in the light of a small hand torch they saw two gaunt faces before them. the tallest of the men stuck out a bony hand. "my name is carson." they recognized his voice as the one that had spoken first. "and this is bill jensen," he added. "this is tom corbett, space cadet," said connel. he glanced around the room, and in the weak reflected light of the torch, saw almost fifty men crouched against the walls, each of them holding a crude weapon. "you'll understand our caution, major," said carson. "once before we had a plan to escape and a spy was sent in. as you see, we didn't escape." "neither did the spy," commented jensen grimly. "how long have you been here?" asked connel. "the oldest prisoner has been here for three years," replied carson. and as the other men began to gather around them, connel and tom saw that they were hardly more than walking skeletons. their cheeks were hollow, eyes sunk in their sockets, and they wore little more than rags. "and there's no way to escape?" asked tom. "three guards with blasters are stationed on the other side of that door," said carson. "there is no other entrance or exit. we tried a tunnel, but it caved in and after that they put in a wooden floor." he stamped on it. "teak. hard as steel. we couldn't cut through." "but why are you being held prisoners?" asked connel. "all of us joined the nationalists believing it was just a sort of good-neighbor club, where we could get together and exchange ideas for our own improvement. and when we found out what lactu and the division chiefs were really up to, we tried to quit. as you see, we couldn't. we knew too much." "blasted rebels!" muttered connel. "the solar guard will cool them off!" "i'm afraid it's too late," said carson. "they're preparing to strike now. i've been expecting it for some time. they have enough ships and arms to wipe out the entire solar guard garrison here on venus in one attack!" he shook his head. "after that, with solar guard ships and complete control of the planet--" he paused and sighed. "it will mean a long, bloody space war." tom and connel plied the prisoners with questions and soon began to get a complete picture of the scope of the nationalist movement. "lactu and his commanders should be sent to a prison asteroid for life," said carson, "for what they have done to former nationalists." "hundreds of unsuspecting venusians have been brought here under the guise of helping to free venus. but when they come and recognize what lactu really intends to do, they want to quit. but it's too late, and they're sent to the caves." tom looked at the gaunt man fearfully. there was something in his voice that sent a chill down his spine. "they are driven like cattle into the canyon walls," continued carson. "there they are forced to dig the huge underground vaults for storage dumps. they are beaten and whipped and starved." "why aren't you in the caves then?" asked connel. "some of us were," replied carson. "but each of us here owns land and it is necessary to keep us alive to send back directives to our bankers and foremen to give aid in one form or another to sharkey and the division chiefs." "i see," said connel. "if you were to die, then your property would be out of their reach." "exactly," said carson. "is sharkey the real leader of the movement?" "i don't believe so. but then, no one knows. that's the idea of the frosted helmets. if you don't know who a man is, you can liquidate him without conscience. he may be your closest friend, but you would never know it." "the blasted space crawlers!" growled connel. "well, they'll pay!" "you have a plan?" asked carson eagerly. "no," said connel slowly, "but at least we all have more of a chance now." "how?" asked carson. "the solar guard sent us here to find this base. if we don't return, or send some sort of message back within a reasonable time, this jungle will be swarming with guardsmen!" carson looked a little disappointed. "we shall see," he said. * * * * * there were three things on astro's mind as twilight darkened into night over the canyon. one, he had to find out why roger wasn't with tom and connel when they were taken into the building; two, he had to figure out a way to contact tom and connel; and finally, he had to escape himself, or help tom and connel escape. the big cadet finished the last job in the machine shop. it had taken very little time, but the big cadet had lingered over it, trying to find answers to his three problems. around him, the workers were leaving their benches and lathes, to be replaced by still others. a twelve-hour shift was being used by the nationalists in their frantic preparations for an attack on the venusport garrison of the solar guard. astro finally dropped the last wrench into the tool kit and straightened up. he stretched leisurely and glanced over at his guard. the man was still rubbing his stomach where astro had hit him, and he watched the big cadet with a murderous gleam in his eye. "all finished," said astro. "where and when do i eat?" "if i had my way, you wouldn't," sneered the guard. "either i knock off and eat," said astro confidently, "or i call the foreman and you talk to lactu." "feeling pretty big, aren't you?" growled the guard. "i haven't forgotten that punch in the stomach." "why, i hardly touched you," said astro in mock surprise. the guard glared at him, muttered an oath, and turned away. astro could see that he was boiling, almost out of his mind with helpless, frustrated anger, and suddenly the young cadet realized how he would be able to move about the base freely. grinning, he walked arrogantly in front of the guard and out of the shop into the dark venusian night. it was very warm and many of the workers had stripped down to their trousers. he passed the open doorway of a large tool shop and glanced inside. it was empty. the men had apparently gone to eat. he suddenly stopped, turned to the guard, and growled, "if you want to settle our differences now, we can step inside." the guard hesitated and glared at astro. "when i settle with you, big boy, you'll know about it." "what's the matter with right now?" asked astro. "yellow?" he turned and walked into the tool shop without looking back. the guard rushed after him. but the big cadet had carefully gauged the distance between them, and when he heard the rushing steps of the guard immediately behind him, he suddenly spun around, swinging a roundhouse right, catching the guard in the pit of the stomach again. the man stopped dead in his tracks. his eyes bulged and glazed, and he dropped to the floor like a stone. astro pulled the man to the corner of the empty shop, removed the plastic helmet, and then tied and gagged him. he pulled the helmet over his own head, nearly tearing one ear off, grabbed the gun and stepped back outside. he stood in front of the door and glanced up and down the area between the buildings. fifty feet away a group of men were working over a tube casing, but they didn't even look up. [illustration] staying in the shadows, he walked down the lane, moving carefully. the plastic helmet would keep him from being recognized right away, but to complete his plan, he needed one of the green uniforms of the guards. deciding it would be too risky to walk around the base, he crouched behind a huge crate of machinery at the head of the lane. sentries were constantly patrolling the area and he was certain that one would pass by soon. he only hoped the man would be big enough. fifteen minutes later the cadet heard footsteps in a slow measured tread. he peered around the edge of the crate and silently breathed a thankful prayer. it was a green-clad guard, and luckily, almost as big as he was. crouching in the shadow of the crate, astro tensed for the attack. it had to be quick and it had to be silent. he couldn't club the guard because of his helmet. he would have to get him around the throat to choke off any outcry. the slow steps came nearer and the big cadet raised himself on the balls of his feet, ready to spring. when the guard's shadow fell across him, astro leaped forward like a striking tiger. the guard didn't have a chance. astro's arm coiled around his throat and the cry of alarm that welled up within him died down in a choking gasp. within seconds he was unconscious and the big cadet had dragged him behind the crate. he stripped him of his uniform, bound and gagged him with his own rags, and crammed him into the crate. then, protected by the helmet and green uniform and carrying the blaster, the cadet stepped out confidently and strode down the lane. he went directly to the building he had seen tom and connel enter, and walked boldly up to the guard lounging in front of the door. "you're relieved," said astro in the venusian dialect. "they want you up in the caves." the cadet had no idea where the caves were, but he knew that they couldn't be near by and it would be some time before an alarm could be sounded. "the caves?" asked the guard. "who said so?" "the chief. he wants you to identify somebody." "me? identify someone? i don't understand." the guard was puzzled. "what section of the caves?" "the new section," said astro quickly, figuring there must be a new and an old section because he had heard a guard refer to the old one. "up by the jungle tunnels?" astro nodded. "must be more of those solar guardsmen," said the guard, relaxing. "we have two of them in here, another in the hospital, and one of them working in the machine shop." hospital! astro gulped. that would be roger. but he dared not ask too many questions. "what's going to happen to them?" he asked casually. "i don't know," said the guard, "but i wish we'd hurry up and attack venusport. i'm getting tired of living out here in the jungle." "me too," said astro. "well, you'd better get going." the guard nodded and started to walk away. suddenly astro stiffened. two other guards were rounding the corner of the building. he called to the departing guard quickly. "who's on duty with you tonight?" "maron and teril," replied the guard, and then strode off into the darkness. "so long," said astro, turning to face the two men walking toward him. he would have to get rid of them. "hello, maron, teril," he called casually. "everything quiet?" "yes," replied the shorter of the two, as they stopped in front of astro, "no trouble tonight." "well, there's trouble now!" growled astro. he brought up the blaster and cocked it. "make one wrong move, and you're dead little space birds! get over there and open that door!" stunned, both men turned to the door without a protest and astro took their guns. "open up!" he growled. the men slid the heavy bar back and pushed the door open. "get inside!" ordered astro. the two men stumbled inside. astro stepped to the door. "tom! major!" there was a cry of joy from the blackness within and astro recognized tom. "astro!" roared connel, rushing up. "what in the stars--?" "can't talk now," said astro. "here. take these blasters and then tie these two up. close the door, but leave it open a crack. we can talk while i stay outside and keep watch. if there isn't a guard out here, it might mean trouble." "right," said connel. he took the blasters, tossing one over to tom. "blast it, i never felt anything so good in my life!" he closed the door, leaving it open an inch. "why is roger in the hospital?" asked astro quickly. connel told him of the fight with the tyrannosaurus and roger's injury, ending with their capture by the patrol. "you know what's going on here, major?" asked astro. "i sure do," said connel. "and the sooner we blast them, the happier i'll be." "one of us will have to escape and get back to the _polaris_ to contact commander walters," said astro. "but they've got radar here as good as ours. that has to be put out of commission or they can blast any attacking fleet." "you're right," said connel grimly, and turned back into the room. "tom!" he called. "yes, sir," replied tom, coming up to the door. "since astro and i speak venusian--" said connel, and then added when tom gasped, "yes, i speak it fluently, but i kept it a secret. that means you're the one to go. astro and i will have more of a chance here. you escape and return to the _polaris_. contact commander walters. tell him everything that's happened. we'll give you thirty-six hours to make it. at exactly noon, day after tomorrow, we'll knock out their radar." "but how, sir?" asked tom. "never mind. we'll figure out something. just get back to the _polaris_ and tell the solar guard to attack at noon, day after tomorrow. if you don't and the fleet attacks earlier, or later, they'll be wiped out." "what about you, sir?" asked tom. "if you get back in time, we'll be all right. if not, then this is good-by. we'll hold out as long as we can, but that can't be forever. we're fighting smart, determined men, tom. and it's a fight to the finish. now hurry up and get into one of those uniforms." while tom turned back inside to put on the uniform, connel returned to astro outside the door. "think we can do it, astro?" "i don't see why not, sir," replied the big cadet. a moment later tom returned, dressed in one of the guard's green uniform and wearing a helmet. carson was with him, similarly clad. "astro better show me the way out of the base," said tom. "carson will stand guard until he gets back." "good idea," said connel. tom and carson slipped out the door. "all set, astro?" asked tom. "yeah, there's only one thing wrong," replied the big cadet. "what's the matter?" asked connel. "i don't know the way out of the base." [illustration] chapter "i can tell you the way out of the base." adjusting the plastic helmet over his head, carson stepped up close to astro and tom and spoke confidently. "it's very simple." "whew!" exclaimed tom. "i thought we'd have to go fumbling around." carson pointed through the darkness. "follow this lane straight down until you come to a large repair lock. there's a space freighter on the maintenance cradle outside. you can't miss it. turn left and follow a trail to the base of the canyon wall. there are jungle creepers and vines growing up the side and you can climb them easily." tom nodded and repeated the directions, then turned to astro. "maybe you'd better stay here, astro. i can make it alone." "no." connel spoke sharply from the doorway. "astro speaks venusian. if you're stopped, he can speak for you. you'd give yourself away." "very well, sir," said tom. "i guess that is best. ready to go, astro?" "ready," replied the big cadet. "good-by, major," said tom, reaching into the doorway to shake hands with connel. "i'll try my best." "it's a matter of life and death, tom." connel's voice was low and husky. "not our lives, or the lives of a few people, but the life and death of the solar alliance." "i understand, sir." tom turned to astro and the two cadets marched off quickly. they had no difficulty finding the giant ship on the cradles outside the repair shop and quickly turned toward the base of the cliff. twenty minutes later they had left the center of activity and were close to the canyon wall. they were congratulating themselves on their luck in not being stopped or questioned when suddenly they saw a guard ahead of them on sentry duty. "ill take care of him," whispered astro. "you hide here in the shadows, and when i whistle, you start climbing. then i'll cover you from there until you get to the top. got it?" "right!" the two cadets shook hands briefly. each knew that there was no need to speak of their feelings. "take care of roger," said tom. "we don't know how badly he's been injured." "i'll see to him," said astro. "watch me now and wait for my whistle." he turned away and then paused to call back softly, "spaceman's luck, tom." "same to you, astro," replied tom, and then crouched tensely in the shadows. the big cadet walked casually toward the sentry, who spotted him immediately and brought his gun up sharply, calling a challenge in the venusian tongue. "a friend," replied astro in the same dialect. the sentry lowered the gun slightly. "what are you doing out here?" he asked suspiciously. "just taking a walk," said astro. "looking for something." "what?" asked the sentry. "trying to make a connection." "a connection? what kind of connection?" "this kind!" said astro suddenly, chopping the side of his hand down on the sentry's neck, between the helmet and his uniform collar. the sentry fell to the ground like a poleaxed steer and lay still. astro grinned, then turned and went whistling off into the darkness. twenty feet away tom heard the signal and hurried to the base of the cliff. he grabbed a thick vine and pulled himself upward, hand over hand. halfway up he found a small ledge and stopped to rest. below him, he could see astro hurrying back toward the center of the base. the dim lights and the distant hum of activity assured him that so far his escape was unnoticed. he resumed his climb, and fifteen minutes later the curly-haired cadet stood on the canyon rim. after another short rest he turned and plunged into the jungle. tom knew that as long as he kept the planet of earth over his right shoulder, while keeping the distant star of regulus ahead of him, he was traveling in the right direction to sinclair's plantation. he stopped to check his bearings often, occasionally having to climb a tree to see over the top of the jungle. he ignored the threat of an attack by a jungle beast. for some reason it did not present the danger it had when he had first entered the jungle, seemingly years before. under pressure, the cadet had become skilled in jungle lore and moved with amazing speed. he kept the blaster ready to fire at the slightest movement, but fortunately during the first night he encountered nothing more dangerous than a few furry deerlike animals that scampered behind him off the trail. morning broke across the jungle in a sudden burst of sunlight. the air was clear and surprisingly cool, and tom felt that he could make the sinclair plantation by nightfall if he continued pushing full speed ahead. he stopped once for a quick meal of the last of the synthetics that he had stuffed in his pocket from his shoulder pack, and then continued in a steady, ground-eating pace through the jungle. late in the afternoon he began to recognize signs of recent trail blazing, and once he cut across the path astro had made. he wondered if the trail was one astro had cut while he was lost, or previously. he finally decided to go ahead on his own, since he had managed to come this far without the aid of any guide markers. as the darkening shadows of night began to spread over the jungle the young cadet began to worry. he had been allowed thirty-six hours to make it back to the _polaris_, communicate with commander walters, and tell him the position of the base, and tom had to allow time for the solar guard fleet to assemble and blast off, so that it would arrive at the base at exactly noon on the next day. he had to reach the sinclair plantation before nightfall or the fleet would never make it. suddenly to his left he heard a noisy crashing of underbrush and the roar of a large beast. tom hesitated. he could hide; he could fight; or he could break to his right and try to escape. the beast growled menacingly. it had picked up his scent. tom was sure it was a large beast on the prowl for food, and he decided that he could not waste time hiding, or risk being injured in a battle with the jungle prowler. he quickly broke to his right and raced through the jungle. behind him, the beast picked up the chase, the ground trembling with its approach. it began to gain on him. tom was suddenly conscious of having lost his bearings. he might be running away from the clearing! still he ran on, legs aching and lungs burning. he charged through the underbrush that threatened any moment to trip him. when he was almost at the point of complete exhaustion, and ready to turn and face the beast behind him, he saw something that renewed his spirit and sent new strength through his body. ahead through the vines and creepers, the slender nose of the _polaris_ was outlined against the twilight sky. disregarding the beast behind him, he plunged through the last few feet of jungle undergrowth and raced into the clearing around the sinclair home. behind him, the beast suddenly stopped growling, and when tom reached the air lock of the _polaris_, he saw that the beast had turned back, reluctant to come out of the protection of the jungle. tom pulled the air-lock port open and was about to step inside when he heard a harsh voice coming from the shadow of the port stabilizer. "just stop right where you are!" tom jerked around. rex sinclair stepped out of the shadow, a paralo-ray gun in his hand. "mr. sinclair!" cried tom, suddenly relieved. "boy, am i glad to see you!" he jumped to the ground. "don't you recognize me? cadet corbett!" [illustration: _"mr. sinclair!" cried tom, suddenly relieved_] "yes, i recognize you," snarled sinclair. "get away from that air lock or i'll blast you!" tom's face expressed the confusion he felt. "but, mr. sinclair, you're making a mistake. i've got to get aboard and warn--" he stopped. "what's the idea of holding a paralo ray on me?" "you're not warning anybody!" sinclair waved the gun menacingly. "now get over to the house and walk slowly with your hands in the air or i'll freeze you solid!" stunned by this sudden turn of events, tom turned away from the air lock. "so you're one of them, too," said tom. "no wonder we were caught in the jungle. you knew we were looking for the base." "never mind that," snapped sinclair. "get into the house and make it quick!" the young cadet walked slowly toward the house. he saw the charred remains of the burned outbuildings and nodded. "so it was all an act, eh? you had your buildings burned to throw us off the track. small price to pay to remain in the confidence of the solar guard." "shut up!" growled sinclair. "you might be able to shut me up, but it'll take a lot more than a bunch of rabble rousers to shut up the solar guard!" "we'll see," snapped sinclair. they reached the house and tom climbed the steps slowly, hoping the planter would come close enough for a sudden attack, but he was too careful. they moved into the living room and tom stopped in surprise. george hill and his wife were tied hand and foot to two straight-backed chairs. tom gasped. "george! mrs. hill!" george hill strained against his bonds and mumbled something through the gag in his mouth, but tom couldn't understand what he was trying to say. mrs. hill just looked at the planter with wide, frightened eyes. the cadet whirled around angrily. "why, you dirty little space rat!" sinclair didn't hesitate. he squeezed the trigger of his paralo-ray gun and tom stiffened into rigidity. the planter dropped the ray gun into a chair and leisurely began to tie the hands and feet of the immobilized cadet. "since you can hear me, corbett," said sinclair, "and since you are powerless to do anything about what i'm about to tell you, i'm going to give you a full explanation. i owe it to you. you've really worked for it." unable to move a muscle, tom nevertheless could hear the planter clearly. he mentally chided himself at his stupidity in allowing himself to be captured so easily. sinclair continued, "my original invitation to you and your friends, to use my home as a base for your hunting operations was sincere. i had no idea you were in any way connected with the investigation the solar guard was planning to make into the nationalist movement." tom was completely bound now, and the planter stepped back, picked up the ray gun, and flipping on the neutralizer, released the cadet from the effects of the ray charge. tom shuddered involuntarily, his nerves and muscles quivering as life suddenly flowed into them again. he twisted at the bonds on his wrists, and to his amazement found them slightly loose. he was sure he could work his hands free, but decided to wait for a better opportunity. he glanced at the clock on the wall near by and saw that it was nine in the evening. only fifteen hours before the solar guard must attack! sinclair sat down casually in a chair and faced the cadet. george and mrs. hill had stopped struggling and were watching their employer. "do you know anything about the bomb we found on the _polaris_ on our trip to venus?" asked tom. "i planned that little surprise myself, corbett," said sinclair. "unfortunately our agents on earth bungled it." "it seems to me that was pretty stupid. there would have been another man sent in major connel's place, and we were warned that something big was in the wind." "ah, quite so, corbett," said sinclair. "but the destruction of the _polaris_ would have caused no end of speculation. there would have been an investigation which would have temporarily removed the spotlight from the nationalist movement. that would have given us ample time to complete our preparations for the attack." "then you knew," said tom bitterly, "when major connel, roger, astro, and i left here that we were going to be captured." "well, that was one of the details of the final plan. personally, i hoped that you and your nosy major would meet a more dramatic and permanent end in the jungle." "what are you going to do with us?" asked tom, glancing at george and his wife. "and what do mr. and mrs. hill have to do with your scheme?" "unfortunately they discovered who i am, and of course had to be taken care of. as to your eventual disposition, i haven't had time to think about that." "well, you'd better start thinking," said tom. "and you'd better do a good job when you attack the solar guard. perhaps you don't know it, sinclair, but the whole pattern of the solar guard is one of defense. we do not invite attack, but are prepared for it. and we have the power to counterattack!" "when we get through with your solar guard, corbett," sneered sinclair, "there won't be anything left but smoldering heaps of junk and the dead bodies of stupid men!" the buzz of a teleceiver suddenly sounded in another part of the house and sinclair left the room quickly. when he was sure the planter was out of earshot, tom turned to george and whispered, "i think i can work my hands loose. where can i find a ray gun?" george began to mumble frantically but tom couldn't understand him, and the sound of returning footsteps silenced hill. the planter strode back into the room, hurriedly putting on the green uniform of the nationalists. "i've just received word of a speed-up in the preparations for our attack," he said. "soon, corbett--soon you will see what will happen to the solar guard!" [illustration] chapter "bring that dirty little space crawler in here!" captain strong had never seen commander walters so angry. the cords stood out in his neck and his face was red with fury as he paced up and down the solar guard office in venusport. "a spy," he roared. "a spy right in the heart of our organization!" he shook his head. the door opened and two burly solar guardsmen entered, saluted, and turned to flank the doorway, hands on their paralo-ray pistols. the private secretary of e. philips james shuffled in slowly, followed by two more guards. walters stepped up to the thin, intense young man and glared at him. "if i had my way, i'd send you out to the deepest part of space and leave you there!" the man bit his lip but said nothing. "where is your secret base?" demanded walters. "i don't know," replied the secretary nervously. "who told you to intercept this message from mercury?" walters tapped a paper on his desk. "who gave you your orders?" "i receive orders on an audioceiver in my home," answered the man, a slight quaver in his voice. "i have never seen my superior." "and you followed the nationalist movement blindly, doing whatever they told you, without question, is that it?" "yes." "yes, _sir_!" roared walters. "yes, sir," corrected the secretary. "who told you to forge those orders for priority seats on the _venus lark_?" "my superior," said the man. "how did you know major connel was coming here to investigate the nationalists?" "i read the decoded message sent to the solar delegate, mr. james." "who told you to send men to bomb the _polaris_?" "my superior," said the man. "your superior--your superior!" walters' voice was edged with contempt. "what else has your superior told you to do?" "a great many things," said the young man simply. walters studied the thin face and then turned to captain strong. "there's only one thing to do, steve. there's no telling how many of these rats are inside our organization. relieve every civilian in any position of trust and put in our own man. i'll make a public teleceiver broadcast in half an hour. i'm declaring martial law." "yes, sir," replied strong grimly. "if you hadn't been in the code room when this message from mercury came in, we would never have known the nationalists were trying to get the mercurians to join them in their attack on us until it was too late. it's the only break we've had, so far, learning that the mercurians are still decent, loyal solar citizens. i hate to think of what would have happened if they hadn't warned us." "he very nearly got away with it, sir," said strong. "if i hadn't heard the signal for a top-secret message come through on the coding machine, i never would have suspected him. he tried to hide it in his tunic. he also confessed to trying to kidnap the cadets when he heard me tell them that a cab would be waiting for them." "well, we know now," said walters. he turned to one of the guardsmen. "sergeant, i'm holding you personally responsible for this man." "aye, aye, sir," said the guard, stepping toward the secretary, but walters stopped him and addressed the man. "i'll give you one last chance to tell me where your base is and how many ships you have," he said. the secretary looked down at his feet and mumbled, "i don't know where the base is, and i don't know how many ships there are." "then what does this list we found in your tunic mean?" snapped strong. "these are the names of ships that have been lost in space." "i don't know. that list was sent to me over the audioceiver by my superior. i was to relay it to mercury should they accept our proposal to join forces against--" he stopped. "get him out of my sight!" barked walters. the guards closed in around the little man and he slowly shuffled out of the office. "i wonder how many more there are like him in our organization, steve?" the commander had turned to the window and was staring out blindly. "i don't know, sir," replied strong. "but i think we'd better be prepared for trouble." "agreed," said walters, turning to the solar guard captain. "what do you suggest?" "since we don't know how many ships they have, where their base is, or when they plan to attack, i suggest putting the venus squadrons in defense pattern a. meanwhile, call in three additional squadrons from mars, earth, and luna. that way, we can at least be assured of an even fight." "but we don't know if they'll attack here on venus. suppose we weaken earth's fleet and they attack there?" walters paused, looking troubled. then he sighed. "i guess you're right. put the plan into effect immediately. it's the only thing we can do." at exactly midnight every teleceiver on venus was suddenly blacked out for a moment and then came into focus again to reveal the grim features of commander walters. in homes, restaurants, theaters, arriving and departing space liners, in every public and private gathering place, the citizens of venus heard the announcement. "as commander in chief of the solar guard, i hereby place the entire planet of venus under martial law. all public laws are suspended until further notice. all public officials are hereby relieved of their authority. a ten p.m. until six a.m. curfew will go into effect immediately. anyone caught on the streets between these hours will be arrested. an attack is expected on the city of venusport, as well as other venusian cities, momentarily. follow established routine for such an occurrence. obey officers and enlisted men of the solar guard who are here on venus to protect you and your property. that is all!" * * * * * in the living room of sinclair's house tom waited impatiently for the sound of sinclair's yacht taking off before attempting to free himself from the rope on his wrists. but when a half-hour had passed with no sound from outside, he decided not to waste any more time. relaxing completely, the curly-haired cadet began working his wrists back and forth in the loop of rope. it was slow, painful work, and in no time the skin was rubbed raw. george and mrs. hill watched him, wide-eyed. they saw the skin of his wrists gradually turn pink, then red, as the cadet pulled and pushed at the rope. a half-hour had passed before he felt the rope slipping down over the widest part of his hand. slowly, so as not to lose the precious advantage, he pulled with all his strength, unmindful of the pain. he heard a sharp gasp from mrs. hill and then felt the rope become damp. his wrists were bleeding. but at the same time he felt the rope slipping over his hands. he gave a quick tug and the rope slipped off and dropped to the floor, a bloody tangle. he spun around and untied the foreman and his wife quickly, removing the gags from their mouths gently. "your wrists!" cried mrs. hill. "don't worry about them, ma'am," said tom. he looked at hill. "how long have you been tied up?" "just about an hour before you came," answered the foreman. "i found sinclair in front of a teleceiver in his room. it's in a secret panel and i didn't know it was there. i waited and heard him talking to someone in venusian. but he spotted me and pulled a ray gun." "do you know where he's gone?" asked tom. "no, but i sure wish i did!" said the burly foreman stoutly. "i have something to settle with him." "that'll have to wait until the solar guard is finished with him. come on!" tom started toward the door. "where are we going?" asked hill. "to the _polaris_! i've got to warn the solar guard of their plans. they're going to attack the venusport garrison and take over venus!" "by the stars!" gasped mrs. hill. "here i've been feeding that man all these years and didn't know i was contributing to a revolution!" tom was out of the door and running toward the _polaris_ before she had finished talking. george followed right behind him. as the cadet raced across the dark clearing one hope filled his mind--that the _polaris_ would be in the same condition in which they had left it. the port was still open where sinclair had caught him and he climbed inside the giant ship quickly. as soon as he entered, he snapped on the emergency lights and searched the ship carefully. after examining every compartment, and satisfied that there was no one aboard, he made his way back to the radar bridge. there, he saw immediately why sinclair had felt free to leave the ship. all radar and communications equipment had been completely smashed. the young cadet returned to the control deck and called down to george hill, waiting in the air lock. "george! get mrs. hill aboard quickly. we're blasting off!" "blasting off?" the foreman called back. "but i thought you were going to contact venusport!" "i can't," replied tom. "sinclair has smashed the communications and the radar. we'll have to take our information to venusport in person. i only hope he's left the rockets and atomic motors alone." "how about using the teleceiver in the house?" asked the foreman, climbing up to the control deck. "can't take a chance," said tom. "this is top secret. they might have the teleceiver tapped." "do you know how to handle this ship alone?" asked george, glancing around at the great control board. "i don't know anything about a ship this size." "i can handle it," said tom. "get mrs. hill aboard!" "here i am, tommy," said mrs. hill, climbing up into the control deck. "i have some bandages and salve for your wrists." "there's no time, mrs. hill," said tom. "we've got to--" "nonsense!" she interrupted firmly. "you just give me your hands. it'll take only a minute!" tom reluctantly held out his wrists and mrs. hill expertly applied the salve and bandaged the cadet's raw wrists. admittedly feeling better, tom turned to the master switch and found it missing. for a second panic seized him, until he remembered that major connel had hidden it. he felt under the pilot's chair and breathed easier, pulling out the vital instrument. "better get into acceleration chairs," said tom, strapping himself into his seat. "this might be a rough take-off." "watch yourself, tom," cautioned george. "we aren't afraid for ourselves, but you've got to get to venusport!" "if he's left the power deck alone, everything will be o.k." the young cadet stretched out a trembling hand and switched on the automatic firing control. then, crossing his fingers, he flipped on the main generator and breathed easier as the steady hum surged through the ship. he thought briefly of astro and roger, wishing his two unit mates were at their stations, and then switched on the power feed to the energizing pumps. there was a second's wait as the pressure began to build, and he watched the indicator over his head on the control panel carefully. when it had reached the proper level, he switched in the reactant feed, giving it full d- rate. he glanced at the astral chronometer over his head automatically and noted the time. "stand by!" he called. "blast off minus five--four--three--two--one --_zero_!" he threw the master switch and a roaring burst of power poured into the main tubes. the ship bucked slightly, raised itself from the ground slowly, and then suddenly shot upward. in less than a minute the _polaris_ had cleared atmosphere and tom turned on the artificial-gravity generators. he made a quick computation on the planetary calculator, fired the port steering rockets, and sent the ship in a long arching course for venusport. then, unstrapping himself, he turned to see how mr. and mrs. hill had taken the blast-off. the foreman and his wife were shaking their heads, still in acceleration shock, and tom helped them out of their cushions. "oh, my! do you boys have to go through this all the time?" mrs. hill asked. "it's a wonder to me how a human body can take it." "i feel pretty much the same way," muttered george. "a cup of hot tea will fix you up fine," tom reassured them, and leaving the ship on automatic control, he went into the small galley off the control deck and brewed three cups of tea. in a few moments the elderly couple felt better, and tom told them of the nationalists' base and connel's plan to wreck the radar station at noon the next day. both mr. and mrs. hill were shocked at the scope of the nationalists' plan. "well, they bit off more than they could chew when they decided to buck the solar guard," asserted tom. "when commander walters gets finished with them, sinclair and the rest won't have anything left but memories!" "tell me something, tom," said george, looking at the control panel thoughtfully. "have you figured out how you're going to land this ship alone and with no radar?" "i'll have to use the seat of my pants." tom smiled, and turned back to his seat. george and his wife looked at each other and quickly strapped themselves into their acceleration cushions. a few moments later tom began braking the ship with the nose rockets. it made a slow-climbing arc over the spaceport and then settled slowly, tailfirst. the stern teleceiver was out of order, and the young cadet had to rely entirely on "feel," to get the _polaris_ in safely. he had calculated his rate of fall, the gravity of venus, and the power of the rockets, and was dropping at a predetermined rate. at the critical point he increased power on the drive rockets, continuing to fall slowly until he felt the jarring bump of the directional fins touching the ground. "touchdown!" he roared triumphantly. he closed the master switch and turned to look at the smiling faces of mr. and mrs. hill. "that was fine, tom," said george, "but i don't want to do it again." "don't be a scaredy cat, george hill!" taunted mrs. hill. "tom handles this ship as if he were born on it." tom grinned. "we'd better hurry up. there must be something going on. there aren't any lights on here at the spaceport and all the administration buildings are dark." he hurried to the air lock and swung it open, jumping lightly to the ground. "halt!" growled a rough voice. "get your hands in the air and stay right where you are!" puzzled, tom did as he was told, announcing, "i'm space cadet tom corbett, _polaris_ unit. i request immediate transportation to commander walters. i have important information for him." he was momentarily blinded by the glare of a ring of lights around him, and when he finally could see, he found himself in the middle of a squad of solar guardsmen in battle dress. "what's the password?" asked a tough sergeant whose shock rifle was aimed right at tom's midsection. "juggernaut!" replied tom quietly. the word sent the sergeant into a frenzy of action. "peters, smith, get the jet car around here!" "what's up, sergeant?" asked tom. "why is everything so dark?" "martial law!" replied the guardsman. "curfew from ten until six." "whew!" gasped tom. "it looks as if i just made it!" as george and mrs. hill climbed out of the air lock, a jet car raced up and skidded to a stop in front of them. a moment later tom and the couple, accompanied by two of the guardsmen, were speeding through the dark and empty streets of venusport. the car was stopped once at a mid-town check point, and tom had to repeat the password. they picked up another jet car, full of guardsmen as escorts, and with the echo of the exhausts roaring in the empty avenues, they sped to central solar guard headquarters. tom had never seen so many enlisted guardsmen in one spot before except on a parade ground. and he noted with a tinge of excitement that each man was in battle dress. arriving at headquarters, they were whisked to the top floor of the building and ushered into commander walters' office. the commander smiled broadly as the young cadet stepped to the front of his desk and saluted smartly. "cadet corbett reporting, sir," he said. in a moment the office was filled with men; e. philips james, the solar delegate, captain strong, fleet commanders, and officers of the line. "make your report, cadet corbett," said walters. tom spoke quickly and precisely, giving full details on the location of the base, the approximate number of fighting ships, the armament of each, the location of supply dumps, and finally of major connel's plan to sabotage the radar at noon the following day. then, one by one, each official asked him questions pertinent to their tasks. fleet commanders asked about the ships' speed, size, armor; strong inquired about the stores and supporting lines of supply; walters asked for the names of all people connected with the movement. all of these questions tom answered as well as he could. "well, gentlemen," said walters, "thanks to corbett and the others on this mission, we have all the information we need to counter the nationalists. i propose to follow major connel's plan and attack the base at noon tomorrow. squadrons a and b will approach from the south and east at exactly noon. squadrons c, d, and e will come in from the north and west as a second wave at . the rest of the fleet will go in from above at . supporting squadrons are now on their way from earth and mars. blast off at six hundred hours. spaceman's luck!" "good work, tom," said strong, when the conference broke up. "yes, sir," said tom. "but i can't help worrying about roger and astro and major connel. what's going to happen to them, sir?" strong hesitated. "i don't know, tom. i really don't know." chapter "what time is it, astro?" "exactly eleven o'clock, sir." "all set?" "yes, sir." "you know what to do. move out!" astro and major connel were crouched behind a pile of fuel drums piled near the communications and radar building in the heart of the nationalists' base. above them, the gigantic tree used as the radar tower rose straight into the venusian morning sky. after helping tom to escape, astro had returned to the prison building for connel and was surprised to find the place surrounded by green-clad nationalist guards. rather than attempt to release connel then, astro hid and waited for the time set to wreck the radar communications of the enemy. during the second day, he had successfully eluded the many patrols looking for him. once from a hiding place he overheard one of the men mention connel. he took a daring chance and approached the patrol openly. speaking the venusian dialect, he learned that connel had escaped. that news sent the cadet on a different game of hide-and-seek as he prowled around the base searching for the solar guard officer. he had found him hiding near the radar tower, and they spent the night close to the communications building waiting for the time to strike. their plan was simple. astro would enter the building from the front, while connel would enter from the rear. astro would draw attention to himself, and while the guards inside the building were busy dealing with him, connel would come upon them from behind, knock them out of action, and then destroy the radar equipment. the two spacemen gave no thought to their own safety. they were concerned only with accomplishing their objective. having no way of knowing whether tom had made it back to venusport or whether their destruction of the communications center would be of any value, they nevertheless had to proceed on the assumption that tom had gotten through. astro crawled behind the drums and stopped twenty feet from the door to wait for several nationalist officers to leave. they finally got into a jet car and roared away. astro nodded to the major waiting to edge around to the rear and then headed for the main entrance. connel saw astro making his way to the front door and hurried around to complete his part of the mission. he waited exactly three minutes, gripped his shock rifle firmly, and then crossed over to the rear of the building and stepped inside. once inside, the major found it difficult to keep from bursting into laughter. the large ground-floor room was a frenzy of brawling, yelling, shouting nationalist guards trying to capture the giant cadet. astro was standing in the middle of the floor, swinging his great hamlike fists methodically, mowing down the guards like tenpins. two of them were on his back, trying to choke him, while others crowded in from all sides. but they could not bring the cadet down. astro saw connel, shook himself, and stood free. "stand back!" roared connel. "the first one of you green monkeys that makes a move will have his teeth knocked out! now line up over there against the wall--and i mean fast!" the sudden attack from the rear startled the nationalist guards, and they milled around in confusion. there was no confusion, however, when connel fired a blast over their heads. astro grabbed a paralo-ray gun and opened up on the guards. a second later the squad of nationalists were frozen in their tracks. once the men were no further danger to them, connel and astro locked the front and rear doors and then raced up the stairs that led to the main radar and communications rooms on the second floor. "you start at that end of the hall, i'll start here!" shouted connel. "smash everything you see!" "aye, aye, sir." astro waved his hand and charged down the hall. he exploded into a room, firing rapidly, and an electronics engineer froze in a startled pose in front of his worktable. the big cadet gleefully swung a heavy chair across the table of delicate electronic instruments, and smashed shelves of vital parts, pausing only long enough to see if he had left anything unbroken. he rushed out into the hall again. at the other end he heard connel in action in another room. astro grinned. it sounded as if the major was having a good time. "well," thought the big cadet, "i'm not having such a bad time myself!" the next room he invaded contained the radar-control panel, and the big cadet howled with glee as he smashed the butt of his paralo-ray gun into the delicate vacuum tubes, and ripped wires and circuits loose. suddenly he stopped, conscious of someone behind him. he spun around, finger starting to squeeze the trigger of his gun, and then caught himself just in time. major connel was leaning against the doorjamb, a wide grin on his face. "how're you doing?" he drawled. "not bad," said astro casually. "be a lot of work here, fixing these things, eh?" he grinned. "what time is it?" asked connel. astro looked at his watch. "twenty to twelve." "we'd better clear out of here and head for the jungle." astro hesitated. "you know, sir, i've been thinking." "if you have an idea, spill it," said the major. "how about releasing the prisoners, taking over a ship, and blasting off?" "and have the solar guard fleet blast us out of the skies? no, sir! come on, we've got to get moving!" "we could still try to release carson and the others," said astro stoutly. "we can try all right, but i don't think we'll be very successful." the two spacemen returned to the first floor of the building and headed for the rear door without so much as a look at the line of frozen guards along the wall. once outside, they skirted the edge of the building, staying close to the hedge, and then struck out boldly across the canyon floor toward the prison building. they were surprised to see that their smashing attack had gone unnoticed, and connel reasoned that the constant roar of activity in the canyon had covered the sounds of their raid. "we'll have to hurry, sir," said astro as they turned into the lane leading to the prison. "ten minutes to twelve." "it's no good, astro," said connel, suddenly pulling the cadet back and pointing to the building. "look at all the guards--at least a dozen of them." astro waited a second before saying grimly, "we could try, sir." "don't be a pigheaded idiot!" roared connel. "nothing will happen to those men now, and in five minutes there'll be so much confusion around here that we'll be able to walk over and open the door without firing a shot!" suddenly there was an explosive roar behind them and they spun around. on the opposite side of the canyon three rocket ships were hurtling spaceward. "they must have spotted our fleet coming in," said connel, a puzzled frown on his face. "but how could they?" asked astro. "we knocked out their radar!" connel slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. "by the stars, astro, we forgot about their monitoring spaceship above the tower! when we knocked out the main station here in the canyon, it took over and warned the base of the attack!" from all sides the canyon reverberated with the roaring blasts of the nationalist fleet blasting off. around them, the green-clad rebels were running to their defense posts. officers shouted frantic orders and workers dropped tools to pick up guns. the building that held carson and the other planters was suddenly left alone as the guards hurried to ships and battle stations. connel counted the number of ships blasting off and smiled. "they don't stand a chance! they're sending up only two heavy cruisers, four destroyers, and about twenty scouts. the solar guard fleet will blast them into space dust." astro jumped up and started to run. "hey, astro! where are you going?" shouted connel. "to find roger!" astro shouted in reply. "i'll meet you back here!" "right!" shouted connel, settling back into concealment. there was no need to release the planters in the guardhouse now. connel was satisfied that in a few moments the rebellion against the solar alliance would be defeated. he smiled in prospect of seeing a good fight. * * * * * "bandit at three o'clock--range twenty miles!" aboard the command ship of the first group of attacking solar guard squadrons, captain strong stood in the middle of the control deck and watched the outline of an approaching nationalist cruiser on the radar scanner. the voice of the range finder droned over the ship's intercom. "change course three degrees starboard, one degree down on ecliptic plane," ordered strong calmly. "aye, aye, sir," replied tom at the controls. "main battery, stand by to fire." strong watched the enemy ship closely. "aye, aye!" came the answer over the intercom. "approaching target!" called the range finder. "closing to fifty thousand yards--forty thousand--" "_pleiades_ and _regulus_," strong called the other two ships of his squadron. "cut in on port and starboard flanks. squadron b, stand by!" abrupt acknowledgment came over the audioceiver as the cruisers deployed for the attack. "twenty-three thousand yards, holding course." the range-finder's voice was a steady monotone. "stand by to fire!" snapped strong. "two bandits at nine o'clock on level plane of ecliptic!" came the warning from the radar bridge. before strong could issue an order countering the enemy move, the voice of the commander of the _pleiades_ came in over the audioceiver, "our meat, strong, you take care of the big baby!" on the scanner screen strong saw the trails of two space torpedoes erupt from the side of the _pleiades_, followed immediately by two more from its flanking ship, the _regulus_. the four missiles hurtled toward the two enemy destroyers, and a second later two brilliant flashes of light appeared on the scanner. direct hits on the two destroyers! "range--ten thousand feet," came the calm voice over the intercom, reminding strong of the enemy cruiser. "arm war heads!" snapped strong over the intercom, and, on the gun deck, men twirled the delicate fuses on the noses of the space torpedoes and stepped back. "on target!" called the range finder. "full salvo--fire!" called strong, and turned to tom quickly. "ninety-degree turn--five degrees up!" the solar guard cruiser quivered under the recoil of the salvo and then bucked under the sudden change of course to elude the torpedoes fired by the enemy a split second later. as the solar guard cruiser roared up in a long arc, eluding the enemy torpedoes, the nationalist ship maneuvered frantically to evade the salvo of war heads, but strong had fired a deadly pattern. in a few seconds the enemy ship was reduced to space junk. concentrating on the control panel, tom had been too busy maneuvering the giant ship to see the entire engagement, but he heard the loud exulting cries of the gun crew over the intercom. he looked up at strong, and the solar guard captain winked. "one down!" "here come squadrons c, d, and e, sir," said tom, indicating the radar. "right on time." he glanced at the astral chronometer over his head. "two minutes after twelve." "it doesn't look as if we'll need them, tom," said strong. "the nationalists got only two cruisers and four destroyers off the ground. we've already knocked out one of their cruisers and two destroyers, and squadron b is taking on the second cruiser and its destroyer escorts now!" he turned to the radar scanner and saw the white evenly spaced blips that represented squadron b enveloping the three enemy ships. the bulky converted cruiser was maneuvering frantically to get away. but there was no escape. in a perfectly co-ordinated action the solar guard ships fired their space torpedoes simultaneously. the three nationalist ships exploded in a deadly flash of fire. [illustration] "don't tell me that's all they've got!" exclaimed strong. "why, we still have the rest of the fleet coming in at !" suddenly tom froze in his seat. before him on the radar scanner he saw a new cluster of white blips, seemingly coming from nowhere. they were enemy ships, hurtling spaceward to meet the solar guard fleet. "captain strong! look! more of them. from secret ramps in the jungle!" "by the craters of luna!" roared the solar guard captain. "attention! attention! all ships--all ships!" he called into the fleet intercom. "this is strong aboard command ship. bandit formation closing fast. regroup! take tight defensive pattern!" as the solar guard squadrons deployed to meet this new attack, tom felt a chill run down his spine. the mass of ships blasting to meet them outnumbered them by almost three to one. and there were more ships blasting off from the secret ramps in the jungle! he had led the solar guard into a trap! [illustration] chapter "fire at will! fire at will!" aboard the command ship, captain strong roared the order to the rest of the fleet, and the individual ship commanders of the solar guard vessels broke formation and rocketed into the mass of nationalist ships, firing salvo after salvo of space torpedoes. but it was a losing battle. time and again, strong and tom saw solar guard ships hemmed in by three and four nationalists' vessels, then blasted into oblivion. strong had ordered tom to maneuver the command ship at will, seeking targets, yet still keeping from being a target, and the young cadet had guided the powerful ship through a series of maneuvers that had even surprised the experienced solar guard officer. "where's the rest of the fleet?" roared strong. "why aren't they here yet?" "i don't know, sir," replied tom, "but if they don't show up soon, there won't be much left to save!" "bandits dead ahead," droned the voice from the radar bridge calmly, "trying to envelop us." tom's hand shot out for the intercom to relay orders to the power deck and glanced quickly at the scanner. he almost cheered. "steve--i mean, captain strong. the rest of the fleet! it's coming in! attacking from top-side!" "by the craters of luna, you're right!" yelled the young solar guard captain, as he saw the white blips on the scanner screen. "o.k., it's time to stop running and fight!" the solar guard reinforcements swooped down on the fighting ships with dazzling speed, and the sky over the jungle belt of venus base was so thick with zooming, firing, maneuvering ships that observers on the ground couldn't tell one ship from another. for an hour the battle raged. during the seesawing back and forth it seemed as if all ships must be blasted into space junk. finally the superior maneuvering and over-all spacemanship of the solar guard vessels began to count heavily, and the nationalist ships began to plunge into the jungle or drift helplessly out into space. reforming, the solar guard ships encircled the enemy in a deadly englobement pattern, and wheeling in great co-ordinated arcs through space, sent combined volleys of torpedoes crashing into the enemy ships. the space battle was over, a complete solar guard victory. strong called to the remaining ships of his fleet, "take formation k. land and attack the enemy base according to prearranged order. the enemy fleet is destroyed, but we still have a big job to do." "what happens now, sir?" asked tom, relaxing for the first time since the space battle had begun. "we try to destroy their base and put an end to this rebellion as quickly as possible," replied strong coldly. one by one, the ships of the solar guard fleet landed around the rim of the canyon base. troop carriers, that had stood off while the space battle raged, disgorged hundreds of tough solar guard marines, each carrying shock rifles, paralo-ray pistols, and small narco grenades that would put an enemy to sleep in five seconds. a half-hour later, after the last nationalist ship had been blasted out of the skies, the rim of the canyon was alive with solar guardsmen waiting to go into action. many had comrades in the solar guard ships lost in the space fight and they were eager to avenge their friends. "how many ships did we lose, sir?" asked tom, after the squadron commanders had made their reports to captain strong. "forty," said strong grimly. "but the entire nationalist fleet was wiped out. thank the universe that their radar was knocked out, or we would have been completely wiped out." "thank astro and major connel for that, sir," said tom with the first smile on his face in days. "i knew none of those green jokers could stop those two!" "i've got to report to commander walters and the solar alliance, tom. you take a squad of men and move out. your job is to find astro, roger, and major connel." "thank you, sir!" said tom happily. * * * * * down in the canyon, major connel had waited as long as he dared for astro to return with news of roger. from his position, the tough spaceman could not tell how the gigantic space battle had ended until he saw the solar guard troop carriers land on the rim of the canyon above. satisfied, he decided that it was time to move. [illustration: _the solar guard troops landed on the rim of the canyon_] he stood up, careful not to expose himself, since fighting had broken out among the workers. every street, shop, and corner would bring dangers, and having stayed alive this far, connel wanted to reach the solar guard forces and continue the fight alongside his friends. astro was nowhere in sight when the major moved cautiously down a side alley, and he was beginning to think that astro had not escaped from the base with roger, when he saw the big cadet suddenly appear around a corner running as hard as he could. a few seconds later three green-clad nationalist guards rounded the corner and pounded after him. astro saw connel and ducked behind an overturned jet car, yelling, "i'm unarmed! nail them, major!" in a flash connel dropped to the pavement, and firing from a kneeling position, cut the nationalists down expertly. when the last of the enemy was frozen, connel rushed to astro's side. "what about roger?" he asked. "i couldn't reach him," replied astro. "the sick bay's in the main administration building and that's so well guarded it would take a full company to break in." connel nodded grimly. "well, the best thing for us to do is get more men and then tackle it." "yes, sir," said astro. "i think we'd better head for the canyon walls on the west. the marines are pouring down that side." "let's go," grunted the major, and led the way down the narrow lane. but when they reached the open area beyond the repair shops they saw that the nationalist guards had thrown up barriers in the streets and were preparing defenses against frontal assault. "maybe we'd better stay where we are, sir," the big cadet said, after scanning the nationalist defenses. "we'd never be able to get through now." "ummmh," mused connel. "you're right. maybe we can be of more use striking behind the lines." astro grinned. "that's just what i was thinking, sir." he pointed to a near-by barrier set up in the middle of the street. "we could pick off the men behind that--" "look out!" roared connel. behind them, five nationalist guards had suddenly appeared. but they were more surprised than astro and connel, and the big cadet took advantage of it by charging right into them. it was a short but vicious fight. there was no time to aim or fire a paralo-ray gun. it was a matter of bare knuckles and feet and knees and shoulders. one by one, the green-clad men were laid low, and finally, connel, out of breath, turned to grin at astro. "feel better," he gasped, "than i've felt in weeks!" astro grinned. one of connel's front teeth was missing. astro leaned against the wall and pointed to the canyon wall where the columns of solar guard marines were making their way down into the base under heavy covering fire from above. "won't be long now!" "come on," said connel. "they'll probably send scouts out ahead of those columns and we can make contact with them over there." he pointed toward a high tangle of barbed wire set up in the middle of the near-by street. astro nodded, and exchanging his broken ray gun for one belonging to a fallen nationalist, raced to the edge of the barrier with the major. they crouched and waited for the first contact by the marines. "they shouldn't be too long now," said connel. "no more than a minute, sir," said astro, pointing to a running figure darting from one protective position to another. "you, there!" shouted a familiar voice. "behind that barrier!" astro glanced at connel. "major, that sounds like--!" "come out with your hands in the air and nothing will happen to you!" the voice called again. "by the stars, you're right!" yelled connel. "it's corbett!" astro jumped up and yelled, "tom! tom! you big space-brained jerk! it's me, astro!" behind the corner of a house, tom peered cautiously around the edge and saw the big cadet scramble over the tangle of barbed wire with connel right behind him. tom held up his hand for the squad in back of him to hold their fire and stepped out to meet his friends. "major! astro!" the three spacemen pounded each other on the back while the patrol of marines watched, grinning. "where's roger?" asked tom finally. astro quickly told him of the heavily guarded administration building. "is he all right?" asked tom. "no one knows," replied connel. "we haven't been able to get any news of him at all." "i'm going after him," said tom, his jaw set. "no telling what they'll try to do with him when they see their goose is cooked." "i'll go with you," said astro. "no, you stay here with major connel," said tom. "i think it would be better if just one tried it, with the rest creating a diversion on the other side." "good idea," said connel. he turned to the rest of the patrol. "men, there's an injured space cadet in the sick bay of the main building. he's the third member of the _polaris_ unit and has contributed as much to victory in this battle as any of us. we've got to get him out of the hands of the nationalists before something happens to him. are you willing to try?" the marines agreed without hesitation. "all right," said connel, "here's what we'll do." quickly the major outlined a plan whereby tom would sneak through the lines of the nationalists around the administration building, while the rest of them created a diversionary move. it was a daring plan that would require split-second timing. when they were all agreed as to what they would do and the time of the operation was set, they moved off toward the administration building. the rebellion was over, defeated. yet the nationalist leaders were still alive. they were desperate men and roger was in their hands. his life meant more to tom corbett and astro than the smashing victory of the solar guard, and they were prepared to give their own lives to save his. [illustration] chapter "ready?" asked connel. "all set, sir," replied tom. "remember, we'll open up in exactly five minutes and we'll continue to attack for another seven minutes. that's all the time you have to get inside, find roger, and get out again." "i understand, sir," replied tom. "move out," said connel, "and spaceman's luck!" with a last quick glance at astro who gave him a reassuring nod, tom dropped to his knees and crawled out from behind their hidden position. dropping flat on his stomach, he inched forward toward the administration building. all around him ray guns and blasters were firing with regularity as the columns of marines advanced from all sides of the canyon toward the center, mopping up everything in front of them. the roof of the administration building seemed a solid sheet of fire as the nationalist leaders fought back desperately. he reached the side of the building that was windowless, and scrambled toward the back door without interference. there he saw five green-clad men, crouched behind sandbags, protecting the rear entrance. glancing at his watch he saw the sweeping hand tick off the last few seconds of his allotted time. at the exact instant it hit the five-minute mark, there was a sudden burst of activity at the front of the building. connel and the marine patrol had opened fire in a mock attack. the men guarding the rear left their barricade and raced into the building to meet the new assault. without a second's hesitation, tom jumped toward the door. he reached up, found it unlocked, and then with his ray gun ready, kicked the door open. he rushed in and dived to the floor, ray gun in his hand, ready to freeze anything or anyone in sight. the hall was empty. in the front, the firing continued and the halls of the building echoed loudly with the frantic commands of the defenders. gliding along the near wall, tom moved slowly forward. before him, a door was ajar and he eased toward it. on tiptoe the curly-haired cadet inched around the edge of the door and glanced inside. he saw a nationalist guard on his hands and knees loading empty shock rifles. tom quickly stepped inside and jammed his gun in the man's back. "freeze!" he said between his teeth. the trooper tensed, then relaxed, and slowly raised his hands. "where's the sick bay?" demanded tom. "on the second floor, at the end of the hall." "is that where you're keeping cadet manning?" demanded tom. "yes," replied the man. "he's--" tom fired before the trooper could finish. it was rough, but he knew he had to act swiftly if he was to help roger. the trooper was frozen in his kneeling position, and tom scooped up a loaded shock rifle before slipping back into the hall. it was still empty. the firing outside seemed to be increasing. he located the stairs, and after a quick but careful check, started up, heart pounding, guns ready. on the second floor he glanced up and down the hall, and jumped back into the stair well quickly. firing from an open window, three troopers were between him and the only door at the end of the hall. not sure if roger was in that room or not, tom had to make sure by looking. and the only way he could do that was to eliminate the men in his way. he dropped to one knee and took careful aim with the ray pistol. it would be tricky at such long range, but should the paralo-ray fail, the cadet was prepared to use the shock rifle. he fired, and for a breathless second waited for the effects of the ray on the troopers. then he saw the men go rigid and he smiled. three hundred feet with a ray pistol was very fancy shooting! he raced for the door. as he entered the room, he saw a figure stretched out on the floor. he stopped still, cold fear clutching at his heart. "roger!" he called. the blond-haired cadet didn't move. tom jumped to his unit mate's side and dropped to one knee beside him. it was dark in the room and he couldn't see very well, but there was no need for light when he felt roger's pulse. "frozen, by the stars!" he exclaimed. he stepped back, flipped the neutralizer switch on his ray gun, and fired a short burst. almost immediately roger groaned, blinked his eyes, and sat up. "roger! are you all right?" asked tom. "yeah--sure. i'm o.k.," mumbled his unit mate. "those dirty space rats. they didn't know what to do with me when the marines landed, so they froze me. they were scared to kill me. afraid of reprisals." "they sure used their heads that time," said tom with a grin. "how's your back?" "fine. i just wrenched it a little. it's better now. but never mind me. what's going on? where's astro and major connel? and how did you get here?" tom gave him a quick run-down on everything that had happened, concluding with, "major connel and astro, with a patrol of solar guard marines, are outside now drawing the nationalist fire. time's running out on us fast. think you can walk?" "spaceboy," replied roger, "to get out of this place i'd crawl on my hands and knees!" "then come on!" tom gave the shock rifle to his unit mate and stepped back into the hall. it was quiet. tom waved at roger to follow and slipped down the hall toward the stairs. outside, the marine patrol continued firing, never letting up for a second. the two boys reached the stairs and had started down when tom grabbed roger by the arm. "there's someone moving around down there!" they hugged the wall and held their breath. tom glanced at his watch. only forty-five seconds to go before the marines would stop firing and retire. they had to get out of the building! "we'll have to take a chance, roger," murmured tom. "we'll try to rush them and fight our way out." "don't bother!" said a harsh voice behind them. the two cadets spun around and looked back toward the second floor. standing at the top of the stairs, rex sinclair scowled down at them, ray guns in each hand, leveled at the two cadets. "by the craters of luna!" cried roger. "you!" "that's one of the things i forgot to tell you, roger," said tom wryly. "sinclair belongs to this outfit too!" "belongs!" roared roger. "look at that white uniform he's wearing! this yellow rat is lactu, the head of the whole nationalist movement!" tom gaped at the white-clad figure at the head of the stairs. "the leader!" he gasped. "quite right, corbett," replied sinclair quietly. "and if it hadn't been for three nosy cadets, i would have been the leader of the whole planet. but it's finished now. all that is left for me is escape. and you two are going to help me do just that!" roger suddenly dropped to one knee and leveled the blaster. but the nationalist leader was too quick. his paralo-ray crackled and roger was frozen solid. "why, you--!" roared tom. "drop your gun, corbett," warned sinclair, "and take that blaster away from him." "i'll get you, sinclair," said tom through clenched teeth, "and when i do--" "stop the talk and get busy!" snapped sinclair. tom took the blaster out of roger's paralyzed hands and dropped it on the floor. still holding one ray gun on tom, sinclair flipped on the neutralizer of the other gun and released roger again. "now get moving down those stairs!" ordered sinclair. "one more funny move out of either of you and i'll do more than just freeze you." "what are you going to do with us?" asked roger. "as i said, you are going to help me escape. this time the solar guard has won. but there are other planets, other people who need strong leadership and who like to put on uniforms and play soldier. people will always find reason to rebel against authority, and i will be there to channel their frustrations into my own plans. perhaps it will be mars. or ganymede. or even titan. another name, another plan, and once again the solar guard will have to fight me. only next time, i assure you, it is i who will win!" "there won't be any next time," growled roger. "you're washed up now. this base is swarming with marines. how do you think you're going to get out of here?" "you shall see, my friend. you shall see!" sinclair motioned them toward a door on the ground floor. "open it!" demanded sinclair. tom opened it and stepped inside. it was a cleaner's closet, crammed with old-fashioned mops and pails and dirty rags. sinclair pushed roger inside and was about to follow when several green-clad guards came running down the hall toward them. "lactu! lactu!" they shouted frantically. "they're pouring into the base! the solar guard--they've got us surrounded!" "keep fighting!" snapped sinclair. "don't surrender! inflict as much damage as possible!" "where--where are you going?" asked one of the men, looking at the closet speculatively. "never mind me!" barked sinclair. "do as i tell you. fight back!" "it looks like we're losing a leader," observed another of the men slowly. "you wouldn't be running out on us, would you, lactu?" sinclair fired three quick blasts from the ray guns, freezing the men solid, and then turned back to tom and roger. "stay in that closet and do as i tell you." inside the closet, sinclair kicked a pail out of the way and barked, "remove the loose plank in the floor and drop it on the floor." tom felt around until he found the loose board and lifted it up. "what's down there?" asked roger. "you'll see," said sinclair. "now step back, both of you!" tom and roger backed up and watched while sinclair bent over the hole in the floor. he felt around inside with one hand and appeared to turn something. suddenly the wall opposite the two cadets slid back to reveal a narrow flight of stairs leading down. sinclair motioned with his gun again. "get going, both of you." tom stepped forward, followed by roger, and they started down the stairs. at the bottom they found themselves in a narrow tunnel about four hundred feet underground. the floor of the tunnel slanted downward sharply. [illustration] "at the end of this tunnel," announced sinclair, "is a clearing and in that clearing is a spaceship. it is nearly three miles from the canyon. by the time the solar guard learns of my absence, we shall be lost in space." "we?" asked tom. "you're taking us with you?" "but of course," said sinclair. "how else would i assure myself that the solar guard will not harm me unless i take two of their most honored space cadets with me?" * * * * * "it's been fifteen minutes," announced connel, "and they haven't come out yet. there's only one thing to do. take that building and find out what's happened." the major was crouched behind a wrecked jet car, staring at the administration building. "i can get that marine captain over to our left to co-ordinate an attack with us, sir," suggested astro. "it's risky," said connel. "they still have a lot of men in there. but if we wait for another column to reach us, it might be too late. all right, astro, tell him we're attacking in ten minutes and ask him to give us all the help he can." "yes, sir," replied astro, and flopped to the ground to worm his way toward the head of the marine column on the left. it took the cadet nearly five minutes to cover the hundred yards between the two solar guard positions. several times the firing became so heavy that the cadet was forced to remain still on the ground while rifle and ray-gun fire crackled over his head. he made it finally, several marines coming out to help him over the top of the barrier. gasping for breath, the big cadet asked to see the commanding officer. a grimy, tired-looking officer turned and walked over to the cadet. "astro!" "captain strong!" "where's tom and roger and major connel?" demanded strong. astro told the captain of tom's attempt to save roger and that nothing had been heard from him since. "major connel wants us to attack together," astro continued. "he's jumping off in four minutes!" "right!" snapped strong. he turned to a young solar guard officer waiting respectfully near by. "you take them in, ferris. full frontal attack. don't use blasters unless you have to. take as many prisoners as possible." "very well, sir," replied the lieutenant. "i'll go back to the other position with cadet astro. start your attack as soon as you see major connel and his men go in." "got it, sir," said the lieutenant. strong and astro made their way back to connel's position quickly, and after a brief but hearty handclasp, the two officers began plotting the last assault against the nationalists' stronghold. while other marine columns were wiping up small groups of rebels fighting from disabled spaceships, repair shops, and other buildings, strong's column had been driving straight for the heart of the base. the administration building was the last barrier between them and complete victory over the rebels. strong and connel spoke briefly of tom and roger, neither wanting to voice his inner fears in front of astro. the nationalists previously had shown little regard for human life. now, with their backs to the wall, connel and strong knew that if tom and roger were captured, they might be used as hostages to ensure safe passage for some of the rebels. "let's go," said connel finally. "tom and roger will be expecting us." he forced himself to grin at astro, but the giant cadet turned and faced the building grimly. connel lifted his hand, took a last look up and down the line of waiting marines, then brought his hand down quickly. "over the top. spaceman's luck!" he shouted. the marines vaulted over the top of their defense position and charged madly toward the building, all guns blazing. the nationalists returned the fire, and for the first few seconds it seemed that the world had suddenly gone mad. strong found himself shouting, running, and firing in a red haze. astro was roaring at the top of his lungs, and connel just charged ahead blindly. marines began to drop on all sides, cut down by the withering fire. then, when it appeared that they would have to fall back, the main column, led by the solar guard lieutenant, broke through the last barricade and swarmed into the building. five minutes later the battle was over. the last remnants of the nationalists had been defeated and the green-clad troopers were herded into the streets like cattle. strong and connel, followed by astro, charged through the building like wild bulls searching for tom and roger. "no sign of them," said strong finally. "they must have slipped out somehow." "no!" roared connel. "they've been taken out of here as hostages. i'll bet my life on that. there must be a secret way out of here!" "come on," said strong. "let's find it." suddenly he stopped. "look! those three troopers outside that door! they're frozen! let's have a look there first!" they rushed over to the closet where the three nationalists had been frozen by sinclair. strong stopped and gasped. "by the craters of luna, it's sharkey!" "sharkey? who's that?" asked astro. "supposed to be the leader of the nationalists," said connel. strong quickly released sharkey from the paralo-ray effects and the man shuddered so violently from the reaction that astro had to grab him to keep him from falling down. "where are corbett and manning?" demanded connel. "lactu ... he took them both in there ... through a secret passageway." sharkey pointed to the closet with a trembling finger. strong jumped for the closet door and jerked it open. he saw the open wall and the stairs leading down. "come on! this way!" connel ran wildly into the closet, followed by astro. suddenly the big cadet stopped, turned, and fired point-blank at the figurehead of the nationalist rebellion. sharkey once again grew rigid. the two solar guard officers raced down the stairs into the tunnel and ran headlong through the darkness. time was precious now. the lives of tom and roger might be lost by a wasted second. [illustration] chapter "what's that noise, tom?" the two cadets were walking through the tunnel when they heard the strange booming roar. behind them, sinclair overheard roger's whispered question and laughed. "that is the sound of the slaves being fed their lunch. they do not know yet that there has been a battle and soon they'll be free!" "slaves!" gasped roger. "what kind of slaves?" "you shall see. keep going!" sinclair prodded the cadets with his ray gun. the tunnel had grown larger and the downward slant of the floor lessened as they pressed forward. the noise ahead of them grew louder and stronger and now they could distinguish occasional words above the din. "we must pass through the big vault where the slaves are working," said sinclair. "i would advise you to keep your mouths shut and do as i say!" neither tom nor roger answered, keeping their eyes straight ahead. the tunnel suddenly cut sharply to the right and they could see a blaze of light in front of them. the two boys stopped involuntarily, and then were nudged forward by sinclair's guns. before them was a huge cavern nearly a thousand yards high and three thousand yards across, illuminated by hundreds of torches. along one side of the cave a line of men were waiting to have battered tin plates filled from a huge pot at the head of the line. the men were in rags, and every one of them was hardly more than skin and bones. at strategic places around the cavern, nationalist guards kept their guns trained and ready to fire. they brought up their guns quickly as tom and roger entered, and then lowered them again as sinclair appeared. every eye turned to the nationalist leader as he marched across the floor of the cave, tom and roger walking before him. "you see," said sinclair, "these wretched fools thought my organization was a utopia until they learned that i was no better for them than the solar guard. unfortunately they learned too late and were sent here to dig underground pits for my spaceships and storage dumps." the small column of three marched across the floor of the cave toward another small tunnel on the opposite side. the slaves were absolutely still, and the guards smiled a greeting at their leader when he passed them. sinclair ignored them all. "beyond that tunnel," he continued, pointing to the small opening ahead of them, "there is a spaceship. we will board that ship and blast off. the three of us. where we will go, i haven't decided yet. perhaps a long trip into deep space until the solar guard has forgotten about you and me and the nationalists. then we will return, as i said before, to mars, or perhaps ganymede, and i will start all over again." "you're mad!" said tom through clenched teeth. "crazy as a space bug!" "we shall see, corbett. we shall see!" suddenly roger broke away and raced toward the mass of slaves. he shouted wildly, "get the guards! the nationalists are beaten! the base in the canyon has been destroyed! hurry! rebel!" the emaciated men milled around the cadet, all asking questions at once. sinclair signaled to the guards. "shoot him down!" four guards took careful aim. "roger! look out!" warned tom. roger whirled around in time to see the guards about to fire. he dived for a mound of dirt and hid behind it. the energy shock waves licked at the sand where he had stood a second before. roger got up and ran for better cover, the guards continuing to fire at him. then, around the cadet, the slave workers began to come alive. some hurled stones at the guards, others began climbing up the sides to the ledges where the guards stood. taking in the situation at a glance, sinclair shoved the ray gun in tom's back and snarled, "get going!" the young cadet had no alternative. he turned and marched hurriedly across the floor toward the small tunnel ahead of him. several slave workers tried to attack sinclair, but in their weakened condition, they were no match for the alert nationalist leader who froze them instantly with his paralo-ray gun. roger saw tom heading for the tunnel and made a sudden dash for sinclair. but the rebel leader heard the pounding of footsteps and turned to fire at roger as the cadet sailed through the air in a flying tackle. the jolting ray hit him squarely and he landed on the ground with a thud a few feet from sinclair, completely immobilized again. tom tried to seize the momentary advantage, but once again sinclair was quicker and forced tom back into the small opening of the tunnel. around them, the slave workers were being whipped into a frenzy after months of stored-up hatred for their guards. hundreds of them were climbing up toward the guards' posts, unmindful of the deadly fire pouring down on them. "get in there quick!" demanded sinclair. he shoved tom through the small opening, and after a quick glance over his shoulder at the surging slaves, followed the cadet. sinclair flashed a light ahead of them and tom saw the reflection of a bright surface. in the distance he recognized the outlines of a spaceship. "keep moving!" ordered sinclair. "you're my protection in getting out of here, and if i have to freeze you and carry you aboard, that's just what i'll do! now get moving!" tom walked to the air lock of the ship, sinclair right in back of him. the rebel leader pressed an outside button in the ship's stabilizer fin and the port swung open slowly. "get in!" growled sinclair. tom stepped into the ship and waited. sinclair climbed in in back of him and closed the air lock. "through that hatch," said sinclair, motioning toward the iron ladder, "and keep your hands in the air." "how do you think you're going to get through the solar guard fleet that's standing off above the canyon?" asked tom casually. "as soon as they see this ship blast off, you'll have a hundred atomic war heads blasting after you!" "not as long as i have you!" sneered sinclair. "you're my protection!" "you're wrong," said tom. "they'll open fire, anyway." "that's the chance i've got to take," said sinclair. "now climb up to the control deck and get on the audioceiver. you're going to tell them you're aboard!" tom walked ahead of the rebel leader toward the control deck, his mind racing. he knew that sinclair was going through with his plan and he also knew that the solar guard would not pay any attention to anything he had to say. if, after three warnings, sinclair didn't brake jets and bring his ship to a stop, he would be blasted out of space. he had to do something. "where's the communicator?" asked tom. "over by the radar scanner." sinclair eyed him suspiciously. "remember, corbett, your life depends on this as much as mine. if you don't convince them you're worth saving by letting me get away, you're a dead pigeon!" "you don't have to tell me," said tom. "i know when i'm licked." sinclair took his position in the pilot's chair, facing the control panel. for a brief moment his back was to tom as he bent over to turn on the generators. tom took a deep breath and lurched across the deck. but sinclair turned and saw him coming, and jerked up the ray gun. he wasn't able to get clear in time. tom's fingers circled the barrel of the gun as sinclair fired. the barrel grew hot as sinclair fired repeatedly. tom's fingers were beginning to blister under the intense heat, but he held on. with his other hand he reached up for the rebel's throat. sinclair grabbed his wrist and, locked together, they rolled around on the deck. [illustration: _sinclair wasn't able to get clear in time_] sinclair continued to fire the ray gun and tom's fingers were burning with pain from the heat. suddenly the cadet let go the gun, spun around, and jerked sinclair off balance. he swung his free hand as hard as he could into the rebel's stomach. sinclair doubled over and staggered back, dropping the gun. tom was on top of him like a shot, pounding straight, jolting rights and lefts to the man's head and stomach. but sinclair was tough. he twisted around, and quick as a cat, jumped to his feet. then, stepping in, he rapped a solid right to tom's jaw. the cadet reeled back, nearly falling to the deck. sinclair was in on top of him in a flash, pounding his head and body with vicious smashing blows. tom fell to the floor under the savagery of the rebel leader's attack. sinclair lifted his foot to kick the cadet as tom's fingers tightened around the barrel of the discarded ray gun. he brought it up sharply against the planter's shin and he staggered back in pain. tom took careful aim. he fired the gun. nothing happened. the gun was empty. sinclair rushed the cadet again, but tom stepped aside and swung the heavy gun with all his might. the metal smashed against sinclair's head and he sank to the deck, out cold. the last rebel of venus had been defeated. * * * * * "we found roger trying to keep the slaves away from the guards," said strong. "they were ready to tear them apart!" "can't say that i blame them," snorted connel. "some of those poor devils had been working in the caves for three years!" tom, roger, and astro sat sprawled in chairs in one of the offices of the nationalist headquarters listening to strong and major connel sum up the day's battle. the entire army of nationalist guards, division chiefs, and workers had been rounded up and put aboard the troop carriers to be taken to a prison asteroid. each individual rebel would be dealt with under special court proceedings to be established by solar alliance decree later. "there are still some things i don't understand," said astro. "how did they know you were going to investigate them in the first place?" "after our meeting with commander walters," said connel, "we sent a special coded message to the solar alliance delegate here on venus. his secretary intercepted the message, used stolen priorities for himself and two assistants to get to earth and back on an express space liner without being missed." "the secretary!" shouted tom. "that's the same fellow i saw in atom city when we were bumped out of our seats on the _venus lark_!" roger looked up at tom with a scowl. "a fine time to remember!" strong grinned. "we discovered him, tom, when that attempt was made to kidnap you by the cab driver. we also picked up the owner of the pawnshop." "the most amazing thing about this space joker, sinclair," commented connel, "was the way he had everyone fooled. i couldn't figure out how he was able to get around so quickly until i learned about those buildings." "what buildings?" asked tom, suddenly remembering how the rebel leader had disappeared so quickly and quietly when he was being held captive with mr. and mrs. hill in the sinclair home. "every one of the important members of the organization, the division chiefs, they called themselves, had a small shack on his property near the edge of the jungle. it was nothing more than a covering for a shaft that led to a tunnel, which, in turn, led to other tunnels under the jungle and eventually connected with one leading right into the base." "you mean," said astro, "they have underground tunnels all through the jungle?" "that's right," asserted connel. "if they had been prepared for our attack, they could have beaten the pants off us. not only in space, but on the ground. they could have run circles around us in those tunnels. i got suspicious when i found a hut at the sharkey place with no windows in it." "say, remember the time sinclair barked at me for going near that shack on his place when we first arrived?" said roger. connel grinned. "i'll bet you a plugged credit that if you had opened that door you'd have been frozen stiffer than a snowman on pluto." "well, anyhow," said tom happily, "we got what we came after." "what was that?" asked strong. "a tyrannosaurus!" replied the curly-haired cadet. "and that's another thing," said connel. "that tyrannosaurus we killed was a pet of the nationalists. i don't mean a household pet, but it fitted into their plans nicely. the tyranno's lair was near the top of that canyon. any time a stray hunter came along, the tyrannosaurus would scare him away. so when you three came along and said you were deliberately hunting for a tyrannosaurus, they got worried." "worried?" asked roger. "why?" "they thought you were actually hunting or investigating them, and when i started nosing around, they were sure. that's why sinclair ordered his boys to burn down his plantation--to try to throw us off the track. so you see," connel concluded, "your summer leave really started the ball rolling against them." "summer leave!" shouted roger. "what day is it?" "the twenty-ninth of august," replied strong. "oh, no!" moaned the blond-haired cadet. "we start back to class in three days!" "three days!" roared astro. "but--but it'll take three days to write up our reports of everything that's happened! we won't have any time for fun!" "fun!" snorted connel. "fun is for little boys. you three space-brained, rocket-headed idiots are spacemen!" [illustration] +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | transcriber's note | | | | one instance of "nearby" was changed to "near-by" to conform | | with the hyphenation in the rest of the text. | | | | the following typos were corrected: | | | | get "get | | it it | | get's gets | | surpressed suppressed | | order ordered | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ treachery in outer space the tom corbett space cadet stories by carey rockwell stand by for mars! danger in deep space on the trail of the space pirates the space pioneers the revolt on venus treachery in outer space sabotage in space the robot rocket [illustration] a tom corbett space cadet adventure treachery in outer space by carey rockwell willy ley _technical adviser_ grosset & dunlap publishers new york copyright, , by rockhill radio [transcriber's note: extensive research shows no evidence of required copyright renewal] all rights reserved illustrations by louis glanzman printed in the united states of america illustrations _frontispiece_ "great galaxy! there must be a hundred ships!" the giant venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube "yeow!" bawled astro. "thanks, sir. thanks a million!" tom got down on his knees and felt around for an opening "look!" strong cried. "it's brett's ship!" it would be a rough ride, but at least he was hidden slowly and cautiously he began climbing "proceed to quadrant five and seize the _space knight_!" treachery in outer space chapter i "all right, you blasted earthworms! _stand to!_" three frightened cadet candidates for space academy stiffened their backs and stood at rigid attention as astro faced them, a furious scowl on his rugged features. behind him, tom corbett and roger manning lounged on the dormitory bunks, watching their unit mate blast the freshman cadets and trying to keep from laughing. it wasn't long ago that they had gone through the terrifying experience of being hazed by stern upperclassmen and they knew how the three pink-cheeked boys in front of them felt. "so," bawled astro, "you want to blast off, do you?" neither of the three boys answered. "speak when you're spoken to, mister!" snapped roger at the boy in the middle. "answer the question!" barked tom, finding it difficult to maintain his role of stern disciplinarian. "y-y-yes, sir," finally came a mumbled reply. "what's your name? and don't say 'sir' to me!" roared astro. "coglin, sir," gulped the boy. "don't say 'sir'!" "yes, sir--er--i mean, o.k.," stuttered coglin. "and don't say o.k., either," roger chimed in. "yes ... all right ... fine." the boy's face was flushed with desperation. astro stepped forward, his chin jutting out. "for your information," he bawled, "the correct manner of address is 'very well.'" "very well," stammered coglin. astro shook his head and turned back to tom and roger. "have you ever seen a greater display of audacity and sheer gall?" he demanded. "the nerve of these three infants assuming that they could ever become space cadets!" tom and roger laughed, not at the three earthworms, but at astro's sudden eloquence. the giant venusian cadet usually limited his comments to a gruff yes or no, or at most, a garbled sentence full of a veteran spaceman's oaths. then, resuming his stern expression, roger faced the three boys. "sound off! quick!" he demanded. "coglin, john." "spears, albert." "duke, phineas." "you call those _names_?" roger snorted incredulously. "which of you ground crawlers is radar officer?" "i am, very well," replied spears. the blond-haired cadet stared at him in amazement. "very well, what?" he demanded. "you said that's the correct form of address," replied spears doggedly. roger turned to tom. "well, thump my rockets," he exclaimed, "i didn't know they made them that dumb any more!" "who is the command cadet?" asked tom, suppressing a grin. "i am, very well," replied duke. "how fast is fast?" "fast is as fast must be, without being either supersonic or turgid. fast is necessarily that amount of speed that will not be the most nor the least, yet will be sufficient unto the demands of fast ..." duke quoted directly from the _earthworm manual_, a book that was not prescribed learning in the academy, but woe unto the earthworm who did not know it by heart when questioned by a cadet upperclassman. "what is a blip on a radar, mister?" demanded roger of spears. "a blip is never a slip. it is constant with the eye of the beholder, and constant with the constant that is always--" spears faltered, his face flushing with embarrassment. "always what?" hounded roger. "i--i don't know," stammered the fledgling helplessly. "_you don't know?_" yelled roger. he looked at tom and astro, shaking his head. "he doesn't know." the two cadets frowned at the quivering boy and roger faced him again. "for your information, mr. spears," he said at his sarcastic best, "there are five words remaining in that sentence. and for each word, you will spend one hour cleaning this room. is that clear?" spears could only nod his head. "and for your further information," continued roger, "the remaining words are 'constantly alert to constant dangers'! does that help you, mister?" "yes, cadet manning," gulped spears. "you are very kind to give me this information. and it will be a great honor to clean your room." astro stepped forward to take his turn. he towered over the remaining cadet candidate and glowered at the thoroughly frightened boy. "so," he roared, "i guess this means you're going to handle the power deck in one of our space buckets, eh?" "yes, very well," came the quavering, high-pitched reply. "give me the correction of thrust when you are underway in a forward motion and you receive orders from the control deck for immediate reversal." coglin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and the words poured from his lips. "to go forward is to overtake space, and to go sternward is to retake space already overtaken. to correct thrust, i would figure in the beginning of my flight how much space i intended to take and how much i would retake, and since overtake and retake are both additional quotients that have not been divided, i will add them together and arrive at a correction." the cadet candidate stopped abruptly, gasping for breath. secretly disappointed at the accuracy of the reply, astro grunted and turned to tom and roger. "any questions before they blast off on their solo hop?" he growled. the two cadets shook their heads and roger quickly lined three chairs in a row. tom addressed the frightened boys solemnly. "this is your spaceship. the first chair is the command deck; second, radar deck; third, power deck. take your stations and stand by to blast off." spears, coglin, and duke jumped into the chairs and tom walked around them eying them coldly. "now, misters," he said, "you are to blast off, make a complete circle of the earth, and return to the academy spaceport for a touchdown. is that clearly understood?" "all clear," chorused the boys. "stand by to raise ship!" bawled tom. "power deck, check in!" snapped duke from the first chair. "radar deck, check in!" "just one moment, mister," interrupted roger. "when you issue an order over the intercom, i want to see you pick up that mike. i want to see all the motions. it's up to you, misters, to make us believe that you are blasting off!" "very well," replied duke with a nervous glance back at his unit mates. "carry on!" roared tom. then, as tom, roger, and astro sprawled on their bunks, grinning openly, the three earthworm cadets began their simulated flight through space. going through the movements of operating the complicated equipment of a spaceship, they pushed, pulled, jerked, snapped on imaginary switches, read unseen meters and gauges, and slammed around in their chairs to simulate acceleration reaction. the three cadets of the _polaris_ unit could no longer restrain themselves and broke into loud laughter at the antics of the aspirants. finally, when they had landed their imaginary ship again, the earthworms were pounded on the back heartily. "welcome to space academy!" said tom with a grin. "that was as smooth a ride as i've ever had." "yeah," agreed astro, pumping coglin's hand. "you handled those reactors and atomic motors like a regular old space buster!" "and that was real fine astrogation, spears," roger chimed in. "why, you laid out such a smooth course, you never left the ground!" the three earthworms relaxed, and while astro brewed hot cups of tea with synthetic pellets and water from the shower, tom and roger told them about the traditions and customs of the academy. tom began by telling them how important it was for each crew member to be able to depend on his unit mate. "you see," he said, "in space there isn't much time for individual heroics. too many things can happen too fast for it to be a one-man operation." "i'll say," piped up roger. "a couple of times i've been on the radar deck and seen a hunk of space junk coming down on us fast. so instead of following book procedure, relaying the dope to tom on the control deck to pass it on to astro, i'd just sing out to astro direct on the intercom, 'give me an upshot on the ecliptic!' or 'give me a starboard shot!' and astro would come through because he knows i always know what i'm talking about." "not always, hot-shot!" growled astro. "how about the time we went out to tara and snatched that hot copper asteroid out of alpha centauri's mouth? _you_ said the time on that reactor blast should be set at--" "is that so?" snapped roger. "listen, you big overgrown hunk of venusian space gas--" roger got no further. astro grabbed him by the shirt front, held him at arm's length, and began tickling him in the ribs. the three freshmen cadets backed out of the way, glancing fearfully at the giant venusian. astro's strength was awesome when seen for the first time. "lemme go, you blasted space ape!" bellowed roger, between fits of laughter. "say uncle, manning!" roared astro. "promise you won't call me names again, or by the stars, i'll tickle you until you shake yourself apart!" "all right--un-un-uncle!" managed roger. astro dropped his unit mate on a bunk like a rag doll and turned back to tom with a shrug of his shoulders. "he'll never learn, will he?" tom grinned at duke. "astro's like a big overgrown puppy." "someone ought to put him on a leash," growled roger, crawling out of the bunk and rubbing his ribs. "blast it, astro, the next time you want to show off, go play with an elephant and leave me alone." astro ignored him, turning to coglin. "as much as i gas roger," the giant cadet said seriously, "i'd rather ride a thrust bucket with him on the radar deck than commander walters. he's the best." tom smiled. "that's what i mean, duke. astro believes in roger, and roger believes in astro. i believe in them, and they in me. we've got to, or we wouldn't last long out there in space." the three fledgling spacemen were silent, watching and listening with awe and envy as the _polaris_ crew continued their indoctrination. they considered themselves lucky to have been drawn by these famous cadets for their hazing. the names of corbett, manning, and astro were becoming synonymous with great adventure in space. but, with all their hairbreadth escapes, the _polaris_ unit was still just learning its job. the boys were still working off demerits, arguing with instructors on theory, listening to endless study spools, learning the latest advanced methods of astrogation, communication, and reactor-unit operation. they were working toward the day when they would discard the vivid blue uniforms of the space cadet corps and don the magnificent black and gold of the solar guard. tom was aware of the eager expressions on the faces of the earthworms and he smiled to himself. it was not a smile of smugness or conceit, but rather of honest satisfaction. more than once he had shaken his head in wonder at being a space cadet. the odds against it were enormous. each year thousands of boys from all the major planets and the occupied satellites competed for entrance to the famed academy and pitifully few were accepted. and he was happy at having two unit mates like roger manning and astro to depend on when he was out in space, commanding one of the finest ships ever built, the powerful rocket cruiser _polaris_. as roger and astro continued to talk to the fledglings, tom sipped his tea and thought of his own first days at the academy. he remembered his fear and insecurity, and how hard he had fought to make what was then unit -d a success, the unit that eventually became the _polaris_ unit. and how each assignment had brought him closer to his dream of becoming an officer in the solar guard. he got up and walked to the window and looked out across the academy campus, over the green lawns and white buildings connected by the rolling slidewalks, to the gleaming crystal tower, the symbol of man's conquest of space. and beyond the tower building, tom saw a spaceship blasting off from the spaceport, her rockets bucking hard against thin air as she clawed her way spaceward. when it disappeared from sight, he followed it with his mind's eye and it became the _polaris_, his ship! he and roger and astro were blasting through the cold black void, their own personal domain! a loud burst of laughter behind him suddenly brought tom back to earth. he smiled to himself and shook his head, as though reluctant to leave his dream world. he glanced out of the window again, this time down at the quadrangle, and far below he recognized the squat, muscular figure of warrant officer mike mckenny drilling another group of newly arrived cadet candidates. tom saw the slidewalks begin to fill with boys and men in varicolored uniforms, all released from duty as the day drew to a close. tonight, astro, roger, and he would go to see the latest stereo, and tomorrow they would blast off in the _polaris_ for the weekly checkout of her equipment. he turned back to spears, coglin, and duke. roger was just finishing the story of their latest adventure (described in _the revolt on venus_). "the best part, of course, was the actual hunting of the tyrannosaurus," said astro. "a tyrannosaurus?" exploded spears, the youngest and most impressionable of the three earthworms. "you actually hunted for a dinosaur?" astro grinned. "that's right. they're extinct here on earth, but on venus we catch 'em and make pets out of the baby ones." "we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble, though," commented roger mockingly. "we have several officers here that would have served just as well. major 'blast-off' connel, for instance, the toughest, meanest old son of a hot rocket you have ever seen!" "_stand to!_" the six boys nearly broke their backs jumping to attention. a squat, muscular figure, wearing the black-and-gold uniform of a solar guard, strode heavily into their line of vision. roger gulped as major connel stopped in front of him. "still gassing, eh, manning?" he roared. "'evening, major, sir," mumbled roger, his face beet red. "we--er--ah--were just telling this earthworm unit about the academy, sir. some of its pitfalls." "some of the cadets are going to fall into a pit if they don't learn to keep their mouths shut!" snapped connel. he glared at tom, astro, and roger, then wheeled sharply to face the three quaking freshmen cadets. "you listen to anything they tell you and you'll wind up with a book full of demerits! what in blazes are you doing here, anyway? you're supposed to be at physical exams _right this minute!_" the three boys began to shake visibly, not knowing whether to break ranks and run or wait until ordered. "get out of here!" connel roared. "you've got thirty seconds to make it. and if you _don't_ make it, you'll go down on my bad-rocket list!" almost in one motion, the three cadet candidates saluted and charged through the door. when they had gone, connel turned to the _polaris_ cadets who were still at attention. "at ease!" he roared and then grinned. the boys came to rest and smiled back at him tentatively. they never knew what to expect from connel. "well, did you put them through their paces?" he asked as he jerked his thumb toward the door. "yes, sir!" said tom. "did they know their manual? or give you any lip when you started giving them hot rockets?" connel referred to the hazing that was allowed by the academy, only as another of the multitude of tests given to cadets. cadet candidates might possibly hide dangerous flaws from academy officials but never from boys near their own ages. "major," said astro, "those fellows came close to blasting off right here in these chairs. they really thought they were out in _space!_" "fine!" said connel. "glad to hear it. i've singled them out as my personal unit for instruction." "poor fellows," muttered roger under his breath. "what was that, manning?" bellowed connel. "i said lucky fellows, sir," replied roger innocently. connel glared at him. "i'll bet my last rocket that's what you said, manning." "yes, sir." connel turned to the door and then spun around quickly to catch roger grinning at astro. "'poor fellows,' wasn't it?" said connel with a grin. roger reddened and his unit mates laughed. "oh, yes," continued connel, "i almost forgot. report to commander walters on the double. you're getting special assignments. i recommended you for this job, so see that you behave yourselves. especially you, manning." he turned and disappeared through the doorway, leaving the three cadets staring at each other. "wowie!" yelled astro. "and i thought we were going to get chewed up for keeping those earthworms too long!" "same here," said roger. "wonder what the assignment is?" said tom, grabbing his tunic and racing for the door. neither roger nor astro answered as they followed on his heels. when they reached the slidestairs, a moving belt of plastic that spiraled upward to an overhead slidewalk bridge connecting the dormitory to the tower of galileo, tom's eyes were bright and shiny. "whatever it is," he said, "if major connel suggested us for it, you can bet your last reactor it'll be a rocket buster." as the boys stepped on the slidestairs that would take them to commander walters' office, each of them was very much aware that this was the first step to a new adventure in space. and though the three realized that they could expect danger, the special assignment meant that they were going to hit the high, wide, and deep again. and that was all they asked of life. to be in space, a spaceman's only real home! chapter "gentlemen, please!" commander walters, the commandant of space academy, stood behind his desk and slammed his fist down sharply on its plastic top. "i must insist that you control your tempers and refrain from these repeated outbursts," he growled. the angry voices that had filled the room began to subside, but walters did not continue his address. he stood, arms folded across his chest, glaring at the assembled group of men until, one by one, they stopped talking and shifted nervously in their chairs. when the room was finally still, the commander glanced significantly at captain steve strong, standing at the side of the desk, smiled grimly, and then resumed in a calm, conversational tone of voice. "i am quite aware that we have departed from standard operational procedure in this case," he said slowly. "heretofore, the solar guard has always granted interplanetary shipping contracts to private companies on the basis of sealed bids, the most reasonable bid winning the job. however, for the job of hauling titan crystal to earth, we have found that method unsatisfactory. therefore, we have devised this new plan to select the right company. and let me repeat"--walters leaned forward over his desk and spoke in a firm, decisive voice--"this decision was reached in a special executive session of the council of the solar alliance last night." a short, wiry man suddenly rose from his chair in the front row, his face clearly showing his displeasure. "all right, get on with it, walters!" he snapped, deliberately omitting the courtesy of addressing the commander by his title. "don't waste our time with that 'official' hogwash. it might work on your cadets and your tin soldiers, but not on us!" there was a murmur of agreement from the assembled group of men. present were some of the wealthiest and most powerful shipping magnates in the entire solar alliance--men who controlled vast fleets of commercial spaceships and whose actions and decisions carried a great deal of weight. each hoped to win the solar guard contract to transport titan crystal from the mines on the tiny satellite back to earth. combining steellike strength and durability with its great natural beauty, the crystal was replacing metal in all construction work and the demand was enormous. the shipping company that got the job would have a guaranteed income for years to come, and each of the men present was fighting with every weapon at his command to win the contract. heartened by the reaction of the men around him, the speaker pressed his advantage. "we've all hauled cargo for the solar guard before, and the sealed-bid system was perfectly satisfactory then!" he shouted. "why isn't it satisfactory now? what's all this nonsense about a space race?" again, the murmur filled the room and the men glared accusingly at walters. but the commander refused to knuckle down to any show of arrogance. he fixed a cold, stony eye on the short man. "mr. brett," he snapped in a biting voice, "you have been invited to this meeting as a guest, not by any right you think you have as the owner of a shipping company. a guest, i said, and i ask that you conduct yourself with that social obligation in mind!" before brett could reply, walters turned away from him and addressed the others calmly. "despite mr. brett's outburst, his question is a good one. and the answer is quite simple. the bids submitted by your companies were not satisfactory in this case because we believe that they were made in bad faith!" for once, there was silence in the room as the men stared at walters in shocked disbelief. "there are fourteen shipping companies represented in this room, some of them the most respected in the solar alliance," he continued, his voice edged with knifelike sarcasm. "i cannot find it in my conscience to accuse all of you of complicity in this affair, but nevertheless we are faced with one of the most startling coincidences i have ever seen." walters paused and looked around the room, measuring the effect of his words. satisfied, he went on grimly, "there isn't enough difference between the bids of each of you, not _five credits'_ worth of difference, to award the contract to any single company!" the men in the room gasped in amazement. "the bids were exactly alike. the only differences we found were in operational procedure. but the cost to the solar guard amounted to, in the end, exactly the same thing from each of you! the inference is clear, i believe," he added mockingly. "someone stole the minimum specifications and circulated them among you." in the shocked quiet that followed walters' statement, no one noticed tom, roger, and astro slip into the room. they finally caught the eye of captain strong, who acknowledged their presence with a slight nod, as they found seats in the rear of the room. "commander," a voice spoke up from the middle of the group, "may i make a statement?" "certainly, mr. barnard," agreed walters, and stepped back from his desk as a tall, slender man in his late thirties rose to address the men around him. the three space cadets stared at him with interest. they had heard of kit barnard. a former solar guard officer, he had resigned from the great military organization to go into private space-freight business. though a newcomer, with only a small outfit, he was well liked and respected by every man in the room. and everyone present knew that when he spoke, he would have something important to say, or at least advance a point that should be brought to light. "i have no doubt," said barnard in a slow, positive manner, "that the decision to substitute a space race between us as a means of awarding the contract was well considered by the solar council." he turned and shot brett a flinty look. "and under the circumstances, i, for one, accept their decision." he sat down abruptly. there were cries of: "hear! hear!" "righto!" "very good!" "no!" shouted brett, leaping to his feet. "by the craters of luna, it isn't right! i demand to know exactly who submitted the lowest bid!" walters sighed and shuffled through several papers on his desk. "you are within your rights, mr. brett," he said, eying the man speculatively. "it was you." [illustration] "then why in blue blazes didn't i get the contract?" screamed brett. "for several reasons," replied walters. "your contract offered us the lowest bid in terms of money, but specified very slow schedules. on the other hand, universal spaceways limited planned faster schedules, but at a higher cost. kit barnard outbid both of you in money and schedules, but he has only two ships, and we were doubtful of his ability to complete the contract should one of his ships crack up. the other companies offered, more or less, the same conditions. so you can understand our decision now, mr. brett." walters paused and glared at the man. "the solar council sat in a continuous forty-eight-hour session and considered _everyone_. the space race was finally decided on, and voted for by every member. schedules were the most vital point under consideration. but other points could not be ignored, and these could only be determined by actual performance. now, does that answer all your questions, mr. brett?" "no, it doesn't!" yelled brett. "oh, sit down, brett!" shouted a voice from the back of the room. "yes! sit down and shut up!" called another. "we're in this too, you know!" brett turned on them angrily, but finally sat down, scowling. in the rear of the room tom nudged roger. "boy! the commander sure knows how to lay it on the line when he wants to, doesn't he?" "i'll say!" replied roger. "that guy brett better watch out. both the commander and captain strong look as if they're ready to pitch him out on his ear." six feet tall, and looking crisp, sure, and confident in his black-and-gold uniform, captain steve strong stood near walters and scowled at brett. unit instructor for the _polaris_ crew and commander walters' executive officer, strong was not as adept as walters in masking his feelings, and his face clearly showed his annoyance at brett's outbursts. he had sat the full forty-eight hours with the council while they argued, not over costs, but in an effort to make sure that none of the companies would be slighted in their final decision. it made his blood boil to see someone like brett selfishly disregard these efforts at fairness. "that is all the information i can give you, gentlemen," said walters finally. "thank you for your kind attention"--he shot an ironic glance at brett--"and for your understanding of a difficult situation. now you must excuse me. captain strong, whom you all know, will fill in the details of the race." as walters left the room, strong stepped to the desk, faced the assembly, and spoke quickly. "gentlemen, perhaps some of you are acquainted with the present jet car race that takes place each year? the forerunner of that race was the indianapolis five-hundred-mile race of some few hundred years ago. we have adopted their rules for our own speed tests. time trials will be held with all interested companies contributing as many ships that they think can qualify, and the three ships that make the fastest time will be entered in the actual race. this way we can eliminate the weaker contenders and reduce the chance of accidents taking place millions of miles out in space. also, it will result in a faster time for the winner. now, the details of the race will be given to your chief pilots, crew chiefs, and power-deck officers at a special meeting in my office here in the tower building tomorrow. you will receive all information and regulations governing the minimum and maximum size of the ships entered, types of reactor units, and amount of ballast to be carried." "how many in the crew?" asked a man in the front. "two," replied steve, "or if the ship is mostly automatic, one. either can be used. the solar guard will monitor the race, sending along one of the heavy cruisers." strong glanced at his notes. "that is all, gentlemen. are there any questions?" there were no questions and the men began to file out of the room. strong was relieved to see brett was among the first to leave. he didn't trust himself to keep his temper with the man. as the room emptied, strong stood at the door and grabbed kit barnard by the sleeve. "hello, spaceman!" he cried. "long time, no see!" "hello, steve," replied kit, with a slow, warm smile. "say! is that the way to greet an old friend after four, or is it five years?" "five," replied kit. "you look worried, fellow," said strong. "i am. this race business leaves me holding the bag." "how's that?" "well, i made a bid on the strength of a new reactor unit i'm trying to develop," explained kit. "if i had gotten the contract, i could have made a loan from the universal bank and completed my work easily. but now--" kit stopped and shook his head slowly. "what is this reactor?" strong asked. "something new?" "yes. one quarter the size of present standard reactors and less than half the weight." kit's eyes began to glow with enthusiasm as he spoke. "it would give me extra space in my ships and be economical enough on fuel for me to be able to compete with the larger outfits and their bigger ships. now, all i've got is a reactor that hasn't been tested properly, that i'm not even sure will work on a long haul and a hot race." "is there any way you can soup up one of your present reactors to make this run?" asked strong. "i suppose so," added kit. "i'll give the other fellows a run for their money all right. but it'll take every credit i have. and if i don't win the race, i'm finished. washed up." "excuse me, captain strong," said tom corbett, coming to attention. "major connel ordered us to report here for special assignment." "oh, yes," said strong, turning to tom, roger, and astro with a smile. "meet kit barnard. kit--tom corbett, roger manning, and astro, the _polaris_ unit. my unit," he added proudly. the boys saluted respectfully, and barnard smiled and shook hands with each of them. "you've heard about the race now," said strong to tom. "yes, sir," replied the young cadet. "it sounds exciting." "it will be, with spacemen like kit barnard, charley brett, and the other men of the big outfits competing. you're going to work with me on the time trials, and later the _polaris_ will be the ship that monitors the race. but first, you three will be inspectors." "of what, sir?" asked roger. "you'll see that all regulations are observed--that no one gets the jump on anyone else. these men will be souping up their reactors until those ships will be nothing but 'go,' and it's your job to see that they use only standard equipment." "we're going to be real popular when we tell a spaceman he can't use a unit he's rigged up specially," commented astro with a grin. tom laughed. "we'll be known as the cadets you love to hate!" "especially when you run up against charley brett," said kit. the cadets looked at the veteran spaceman inquiringly, but he was not smiling, and they suddenly felt a strange chill of apprehension. [illustration] chapter "it's about time you got here!" charley brett glared angrily at his chief pilot, quent miles, as he sauntered into the office and flopped into a chair. "i had a heavy date last night. i overslept," the spaceman replied, yawning loudly. "we're late for strong's meeting over at the academy," brett snapped. "get up! we've got to leave right away." quent miles looked at the other man, his black eyes gleaming coldly. "i'll get up when i'm ready," he said slowly. the two men glared at each other for a moment, and finally brett lowered his eyes. miles grinned and yawned again. "come on," said brett in a less demanding tone. "let's go. no use getting strong down on us before we even get started." "steve strong doesn't scare me," replied miles. "all right! he doesn't scare you. he doesn't scare me, either," said brett irritably. "now that we both know that neither of us is scared, let's get going." quent smiled again and rose slowly. "you know something, charley?" he said in a deceptively mild voice. "one of these days you're going to get officious with the wrong spaceman, one that isn't as tolerant as i am, and you're going to be pounded into space dust." quent miles stood in front of brett's desk and stretched like a languid cat. brett noted the powerful hands and arms and the depth of the shoulders and chest, all emphasized by the tight-fitting clothes the spaceman affected. the man was dark and swarthy, and dressed all in black. brett had often imagined that if the devil ever took human form it would look like quent miles. he shivered uncontrollably and waited. finally miles turned to him, a mocking smile on his face. "well, charley? what are we waiting for?" a few moments later they were speeding through the broad streets of atom city in a jet cab on the way to the atom city spaceport. "what's this all about?" demanded quent, settling back in his seat. "why the rush call?" "i didn't get the contract to haul the crystal," replied brett grimly. "all the bids were so close the solar council decided to have a space race out to titan to pick the outfit that would get the job." quent turned toward him, surprised. "but i thought you had all that sewed up tight!" he exclaimed. "i thought after you got your hands on the--" "shut up!" interrupted brett. "the details on the specifications leaked out. now the only way i can get the contract is to win the race." "and i'm the guy to do it?" asked quent with a smile. "that's what you're here for. if we don't win this race, we're finished. washed up!" "who else is in the race?" "every other major space-freight outfit in the system," replied brett grimly. "and kit barnard." "has barnard got that new reactor of his working yet?" "i don't think so. but i have no way of telling." "if he has, you're not going to win this race," said quent, shaking his head. "nor is anyone else." "you are here for one reason," said brett pointedly. "i know." quent grinned. "to win a race." "right." quent laughed. "with those heaps you've fooled people into thinking are spaceships? don't make me laugh." "there are going to be time trials before the race," said brett. "the three fastest ships are going to make the final run. i'm not worried about the race itself. i've got a plan that will assure us of winning. it's the time trials that's got me bothered." "leave that to me," said quent. the jet cab pulled up to the main gate of the spaceport and the two men got out. far across the field, a slender, needle-nosed ship stood poised on her stabilizer fins ready for flight. she was black except for a red band painted on the hull across the forward section and around the few viewports. it gave her the appearance of a huge laughing insect. quent eyed the vessel with a practiced eye. "i'll have to soup her up," he commented. "she wouldn't win a foot race now." "don't depend too heavily on your speed," said brett. "i would just as soon win by default. after all," he continued, looking at miles with calculating eyes, "serious accidents could delay the other ships." "sure. i know what you mean," replied the spaceman. "good!" brett turned away abruptly and headed for the ship. quent following him. in a little while the white-hot exhaust flare from the rocket tubes of the sleek ship splattered the concrete launching apron and it lifted free of the ground. like an evil, predatory bug, the ship blasted toward the academy spaceport. * * * * * "well, blast my jets!" astro gasped, stopping in his tracks and pointing. tom and roger looked out over the quadrangle toward the academy spaceport where ship after ship, braking jets blasting, sought the safety of the ground. "great galaxy," exclaimed tom, his eyes bulging, "there must be a hundred ships!" "at least," commented roger. "but they can't all be here for the trials," said astro. "why not?" asked roger. "this is a very important race. who knows what ship might win? it pays the company to enter every ship they have." [illustration: _"great galaxy! there must be a hundred ships!"_] "roger's right, astro," said tom. "these fellows are playing for big stakes. though i don't think there'll be more than thirty or forty ships in the actual speed trials. see those big-bellied jobs? they're repair ships." "i hadn't thought about that," acknowledged the big venusian cadet. "they'll probably be jazzing up those sleek babies and that takes a lot of repair and work." "come on," said tom. "we've got to get over to the meeting. captain strong said he wanted us to be there." the three cadets turned back toward the nearest slidewalk and hopped on. none of them noticed the black ship with the red band around its bow which suddenly appeared over the field, rockets blasting loudly as it began to drop expertly to the ground. from early morning the skies over the academy had been vibrating to the thunderous exhausts of the incoming fleet of ships. painted with company colors and insignia, the ships landed in allotted space on the field, and almost immediately, mechanics, crew chiefs, and specialists of all kinds swarmed over the space vessels preparing them for the severest tests they would ever undergo. the ships that actually were to make the trial runs were stripped of every spare pound of weight, while their reactors were taken apart and specially designed compression heads were put on the atomic motors. the entire corps of space cadets had been given a special three-day holiday to see the trials, and the academy buildings were decorated with multicolored flags and pennants. a festive atmosphere surrounded the vast solar guard installation. but in his office in the tower of galileo, captain strong paced the floor, a worried frown on his face. he stepped around his desk and picked up a paper to re-read it for the tenth time. he shook his head and flipped open the key of his desk intercom, connecting him with the enlisted spaceman in the next office. "find kit barnard, spaceman!" strong called. "and give him an oral message. _personal._ tell him i said he can't use his reactor unit unless he changes it to more standard operational design." strong paused and glanced at the paper again. "as it stands now, his reactor will not be approved for the trials," he continued. "tell him he has until midnight tonight to submit new specifications." as strong closed the intercom key abruptly, the three members of the _polaris_ unit stepped into his office and saluted smartly. strong looked up. "hello, boys. sit down." he waved them to nearby chairs and turned back to his desk. the drawn expression of their unit commander did not go unnoticed. "is there something wrong, sir?" asked tom tentatively. "nothing much," replied strong wearily. he indicated the sheaf of papers in front of him. "these are reactor-unit specifications submitted by the pilots and crew chiefs of the ships to be flown in the time trials. i've just had to reject kit barnard's specifications." "what was the matter?" asked astro. "not enough safety allowance. he's running too close to the danger point in feeding reactant to the chambers, using d- rate of feed and d- is standard." "what about the other ships, sir?" asked tom. "do they all have safety factors?" strong shrugged his shoulders. "they all specify standard reaction rates without actually using figures," he said. "but i'm certain that their feeders are being tuned up for maximum output. that's where your job is going to come in. you've got to inspect the ships to make sure they're safe." "then kit barnard put down his specifications, _knowing_ that there was a chance they wouldn't pass," tom remarked. strong nodded. "he's an honest man." the door opened and several men stepped inside. they were dressed in the mode of merchant space officers, wearing high-peaked hats, trim jackets, and trousers of a different color. strong stood up to greet them. "welcome, gentlemen. please be seated. we will begin the meeting as soon as all the pilots are here." roger nudged astro and whispered, "what's the big deal about a d- rate and a d- rate? why is that so important?" "it has to do with the pumps," replied the power-deck cadet. "they cool the reactant fuel to keep it from getting too hot and wildcatting. at a d- rate the reactant is hot enough to create power for normal flight. feeding at a d- rate is fine too, but you need pumps to cool the motors, and pumps that could do the job would be too big." "kit's problem," commented tom, "is not so much building the reactor, but a cooling system to keep it under control." "will that make a big difference in who wins the race?" asked roger. "with that ship of kit's," said astro, shaking his head, "i doubt if he'll be able to come even close to the top speeds in the trials unless he can use the new reactor." the room had filled up now and strong rapped on the desk for attention. he stared at the faces of the men before him, men who had spent their lives in space. they were the finest pilots and crew chiefs in the solar system. they sat quietly and attentively as strong gave them the details of the greatest race of spaceships in over a hundred years. after strong had outlined the plans for the time trials, he concluded, "each of you competing in the time trials will be given a blast-off time and an orbital course. only standard, solar-guard-approval equipment will be allowed in the tests. i will monitor the trials, and space cadets corbett, manning, and astro will be in complete charge of all inspections of your ships." strong paused and looked around. "are there any questions?" "when will the first ship blast off, captain strong?" asked a lean and leathery-looking spaceman in the back of the room. "first time trial takes place at hours tomorrow morning. each ship has a designated time. consult your schedules for the blast-off time of your ships." "what if a ship isn't ready?" asked kit barnard, who had slipped into the room unnoticed. "any ship unable to blast off at scheduled time," said strong, finding it difficult to look at his old friend, "will be eliminated." there was a sudden murmur in the room and quent miles rose quickly. "that's not much time to prepare our ships," he said. "i don't know who's going to be first, but i can't even strip my ship by tomorrow morning, let alone soup up the reactant." his voice was full of contempt, and he glanced around the room at the other pilots. "seems to me we're being treated a little roughly." there were several cries of agreement. strong held up his hand. "gentlemen, i know it is difficult to prepare a ship in twelve hours for a race as important as this one," he said. "but i personally believe that any spaceman who really wants to make it can make it!" "well, i'm not going to break my back to make a deadline," snarled quent. "and i don't think any of the other fellows here will either." "if you are scheduled to blast off tomorrow at hours, captain miles," strong announced coldly, "and you are unable to raise ship, you will be eliminated." stifling an angry retort, quent miles sat down, and while strong continued to answer questions, astro, a worried frown on his face, stared at the spaceman dressed in black. tom noticed it. "what's wrong with you, astro?" he asked. "that spaceman miles," replied astro. "i could swear i know him, yet i'm sure that i don't." "he's not a very ordinary-looking guy," observed roger. "he's plenty big and he's so dark that it wouldn't be easy to mistake him." "still," said astro, screwing up his forehead, "i know i've seen him before." "if there are no further questions, gentlemen," said strong, "we'll close this meeting. i know you're anxious to get to your ships and begin work. but before you go, i would like to introduce the cadet inspectors to you. stand up, boys." self-consciously, tom, roger, and astro stood up while strong addressed the pilots. "cadet manning will be in charge of all electronics inspections, cadet astro in charge of the power deck, and cadet corbett will cover the control deck and over-all inspection of the ship itself." quent miles was on his feet again, shouting, "do you mean to tell me that we're going to be told what we can and can't do by those three kids!" he turned and glared at tom. "you come messing around my ship, buster, and you'll be pitched out on your ear!" "if the cadets do not pass on your ship," said strong, with more than a little edge to his voice, "it will not get off the ground." the two men locked eyes across the room. "we'll see about that!" growled miles, and stalked from the room, his heavy shoulders swinging from side to side in an exaggerated swagger. "i believe that's all, gentlemen," announced strong coldly, "and spaceman's luck to each of you." after the men had left, the three cadets crowded around strong. "do you think we'll have any trouble with miles, sir?" asked tom. "you have your orders, tom," said strong. "if any ship does not meet standards established for the race, it will be disqualified!" astro stared at the doorway through which quent miles had disappeared. he scratched his head and muttered, "if it wasn't for just one thing, i'd swear by the stars that he's the same spaceman who--" he stopped and shook his head. "who what?" asked strong. "nothing, sir," said astro. "i _must_ be mistaken. it can't be the same man." "i suggest that you sleep out at the spaceport tonight," said strong. "the first ship will have to be inspected before she blasts off, and that means you will have to look her over before six." "yes, sir," replied tom. "and watch out for quent miles," warned strong. "yes, sir," said the curly-haired cadet. "i know what you mean." [illustration] chapter "the course is to luna and return! spaceman's luck." captain strong's voice rasped out over the public address system as a lone spaceship stood poised on the starting ramp, her ports closed, her crew making last-minute preparations. ringing the huge spaceport, crews from other ships paused in their work to watch the first vessel make the dash around the moon in a frantic race against the astral chronometer. in the temporary grandstands at the north end of the field, thousands of spectators from cities all over earth leaned forward, hushed and expectant. "are you ready _star lady?_" strong called, his voice echoing over the field. a light flashed from the viewport of the ship. "stand by to raise ship!" roared strong. "blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" there was a sudden, ear-shattering roar and smoke and flame poured from the exhaust of the ship, spilling over the blast-off ramp. the ship rocked from side to side gently, rose into the air slowly, and then gathering speed began to move spaceward. in a moment it was gone and only the echoing blasts of thunder from its exhausts remained. [illustration] "there goes number one," said tom to his unit mates as they watched from a vantage point near one of the service hangars. "he got a pretty shaky start there at the ramp," commented astro. "he must've poured on so much power, he couldn't control the ship." "heads up, fellas," announced roger suddenly. "here comes work." kit barnard was walking toward them, carrying a small metallic object in his hand. "'morning, boys," said kit with a weary smile. his eyes were bloodshot. the cadets knew he had worked all night to revise and resubmit his specification sheet to strong. [illustration] "'morning, sir," said tom. "i'd like to have you o.k. this gear unit. i made it last night." astro took the gear and examined it closely. "looks fine to me," he said finally, handing it back. "part of your main pumps?" "why, yes," replied kit, surprised. "say, you seem to know your business." "only the best rocket buster in space, sir," chimed in tom. "he eats, sleeps, and dreams about machinery on a power deck." "is that for your new reactor, sir?" asked astro. "yes. want to come over and take a look at it?" "want to!" exclaimed roger. "you couldn't keep him away with a ray gun, captain barnard." "fine," said kit. "incidentally, i'm not in the solar guard any more; don't even hold a reserve commission, so you don't have to 'sir' me. i'd prefer just plain kit. o.k.?" the three boys grinned. "o.k., kit," said tom. astro began to fidget and tom nudged roger. "think we can spare the venusian for a little while?" "might as well let him go," grunted roger. "he'd only sneak off later, anyway." astro grinned sheepishly. "if anyone wants me to check anything, i'll be over at kit's. where is your ship?" he asked the veteran spaceman. "hangar fourteen. opposite the main entrance gate." "fine, that's where i'll be, fellows. see you later." with astro bending over slightly to hear what kit was saying, the two men walked away. roger shook his head. "you know, i still can't get used to that guy. he acts like a piece of machinery was a good-looking space doll!" "i've seen you look the same way at your radarscope, roger." "yeah, but it's different with me." "is it?" said tom, turning away so that roger would not see him laughing. and as he did, he saw something that made him pause. in front of the hangar, captain strong was talking to quent miles. there was no mistaking the tall spaceman in his severe black clothes. "here comes more work," muttered tom. quent had turned away from strong and was walking toward them. "strong said i had to get you to o.k. this scope," said quent with a sneer. "hurry it up! i haven't got all day." he handed them a radarscope that was common equipment on small pleasure yachts, and was considerably lighter in weight than the type used on larger freight vessels. "what's the gross weight of your ship?" asked roger after a quick glance at the large glass tube with a crystal surface that had been polished to a smooth finish. "two thousand tons," said quent. "why?" roger shook his head. "this is too small, mr. miles. you will have to use the standard operational scope." "but it's too big." "i'm sorry, sir--" began roger. "sorry!" quent exploded. "give me that tube, you squirt." he snatched it out of roger's hand. "i'm using this scope whether you like it or not!" "if you use that scope," said tom coldly, "your ship will be disqualified." quent glared at the two boys for a moment, his black eyes cold and hard. "they make kids feel mighty important around here, don't they?" "they give us jobs to do," said roger. "usually we can handle them fine. occasionally we run into a space-gassing bum and he makes things difficult, but we manage to take care of him." quent stepped forward in a threatening manner, but roger did not move. "listen," the spaceman snarled, "stay out of my way, you young punk, or i'll blast you." "don't ever make the mistake of touching me, mister," said roger calmly. "you might find that you're the one who's blasted." quent stared at them a moment, then spun on his heels and swaggered back to his ship. "you know, roger," said tom, watching miles disappear into the hangar, "i have an idea he is one spaceman who'll back up his threats." roger ignored tom's statement. "come on. we've got a lot of work to do," he said, turning away. the two cadets headed for the next hangar and boarded a ship with the picture of a chicken on its nose. while roger examined the communications and astrogation deck, tom busied himself inspecting the control deck, where the great panels of the master control board were stripped of everything but absolute essentials. later, they called astro back to make a careful inspection of the power deck on the ship. while they waited for the venusian cadet, tom and roger talked to the pilot. gigi duarte was a small, dapper frenchman who somehow, in the course of his life, had acquired the nickname "chicken" and it had been with him ever since. the cadets had met him once before when they rode on a passenger liner from mars to venusport and liked the small, stubby spaceman. now, renewing their friendship, the boys and "gigi the chicken" sat on the lower step of the air lock and chatted. "this is the greatest thing that has happened to me," said gigi. "ever since i can remember, i have wanted to race in space!" "don't get much chance when you're hauling passengers around, i guess," said tom. gigi shook his head. "one must always be careful. just so fast, over a certain route, taking all the precautionary steps for fuel! bah! but this flight! this time, i will show you speed! watch the french chicken and you will see speed as you have never--" suddenly he stopped and frowned. "but you cannot see me. i will be going too fast!" tom and roger laughed. after astro joined them, they shook hands with the frenchman, wished him luck, and went to the next ship to inspect it. gigi's ship was already being towed out to the blast-off ramp, and by the time the three boys had completed their inspection of the next ship, the gaily colored french ship flashed the ready signal to strong. "blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" strong's voice boomed out over the loud-speakers and the french chicken poured on the power. his ship arose from the ground easily, and in five seconds was out of sight in the cloudless skies above. * * * * * all day the spaceport rocked with the thunderous noise of stripped-down spaceships blasting off on their trial runs around the moon. kit barnard worked like a demon to complete the cooling system in his aged ship, and as each ship blasted off on its scheduled run to the moon, the time for his own flight drew nearer. kit worked with his chief crewman, sid goldberg, a serious, swarthy-faced youngster who rivaled astro in his love for the power-deck machinery on a spaceship. by nightfall, with tom, roger, and astro standing by to make their final inspection, kit wiped the oil and grime from his hands and stepped back. "well, she's finished. you can make your inspections now, boys," he said. while tom, astro, and roger swarmed over the vessel, examining the newly designed and odd-looking gear, the veteran spaceman and his young helper stretched out on the concrete ramp and in thirty seconds were asleep. the _polaris_ unit quickly checked out kit's ship as qualified for the race, and then turned, fascinated, to the tangle of pipes, cables, and mechanical gear of the reactor unit and cooling pumps. tom and roger were unable to figure out exactly what changes kit had made, but astro gazed at the new machinery fondly, almost rapturously. he tried to explain the intricate work to his unit mates, but would stop in the middle of a sentence when a new detail of the construction would catch his eye. "come on, roger," tom sighed. "let's go on to the next ship. this lovesick venusian can catch up with us later." they turned away and left astro alone on the power deck, doubtful that he had even noticed their departure. the trials had been suspended at nightfall, and the ships that had already blasted off left sections of the huge spaceport empty. the day had been a grueling one for the cadets, and tom and roger climbed wearily on the nearest slidewalk that would take them back to the academy grounds. just as they rode through the main field gate, roger nudged tom. "look! there's quent miles up ahead of us," he said. "isn't he scheduled to blast off in the morning?" "yes. why?" asked tom. "he hasn't called us in to inspect his ship yet." "maybe he isn't ready yet," said tom. "probably still souping it up." "i've been watching him. he hasn't done very much." "what do you mean?" "he's the only one working on his ship," replied roger. "not one helper." tom snorted. "you're beginning to suspect everything, roger. he might be going to get a part or grab a bite to eat." "where? in atom city?" asked roger. "that's the slidewalk to the monorail station." he pointed to the black-suited figure as he hopped on another moving belt that angled away from theirs. "oh, forget it," groaned tom. "i'm too tired to think about it now. let's just report to captain strong and get some sack time. i'm all out of reactant." "i suppose astro will spend half the night trying to figure out what it took kit barnard years to build," mused roger. "and if i know astro," chuckled tom, "he'll get it figured out too!" as the two weary cadets continued their ride into the academy grounds, on another slidewalk going in the opposite direction, quent miles watched the darkening countryside closely. it was several miles from the academy to the monorail station, and the moving belt dipped and turned through the rugged country that surrounded space academy. suddenly quent straightened, and making certain no one was watching him, he jumped off the slidewalk and hurried to a clump of bushes a few hundred yards away. he disappeared into the thick foliage and then reached inside his tunic and pulled out a paralo-ray gun. "you in here, charley?" miles whispered. there was a movement to his left and he leveled the gun. "all right! come out of there!" the bushes parted and charley brett stepped out. "put that thing away!" he snarled. "what's that for?" "after i got your message to meet you out here, i didn't know what was up, so i brought this along just in case," quent replied. "what's so secret that you couldn't come to the spaceport?" "i've got the stuff for kit barnard's reactor." "what stuff?" "this." brett took a small lead container out of his pocket and handed it to quent. "this is impure reactant. dump it into his feeders and we can count him out of the race." quent took the lead container, looked at it, and then stuffed it inside his tunic. "what'll happen?" "nothing. he'll just get out in space and find his pumps won't handle the heat from his feeders, that's all. he's the only one i'm worried about." "reports are coming in from luna city. you can worry about gigi duarte, too. he's burning up space." "ross is at the luna spaceport," replied brett. "he'll take care of any ship that looks like it's going to be too fast." "then why not have him take care of kit barnard too?" demanded quent. "there will be less chance of getting caught. remember, i've got those three space cadets and strong to worry about." "you can't expect to get what we're after unless you take chances. now get back to the spaceport and put this stuff in barnard's feeders. you blast off tomorrow morning before he does and won't have much time." "o.k.," agreed quent. "when did ross get to luna city?" "yesterday. i had him come in from the hide-out." "you think there'll be any cause for suspicion with him on the moon and me down here?" asked quent. "when you land at luna city spaceport, he'll disappear. by that time we should know how the time trials are shaping up." "o.k. where are you going now?" "back to the office. i've still got some things to check on before the big race. we're going to use the hide-out for that." a smile spread across quent miles' face. "so that's it, eh? pretty clever, charley. ross know about it?" "yeah. he's leaving as soon as he knows we've won the time trials. now get back to the spaceport and take care of barnard's ship." quent slipped his hand inside his tunic and patted the lead container. "too bad this isn't a baby bomb," he muttered. "we could be sure barnard wouldn't finish." "he's finished right now, but he doesn't know it." brett smiled. "he's borrowed heavily just on this race, and when he loses, the banks will close him up. kit barnard is through." chapter "we regret to announce that the spaceship _la belle france_, piloted by gigi duarte, has crashed!" captain strong's voice was choked with emotion as he made the announcement over the spaceport public-address system. there was an audible groan of sympathy from the thousands of spectators in the grandstands. in spite of every precaution for safety, death had visited the spaceways. strong continued, "we have just received official confirmation from luna city that the paris-venusport transfer company entry exploded in space soon after leaving luna city. captain duarte had flown the first leg of the race from earth to the moon in record time." the solar guard officer snapped off the microphone and turned to tom, roger, and astro. "it's hard to believe that the french chicken won't be shuttling from paris to venusport any more," he murmured. "are there any details, sir?" asked tom. "you know there are never any details, corbett," said strong with a little edge in his voice. then he immediately apologized. "i'm sorry, tom. gigi was an old friend." the door behind them opened and an enlisted spaceman stepped inside, saluting smartly. "ready for the next blast-off, captain strong," he announced. "who is it?" asked strong, turning to the intercom connecting him with the control tower that co-ordinated all the landings and departures at the spaceport. the spaceman referred to a clipboard. "it's the _space lance_, sir. piloted by captain sticoon. he's representing an independent company from marsopolis." "right, thanks." strong turned to the intercom mike, calling, "captain strong to control tower, check in." "say, i'd like to see this fellow blast," said tom. "he's supposed to be one of the hottest pilots ever to hit space." "yeah," agreed roger. "he's so good i don't see how anyone else could have a chance." "with that hot rocket in this race," said astro, "the others will have to fight for second and third place." "control tower to strong," a voice crackled over the intercom loud-speaker. "ready here, sir." "right. stand by for the next flight, mac," replied strong. "it's sticoon." strong flipped a switch on the intercom to direct contact with the waiting ship and gave sticoon the oft-repeated final briefing, concluding, "do not go beyond the necessary limitations of fuel consumption that are provided for in the solar guard space code. if you return here with less than a quarter supply of reactant fuel, you will be disqualified. stand by to blast off!" "uh-huh!" was all the acknowledgment strong received from the martian. famed for his daring, sticoon was also known for his taciturn personality. "clear ramp! clear ramp!" strong boomed over the public-address system. when he received the all-clear from the enlisted spaceman on the ramp, strong flipped both the public-address system and the intercom on. "stand by to raise ship!" he glanced at the astral chronometer. "blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" tom, roger, and astro crowded to the viewport in strong's command shack to watch the bulky martian's ship take to space. with sticoon at the controls, there was no hesitation. he gave the ship full throttle from the moment of blast-off and in three seconds was out of sight. there wasn't much to see at such speed. the three members of the _polaris_ unit left the shack to return to their task of inspection. they passed the maintenance hangar where kit barnard was readying his ship for blast-off in the next half hour. "any last-minute hitches, kit?" asked astro, vitally interested in the new reactor unit and its cooling system. kit smiled wearily and shook his head. "all set!" "good." tom smiled. "we'll try to be back before you blast. we've got to check quent miles' ship now." as the three cadets approached the sleek black vessel with its distinctive markings, the air lock opened and quent miles stepped out on the ladder. "it's about time you three jerks showed up," he sneered. "i have to blast off in twenty minutes! what's the idea of messing around with that barnard creep? he hasn't got a chance, anyway." "is that so?" snapped roger. "listen--!" "_roger!_" barked tom warningly. quent grinned. "that's right. lay off, buster. get to your inspecting and let a spaceman blast off." "kit barnard will blast off after you, and still beat you back," growled roger, stepping into the ship. he stopped suddenly and gasped in amazement. "well, blast my jets!" tom and astro crowded into the air lock and looked around, openmouthed. before them was what appeared to be a hollow shell of a ship. there were no decks or bulkheads, nothing but an intricate network of ladders connecting the various operating positions of the spaceship. everything that could be removed had been taken out of the ship. "is this legal?" asked roger incredulously. "i'm afraid it is, roger," said tom. "but we're going to make sure that everything that's supposed to be in a spaceship is in this one." "when i blast off, i don't intend carrying any passengers," growled miles behind them. "if you're going to inspect, then inspect and stop gabbing." "let's go," said tom grimly. the three boys split up and began crawling around in the network of exposed supporting beams and struts that took the place of decks and bulkheads. it did not take them long to determine that quent miles' ship was in perfect condition for blast-off. with but a few minutes to spare, they returned to face miles at the air lock. "o.k., you're cleared," tom announced. "but it'll take more than a light ship to win this race," said roger, and unable to restrain himself, he added, "you're bucking the best space busters in the universe!" "one of them"--quent held up his finger--"is dead." "yeah," growled astro, "but there are plenty more just as good as gigi duarte." the intercom buzzer sounded in the ship and quent snapped, "beat it! i've got a race to win." he pushed the three cadets out of the air lock and slammed the pluglike door closed. from two feet away it was impossible to spot the seams in the metal covering on the port and the hull. "clear ramp! clear ramp!" strong's voice echoed over the spaceport. tom, roger, and astro scurried down the ladder and broke away from the ramp in a run. they knew quent miles would not hesitate to blast off whether anyone was within range of his exhaust or not. "blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" again the spaceport reverberated to the sound of a ship blasting off. all eyes watched the weirdly painted black ship shudder under the surge of power, and then shoot spaceward as if out of a cannon. "well, ring me around saturn," breathed tom, looking up into the sky where the black ship had disappeared from view. "whatever quent miles is, he can sure take acceleration." "spaceman," said astro, taking a deep breath, "you can say that again. wow!" "i hope it broke his blasted neck," said roger. * * * * * "and you saw him messing around here, sid?" asked kit barnard of his young helper. "that's right," replied the crew chief. "i was on the control deck checking out the panel and i happened to look down. i couldn't see too well, but it was a big guy." [illustration] "messing around the reactor, huh?" mused kit, almost asking the question of himself. "that's right. i checked it right away, but i couldn't find anything wrong." "well, it's too late now, anyway. i blast in three minutes." grimly kit barnard looked up at the sky where the black ship had just vanished. "spaceman's luck, kit," said sid, offering his hand. kit grasped it quickly and jumped into his ship, closing the air lock behind him. as sid climbed down from the ramp, the three cadets rushed up breathlessly, disappointed at being unable to give kit their personal good wishes. "well, anyway, i gave the new reactor my blessing last night," said astro as they walked away from the ramp. "you were aboard the ship last night?" sid exclaimed. "uh-huh," replied astro. "hope you don't mind." "no, not a bit!" sid broke into a smile. "whew! i thought for a while it was quent." "what about quent?" asked tom. "i saw someone messing around on the power deck last night and thought it might be quent. but now that you say it was you, astro, there isn't anything to worry about." reaching a safe distance from the ramp, they stopped just as strong finished counting off the seconds to blast off. "_zero!_" the three cadets and sid waited for the initial shattering roar of the jets, but it did not come. instead, there was a loud bang, followed by another, and then another. and only then did the ship begin to leave the ground, gradually picking up speed and shooting spaceward. "what was wrong?" asked tom, looking at sid. "the feeders," replied the young engineer miserably. "they're not functioning properly. they're probably jamming." astro looked puzzled. "but i checked those feeders myself, just before you closed the casing," he said. "they were all right then." "are you sure?" asked sid. "of course i'm sure," said astro. "checking the feeders is one of my main jobs." "then it must be the reactant," said tom. "did kit use standard reactant?" sid nodded. "got it right here at the spaceport. same stuff everyone else is using." gloomily the four young spacemen turned away from the ramp and headed for the control tower to hear the latest reports from the ships already underway. there were only a few more ships scheduled to blast off, and the cadets had already inspected them. "wait a minute," said tom, stopping suddenly. "the fuel tanks are on the portside of the ship, and the feeders are on the starboard. where did you see this fellow messing around, sid?" sid thought a moment and then his face clouded. "come to think of it, i saw him on the portside." "i wasn't even close to the tanks!" exclaimed astro. "there was someone messing around them, then," said roger. "yes," said tom grimly. "but we don't know _who_--or _what_ he did." "from the sound of those rockets," said astro, "kit's feeders are clogged, or there's something in his reactant that the strainers are not filtering out." "well," sighed roger, "there isn't anything kit can do but keep going and hope that everything turns out for the best." "_if_ he can keep going!" said tom. "you know, there are some things about this whole race that really puzzle me." "what?" asked roger. "impure reactant in kit's ship, after fellows like kit, astro, and sid checked it a hundred times. gigi duarte crashing after making record speed to the moon. the minimum specifications being stolen from commander walters...." tom stopped and looked at his friends. "that enough?" roger, astro, and sid considered the young cadet's words. the picture tom presented had many curious sides and no one had the slightest idea of how to go beyond speculation and find proof! [illustration] chapter "the winners are--" captain strong's voice rang loud and clear over the loud-speakers--"first place, captain sticoon, piloting the marsopolis limited entry, _space lance_! second place, captain miles, piloting the charles brett company entry, _space knight_! third place, captain barnard, piloting his own ship, _good company_!" there was a tremendous roar from the crowd. in front of the official stand, tom, roger, and astro pounded sid goldberg on the back until he begged for mercy. on the stand, strong and kit shook hands and grinned at each other. and commander walters stepped up to congratulate the three winners. walters handed each of them a personal message of good wishes from the solar council, and then, over the public-address system, made a short speech to the pilots of the losing ships thanking them for their co-operation and good sportsmanship. he paused, and in a voice hushed with emotion, offered a short prayer in memory of gigi duarte. the entire spaceport was quiet for two minutes without prompting, voluntarily paying homage to the brave spaceman. after walters left and the ceremonies were over, the three winners stood looking at each other, sizing up one another. each of them knew that the winner of this race probably would go down in the history of deep space. there was fame and fortune to be won now. quent miles ignored sticoon and swaggered over to kit barnard. "you were lucky, barnard," he sneered. "too bad it won't last for the race." "we'll see, quent," said kit coolly. sticoon said nothing, just watched them quietly. quent miles laughed and walked off the stand. kit barnard looked at sticoon. "what's the matter with him?" he asked. the martian shrugged. "got a hot rocket in his craw," he said quietly. "but watch your step with him, kit. personally, i wouldn't trust that spaceman as far as i could throw an asteroid." kit grinned. "thanks--and good luck." "i'll need it if you get that reactor of yours working," said the martian. he turned and left the stand without a word to tom, roger, or astro. the three cadets looked at each other, feeling the tension in the air suddenly relax. strong was busy talking to someone on the portable intercom and had missed the byplay between the three finalists. "that quent sure has a talent for making himself disliked," tom commented to his unit mates. "and all he's going to get for it is trouble," quipped sid, who would not let any argument take away the pleasure he felt over winning the trials. "i'm going back to our ship and find out what happened to those feeders." "i'll come with you," volunteered astro. "just a minute, astro," interrupted strong. "i've been talking with commander walters. he's on his way back to the tower of galileo and called me from the portable communicator on the main slidewalk. he wants me to report to his office on the double. you three will have to take care of the final details here." "come down when you can," said sid to astro, and turned to leave with kit. "something wrong, sir?" asked tom. "i don't know, tom," replied strong, a worried frown on his face. "commander walters seemed excited." "does it have anything to do with the race?" asked roger. "in a way it does," replied strong. "i'm leaving on special assignment. i'm not sure, but i think you three will have to monitor the race by yourselves." * * * * * major connel sat to one side of commander walters' desk, a scowl on his heavy, fleshy face. the commander paced back and forth in front of the desk, and captain strong stood at the office window staring blankly down on the dark quadrangle below. the door opened and the three officers turned quickly to see dr. joan dale enter, carrying several papers in her hand. "well, joan?" asked walters. "i'm afraid that the reports are true, sir," dr. dale said. "there are positive signs of decreasing pressure in the artificial atmosphere around the settlements on titan. the pressure is dropping and yet there is no indication that the force screen, holding back the real methane ammonia atmosphere of titan, is not functioning properly." "how about leaks?" connel growled. "not possible, major," replied the pretty physicist. "the force field, as you know, is made up of electronic impulses of pure energy. by shooting these impulses into the air around a certain area, like the settlement at olympia, we can refract the methane ammonia, push it back if you will, like a solid wall. what the impulses do, actually, is create a force greater and thicker in content than the atmosphere of titan, creating a vacuum. we then introduce oxygen into the vacuum, making it possible for humans to live without the cumbersome use of space helmets." dr. dale leaned against commander walters' desk and considered the three solar guard officers. "if we don't find out what's happening out there," she resumed grimly, "and do something about it soon, we'll have to abandon titan." "abandon titan!" roared connel. "can't be done." "impossible!" snapped walters. "it's going to happen," asserted the girl stoutly. connel sprang out of his chair and began pacing the floor. "we can't abandon titan!" he roared. "disrupt the flow of crystal and you'll set off major repercussions in the system's economy." "we know that, major," said walters. "that's the prime reason for this meeting." "may i make a suggestion, sir?" asked strong. "go ahead, steve," said walters. "while these graphs of joan's show us _what's_ happening, i think it will take on-the-spot investigations to find out _why_ it's happening." connel flopped back in his chair, relaxed again. he looked at walters. "send steve out there and we'll find out what's going on," he said confidently. walters looked at strong. "when are the ships supposed to blast off for the race?" "tomorrow at , sir." "you planned to use the _polaris_ to monitor the race?" "yes, sir." "think we should send the _polaris_ unit out alone?" "i have a better suggestion, sir," said strong. "well?" "since there are only three finalists, how about putting one cadet on each ship? then i can take the _polaris_ and go on out to titan now. when the boys arrive, they could help me with my investigation." walters looked at connel. "what do you think, major?" "sounds all right to me," replied the veteran spaceman. "if you think the companies won't object to having cadets monitor their race for them." "they won't have anything to say about it," replied walters. "i'd trust those cadets under any circumstances. and the race won't mean a thing unless we can find the source of trouble on titan. there won't be any crystal to haul." "fine," grunted connel. he rose, nodded, and left the room. he was not being curt, he was being connel. the problem had been temporarily solved and there was nothing else he could do. there were other things that demanded his attention. "what about me going along too, commander?" asked joan. "better not, joan," said walters. "you're more valuable to us here in the academy laboratory." "very well, sir," she said. "i have some work to finish, so i'll leave you now. good luck, steve." she shook hands with the young captain and left. walters turned back to strong. "well, now that's settled, tell me, what do you think of the race tomorrow, steve?" "if kit barnard gets that reactor of his functioning properly, he'll run away from the other two." "i don't know," mused walters. "wild bill sticoon is a hot spaceman. one of the best rocket jockeys i've ever seen. did i ever tell you what we went through a few years back trying to get him to join the solar guard?" walters laughed. "we promised him everything but the moon. but he didn't want any part of us. 'can't ride fast enough in your wagons, commander,' he told me. quite a boy!" "and with quent miles in there, it's going to be a very hot race," asserted strong. "ummmmh," walters grunted. "he's the unknown quantity. did you see that ship of his? never saw anything more streamlined in my whole life." "and the cadets said he stripped her of everything but the hull plates." "it paid off for him," said walters. "he and charley brett are certainly working hard to get this contract." "there's a lot of money involved, sir," said strong. "but in any case we're bound to get a good schedule with the speeds established so far." "well, advise the cadets to stand by for blast-off with the finalists tomorrow." "any particular ship you want them each assigned to, sir?" asked strong. "no, let them decide," replied walters. "but it would be best if you could keep manning away from miles. that's like putting a rocket into a fire and asking it not to explode." the two men grinned at each other and then settled down to working out the details of strong's trip. before the evening was over, walters had decided, if necessary, he would follow strong out to titan. in the distance, they could hear the muffled roar of rocket motors as the three finalists tuned up their ships, preparing for the greatest space race in history. and it seemed to strong that with each blast there was a vaguely ominous echo. * * * * * "i've strained that fuel four times and come up with the same answer," said astro. the giant venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube for kit barnard's inspection. "impure reactant. and so impure that it couldn't possibly have come from the academy supply depot. it would have been noticed." "then how did it get in my feeders?" asked kit, half to himself. "whoever was messing around on the power deck just before you blasted off for the trials must have dumped it in," said tom. "obviously." kit nodded. "but who is that? who would want to do a dirty thing like that?" "who indeed?" said a voice in back of them. they all spun around to face quent miles. he lounged against the stabilizer fin and grinned at them. "what do you want, miles?" asked kit. "just stopped by to give you the proverbial handshake of good luck before we blast off," replied the spaceman with a mocking wink. "kit doesn't need your good wishes," snapped sid. "well, now, that's too bad," said quent. "i have a feeling that he's going to need a lot more than luck." "listen, miles," snapped kit, "did you come aboard my ship and tamper with the fuel?" quent's eyes clouded. "careful of your accusations, barnard." "i'm not accusing you, i'm asking you." "see you in space." quent laughed, turning to leave, not answering the question. "but then, again, maybe i won't see you." he disappeared into the darkness of the night. "the nerve of that guy," growled tom. "yes," kit agreed, shrugging his shoulders. "but i'm more concerned about this unit than i am about quent miles and his threats. let's get back to work." renewing their efforts, tom, roger, astro, sid, and kit barnard turned to the reactor unit and began the laborious job of putting it back together again, at the same time replacing worn-out parts and adjusting the delicate clearances. it was just before dawn when strong visited kit's ship. seeing the cadets stripped to the waist and working with the veteran spaceman, he roared his disapproval. "of all the crazy things to do! don't you know that you could have kit disqualified for helping him?" [illustration: _the giant venusian held up the oil-smeared test tube_] "but--but--" tom tried to stammer an explanation. "i couldn't have done it alone," explained kit. he looked at strong and their eyes met. understanding flowed between them. "very well," said strong, fighting to control himself. "if no one makes a complaint against you, we'll let it pass." "thanks, steve," said kit. "you should have known better, kit," said strong. "the solar guard is supposed to be neutral throughout the entire race and do nothing but judge it." "i know, steve," said kit. "but someone dumped impure reactant into my--" "what?" it was the first time strong had heard of it and he listened intently as the cadets and sid told him the whole story. "why didn't you make a complaint?" demanded strong finally. "we'd have given you more time to get squared away." "it's not important," said kit. "i won a place in the finals and now the boys and sid have helped me clean it out." strong nodded. "all right. i guess one seems to balance out the other. forget it." he smiled. "and excuse me for jumping like that and thinking that you would do anything--er--" he hesitated. "that's all right, steve." kit spoke up quickly to save his friend embarrassment. strong turned to the cadets. "i've got news for you three. you are going to monitor the race by yourselves." tom, roger, and astro looked at each other dumfounded as strong quickly outlined the plan. later, when sid and kit were working inside the ship, he told them of the sudden danger on titan. "so i'm going to leave it up to you which ship you want to ride," he concluded. "the commander has suggested that roger not be sent along with miles on the _space knight_. he seems to think the two of you wouldn't get along." "on the contrary, skipper," said roger, "i'd like the opportunity of keeping an eye on him." strong thought a moment. "not a bad idea, roger," he said as he turned to astro. "and i suppose you want to ride with kit and his reactor?" astro grinned. "yes, sir. if i may." "all right. tom, i guess that means you ride with wild bill sticoon." "that's all right with me, sir," the young cadet said excitedly. "this is something i'll be able to tell my grandchildren--riding with the hottest spaceman in the hottest race through space." * * * * * quent miles spun around, his paralo-ray gun leveled. he saw a figure enter through the hatch, but when light revealed the face he relaxed. "oh, it's you!" he grumbled. "i thought you were setting things up back at atom city." "you fumble-fisted, space-gassing jerk!" snarled charley brett. "depend on you to get things messed up! that barnard guy is all set to roll with his reactor!" "then why didn't ross take care of him on the moon?" asked miles. "he didn't land," replied brett. "he kept going and made the whole trip without refueling that new unit of his. it's so good that he got back here still carrying half a tank of reactant." "well, you haven't any kick with me," asserted miles. "i dumped that stuff in his tanks." "then how come he made it so fast?" growled brett. "how come he made it at all?" "how should i know?" snapped quent. "listen, charley, lay off me. you might be able to order ross around, but you don't scare me. and i don't think you have ross fooled either." "never mind that now!" said brett irritably. "we've got to line things up for the race. listen! ross left luna city this morning for the hide-out. here's what i want you to do. after you blast off--" brett's voice dropped to a whisper and quent's eyes opened with understanding, and then his rugged features broke out into a grin as brett continued talking. finally brett straightened up. "i'm going on out to titan now to see if things are o.k. you got everything clear?" "everything's clear," said quent. "and you know something, charley? you have a nasty way about you, but you certainly know how to figure the angles. this is perfect. we can't miss." "i love you too, sweetheart," said brett sourly. he turned and hurried out of the ship. just before he stepped on the slidewalk that would take him to the monorail station, he saw the three members of the _polaris_ unit leaving kit barnard's installation. he grinned and made a mocking salute to them in the darkness. "so long suckers!" he called softly. chapter "what!" quent miles looked at strong and then back at roger. "you mean this jerk's going to ride with me?" roger manning squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin. "let's make the most of this, miles," he said. "i don't like it any more than you do. i wouldn't like to be watched, either, if i had just crawled out from under a rock." strong suppressed a grin and then turned back to quent. "that's the way it is, miles. commander walters' orders. there's nothing that can be done now. cadets manning, corbett, and astro have been given these assignments because they have worked so closely on the race project, and, i might add, you couldn't ask for a better astrogator should you get into trouble." "the day i'll ask for help from a kid still wet behind the ears is the day i'll stop flying," snarled miles. strong shrugged. "you either consent to the regulations, or disqualify yourself from the race." the spaceman's face turned a dusky red under his swarthy complexion. "all right, all right! if that's the way it is, that's the way we'll play it. but i'm warning you, manning, stay away from me." strong glanced at his wrist chronograph. "you have five minutes before the blast-off, stand by." he shook hands with roger. "good luck, roger, and be careful. and remember, captain miles has already proved himself a crackerjack spaceman. don't interfere with him." "yes, sir," said roger. "good luck, miles," said strong and offered his hand. quent ignored it. "thanks for nothing," he sneered. "i know how much you want me to have." "the best man wins," snapped strong. he turned on his heels and left the black ship. quent miles and roger faced each other. "all right, manning," said miles after he had closed the air lock, "take your station. and remember i'm skipper of this ship." "so what?" said roger. "i'm still the monitor--!" he turned and swaggered away. miles watched him go, a crooked smile twisting his lips. "make the most of it, manning," he muttered under his breath. * * * * * "you will make two stops for refueling on your trip," captain strong called over the loud-speakers, as well as into the intercom connecting the three ships. "first fuel stop will be on deimos of mars and the second will be at ganymede. you are to chart a direct course to each of them. should an emergency arise, you will call for assistance on the special teleceiver and audioceiver circuits open to you, numbers seventeen and eighty-three. you are to circle each fueling stop three times before making a touchdown, and make a final circle around titan when you arrive. "stand by to raise ship! and spaceman's luck!" strong turned and flipped on the intercom to the control tower. "all ready up there?" he called. "all set, sir," replied the enlisted spaceman. "all right, give them their orbits and blast-off time." there was a slight pause, and then the gruff voice of the tower operator was heard over the loud-speakers and in the ships. "all ships will blast off on orbit forty-one ... raise ship at : : ... stand by!" there was a tense moment of silence while the seconds on the red hand of the astral chronometer slipped around the dial. out on the field, the three ships were pointed toward the darkening afternoon skies. the first ship, nearest the tower, was wild bill sticoon's ship, the _space lance_, painted a gleaming white. strong could see tom sitting beside the viewport, and across the distance that separated them, the solar guard officer could see the curly-haired cadet wave. he returned the greeting. next was the black ship with the red markings that had aroused so much comment. strong searched the viewports for a sight of roger but could not see him. finally he looked over at kit barnard's red-painted _good company_. he knew astro would be on the power deck, preferring to nurse the reactor than watch the blast-off. and then strong was conscious of the tower operator counting off the seconds. he would pick it up at ten minus. he gripped the intercom mike as mike's voice droned in his ears. " ... fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten...." "stand by to raise ships!" bawled strong. he watched the sweep hand on the chronometer. "blast off, minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" there was really very little to see. the three ships left earth in a giant upheaval of thunderous noise and blazing red exhaust flames. the roar of the crowds was lost in the explosions of the rockets. and the greatest race in space was underway. strong raced up to the control tower and stood in front of the radar scanner to watch the course of the three vessels now blasting through the atmosphere. they were three white blips on the green surface of the glass scope, in perfect line, traveling at incredible speeds. strong turned to the enlisted spaceman. "contact the ships and see if everything's all right," he ordered. "very well, sir," replied the spaceman, turning to the audioceiver microphone. "spaceport control to rocket ships _space lance_, _space knight_, and _good company_. come in, please." there was a crackling of static over the loud-speaker and then the calm voice of tom filled the control tower. "this is corbett on the _space lance_. go ahead." strong took the microphone. "this is captain strong," he called. "how was your blast-off, tom?" "smooth as silk, sir," replied the young cadet. "wild bill sends his greetings and says he'll take a three-inch steak instead of flowers when he wins." "tell him it's a deal." strong laughed. "end transmission." "see you on titan, sir," said tom. "end transmission." strong then spoke to kit barnard on the _good company_, but did not get a chance to speak to astro. "he's down on the power deck, steve," reported kit. "he's watching that reactor as if it were a treasure chest." "to him it _is_," said strong. "good luck, kit." "incidentally," said kit before signing off, "i heard that crack wild bill made about a steak. better put _my_ name on it!" strong then contacted quent miles' vessel. "is manning there, miles?" "yeah, he's here. dead asleep!" growled miles. "i thought you said he was going to be a help." strong's face grew red. "well, wake him up," he snapped. "you come wake him up," said miles, and then the speaker went dead. "control tower to _space knight_!" strong called angrily. "come in, miles. control tower to _space knight_!" "yeah. what do you want?" growled miles over the vast distance of space that already separated the two men and that each second took them thousands of miles farther apart. "i want to speak to manning," demanded strong. "and if you cut me off like that again, miles, i'll have you before a solar guard court for violation of the space code, race or no race." "i told you once," said miles. "manning is asleep. he sacked in right after we left the academy. now leave me alone, will you! i've got a race to win!" "very well, miles," said strong. "but for your sake, i hope cadet manning _is_ asleep." "end transmission," growled miles, and again the speaker went dead. "trouble, steve?" strong turned to see commander walters enter the control room. "no, sir," said strong. "i tried to contact roger, but quent miles told me he's asleep." "asleep!" cried walters. "but i thought you weren't going to put manning with miles." "astro wanted to go with kit, sir. and tom was anxious to go with wild bill sticoon. roger didn't seem to mind." "did miles object?" "yes, sir. but i think he would object to anyone going with him." "and he told you roger is asleep?" strong nodded. walters pushed past him to the intercom and took the microphone. "this is commander walters calling rocket ship _space knight_. come in, _space knight_." there was a flutter of static and then quent miles' voice again. there was a little more respect in his tone but his story was the same. roger was sleeping. walters slammed the microphone down. "by the craters of luna, this is the last time i'll take this nonsense from manning!" he jerked around and stood facing the viewport. "i'm sorry, steve, but there have been more reports from titan. the situation is serious. i've had to start evacuation. and then to get this smart-alecky behavior out of manning. well, you know what i mean." strong nodded, now more concerned about the emergency on mars. "shall i blast off right away, sir?" he asked. walters nodded grimly. "yes. and i'm going with you. i'll leave major connel in charge while i'm gone. i would prefer to have him go, but he's been working with dr. dale on some new idea about reinforcing the force field and i can't pull him off it. you and i will have to do what we can." strong turned to the tower operator and ordered the rocket cruiser _polaris_ readied for immediate space flight, concluding, " ... and have a full complement of space marines aboard. and i want warrant officer mike mckenny as squad leader." "have you forgotten, sir?" interjected the enlisted spaceman who was taking strong's orders. "warrant officer mckenny cannot take acceleration." "all right, get--" strong hesitated. "get me jeff marshall, professor sykes' assistant." walters nodded. "good idea. jeff can take care of any lab tests we may have to make and also knows how to handle men. as a matter of fact," walters continued, "if jeff does well on this assignment i might put him up for a commission in the solar guard. he did well on that last trip into deep space during that trouble on roald." "yes, sir," said strong. "and i'll gladly endorse it." "is that all, sir?" asked the enlisted man. "that's it, spaceman!" said strong. when the man didn't move right away, walters and strong looked at him. "well, what is it?" "excuse me, sir," said the guardsman, a bright-faced youngster who had failed to pass the rigid requirements for cadet training and so had entered the enlisted solar guard. "i heard what captain miles said about cadet manning being asleep and--" he hesitated. "well, what about it?" prompted walters. "well, sir, i don't know if it means anything or not," replied the boy nervously. "but just before the ship blasted off, i saw cadet manning standing inside the air lock. he looked as if he wanted to get out. but you were counting the blast-off time, sir. and he disappeared a few seconds before you hit zero." strong looked at walters. "are you sure?" he asked the boy. "i'm positive, sir. i know cadet manning well, and he looked as though he was scared." strong clenched his fists. "asleep, huh?" he growled. "get me the _space knight_!" the boy returned to the audioceiver and began calling miles, but there was no reply. after a few minutes walters interrupted, "we can't waste any more time here, steve. we've got to blast off!" "get hold of corbett on the _space lance_," said strong to the spaceman. "tell him i said to get in touch with manning on the _space knight_. ask him to find out what's going on." "yes, sir." "and then tell him to contact me on the _polaris_. we're blasting off immediately." "very well, sir." walters turned to captain strong. "what do you think it means, steve?" he asked. "i can't figure it, sir. knowing manning as i do, it could be a crazy stunt or it could be serious." "it had better be serious," said walters grimly, "for manning's sake. one more slip, and i'm bouncing him right out of the academy!" the two officers left the control tower, leaving young oliver muffin alone, droning his monotonous call to tom corbett, somewhere between earth and mars--a call that was to be the young cadet's first warning of treachery in deep space! [illustration] chapter "all clear ahead, bill!" tom corbett stood at the radarscope and watched the thin white line sweep around the face of the instrument. "nothing in space but us!" he announced. the veteran spaceman grunted and grinned at the curly-haired cadet he had grown to like and respect in the short time they had been together. not only did tom know how to handle a ship, spelling the pilot for a few moments to have a walk around the control deck, but he was good company as well. more than once, tom had surprised the martian spaceman with his sober judgment of the minor decisions sticoon had to make in flight. "why don't you try to contact manning again, tom?" sticoon suggested. "he might be awake now." tom grinned, but in his heart he did not think it very funny. it was no joke that captain strong had called him to contact roger. and tom was worried. so far, he had not been able to reach the blond-haired cadet. he settled himself in front of the communicator and began calling the black ship again. "rocket ship _space lance_ to rocket ship _space knight_! come in!" he waited. nothing but static and silence greeted him. "_space knight_, come in!" he waited again as the sleek white ship plummeted deeper into space toward the first refueling stop on deimos, one of the small twin moons of mars. still there was no acknowledging reply from the black ship that had streaked ahead of them after the blast-off. "i'm going to try to contact kit barnard," said tom. "maybe he can pick up miles' blip on his radar." tom made the necessary adjustment on the audioceiver and broadcast the call for the owner-pilot of the _good company_. finally, after repeated tries, he heard a faint signal and recognized the voice of his unit mate astro. "what's the matter, astro?" asked tom. "i can hardly hear you." "we're having trouble with the by-pass lines to the generators," replied astro. "we've cut down to standard space speed, and sid and kit are making repairs now." "have you heard from roger?" asked tom across the vast abyss of space separating them. "i've been trying to contact the _space knight_ for the last six hours and can't get any acknowledgment." "haven't seen it," replied astro. "lost contact with her a long time ago. she moved ahead at emergency space speed and we lost her on our radar an hour after we blasted off." "o.k., astro. hope kit gets his wagon going again. we've got to make a race of this, or the people throughout the system will be disappointed." he turned and winked at wild bill. "listen, you curly-haired twerp!" roared astro, and it seemed to tom that he could hear his friend without the loud-speaker. "we're going to give you the hottest run of your lives when we get going!" "o.k., astro," said tom. "if you can contact roger, tell him to get in touch with captain strong right away. he's probably blasted off on the _polaris_ by now." "right, tom. end transmission." "end transmission." tom turned back to the skipper of the _space lance_ with a feeling of despair. "i can't figure it out, bill," he said. "roger's pulled some boners before, real rocket blasters, but refusing to answer a call from strong--" he shook his head. the audioceiver suddenly crackled into life. "_space knight_ to _space lance_, check in!" quent miles' voice was harsh and clear. tom jumped back to the microphone. "_space lance_, cadet corbett here!" he shouted eagerly. "go ahead, _space knight_! where's manning?" "still asleep!" replied miles. "just wanted to tell you boys good-by. i'm not stopping to refuel at deimos! i'm going right on through to ganymede! end transmission!" only static filled the control deck of the _space lance_ as tom clutched the microphone and pleaded desperately for quent miles to answer him. "come in, miles! this is corbett on the _space lance_ to quent miles on the _space knight_! come in, miles! come in!" bill sticoon shook his head. "miles must be nuts trying to get to ganymede without refueling," he muttered. "traveling at emergency space speed, he'll eat up his fuel before he gets one third of the way to jupiter!" tom looked at sticoon. "and roger's with him." sticoon nodded grimly. "they'll wind up drifting around in space halfway between mars and jupiter. finding them will be about as easy as looking for a pebble in the martian desert." * * * * * "have you found the _space lance_ yet, astro?" asked kit barnard, glancing over his shoulder at the giant venusian, standing at the radarscope. "i think i'm getting it now," said astro. "either that or i've picked up an asteroid." "not likely," said kit. "we're too far from the belt to have anything that big drifting around without being charted. it must be sticoon." "boy!" chuckled astro. "this reactor really packs a load of power!" "how are we doing on fuel, sid?" kit called into the intercom. "we lost a lot trying to prime the pumps," replied the young crew chief. "we have to touch down on deimos and refuel." "that's all right," replied kit with a smile. "we're gaining on sticoon fast. we should make deimos about the same time. i wonder where quent miles is by now." "probably wishing he had stopped for fuel!" interjected astro with a sour look on his face. "see if you can pick up sticoon on the audioceiver, astro," said kit. "ask him for an estimated time of arrival on deimos. one of us will have to come in first." astro flipped the switch on the panel and began his call "_good company_ to _space lance_, come in!" "right here, astro," replied tom immediately. "boy, you certainly are burning up space! what have you got in your fuel tanks? light speed?" "just a little thing we whipped up," said astro with a grin. "what is your eta on deimos, tom?" "less than five minutes. four minutes and thirty seconds, to be exact. think you can beat that?" "if we can't beat it, we can equal it!" said astro. "see you on the martian moon, buddy! end transmission!" steadily, the _good company_ rocketed through space, eating up the miles and gaining on the _space lance_. both ships now made contact with the control tower on deimos and received landing instructions. "_space lance_ will touch down on ramp three, _good company_ on ramp six," crackled the voice of the deimos tower operator, "and don't forget your approach orbits!" "have you heard from the _space knight_?" called tom. "sorry, _space lance_," came the reply, "there has been no contact with _space knight_." tom began to feel the fingers of fear creeping up and down his spine. quent miles had carried out his plan of going on to ganymede without refueling, threatening not only his own life, but roger's as well. sticoon completed the three circling passes around deimos and shouted to tom over his shoulder. "stand by, corbett. we're ready to go in!" tom strapped himself into his acceleration chair and, watching the atmospheric altimeter, a delicate instrument that recorded their height above the surface of a heavenly body, began to call off the indicated figures. "five thousand feet, four, three--dropping too fast--compensate for lesser gravity--two thousand, one, five hundred, two hundred--" tom braced himself and seconds later felt the impact of the ship settling stern first on the concrete ramp. "touchdown," he sang out in a clear voice. while sticoon secured the control deck, closing the many switches and circuits on the master panel, tom opened the air lock. almost immediately, special-trained crews swarmed into the ship to refuel her and prepare her for the next lap of the race. tom and sticoon stepped out onto the spaceport of the tiny moon of mars and gazed up at the red planet that loomed large over the horizon. as a transfer point for the great passenger liners that rocketed between venusport, atom city, and marsopolis, the refueling station at deimos was well staffed and expertly manned. standing at the air lock, tom and sticoon heard the blasting roar of the _good company_ coming down in a fast, expert touchdown, and they hurried across the spaceport to greet their rivals. when the air lock opened, tom immediately began to kid astro and sid, while sticoon and kit barnard compared flight notes. a universal stereo reporter rushed up with a small portable camera and conducted an interview that was to be telecast back to earth. both spacemen were reluctant to voice any predictions of the outcome of the race, but tom noticed that kit was smiling and seemed in good spirits. tom, with all his worries about roger, could not help but feel happy that the independent spaceman was proving his reactor. a man in the uniform of a solar guard major appeared. he introduced himself as an official monitor of the race, appointed by commander walters, and asked them for a report. "captain sticoon has followed all regulations, sir," said tom. "and captain barnard, cadet astro?" asked the officer. "same thing, sir," replied astro. "captain barnard has followed the rules of the race exactly." "thank you," replied the officer and started to turn away. "any word from the _space knight_, sir?" tom asked quickly. "nothing, corbett," the officer replied. "we received the same message that captain miles would attempt to go on through to ganymede without stopping here at deimos for refueling." "and you've heard nothing from him since, sir?" asked astro. "nothing, why?" the officer looked at both of the boys sharply. "anything wrong?" "no, sir," said tom. "it's just that cadet roger manning is monitor on the _space knight_ and we haven't been able to talk to him since we blasted off from space academy." "i wouldn't worry about it if i were you, cadet corbett," snapped the major. "i've heard of cadet manning's reluctance to stick to regulations. i suspect you will be hearing from him soon enough, when the ship runs out of fuel and starts drifting around in the asteroid belt. those individualists always scream for help when they get in trouble." "yes, sir," said tom stiffly. "i already have a squadron of ships standing by to go to their assistance when they do send out a distress alert." "yes, sir," said tom. "will that be all, sir? cadet astro and i would like to have a bite to eat before we blast off again." "yes, that will be all, corbett. don't wander off too far." the major turned and walked toward the ships without another word. "wonder what's eating him?" said tom. "never mind," said astro. "come on. let's grab a bite while we have the chance." they headed for the restaurant in the control building of the spaceport, but were recognized by the reporter of the stereo company who badgered them into stepping before the camera and making statements about the race. he tried to get the boys to commit themselves as to who they hoped would win, and to offer an opinion on what had happened to the _space knight_. but neither tom nor astro said anything but that the best man would win. there were the usual eager spectators too, thousands from the large cities on mars who had taken the ferry rocket up to the spaceport to see the ships come in for refueling. as soon as tom and astro could tear away from the stereo reporter, they were mobbed by the onlookers who clamored for autographs. finally the two cadets had to forego their meal and return to their respective ships to escape the wild demonstration. seated in his acceleration chair on the control deck of the _space lance_, waiting for bill sticoon to come aboard, tom found his concern for roger overriding his enthusiasm for the race. when sticoon appeared and began to prepare the ship for blast-off, tom went through the motions mechanically. the _space lance_ was scheduled to leave first, with kit barnard following at the exact time interval of their arrivals. the deimos tower operator's voice droned over the loud-speaker on the control deck of the _space lance_ " ... minus five, four, three, two, one"--then the breath-taking pause before the climactic--"_zero!_" [illustration] the ship shot spaceward, rockets roaring loudly in the thin atmosphere of the small satellite. the next moment, before the horrified eyes of thousands of people, the _space lance_ exploded a few miles above the ground. astro stood frozen at the viewport of the _good company_, his eyes glazed with shock as he watched the martian ship disintegrate far above him. all he could do was mutter brokenly, "tom ... tom ..." [illustration] chapter "blast off!" without any preliminaries, kit barnard's order sent the _good company_ hurtling spaceward. astro had just enough time to throw himself into an acceleration chair before the ship shot away from the deimos spaceport toward the wreckage of the _space lance_. "braking rockets!" roared kit. "hit them hard, sid." the ship bucked under the force of the counter-acceleration, and the veteran spaceman fought to keep her under control. he snapped out another order. "cut all rockets!" the ship was suddenly quiet, hanging motionless in space in the middle of the still-twisting wreckage. the huge bank of atomic motors, the largest single unit on the ship, had already begun to swing around the small moon deimos in an orbit, while other shattered remains of the once sleek ship began a slow circle around the motors themselves. astro was struggling into a space suit when sid and kit joined him in the air lock. quickly the three spacemen clamped their space helmets closed and adjusted the oxygen nozzles. then, after testing their suit intercoms, they closed the inner-portal air lock, reduced the air pressure, and opened the thick pluglike outer portal. they stared out at the gruesome spectacle of torn hull plates, twisted spars, and broken pieces of equipment floating gently in the velvet space, outlined against the reddish hue of the planet mars. "astro! kit!" shouted sid through the suit intercom. "look, there's sticoon! over there near that tube." following sid's pointing finger, astro and kit turned toward an exhaust tube that had been ripped in half by the explosion. the martian spaceman's body floated next to it, limp and broken. astro shuddered. if sticoon was dead, then there was little hope for tom. the big venusian fought back tears. maneuvering themselves away from the ship with the aid of the small jet packs strapped to their shoulders, they reached the dead spaceman. sid carried him back to the ship while astro and kit remained to search the wreckage for tom. by now, three small jet boats and two rocket scouts had blasted off from deimos, bringing emergency rescue equipment. more than a dozen men poured out of the ships and joined in the search. the work was carried on in silence. no one spoke. astro and kit worked side by side, pushing their way gently through the twisting mass that was once a proud spaceship, to the heart of the spiraling wreckage, down toward the bank of atomic motors that was attracting all the lesser pieces. suddenly astro paled. he gripped the veteran's arm and gestured toward a large section of the ship on the other side of the motors that they had not seen before. "by the stars," kit gasped, "it's the air lock! all in one piece!" "if tom managed to get in there, or if he was in there when the ship exploded, maybe he has a chance." "you're right, astro," said kit hopefully. [illustration] "but we can't open it out here," said astro. "if tom is inside, we have to take it down to deimos. if we open it here, and he doesn't have a space suit on, he'd suffocate." "he'd freeze solid before that," said kit, not mentioning the possibility that tom might very well be frozen already, since the ship's heating units had been torn away from the air lock. quickly astro hailed the members of the emergency crews that had rocketed up from deimos and told them of the possibility that tom was inside the chamber. they all agreed, since they had failed to find the cadet anywhere. [illustration] kit and astro immediately took charge of getting the bulky boxlike chamber back to deimos where it could be opened safely. two of the jet boats were jockeyed into position on either side of the chamber and several lengths of cable were stretched between them, forming a cradle for the chamber. since the jet boats were equipped with foldaway wings, which, when extended, would enable them to fly at slower speed through atmosphere, they hoped to make a glider landing at the deimos spaceport. astro would not let anyone handle the boats but kit and himself, and only by threat of physical violence was he able to keep the regular pilots out of the control chairs on the speedy little ships. he might suffer for it later when the officers reported his actions, but the big venusian was beyond caring. if tom was not safe inside the vacuum chamber, he felt there wasn't much use in being a cadet any longer. fleetingly he thought of roger, who didn't stand a chance of reaching ganymede on a single solo hop from earth in a ship the size of the _space knight_. the _polaris_ unit seemed doomed. with kit barnard in one jet boat, astro strapped himself into the control chair of the other, and intercoms on, they gently fed power into their ships. coordinating perfectly in their maneuvers, they headed back to the spaceport with their strange cargo. slowly and gently, kit and astro circled lower and lower until the two jet boats were directly over the deimos spaceport. they circled wide and shut off power together, coming down in a long, easy glide. keeping the cables taut between them, so the chamber wouldn't touch the concrete strip, the two spacemen made perfect landings, coming to a stop directly in front of the control tower. astro was out of his ship in a flash and almost immediately kit was beside him. they took no notice of the stereo reporter who was focusing his camera on their efforts to force open the portal on the chamber. nor did they notice the immense crowd, standing behind police lines, watching and waiting in silence. "a cutting torch!" bellowed astro to the emergency crew below. "get me a cutting torch." in an instant the torch was handed to him, and ripping the space gloves off his hands, the big cadet began cutting into the tough metal side of the chamber. the seconds ticked into minutes. the crowds did not move, and only the low comments of the stereo reporter talking over an interplanetary network could be heard above the hiss of the torch as astro bent to his task. a half hour passed. astro didn't move or turn away from the blinding light of the torch as he cut into the section of the chamber where the portal locks would be. he did not notice that the _good company_ and the emergency fleet had returned to the spaceport, nor that sid was now beside him with kit. an hour passed. it seemed to the big cadet that the metal he was cutting, alloyed to protect spacemen against the dangers of the void, was now threatening to cost tom's life, if indeed he still survived. no one could live long under such conditions unless they had a fresh supply of oxygen. kit tried to take the torch away from astro, but the giant venusian would not let him have it. again and again, the tanks of fuel supplying the torch were emptied and quickly replaced with fresh ones. there was something awe-inspiring about the big cadet as he crouched over the torch, its white-hot flame reflected in his grim features. everyone around him watched in silent fascination, aware that this was a rare exhibition of devotion toward a comrade. they all were certain that astro would reach tom--or die in the attempt. * * * * * "touchdown!" captain strong called into the ship's intercom. "secure stations." the rocket cruiser _polaris_ had just settled on the blast-stained concrete of the titan spaceport after a blazing flight nonstop from earth. a solar guard cruiser, the most powerful class of spaceship in the solar alliance, the _polaris_ was also equipped with hyperdrive, a well-guarded secret method of propulsion, enabling solar guard ships to travel through space faster than any other craft known. many commercial shipping companies, including those entered in the race to titan, had pleaded for the use of hyperdrive on their ships but were summarily refused. it was one of the strongest weapons in the entire solar alliance. as commander walters released the straps holding him securely in his acceleration chair and stepped up beside strong, the solar guard captain gestured toward the teleceiver screen on the bulkhead. "we're being met by the local officials, sir," he said. "ummm," was the commander's laconic reply as he studied the screen. "there's captain howard." "he doesn't look any too happy, sir," commented strong. "how would you feel if you had just spent seven years building up the mine operations here on titan and then have something like this happen to you?" strong shook his head. "you're right, sir. i forgot that howard asked for this duty." "it's strange how a man will take to a place," mused walters. "the first time he returned to the academy, after a tour of duty here on titan, he looked like a man who had just fallen in love." walters chuckled. "and in a way i guess he had. he put in for immediate permanent duty here and went back to school to learn all about the mining operations. he, more than anyone else in the solar guard, is responsible for our success here." "well, are you ready to leave the ship, sir?" asked strong. "yes," replied the commander, but he continued to stare at the teleceiver screen. strong waited respectfully and finally walters turned back to him, shaking his head. "the spaceport looks pretty deserted," was his only comment. strong had already noticed the desolate appearance of the ordinarily buzzing spaceport and it troubled him more than he would show. he knew that unless the defect in the force fields was corrected soon, the outer-space colony would have to be abandoned to the deadly methane ammonia atmosphere. and to strong, who had seen the dead satellite before the solar guard had discovered crystal there, it was like seeing an old friend sick with a deadly disease. in addition, the hundreds of thousands of colonists would have to be relocated if the force fields could not be repaired and the effect on the economy of the whole solar alliance would be disastrous. walters and strong were met at the air lock by captain howard. "i'm awfully glad to see you, sir," he said, coming to attention and saluting smartly. "hello, steve. welcome to titan." "glad to be here, joe," said strong. "we came out as soon as we received your report that you had started evacuation," said walters. "have you discovered anything new?" howard shook his head. "not a thing, commander," he replied. "we've done just about everything but take the force-field projectors apart, but so far we haven't found a thing wrong." "any word on the race, joe?" asked strong. howard looked surprised. "by the stars, i almost forgot. one of the ships is trying to make it to ganymede without stopping at deimos for refueling. and another blew up." strong gasped. "which one?" "_space lance_," said howard. "exploded over deimos right after blast-off. _knight_ is the one that's trying the long solo hop. haven't received any word from him yet." "but what about the crew of the _space lance_?" demanded strong with a glance at walters. "the pilot, sticoon, was killed, and they haven't found cadet corbett yet." and then understanding flashed in howard's eyes. "say, that's one of the boys in your unit, isn't it, steve?" he asked. "yes," said strong grimly. he turned to walters. "have i your permission to contact deimos for the latest details, sir?" "of course, steve. go ahead." strong turned quickly and climbed into a nearby jet boat. the enlisted spaceman at the controls sent the tiny vessel skimming across the broad expanse of the spaceport toward the control tower. walters and howard watched him leave. "i hope nothing has happened to that boy," said walters. "corbett is one of the finest cadets we have." "i'm afraid it doesn't look too good, sir," howard answered. "well, what about the other ship, _space knight_?" asked walters. "cadet manning is on that one. any report on where they are?" "nothing, sir," replied howard. "we just heard that he was by-passing deimos and going on right through to ganymede, hoping to get a jump on the other two." "did cadet manning make that report?" asked walters. "no, sir. it was the pilot. quent miles. there was no mention of cadet manning, sir." walters shook his head. "certainly is strange," he mused aloud. then he barked, in his usual brusque manner, "well, we've got this problem here to worry about now. all mining operations have stopped, i suppose?" "yes, sir. the men won't work unless they have a guarantee that their wives and children are safe." "can't blame them," said walters, surveying the quiet spaceport. the two solar guard officers climbed into another waiting jet boat and shot away from the _polaris_ toward the tower. inside the shimmering crystal control tower, steve strong paced up and down behind the enlisted spaceman trying to contact the deimos spaceport across the millions of miles of space. "this is titan spaceport calling deimos spaceport! come in, deimos spaceport." there was a flood of static, and then, very faintly, the voice of the tower operator on deimos answered. "this is deimos spaceport. go ahead, titan." "transmitting request for information by captain steve strong of the solar guard," the titan operator called into the microphone. "information concerning explosion of rocket ship _space lance_. please give details on survivors." there was a momentary pause and the loud-speaker crackled with static. the voice of the deimos operator broke through. "captain sticoon dead. cadet corbett believed trapped in air-lock chamber. they have just cut through the chamber. it will be a few minutes before i can give you any further information." "very well, deimos. i will hold this channel open." walters and howard entered the room. "any word, strong?" asked the commander. strong shook his head. the loud-speaker over the control panel crackled into life again. "ganymede station to titan spaceport! come in, titan!" the three solar guard officers looked at each other in surprise as the titan operator acknowledged the call. "this is titan. go ahead, ganymede." "we have just received word that the rocket ship _space knight_ is within five minutes of a touchdown this spaceport. will probably blast off again immediately after refueling. acknowledge, titan!" "i read you, ganymede!" replied the titan operator. "what is your estimated time of arrival at titan?" the ganymede operator was silent a moment, then announced a time that made strong and walters blink in amazement. "it is based on his speed from earth to this point, titan." "very well, ganymede. end transmission," said the titan man, closing his key. captain howard stared at strong and walters in amazement. "i can't believe it." strong shook his head. "it's fantastic!" "i know it is, gentlemen," said a voice in back of them. "but nevertheless the ganymede station confirms it." strong, walters, and howard spun around to look into the smiling face of charley brett. before anyone could say anything, the voice of the deimos operator broke the stunned silence. "deimos to titan, i have your information now. are you ready, titan?" "go ahead, deimos," said the titan man. and then, as strong held his breath, the metallic voice from the loud-speaker reported on the final result of the tragic explosion over deimos. [illustration] chapter " ... chamber was cut open and cadet corbett was rushed to the spaceport's sick bay...." as the metallic voice of the deimos tower operator continued his report of the tragic crash of the _space lance_, strong and walters sighed with relief. at least tom was not dead! "he is still in a state of shock, but after a preliminary examination, the medical officer reports that he will recover. that is all the information i have at this time, titan. end transmission." the loud-speaker was silent except for the continuous flow of static. "by the stars," breathed strong, "i'm sure glad to hear that." walters put his arm around the captain's shoulder. "i'm glad too, steve. i know how you feel about those three boys." "and that astro," said strong, beaming. "wouldn't you know he'd be the one to rescue tom." he paused and then continued thoughtfully, "you know, sir, with the exception of manning, i'd be willing to recommend solar guard commissions for the unit right now." walters snorted. "manning! by the stars, he could be the best astrogator in the universe, but--but he's so undisciplined." "excuse me, sir," the enlisted spaceman interrupted. "here is a transcript of the report from deimos if you care to have it." "thank you," said walters, putting it into his pocket. "well, steve, i guess we'd better start to work here." he turned to the titan senior officer who had been waiting respectfully. "ready, captain howard?" "yes, sir." "lead on, then," said walters. as the three officers turned to leave the control tower, they noticed charley brett sitting near the door. in the excitement of the news of tom's narrow escape, they had forgotten the company owner was there. strong stopped and looked at him coldly. "what are you doing on titan, brett?" "came on ahead to welcome the winner," brett replied easily, not even bothering to stand. "pretty confident your man will win, eh?" "most assuredly," said brett with elaborate sarcasm. "i would never have entered a ship in the race if i didn't think i would win. though, in all fairness, i think i should have received the contract to haul the crystal without this extra effort." "what kind of reactant is quent miles using in that ship of yours?" asked walters sharply. brett smiled. "the same as everyone else, commander." "what about your feeders?" asked strong. "with ordinary reactant, and no new cooling units aboard your ship, you must have oversized feeders to make such fantastic speeds." brett shrugged and held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. "i don't even know myself, captain strong," he said blandly. "it's one reason why i have quent miles piloting for me. he has a few tricks that apparently are quite effective." "i hope they are legitimate tricks, mr. brett," said walters. "let's go, steve." the three officers turned away and left brett sitting there, smiling triumphantly. "i think we'd better start from the beginning in our inspection of the screens, captain howard," said walters, as the three officers left the control tower and walked across the spaceport. "first of all, i want a twenty-four-hour watch placed on all operational centers, pump houses, and generator plants. i cannot discount the idea of sabotage. why anyone would want to wreck the screens is beyond me, but we cannot ignore the possibility." "i already have men stationed at the main operational centers, sir," replied howard. "your space marines will help me cover the rest." "steve," said walters, turning to the solar guard officer, "if this is a natural phenomenon--some new element in titan's atmosphere breaking down the force screens--the problem is bad enough. but if this is caused by man--if it really is sabotage--we'll have a doubly hard time. we can find the reason eventually, if it is natural, but man can conceal his reasons. and until we find out the motives behind this we must count on the situation getting worse. i want you to pursue _that_ line of investigation. find out if anyone has a good reason to force the abandonment of titan." "it's a big order, sir," said strong. "i'll do the best i can." "that's good enough for me," replied the commander, nodding his satisfaction. * * * * * "any word, sir?" asked astro eagerly as the white-clad medical officer emerged from the room. the man smiled. "thanks to you, cadet astro," he replied, "your friend will be able to leave as soon as he gets his pants on." "yeow!" bawled astro in his famous bull-like bellow. "thanks, sir. thanks a million!" he turned and wrenched open the sick-bay door, almost splintering it in his enthusiasm. tom was just sitting up on the side of the bed. "hiya, astro!" called tom with a weak grin. "the sawbones tells me i owe you a brand-new shiny credit piece for saving my life." his enthusiasm at high pitch, astro was nevertheless unable to do more than smile broadly at his unit mate. "only reason i did it," he said. "all right, here you are." tom handed over a coin. "that's all i thought my chances were worth." at that moment the solar guard major in command of the deimos spaceport entered, followed by kit barnard and sid. after greeting tom with enthusiasm that matched astro's, kit and sid stood to one side quietly and listened while tom gave his preliminary report to the major who held a recorder microphone in front of him. [illustration: _"yeow!" bawled astro. "thanks, sir. thanks a million!"_] "i heard a terrific noise on the power deck as soon as we blasted off," tom began. "and captain sticoon ordered me to go below and check on it. i saw the trouble right away. the lead baffles around the reactant chambers had become loose and the reactant was spilling out, starting to wildcat. i called bill over the intercom right away and he ordered me to get into a space suit and wait for him in the air lock. i heard him shut off the generators--but that's all. the reactant blew and i must've been knocked cold, because the next thing i remember was this big ugly face bending over me ordering me to wake up." tom grinned at astro. "i see," mused the major aloud. "now about the baffles. how could they have worked loose? do you think the lock bolts gave way in the excessive heat due to the intense blast-off speed?" "no, sir," said tom firmly. "those bolts were loosened. i distinctly remember seeing one of them fall to the deck as i walked in." "then you suspect that the ship was sabotaged?" "that's not for me to say, sir," said tom after a moment's hesitation. "in all my experience, i have never seen one of those bolts work loose of its own accord or because of heat or vibration on the power deck." he glanced at astro, who was hunched forward, listening intently. "have you, astro?" the big venusian shook his head slowly. "never," he said. "well, thank you, corbett, that will be all for now," said the major and then turned to kit. "i want to congratulate you, sir, on your sacrifice in going to the aid of the _space lance_." "wild bill would have done the same thing for me," said kit without emotion. "do i have permission to continue the race now?" the major was startled. "you mean you still want to go on?" "every cent i have is tied up in my ship and in this race, sir," said kit. "i have my new reactor unit working properly now, and i believe that i still have a chance." "but you've lost hours, man," protested the major. "i can make them up, sir," said kit. "am i permitted to carry on?" the major was flustered, but nodded his head. "by all means. yes, indeed! and spaceman's luck to you." "i'd like to make the trip with him if he'll have me, sir," said tom, getting off the bed. "i'm all right. the doctor said so." "but--but--but you need rest, cadet corbett," said the major. "no, i can't permit it." just at that moment the medical officer walked in. "so far as i'm concerned," he said, looking at tom, "he's a lot healthier than you are, sir. with all due respect, sir." "very well, then," shrugged the major. "carry on! do as you please!" shaking his head in confusion, the major left the room. "well," said kit barnard, stepping forward, a big smile on his face, "what are we waiting for?" * * * * * "minus five, four, three, two, one--_zero!_" the spaceship _good company_ shot away from the small moon of mars and thousands of eyes at the spaceport followed it into the heavens, watching its blazing track disappear into the depths of space. if sympathy and good wishes could decide the race to titan, the spaceship _good company_ was a certain winner. aboard the sleek craft, tom corbett relaxed after the tremendous blast-off acceleration and turned to look at the tense face of kit barnard who was seated in the pilot's chair. "why don't you get some sleep, kit?" said tom. "i can take this baby over. it's the least i can do for all you've done for _me_." "thanks, tom, but i'll stay with it awhile longer," replied the veteran spaceman. "at least until we find out where the _space knight_ is." tom suddenly remembered the trouble with roger. "has there been any news of them at all?" he asked. "the last thing we heard was that he was approaching ganymede. and that was a few hours ago, when you were trapped in the air-lock chamber." "ganymede!" tom was thunderstruck. "but--but--how did he do it?" kit shook his head. "i don't know, tom, but he sure has some speed in that black ship of his." "ganymede!" tom repeated in bewilderment. it was beyond belief. the _polaris_, using hyperdrive, could scarcely have made the flight any faster. tom felt his heart sinking. the hope that kit barnard could catch the black _space knight_ was faint now. "shall i call ganymede again and see if they have anything new?" tom asked finally. "yes, do that, tom," kit replied. the curly-haired cadet quickly climbed the ladder to the radar bridge and sat wearily in front of the teleceiver. "spaceship _good company_ to ganymede spaceport," he called. "come in, ganymede." seconds later, the voice of the ganymede control operator crackled over the loud-speaker in reply. "ganymede station to _good company_. go ahead." "can you give me any information on the departure time of _space knight_ from ganymede?" "she has not blasted off yet. she is having trouble in her after burners." "how long do you estimate it will take for her to effect repairs and blast off?" asked tom, a note of rising hope in his voice. while the black ship had made it to ganymede under full power without refueling, the strain might have damaged her seriously. tom waited patiently for the reply, drumming his fingers on the table in his excitement. "not more than sixteen hours, _good company_," the ganymede operator finally answered. "where are you now?" tom quickly ascertained his position and relayed it to the tiny jovian-moon station. "space sector fourteen, chart b for baker." after the metallic voice had repeated the information, tom asked for information on roger manning. "no such person has reported to this office, cadet corbett," came the negative reply. "end transmission." "end transmission," said tom gloomily and slumped back into his chair. something had happened to roger, or he had completely blown his top. and in the light of past performances by the blond-haired radar expert, tom could not decide which. roger had threatened many times that if he should ever leave the academy, he would do it quietly, without fanfare. there was no better place to drop out of sight than on ganymede, for it was here that the deep spacers, gigantic spaceships that hauled supplies to the colonies of alpha centauri, tara, and roald made their last stop. if roger had finally made good his threat to leave the academy, ganymede was the logical place to do it. but why? [illustration] chapter "yeow!" astro's bull-like roar echoed through the _good company_. tom and kit jumped around in their seats to stare dumfounded at the half-stripped cadet climbing through the hatch into the power deck, followed by sid. sweating, his body streaked with grease, the belt of rocketman's tools swinging from his hips, astro pounded the two spacemen on the back. "we did it!" he roared, turning to hug sid who was equally grimy and naked to the waist. "did what?" demanded kit. "you know that by-pass feeder you said wouldn't hold a pressure of more than d- rate?" said astro eagerly. when kit nodded, astro roared triumphantly, "well, it'll hold more than d- rate now!" "what do you mean?" demanded kit. astro's involved and detailed reply in engineering terms was almost gibberish to tom, but he understood enough of the unit construction to sense that astro had done something extraordinary. "and he did it all himself, too," said sid quietly. "i didn't do any more than hold the tools." "but i still don't understand," protested kit. "the by-pass won't take more than d- ." "we built another one," said astro proudly. "since you were making a small unit, you naturally built a small by-pass feeder. we made a big one." astro grinned. "i admit that it looks a little lopsided, with that tank joint on the side nearly twice as big as the whole cooling unit, but if you'll cut your motors and give me fifteen minutes to change that line, i'll give you a reactant feed at d- rate." [illustration] "d-d- ," stammered kit. "you're space happy!" he glanced over at sid. "is that right, sid?" he asked, almost hesitantly. the youth nodded. "it'll work, kit. and believe me, i didn't have a thing to do with it. it was his idea and i thought he was nuts too. but he can holler louder than i can and--well, he's bigger'n i am and--" sid shrugged his shoulders. "he went and did it." "i want to see that thing for myself!" exclaimed kit, jumping out of his seat. "take over for a while, tom." tom slid under the controls of the sleek ship, and while astro, sid, and kit went below to the power deck, he began to figure their speed at a d- rate. he used a pencil at first, scribbling on a piece of paper, but the answer he reached was so fabulous, he put the ship on automatic gyro control and climbed to the radar deck where he checked the figures on the electronic calculator. when the result was the same, he let out a whoop. when he returned to the control deck again, astro, kit, and sid were already working the master control panel, adjusting some of the controls to take the enormous increase in speed. kit grinned up at tom. "here we go, tom," he said. "this is going to be the fastest ride you've ever had next to hyperdrive." "then it really works?" yelled the cadet. "it not only works, but from the looks of that thing, we'll use very little more fuel. so now it's our turn to by-pass a fuel stop! we're going right on through to titan!" * * * * * "you're whistling into the wind, barnard!" quent miles' voice was harsh and derisive as it crackled over the audioceiver. "you could never catch up with me in a hundred light years! this race is in the bag for yours truly!" across the vast distance of space that separated the two speeding ships, tom, astro, and kit barnard listened to miles' bragging voice and smiled at each other. all kit ever wanted was a fair chance, and now, thanks to astro and sid, he had better than a fair chance. with their added speed, tom calculated that the two ships would arrive at the titan spaceport at about the same time. only scant minutes separated their estimated times of arrival. "how much farther do you think that wagon of yours will hold out, barnard?" continued miles over the audioceiver. "you'll burn it up or shake it apart. this race is in the bag!" "all right, miles," interrupted tom. "we'll do our talking at the titan spaceport. now let me talk to roger." "you mean, manning?" asked miles, after an almost imperceptible pause. "yes, i mean manning!" snapped tom. "can't oblige, corbett," said quent miles. "your pal took it on the lam back at ganymede. he ran out on me. as far as i know, he's still there. didn't you see him when you stopped for refueling?" "we didn't stop," said tom. "what do you mean, he got off at ganymede? he's supposed to stay with you throughout the race." "i gotta go now, corbett," came miles' abrupt reply. "i'm hittin' rough stuff here, a swarm of meteors. see you on titan. be down there to welcome you in." "wait! what about roger?" tom called frantically into the audioceiver, but quent miles did not answer. the young cadet slammed the microphone down on the table. "that blasted roger!" he cried hotly. "when i get my hands on him, i'm going to--" "take it easy, tom," said astro, putting a hand on the cadet's shoulder. "you know how roger is. wait until he has a chance to explain before you blast him." "i suppose you're right, astro," replied tom. "but why in the stars would he leave the ship?" "whatever he's done, i'm sure roger has a good explanation," replied the big venusian. but inwardly he couldn't help feeling that roger, somehow, had gotten into another scrape which would, in the end, reflect on the whole unit. neither tom nor astro cared much for their own individual reputations, but they were concerned about the record of the unit. roger had managed to pull himself out of some narrow scrapes, but there was always the first time for everything. leaving his post as monitor in the race was as serious as anything he had done so far. "heads up, tom!" kit called out. "meteor storm in our course. we've got to change our heading." "aye, aye, sir," replied the young cadet, pushing aside his concern over his unit mate and concentrating on routine flight operations. on and on, the sleek ship plummeted through the black depths of space beyond jupiter, heading for the planet saturn and her magnificent rings of different colors, and to her largest satellite with its deadly methane ammonia gas atmosphere, the crystal-bearing moon, titan. * * * * * "they are approaching the spaceport, sir," called the titan control-tower operator, and strong jumped to the radarscope to stare at the two blips on the screen. only a mile separated them, with quent miles' _space knight_ ahead. "five minutes to touchdown," reported the operator. "come on, kit," muttered strong through clenched teeth. "pour it on, boy. give her the gun!" the two blips drew closer to the heart of the scope. first one and then the other shooting ahead for brief seconds as they began deceleration. "you can see them outside, now, sir," said the operator, and strong jumped to the door, stepping out on the observation platform that looked out over the spaceport. he searched the skies above him, and then, faintly, he could see the exhaust trails of the two ships as they streaked over the field, beginning their deceleration orbits around the satellite. behind him, strong heard the voice of the tower operator ordering ramp four and ramp five cleared for the two ships, and the mobs of people on the spaceport surged back. strong noted the irony of the situation. the people of titan were not out to greet a hero of space, but were waiting for the next evacuation rocket ship. the ramps were cleared and within minutes the two ships reappeared over the horizon, nosing upward over the spaceport in an arc, their braking rockets blasting loudly as they prepared to land. then, feeling that his heart would stop, captain strong saw quent miles' black ship touch the surface of the spaceport first. kit barnard had lost the race. by seconds to be sure, but he had lost the race. a weak cheer arose from the crowds and then quickly died out. to them the race was futile and the prize empty. how could the winning company ship crystal, when soon, none would be mined? strong raced across the field and boarded the _good company_ to find kit, tom, astro, and sid sitting glumly on the control deck. there was a quick smile of greeting on the two cadets' faces when they saw their unit commander, but their smiles died away. abruptly kit barnard was on his feet looking past strong to someone entering the hatch behind him. "congratulations, quent!" said kit, extending his hand. "that was a great race." "thanks," replied miles. "but i never figured it would end any other way. you put up a great fight, barnard. yes, sir! a great fight!" he turned to captain strong and chortled. "good race, eh, strong?" the solar guard officer shook hands with the winner and then asked, "where is cadet manning?" "say, i want to make a complaint about that!" exclaimed miles. he looked at tom and astro. "it was bad enough to have to be bothered with these kids, but when they behave the way that kid manning behaved, i've got a right to be sore!" "when did manning leave the ship?" asked strong. "as soon as we made touchdown on ganymede. he left the ship after sleeping all the way out, made a couple of nasty cracks, and the last i saw of him, he was heading over toward the deep-space section of the spaceport." "you're sure of that?" asked strong. quent miles sneered. "i just said that's what happened, didn't i?" "yes, that's what you said," strong replied. "and i'll have to take your word for it until manning can answer for himself." "how did you manage to make it from earth to ganymede without refueling, quent?" asked kit slowly. "and what have you got in your ship to get that kind of speed?" miles' lips curled in a twisted grin. "that's my secret, spaceman," he said, turning away. "well, i've got to report to my boss. great race, kit. too bad there couldn't be more than one winner." he laughed and swaggered out of the ship. "i'd like to brain that guy," growled tom. "all right, corbett, astro, pack your gear and report to the control tower for reassignment," snapped strong. he turned and with a nod of sympathy to kit left the control deck. "let's go, astro," sighed tom. "we'll see you later, kit. you too, sid. and--" they looked at each other, but there was nothing more that could be said. the race was finished. when tom and astro had finished packing their gear and left the ship, sid turned to kit. "i'm going to take a look at the _space knight_!" he announced. "better not, sid." barnard shook his head. "miles is a rough customer. he might not like visitors around his 'secret' on the power deck." sid's face was set. "i'm going," he repeated and ducked through the hatch. his face showing his disappointment at having lost the race, kit paced the deck for a moment and then he strode purposefully toward the hatch, calling: "hey! wait, sid. i'm coming with you." in the control tower at the far end of the spaceport, tom and astro entered the station commander's office in time to overhear the last of commander walters' orders to captain strong. " ... might as well give the boys a rest before we begin our investigations, steve." he looked up as the door opened. "oh, here they are now." "cadets corbett and astro reporting, sir." tom and astro saluted smartly. "stand easy, boys," said walters, rising to face them. "i don't know how much you've heard of this emergency on titan, but you can be briefed on details later. for the moment, all you have to know is that your assignment here is concerned with a detailed checking-out of the whole force-screen machinery. take a twenty-four-hour rest and then report back here ready for the hardest work you'll ever do in your lives." "yes, sir," said tom. "where is manning? didn't he think it necessary to report to me?" walters looked at strong. "well, steve? it's your unit?" "it seems he got off the _space knight_ at ganymede, sir," replied strong reluctantly. "captain miles said the last he saw of manning he was walking toward the deep-space section of the spaceport." walters' eyes suddenly became very bright and hard. "he got off, did he? well," he snapped, "this is just about the end of the line for cadet roger manning!" "i'm sure roger has a good explanation, sir--" began tom. walters glared at the cadet. "none of that, corbett. manning is a bad rocket and the sooner i get rid of him the better off the academy and the _polaris_ unit will be. now take your twenty-four-hours' leave and report back here ready to work." "yes, sir," replied tom. he and astro saluted and turned to leave the office but were stopped by the sudden appearance of sid and kit. sid's face was aglow. kit was scowling. "you know what we found on the _space knight_?" exclaimed sid, unable to hold back. "what?" asked tom. "almost a full tank of reactant!" replied the young engineer. "and the after burners showed about as much wear as if the ship had jumped from earth to venus." "what's that, young man?" snapped walters, stepping forward quickly. "what are you talking about?" kit barnard faced the commander and began to explain. "we were both curious about quent miles' ship, sir," he said. "we wondered what kind of equipment he had to get that kind of speed, so we went aboard and looked her over. she looks as if she just made a routine flight. hardly any of her baffling has been eaten away and her motors are cooling fast, and i'd swear by the stars there isn't anything on that ship to give her the kind of speed she made out here." "hm-m! there's something funny about this," mused walters. strong stepped forward quickly. "would you like me to investigate, sir?" he asked eagerly. "of course not," snapped walters. "what's the matter with you? we've got a whole planet full of people about to lose their homes and you want to take time off to investigate pure speculation!" "i'm sorry, sir." strong's face flushed at the rebuke. "carry on! work with joe howard." "yes, sir." strong saluted and started for the door. he passed tom, astro, sid, and kit without so much as a glance. his jaw was set like a rock. tom corbett shuffled uncomfortably, embarrassed at the rebuke strong had just suffered from walters. it was not like the commander to flare up so quickly. the situation on titan must be extremely serious. he and astro ducked out of the room quickly. "come on, astro," muttered the young cadet. "let's get a bite to eat. i'm starved." "i was," said the giant venusian. "but i lost my appetite." "boy, do i wish i had roger here now!" "yeah, me too!" [illustration] chapter olympia, the largest colony on titan, was gripped by a wave of fear. the broad streets were empty; the shops and stores were deserted; and the population waited in line at the spaceport, with their most valuable belongings, for their turn to leave the threatened settlement. slowly the satellite of saturn was dying, and through the methane ammonia atmosphere, the glittering rings of the mother planet shone down on her death struggle. tom corbett and astro walked through the streets silently, overcome by the desolation around them. many parts of the city were completely abandoned, and the few remaining citizens wore cumbersome oxygen masks as the deadly atmosphere of gas seeped through the force field to reach the ground surface of the satellite. as the two cadets continued their dismal tour, they could only find one small restaurant open, a self-service food center that required no help. they were the only customers. during the meal they hardly talked, as they watched the slow procession of people outside, heading for the spaceport. when the two cadets left the restaurant, a jet car suddenly blasted to a stop beside them and a master sergeant, dressed in the scarlet red of the enlisted solar guard, jumped out to face them. "all persons are required to wear oxygen masks, cadets," the sergeant announced, handing over two masks. "and i would suggest that you leave this section of the city as quickly as possible. the screens are leaking badly again. we may have to close off this section too." [illustration] tom and astro took the masks but did not put them on. "thanks, sergeant," said tom. "but we'll probably be around here for some time. we're on special duty with commander walters and captain strong." at the mention of strong's name, the sergeant started, looked at the boys closely, and then smiled. "say, aren't you corbett and astro?" "that's right," acknowledged tom. "well, don't you remember me?" asked the sergeant. tom looked at him closely and then smiled in sudden recognition. "morgan! phil morgan!" he cried. "of course," chimed in astro. "sure," said the sergeant. "we went through our first test together at the academy and i washed out." "and you became an enlisted man!" exclaimed tom. "man, you're a real space buster!" "i figured if i couldn't get into space one way, i'd do it another," said morgan proudly. "a lot of times i wished i was still a cadet with you, but now i don't think i'd change it for anything in the world." "i can believe that," said tom, smiling. "and a master sergeant at that! mckenny told us once it took a man nearly fifteen years to get top rating. it must really be a labor of love for you to have made it this quickly." he stuck out his hand. "congratulations, morgan." they shook hands. "well, i've got to get rolling," said morgan. "i sure hope you fellows find out what's cooking here. i've got a lot of friends here and they stand to lose everything they own if titan is abandoned." "with captain strong on the job, you can bet we'll find out the trouble," declared astro. morgan smiled. "see you around," he said, and jumped back into the jet car. a second later it was roaring down the street to the western part of the city. "boy, sure makes you feel good to know that a guy loves space so much that he would fight his way to the top of the enlisted guard as morgan did!" said tom. suddenly astro jerked tom by the sleeve and pulled him back into the restaurant to crouch behind the door. "hey, what's the matter with you?" growled tom. "sh-h-h!" hissed astro and pointed across the street. "look!" tom poked his head around the corner of the doorway and quickly jerked it back again. quent miles was hurrying down the street. "wonder what he's doing around here?" whispered astro, watching the black-clad spaceman pass directly opposite them and continue down the street, seemingly unaware that he was being watched. "he must be heading for the evacuated section," said tom. "how do you figure that?" asked astro, as they peered cautiously around the edge of the doorway. "he's wearing his oxygen mask." "come on!" said astro. "let's find out what that heel is up to." hugging the buildings, the two cadets walked down the street, following miles. there was a puzzled frown on astro's face as he stared at the spaceman, a hundred feet away. "i swear, tom," he complained, "i'm about to bust a rocket. every time i see that guy, i think i know him, but when i try to pin it down, it slips away from me." "watch it!" cried tom. "he's stopping." the boys ducked behind a deserted jet car as quent miles suddenly spun around to stare suspiciously back down the street. "i don't know if he saw us or not," whispered tom. "with that oxygen mask," replied the big cadet, "maybe he can't see very well." "he's going on," replied tom. "come on. we've got to find out what he's up to. he wouldn't be concerned about someone following him if he weren't trying to hide something." they slipped around the jet car and stepped back on the sidewalk. ahead of them, quent miles was walking quickly, reading all the street signs. suddenly he turned down a side street, and the two cadets raced after him. they were in the outskirts of the city now. great areas were covered with rolling grass fields where the citizens of titan spent their leisure hours playing ball and picnicking, and it was easy for the cadets to follow the black-suited spaceman. they had to put on their oxygen masks as the deadly fumes of the methane ammonia atmosphere began to swirl around them. they were near the outer limits of the atmosphere screen's effectiveness. "i think he's going into that building up ahead, astro," said tom, his voice distorted to a low metallic hiss by the miniature amplifier in the face of the mask. astro nodded and they ducked into a gully as quent miles turned once again and glanced down the street. "wonder what's in that building?" mused tom. "one way to find out," said astro. "come on. he's moving again." the gas began to thicken now, and the two cadets found it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead as they moved cautiously through the swirling death around them. after what seemed like an hour, but was actually hardly more than a few minutes, they found the building miles had entered. "i'd give two weeks' leave for a ray gun now," said tom. "want me to try the door?" asked astro. "go ahead. we can't learn anything standing out here." astro put his hand on the circular latch and twisted it slowly. the door slid back on rollers, exposing a dark interior. the two boys slipped inside. "better close the door, astro," said tom. "the ammonia doesn't seem to be so thick in here." astro twisted the latch on the inner side and the heavy door rolled back into place. they turned slowly and saw a room that was dark except for a single light gleaming weakly through the haze of the gas. when their eyes became adjusted to the semidarkness, they moved, searching for another door in the huge room. "are you sure this is the right place?" asked astro. "i can't be positive," said tom. "the stuff outside was too thick--" he stopped, touched astro on the arm, and pointed to his left. there was the sound of a door sliding back and light filtered into the murky room. quent miles stood framed in the doorway, the unmistakable outline of a paralo-ray gun in his right hand. "drop to the floor," hissed tom. the two cadets dropped lightly to the floor and lay face down, while quent miles walked toward them fanning the gun around menacingly. then, as he was about to step on astro's hand, he turned and walked quickly back to the door. "you must be nuts, charley," the two cadets heard him say. "there's nobody here." the door rolled closed and the light was cut off. tom and astro rose and quietly made their way toward the door. they stopped, leaned against the door, and tried to hear what was going on inside, but were unable to distinguish more than a vague mumble of voices, because of their masks and the thickness of the door. suddenly, however, they were conscious of footsteps approaching from the other side. there was no time to hide. each boy flattened himself against the wall on opposite sides of the door and held his breath as the door opened slowly. * * * * * "there can be no doubt about it, steve," said commander walters to the young captain. "what we need are more powerful pumping stations for oxygen _and_ additional generators for supplying power to the force field." "how do you figure that, sir?" asked strong. "it's simply this," replied walters. "the population here has nearly tripled in the past two years. the force-field screens were set up originally to accommodate only a minimum number of miners and their families. with the heavy demand for crystal, and therefore, more civilians to dig it out, the force field has been overloaded." "but i still don't see how, sir," strong protested. "the more people, the more oxygen needed to keep them alive, right?" strong nodded. "the force screens hold back the methane ammonia gas and create a vacuum into which we pump oxygen, right?" again strong nodded. "now we have a demand for more and more oxygen, and we pump it into the vacuum, but eventually we arrive at the point where the pressure of the oxygen inside is greater than the pressure outside. therefore, the screening force field is broken in its weaker points and the oxygen escapes. when the balance is restored, the rupture isn't sealed and gas seeps in." strong glanced questioningly at captain howard and at kit barnard, who had been asked to remain on titan and lend his assistance to the problem of the screens. "well, gentlemen?" asked walters, noticing strong's glance. "that is my theory. do any of you have a better one? or a more reasonable explanation?" strong, barnard, and howard shook their heads. a complete check of every possible source of trouble had been made by the four men and they had found nothing. "we still have to wait for a report from the electronics sections, sir," said howard, rubbing his eyes. he started to get up and then suddenly slumped to the floor. "by the craters of luna!" cried walters, jumping to the young officer's side. howard was picked up and placed on a nearby couch. while strong and kit loosened his clothing, walters grabbed the nearest oxygen mask and slipped it over the spaceman's face. "funny that he should pass out like that," commented strong, sniffing the air. "i _still_ don't smell anything." kit looked up at strong and grinned. "he's not gassed. he's asleep." "asleep!" exclaimed walters. the enlisted spaceman standing on guard at the door stepped forward and saluted smartly. "captain howard hasn't slept for the last five days," he said. "he's been working night and day." walters smiled. "all right, sergeant, take him to his quarters." then he held up his hand. "no, let him stay where he is." he turned to steve. "come on, steve. you too, kit. let's see if we can't get a report from the electronics section before we speculate any further." the three men left the control-tower office under the watchful eyes of a squad of space marines. trouble had already started at the spaceport when a crowd of excited miners had charged a detachment of enlisted men guarding solar guard cruisers. the crowds were growing panicky as the deadly gas filled the city, unchecked. strong, walters, and kit barnard climbed into a waiting jet car, amid the hoots and catcalls from the waiting miners, and hurtled away to the giant building housing the electronic "brain" that controlled the force-field screens. walters' face was grim. beside him, strong and kit were silent as they raced through the empty streets. if there was no positive discovery by the electronics section of the huge screening operations, then it would have to be assumed that commander walters was right in his theory of overpopulation. to remedy that situation would require complete reconstruction of the satellite settlement and temporary abandonment of titan. millions of dollars would be lost and thousands of people thrown out of work. it would be a severe blow to the solar alliance. the jet car slowed to a stop. they were in front of the electronics building and the three men climbed out wearily. they would know in a few minutes now. chapter "you're afraid of your own shadow!" miles snarled over his shoulder to charley brett who followed him out of the room. brett was adjusting his oxygen mask with one hand and gripping a paralo-ray gun tightly with the other. "never mind the cracks," snapped brett, his voice muffled by the mask. "i tell you i heard someone moving around in here." miles laughed again and walked straight to the middle of the room. with their backs pressed to the wall beside the door, tom and astro saw miles bend over and lift a trap door in the middle of the floor. the two men flashed a light down into the opening and climbed down, pulling the trap door closed after them. no sooner was it shut than tom and astro jumped forward to examine it cautiously. astro started to pull it open but tom held out a warning hand. he turned and pointed toward the room that miles and brett had left. astro nodded and they walked quickly back to the door. sliding it open, they stepped inside. "by the rings of saturn!" cried astro. "well, blast my jets!" tom exclaimed. the air in the room was clear, completely free of the misty whirling methane ammonia of death that swirled around them outside. recovering from his surprise quickly, astro closed the door and walked to the center of the room, looking around curiously. tom had already slipped off his mask and was examining the equipment lying on the floor. astro bent over an oddly shaped machine that looked somewhat like an ancient compressed-air drill, with a long bar protruding from one end. he examined the bar closely and then turned slowly to tom. "do you know what this machine is?" he asked in almost a whisper. tom looked at it and then shook his head. "i haven't seen one of these since i left venus, and then only when i was a kid hanging around the spaceports where the space rats used to blast off for the asteroids looking for uranium." "you mean you hunt uranium with that thing?" asked tom. "no, you dig it out with this." tom gazed at the machine thoughtfully. "why would it be here?" he mused. "it's already been used," said astro, standing up. "look, the drill head is dull." "that trap door!" tom exclaimed. "it leads to a mine. miles and brett have discovered high-grade uranium right here on titan where everyone thought there was nothing but _crystal_!" astro nodded grimly. "and that isn't all. this room is free of ammonia gas." "but how in the star-blazing dickens can they keep it out of here when everything else outside is flooded with it?" asked tom. astro spun around and began to examine the walls. "just as i thought!" he exclaimed. "this room is airtight! sealed! oxygen is being pumped in here." "from where?" "might be from somewhere below," replied the big venusian. "down that trap where miles and brett went." tom put his mask back on and headed for the door. astro followed him. they opened it a little and peered into the swirling mist. "then it's being pumped in directly," tom asserted. "through a duct leading directly up into this room from somewhere below." astro nodded. "then there's only one thing left to do. go down through that trap door and see what we can find." he stepped forward. "wait a minute, astro," said tom, stopping him. "let me check our oxygen. there might not be any down there. remember, miles and brett wore _their_ masks." making a quick check of their oxygen supply, tom patted astro on the back and started forward. "it's o.k. we've got another four hours left. come on!" they moved toward the trap door slowly. "i still wish i had a ray gun," whispered tom. "as long as i can use these"--astro balled his hamlike hands into fists--"we're o.k." when they reached the trap door, tom got down on his knees and felt around for the opening. he found a small ring bolt, motioned to astro to step back, and pulled. the trap door swung back easily and a shaft of white light gleamed in his face. the young cadet leaned down and looked through the opening. what he saw made him gasp. "what is it?" demanded astro. [illustration: _tom got down on his knees and felt around for an opening_] tom motioned for him to get down and look. the big cadet dropped lightly to his knees to peer through the opening. "by the moons of jupiter," he exclaimed, "it's a--a mining shaft!" "just what we thought it was," whispered tom. "come on. let's go down and find out where it leads." "maybe we'd better go back and tell captain strong about this first," astro said speculatively. "there's no telling what brett and miles are liable to do while we're gone," said tom. "you find captain strong and i'll go down into the shaft and look around." "not on your life," protested astro. "you don't think i'd let you go down there alone, do you? _you_ go back to captain strong and _i'll_ see what those two are doing down there." tom grinned. "o.k., we'll both go down," he said. opening the trap door all the way, tom eased himself down into the opening. astro followed. immediately below the trap, they found a ladder, fixed to the wall of the shaft, which led directly down to a point about thirty feet below the surface of titan. at the bottom the two cadets paused. a long tunnel stretched before them. "listen to that!" exclaimed astro. tom ripped off the mask and listened. he heard a strange noise which sounded more like the roar of escaping gas than a motor. "what is it?" asked tom. "that's what i'd like to know!" "and that light," continued tom, pointing down the length of the tunnel. "do you suppose it's miles and brett?" "it isn't moving," commented astro. "well, since we're here we might as well find out as much as we can," tom decided. "let's go." the two cadets flattened themselves against the side of the shaft and inched forward. the hissing noise was slowly building up to a roar now, and as they made their way along the shaft, they passed other smaller tunnels that branched off to the left and right. there was evidence of recent work. tools were scattered along the tunnel floors, as if the workers had dropped them in sudden flight. the light ahead of them grew brighter, and as they rounded a corner, they saw a bare, unshaded lamp suspended from the roof of the tunnel. tom suddenly stopped and jerked astro back. "look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the floor, not two paces away. a thin wire, hardly noticeable, was stretched across the floor at ankle height. "that bright light is to attract your attention while you trip over that thing and probably blow yourself to bits," he said grimly, pointing to the wall where the wire was connected to a small charge of explosives. "nothing to bring the roof down," he continued, "but enough to blast whoever tripped over this wire." stepping over the wire carefully, they started down the shaft again, but tom paused thoughtfully. "what's the matter?" asked astro. "that booby trap," said tom. "we'd better not take any chances of tripping over it on the way back. we might be in a hurry." "i know what you mean," grunted the big venusian. he knelt down beside the menacing box of explosives and quickly disconnected the trip wire, throwing the box to one side. straightening up, astro announced, "it's harmless now." cautiously the two cadets continued down the tunnel, the roaring sound growing louder and louder. after twenty minutes, astro paused, his homely features wrinkled in a frown of worry. "think maybe miles and brett went off into one of the other side tunnels?" he asked. tom thought a moment. "no, i don't, astro. we haven't hit another side tunnel since we passed that booby trap back there. what would be the use of setting that thing up if they went in another direction?" "there must be another way out of here, then," astro remarked. "why?" "that part of the tunnel back there by the bomb was loose dirt. if the bomb had exploded, the whole tunnel would have been blocked off and how could they get out?" tom didn't answer. he was thinking about what he was going to do if there should be another booby trap in the tunnel. it was so dark now that they could hardly see more than a few feet ahead. the bright light was merely a pinpoint in the distance behind them. and then tom became aware that the roar that had been with them constantly since they had entered the shaft had now lessened in volume. but they had not passed a single branch-off tunnel where the sound could have originated. tom made up his mind quickly. "come on, astro," he said. "we're going back." "why?" "i haven't time to explain now, but you walk close to one side of the shaft and i'll take the other. feel along with your hands for anything like a door or an opening. i think we've passed them." without another word, astro turned around and headed back, feeling along the tunnel wall. it did not take the two cadets long to discover what they were looking for. a heavy wooden door was set flush with the side of the tunnel. and when tom pressed his ear to it, he could hear the roaring sound throbbing heavily inside. "see if you can open it, astro," said tom. "but take it easy." astro felt along the side of the door until he found a wooden latch and he lifted it gently. the door swung back, as if pushed, as a powerful draft caught it from the other side. the roar was now deafening. tom stepped inside cautiously, followed by astro. they found themselves on a small balcony overlooking a huge subterranean room. in the room they saw quent miles and charles brett bending over a table on which were several delicate electronic instruments. tom and astro recognized them immediately as testing machinery for radioactivity, much more advanced and sensitive than the ordinary geiger counter. around the two men was ample evidence of astro's original assumption that they were digging into a hot vein of uranium pitchblende. to one side of the room, lead sheets lined a rough boxlike structure that astro and tom guessed was covering for the radioactive vein. against the wall lay the lead-lined suits used by the miners. further to one side, tom saw a huge open pipe. he nudged astro. "look, over there," tom whispered. "that's where the oxygen is coming from!" below them, miles suddenly walked to the pipe and pulled a large lever on its side. the roaring sound stopped immediately and the boys felt the air pressure in the room lessen slightly. "that blasted noise is driving me crazy," explained miles, walking back to the table, his voice echoing in the rock-walled cavern. brett, leaning over the table, was stabbing around futilely in one of the sets of tubes in a complicated testing device. "wish we had that squirt manning here," he mumbled. "he could fix these things up in no time at all." "i could always go back to the hide-out and get him," suggested miles. on the balcony tom gripped astro's arm tightly. "astro! did you hear that?" he exclaimed. the big cadet nodded and started to rise from their place of concealment. tom pulled him down. "wait," he whispered sharply. "no use barging in on them yet. maybe we can find out where roger is first." astro reluctantly crouched down again, his hamlike hands balled into fists. the two cadets watched quent miles and brett work on the instruments awhile longer. finally miles slammed down a pair of wire cutters on the table and growled at brett. "no use messing with this thing any longer. i don't know what makes it tick, so i can't find the trouble. we need new equipment." "it'll take at least two weeks to get new equipment the way things are going here at titan," replied brett. "well, there's no use hanging around here if we can't dig any more of the stuff out, and i ain't going behind that lead shield unless i got a machine that tells me it's safe." "i've been thinking about manning," said brett. "what about him?" "suppose we move the stuff we've already mined to the hide-out, and take this equipment along too. he can repair it out there. we can turn off the oxygen that we're sucking off from the solar guard pumps, and by the time we get back here, the old satellite will be back to normal. then, with the equipment repaired and olympia back to normal, we can really begin operations." quent nodded quickly. "good idea. come on. let's get this stuff aboard the ship." on the balcony tom and astro looked at each other. "they're responsible for what's happened here on titan!" whispered tom. "they have been sucking off oxygen from the main pumps supporting the force field." "come on, tom," growled astro. "my fist is just itching to make contact with a couple of no-good chins." "not so fast! we still don't know where they've got roger." "you want to keep on following them?" asked astro. "at least to their ship," tom replied. "then we can notify captain strong and he can track them in the _polaris_. if we barge in on them now, we'll just get the satisfaction of knocking their heads together with no guarantee of any information." the young cadet turned to the door. "we'll sneak up the tunnel a way and then follow them out." "hurry!" said astro. "here they come." quent, carrying one of the instruments, had started up the steps to the balcony. tom grabbed the latch and pushed up but the door would not open. "give me a hand, astro, quick!" he called. astro grabbed the latch and heaved his bulk against the door. suddenly he stepped back dumfounded, holding the latch in his hand. it had snapped off. just at that moment brett looked up and saw them. he shouted a warning to miles, who dropped the instrument he was carrying and pulled out his ray gun. "just stand where you are!" he snarled, leveling the gun at them. tom and astro stood quietly, hands in the air. "how in blazes did they get here?" brett cried. "they must have followed me," said miles. "they certainly couldn't have known about this place." "but how did they get past the trap?" brett persisted, still amazed and shaken by the unexpected appearance of the cadets. astro snorted his contempt. "you must think we're a couple of prize space jerks," he growled. "you can't even kill a mouse with that thing now." "let's cut the talk," said miles. "what do we do with them?" "freeze them!" snapped brett. "no telling how long they've been here and how much they know." "we know enough to put you on a prison asteroid," challenged tom. "freeze 'em, it is," said quent. "we'll get the ship loaded and decide what to do with them later." he pressed the trigger on his ray gun. there was a harsh crackling sound and tom and astro stiffened into immobility, every nerve and muscle deadened. with the exception of their hearts, and sense of seeing and hearing, they might have been dead men. laughing to themselves, quent miles and charles brett picked up their instruments, walked past them, and disappeared through the door. [illustration] chapter charles brett swaggered into the control room of the electronics building. commander walters, captain strong, and kit barnard looked up from their study of the reports the chief engineer had handed them. "what are you doing here, brett?" demanded walters. "i thought you had blasted out of here long ago." "i'm leaving as soon as we sign the contracts for hauling the crystal, commander," said brett. "contracts!" exploded strong. "why, man, do you realize that this satellite is about to die? if we don't find out what's wrong with the screens, there won't be any crystal mined here for the next ten years." brett shook his head and smiled. "that's all right with me too," he said. "the contracts call for either party to satisfy the other should either party fail to fulfill the contractual agreements. in other words, strong, i get paid for making the trip out to titan, whether you have crystal to haul or not." "why, you dirty--" snarled strong. "just a moment, steve," walters interrupted sharply. "brett's right. we had no way of knowing that this situation would arise, or grow worse than it was in the beginning. brett went to a great deal of expense to enter the race and win it. if he insists that the solar guard abide by the contract, there's nothing we can do but pay." "it won't be too bad, commander walters," said brett. "i have my ship loaded with crystal now, and if you'll just sign the contracts, i can deliver one cargo of crystal to atom city before titan is abandoned." "wait a minute," cried strong. "who gave you the right to load crystal before signing the contract?" "i assumed the right, captain strong," replied brett smoothly. "my ship won the race, didn't it? why shouldn't i start work right away?" "well, that's beside the point now, anyway," walters said. "we may need your ship to take miners and their families to ganymede or mars, brett. never mind the crystal. one load won't mean very much, anyway." "no, thank you," growled brett. "i don't haul any miners in my ship. the contracts call for crystal and that's all." "i'm ordering you to take those people, brett," said walters coldly. "this is an emergency." "order all you want," snapped brett. "look at your space code book, section four, paragraph six. my rights are fully protected from high-handed orders issued by men like you who think they're bigger than the rest of the people." walters flushed angrily. "get out!" he roared. "not till you sign that contract," brett persisted. "and if i don't leave with a signed contract in my pocket, i'll have you up before the solar alliance council on charges of fraud. you haven't got a leg to stand on and you know it. now sign that contract." abruptly, walters turned to an enlisted spaceman and instructed him to get his brief case from the _polaris_, then deliberately turning his back on brett, continued his study of the report. strong and kit barnard watched brett with narrowed eyes as the arrogant company owner crossed to the other side of the room and sat down. "you know something, steve," said kit quietly. "back at the academy, i failed to register a protest about someone dumping impure reactant into my feeders." "what about it?" asked strong. "i'd like to register that protest now." "now?" steve looked at him, a frown on his face. "why now?" "for one thing, brett couldn't blast off until there was an investigation." "you might have something there, kit," replied strong with a smile. "_and_ since brett won the race under such--er--mysterious circumstances, i'd suggest an investigation of the black ship as well, eh?" kit grinned. "shall i make that a formal request?" "right now, if you like." kit turned to face commander walters. "commander," he announced, "i would like to register a formal protest with regard to the race." walters glanced up. "race?" he growled. "what the devil are you talking about, kit?" "captain barnard seems to think that mr. brett's ship might have used equipment that was not standard, sir," strong explained. "in addition, his own ship was sabotaged during the time trials." walters looked at strong and then at kit barnard, unable to understand. "what's happened to you two? bringing up a thing like that at this time. have you lost your senses?" "no, sir," replied kit. "but i believe that if a formal investigation was started, the solar guard would be within its legal rights to delay signing the contracts until such investigation was completed." walters grinned broadly. "of course! of course!" brett jumped up and stormed across the room. "you can't get away with this, walters!" he shouted. "i won this race fairly and squarely. you have to sign that contract." "mr. brett," said walters coldly, "under the circumstances, i don't have to do a space-blasted thing." he turned to kit. "is this a formal request for an investigation, kit?" he was smiling. "it is, sir." "very well," said walters, turning to brett. "mr. brett, in the presence of two witnesses, i refuse to sign the contracts as a result of serious charges brought against you by one of the participating entrants. you will be notified of the time and place of the hearing on these charges." brett's face turned livid. "you can't do this to me!" walters turned to one of the enlisted guardsmen. "escort mr. brett from the room," he ordered. a tall, husky spaceman unlimbered his paralo-ray rifle and nudged brett from the room. "i'll get even with you, walters, if it's the last thing i do," he screamed. "you make another threat like that to a solar guard officer," growled the enlisted spaceman, "and it'll be the _last_ thing you do." as the door closed, walters, strong, and kit laughed out loud. a few seconds later, as the three men returned to their study of the report, there was a distant rumble, followed quickly by the shock wave of a tremendous explosion. walters, strong, and kit and everyone in the room were thrown to the floor violently. "by the craters of luna," yelled strong, "what was that?" "one of the smaller screens has given way, sir!" yelled the chief electronic engineer after a quick glance at the giant control board. "number seven." walters struggled to his feet. "where is it?" he demanded. strong and kit got to their feet and crowded around the commander as the engineer pointed out the section on the huge map hanging on the wall. "here it is, sir," he said. "sector twelve." "has that area been evacuated yet?" asked strong. "i don't know, sir," replied the engineer. "captain howard was in charge of all evacuation operations." walters spun around. "get howard, steve. find out if that part of the city has been cleared," he ordered and then turned to kit. "you, kit, take the space marines and round up every spare oxygen mask you can find and get it over to that section right away. i'll meet you here"--he placed his finger on the map--"with every jet car i can find. no telling how many people are still there and we have to get them out." almost immediately the wailing of emergency sirens could be heard spreading the alarm over the city. at the spaceport, where the citizens were waiting to be taken off the satellite, small groups began to charge toward the loading ships in a frenzy of fear. since titan had been colonized, there had never been a single occasion where the sirens had warned of the failure of the screens. there had been many tests, especially for the school-age children and the miners working far below the surface of the satellite, but this was the first time the sirens howled a real warning of danger and death. strong raced back to the control tower of the spaceport in a jet car and burst into the room where the captain was still asleep on the couch. strong shook him violently. "wake up, joe!" he cried. "come on. wake up." "uh--ahhh? what's the--?" howard sat up and blinked his eyes. "steve, what's going on?" "the screen at sector twelve has collapsed. how many people are still in there?" "collapsed! sector twelve?" howard, still groggy with sleep, dumbly repeated what strong had said. strong drew back his hand and slapped him across the face. "come out of it, joe!" he barked. howard reeled back and then sat up, fully awake. "what--what did you say?" he stammered. "sector twelve has gone," strong repeated. "how many people are left there?" "we haven't even begun operations there yet," howard replied grimly. "how long have i been asleep?" "a couple of hours." "then there's still time." "what do you mean?" "just before i folded, i ordered the evacuation crews to start working on sector eleven. they should be finished now and just about starting on twelve. if they have, we have a good chance of saving everyone." "let's go." the two men raced out of the control tower to the jet car and roared through the desolate streets of the city. all around them commandeered jet cars raced toward the critical area. commander walters stood in the middle of an intersection on the main road to sector twelve, waving his arms and shouting orders to the enlisted guardsmen and volunteer miners that had raced back into the city to help. on the sidewalk, enlisted guardsmen handed out extra oxygen masks to the men who would search the area for anyone who might not have gotten out before the screen exploded. the main evacuation force that had been under howard's supervision had already moved in but there was still a large area to cover. "we'll split up into six sections!" roared walters, standing on top of a jet car. "go down every street and alley, and make a house-to-house search. cover every square inch of the sector. if we lose one life, we will have failed. move out!" with strong, kit, howard, walters, and other officers of the solar guard in the lead, the grim lines of men separated into smaller groups and started their march through the deserted city. the swirling gas already was down to within a hundred feet of the street level. when it dropped to the surface, each man knew there would be little hope for anyone remaining alive without oxygen masks. every room of every house and building was searched, as over all, the deadly swirling gas dropped lower and lower and the pressure of the oxygen was dissipated. once, strong broke open the door to a cheap rooming house and raced through it searching each room. he found no one, but something made him go back through the first-floor rooms again. under a bed in a room at the end of the hall he found a young boy huddled with his dog, wide-eyed with fear. such incidents were repeated over and over as the searchers came upon sleeping miners, sick mothers and children, elderly couples that were unable to move. each time they were taken outside to a jet car where masks were strapped over their faces, and then driven to the spaceport. and, all the while, the deadly methane ammonia gas dropped lower and lower until it was within ten feet of the ground. there were only a few buildings left to search now. the lines of the men had reached the open grassy areas surrounding the city proper, and as they collected in groups and exchanged information, walters gathered them together. "you've done a fine job, all of you," he said. "i don't think there's a living thing left in this entire sector. all volunteers and the first four squads of enlisted guardsmen and second detachment of space marines return to the spaceport and prepare to abandon titan. give all the aid to the officer in charge that you can. again, i want to thank you for your help." as the group of men broke up and began drifting away, walters hurried over to strong and kit barnard. "steve," he said, "i want you to supervise the evacuation at the spaceport. since this screen has blown up, those poor people are frightened out of their wits. and they have a right to be. if a major screen blew instead of a small one, we really would be in trouble." "very well, sir," replied strong. "come on, kit, you might as well blast off with a load of children." "sure thing." "just a minute," walters interrupted. "i would consider it a service, kit, if you would send your young assistant back with your ship and you stick around until we get all the people safely off." "anything i can do to help, sir," replied kit. at that moment a tall enlisted spaceman walked up to walters and saluted sharply. walters noticed the stripes on his sleeve and his young-looking face. he couldn't remember ever seeing such a young master sergeant. "captain howard asked me to make my report to you, sir," said the guardsman. "very well, sergeant," said walters. the young spaceman made a detailed report of his search through sectors eleven and twelve. while he spoke, strong kept looking at him, puzzled. when the guardsman had finished, strong asked, "don't i know you from somewhere, sergeant?" the guardsman smiled. "you sure do, captain strong. my name's morgan, sir. i was a cadet with tom corbett and astro, sir, but i washed out. so i joined the enlisted guard." "congratulations, sergeant," said walters. "you're the youngest top kick i've ever seen." he turned to strong. "apparently we slipped up, steve, letting this chap get out of the academy so he could make a name for himself in the enlisted ranks." "thank you, sir," replied morgan, blushing with pride. "have you seen the cadets, by any chance, sergeant?" asked strong. "they're both here on titan with me." "oh, yes, sir," said morgan. "i saw them some time ago." "where?" "a few blocks closer to the heart of town," said morgan, pointing back down the avenue. "we were just starting in on sector eleven and i saw them coming out of a restaurant." "funny they haven't returned," commented walters. "and what would they be doing down there?" strong's forehead creased into a frown of worry. "sir, i wonder if you'd allow me a half hour or so to look for them?" he asked. "if they were anywhere near this section when the screen collapsed, they could have been injured by the sudden release of pressure." "they had masks, sir," said morgan. "i gave them a couple myself." walters thought a moment. "it's just possible they might have been injured in some way," he mused. "go ahead, steve. if you don't find them, and they don't show up at the spaceport, we'll organize a full search." "thank you, sir," said strong. "you come along with me, sergeant." adjusting their oxygen masks, captain strong and sergeant morgan strode down the street through the swirling mist of deadly methane ammonia to begin their search for tom and astro. chapter "listen!" captain strong grabbed the young master sergeant by the arm and stood stock-still in the swirling methane ammonia gas, his eyes searching the misty sky. "what is it, sir?" asked morgan. "a spaceship decelerating," said strong, "coming in for a touchdown!" "i think i hear it now, sir!" said morgan. "can you figure out where it is? i can't see a blasted thing." "sounds to me as though it's to the left, sir." "o.k., let's go and investigate," said strong. "there isn't any good reason for a ship coming down in this deadly soup--or in this area." walking slowly and cautiously, the two spacemen angled to the left, peering through the clouds of gas that seemed to get thicker as they moved along. the roaring blast of the ship became louder. strong put his hand out to stop morgan. "let's hold up a minute, sergeant," he said. "i don't want to get too close until i know what we're facing." they stood absolutely still, the gas swirling around them in undulating clouds that grew thicker one minute and then thinned out again. as the gas thinned for a few seconds, strong gasped and pointed. "look!" he cried. "by the craters of luna, it's brett's ship!" "brett?" asked morgan. "charles brett. he owns that ship. it's the one that won the space race from earth. now, what would he be doing landing out here?" "i think he came down beside that warehouse up ahead, sir," said morgan, as the gas cloud closed in again, cutting off their view of the actual landing. "it used to be a storehouse for mining gear a couple of years ago, but it's been empty for some time." "i think we'd better check this, sergeant," said strong firmly. "come on." strong started forward, then stopped, as a particularly heavy cloud of the deadly gas swirled around them. the two spacemen clung together blinded by the dense methane ammonia that would kill them in thirty seconds should their oxygen masks fail. in a moment the foggy death thinned out again and they continued toward the warehouse and the sleek black ship behind it. * * * * * tom corbett and astro heard the roaring blast of the ship's exhaust. they saw brett and miles haul the instruments out of the cavern. they saw; they could hear; but they could not move. for nearly three hours they had remained alone in the cavern, frozen in the exact position they were in when quent miles had blasted them with his paralo-ray gun. and then brett and miles were standing before them again, miles covering them with his paralo-ray gun. "why should we break our backs loading the ship?" sneered miles. "let them carry it out for us." [illustration: _"look!" strong cried. "it's brett's ship!"_] "all right, release them," agreed brett. "but get that stuff loaded in a hurry. walters is either getting suspicious or he's pulling a bluff. we can't take any more chances." miles flipped on the neutralizer switch of the paralo ray and leveled it at tom. "we'll take the little fella first," he said. "if he acts up, we'll just leave the other fella the way he is." he fired at tom, and the young cadet began to shudder violently. his teeth chattered and he found it difficult to focus his eyes as his nervous system tried to shake off the effects of the ray. he crumpled to a heap on the balcony floor and gasped for breath. "he won't be much use to you for a while." brett laughed. "look at him flopping around like a fish out of water." "get up!" snarled miles at tom, quickly flipping the ray gun back to positive charge. "come on. you're not that bad off. get up." he leaned over and prodded the cadet with the gun. "if you don't get up, i'll freeze you again," he threatened. tom struggled to his feet. "i'll get you for this, miles," he gasped weakly, his teeth still chattering. "never mind the hot air!" snarled brett. "go down there and start hauling up those boxes." tom turned helplessly and stumbled down the stairs to the floor of the cavern. "now for the big fellow," said miles. he fired the neutralizer charge and astro started to quiver at the shock of the release. but he clamped his teeth together and made a quick lunge for miles, reaching for the spaceman's throat. expecting the attack, miles stepped aside quickly and brought the gun down sharply on the big cadet's head. astro dropped to the floor, half-stunned. the black-clad spaceman leveled the ray gun and sneered, "try that again, you overgrown punk, and i'll drop you on your head." astro shook his head and stumbled to his feet. he glared at miles, spun away, and walked down the stairs shakily. miles and brett stood on the balcony and watched the two cadets working on the cavern floor. "hurry it up there!" shouted miles. "we haven't got all day." brett took his ray gun from his belt and stepped forward. "i'll handle corbett," he said. "you take care of the big one." "right," replied miles. "but stay well in back of them and keep your gun on them all the time." "how long do you think it'll take to get the ship loaded?" asked brett. "couple of hours. but what are you going to do about walters if he's wise?" miles shrugged his shoulders. "simple," said brett. "we take the stuff we've got, haul it to the hide-out, dump it, and return to atom city. then we just sit tight and wait until the situation clears up here on titan." "what about that investigation?" asked miles, keeping his eyes on the cadets, who were now staggering back to the stairs, each carrying a heavy lead box containing the precious uranium pitchblende. "what can an investigation prove?" snorted brett. "i don't know. walters and strong are pretty smart cookies." "unless they have witnesses that you were messing around kit barnard's ship, which they don't, and unless they find out about ross, which they won't, there isn't anything they can do." miles looked down at the shorter man beside him. "ross, eh?" he laughed. brett stared at him and then shrugged. "i always get mixed up," he said. "but you know what i mean." "sure, i know." miles turned to watch astro and tom start up the stairs to the balcony, the lead boxes on their shoulders. "what are you going to do with them?" he said. "take them to the hide-out and decide later. besides, they'll be handy for unloading the ship." "good idea," nodded miles. he took a deep breath and smiled. "i sure wish i could see walters' face when he learns about the new load of uranium that'll flood the market." brett laughed. "yeah, and with the customs clearance we'll get to haul in the crystal, there'll be no way they can figure out how it's getting in." miles turned and shouted at the two cadets struggling up the stairs. "come on, you two. get a move on." "we're making it as fast as we can, miles," astro protested. "it ain't fast enough," sneered the spaceman. he reached out with his free hand and slapped astro across the mouth. "that's just to remind you to watch your tongue, or you might wind up an icicle again." astro dropped the box and crouched, his big frame ready to be released like a coiled spring. miles backed up and fingered the trigger on the ray gun. "come on, stupid," he snarled. "come on, i'll give it to you again, only this time--" he smiled. "no, astro," called tom. "there's nothing we can do now. no use getting frozen again." "that's using your head, corbett." miles laughed. "pick up that box and get going." astro picked up the lead box again and staggered after tom toward the door. miles and brett stepped back, guns ready, and watched the two cadets walk slowly ahead of them into the tunnel. * * * * * captain strong and sergeant morgan crept to the side of the warehouse and flattened themselves against the wall. with the gas swirling around them thicker than ever, they found it more difficult than ever to see where they were going. "i think i see a door ahead," said strong. "want me to see if it'll open, sir?" asked morgan. "no. i'll look around in the warehouse," replied the solar guard captain. "you investigate the ship. if anyone's aboard, keep him there until i contact you. if not, come back here and wait for me." "very well, sir," said morgan, and turned toward the black ship. in a moment he was lost in the deadly mist. strong made his way to the door and twisted the latch. the door slid open easily, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him and waiting for some signs of life or movement. the gas was like a thick fog in the room and he inched his way forward, hands outstretched like a blind person. gradually he began to see the vague form of a door on the opposite wall and he made his way toward it, completely unaware that he came within inches of falling through the open trap door in the floor. he opened the door in the wall slowly, peering inside cautiously. he was startled to feel the faint rush of air on his hands and to see the room clear of the dangerous methane ammonia gas. he moved quickly inside and made a hurried inspection of the gear, not bothering to look to examine it closely. he shrugged his shoulders. it was just as morgan had said. an abandoned warehouse with old mining gear and nothing else. suddenly he stopped. there was something strange about the room and he looked around again. the gas! there were no ammonia vapors in the room. he quickly searched along the walls for some outlet of oxygen, remembering now the rush of air he had felt as he opened the door. close to a corner near the door, he found a small opening. air poured out of it in a steady rush. he straightened up, his face grim. "so that's it," he said to himself. "somebody has been sucking off oxygen from the main pumps!" strong headed for the door. "but why?" he asked himself. "why in this particular building?" he strode out of the room and inched his way across the outer room toward the front door, again narrowly missing the open trap door. once outside, he made his way along the side of the building in the direction that morgan had taken. when he reached the corner, he could see the black bulk of the _space knight_ a hundred yards away. he ran toward the base of the ship and met morgan coming toward him. "find anything, sergeant?" he called. "nothing, sir," replied morgan. "the ship is ready to blast off and her cargo holds are full. but that's all." "full of what?" "i couldn't see, sir. the main hatch was locked and i could only see through the viewport. but it just looked like general cargo to me." "couldn't have been crystal?" "it might have been, sir. it was pretty dark in the hold but it looked like a lot of boxes to me." "you don't put crystal blocks in boxes," said strong. "sometimes they do, sir. the more expensive grades are crated, so that the surfaces won't get scratched. pieces that are going to be used for outer facings on a building, for instance." "all right, sergeant. but i found something back in that building that is going to prove very interesting." "the cadets, sir?" "no. an illegal use of oxygen!" quickly strong explained his discovery, concluding, "come on. we're going back in there for a closer inspection!" "but we can't, sir," said morgan. "why not?" "we only have enough oxygen left in our tanks to get us back to the cleared area." "blast it!" growled strong. "aren't there any masks aboard the ship?" "no, sir," replied morgan. "very well, then. the only thing we can do is go back and bring out a searching party in force." strong turned and walked rapidly away. "come on, sergeant, i think we're on the way to answering a lot of questions about the failure of the screens." almost running, the two spacemen disappeared into the swirling mist of deadly gases. no sooner were they out of sight than tom corbett and astro, faces covered with oxygen masks, emerged from the warehouse and headed toward the ship, miles and brett close behind them with paralo-ray guns leveled at their backs. [illustration] chapter roger manning opened his eyes, then closed them. he lay perfectly still and listened. the sound he heard was the unmistakable blasting roar of a spaceship. but there was another sound, much closer. in fact, it was in the room with him. he opened one eye to see quent miles moving about in the one-room, airtight space hut which had been his jail for the last week. miles was throwing clothes into a space bag, keeping a wary eye on roger, sprawled on the bunk. hoisting the bag to his shoulder, miles closed the face plate of his space helmet, turned to the air lock, and stepped inside, slamming the portal behind him. from the bunk, roger could hear the hissing of the change of pressure inside the lock from normal to the vacuum of space outside. the entire week had been a time of waiting and wondering. he couldn't understand miles' actions in taking him prisoner the moment before blast-off from earth, and then keeping him at the asteroid, seemingly giving up all chances of winning the race. roger waited until he was sure that the black-clad spaceman had gone, then he sat up and worked desperately on the thin metal chain binding his wrists. he had been working on one of the links ever since his arrival at miles' strange asteroid base, scraping it against the rough metal edge of one of the legs of his bunk. two days before, he had succeeded in wearing it down to a point where he could snap it easily when the opportunity came for him to make a break. but so far the chance had not presented itself. he had been kept prisoner in the space hut, and miles had pushed his food in through a vent in the air lock. now, however, with the sound of the spaceship outside, the cadet decided it was time for action. working quickly, roger snapped the link and tore off the chain, freeing his hands. he allowed himself the longed-for luxury of stretching just once, and then crossed to the small locker beside the air-lock door to take out a space suit. he climbed into it hurriedly, secured the helmet, and began searching the small room for a weapon. in the bottom of a chest he found a rocketman's wrench. grasping it tightly, he stepped into the air lock. just before he turned on the oxygen in his space suit, he listened again for the noise of the blasting ship. then he grinned as he realized that it wasn't the noise of the ship he heard, but the vibration it created on the surface of the asteroid. sound wouldn't travel through the vacuum of space outside. suddenly it stopped and roger realized the tubes were being blasted in preparation for take-off. the young cadet closed the inner portal of the lock, adjusted the pressure, turned on the oxygen of his suit, and waited. in a moment the indicator showed the pressure to be equal to that outside in space, and he opened the outer portal cautiously. a section of the asteroid belt swam above him. hundreds of small planetoids and various-sized pieces of space junk drifted in the cold vacuum of space overhead. roger looked around. the asteroid he was on was so small and the horizon such a short distance away that the base of miles' giant black ship was half-covered by the curvature of the planetoid. holding the wrench tightly in his hand, the blond-haired cadet circled around the space hut cautiously, looking for quent miles, but the spaceman was nowhere in sight. he had walked all the way around the hut and back to the air lock when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. it was miles, returning to the space hut. moving quickly, roger ducked behind a huge boulder and waited for miles to come closer. it would be impossible to hit miles with the heavy wrench. the space helmet would ward off the blow. his only chance was to get aboard the ship while miles was inside the hut. and he would have to move fast. when miles discovered the hut was empty, he would come looking for the young cadet. but to the cadet's great relief, miles went past the hut and disappeared over the horizon of the asteroid in the opposite direction. slipping out from behind the boulder and utilizing the near lack of gravity, roger ran in giant leaps toward the black spaceship. his last jump brought him to the base of the ship where he quickly clambered up the ladder, opened the portal, and slipped into the air lock. in a matter of seconds he had built up the pressure in the lock to equal the pressure inside the ship. he opened the inner portal and raced up the ladder to the control deck. throwing himself into the pilot's chair, he prepared to raise ship. then he slumped in despair. the master switch had been removed. it was impossible for him to blast off! he leaped out of the chair and scrambled up the ladder to the radar deck. he flipped on the audioceiver and nervously waited for the tubes to warm up. nothing happened. only then he remembered that the communications would not work without power from the generators and they could not be started without the master switch. "boy! he sure wasn't taking any chances of me getting away and leaving him here," roger muttered to himself, as he turned back to the ladder and climbed down to the air lock. he stepped inside, and crossing to the small viewport, looked out over the dead landscape of the tiny world for a sign of quent miles. he saw the black-clad spaceman returning toward the hut. roger held his breath. if miles went into the hut this time and found him missing, he would know that the cadet was aboard the ship. "manning," roger said to himself, "if you ever needed luck, you need it now!" miles walked slowly, as if in no hurry, still heading for the space hut. but as roger held his breath in fear, he passed it again, without so much as pausing to look at it. roger grinned. "spaceman, you are going to say your prayers every night after this," he murmured. the cadet turned, and racing as fast as the cumbersome space suit would allow him, headed toward the power deck. passing the galley, he snatched up several plastic packages of food. down on the power deck, roger went directly to the lead baffling shields around the reactant chambers and carefully squeezed between them and the outer hull. it was going to be a rough ride on the power deck, jammed in behind the firing chambers, but at least he was hidden--and more important, _free_. he listened for the clank of metal shoes on the ladder above him. when he heard them, followed closely by the slam of the air-lock portal, he grinned in satisfaction. opening one of the plastic bags, he began to eat. in a moment the ship came to life and the power deck became a raging torrent of noise and vibration. as roger braced himself, he felt the ship quiver and then shake, as under heavy acceleration, it blasted off into space. * * * * * captain strong and young sergeant morgan hailed a passing jet truck loaded with space marines. "get me to commander walters right away, lieutenant!" said strong to the young officer in charge. "this is an emergency." "yes, sir," acknowledged the young officer, and sent the truck roaring down the empty avenue toward the electronics building where walters was still checking the reports on the screens. "is there anything new, sir?" asked the young officer. "have the technicians been able to find out what's making the screens fail?" "we're on the right track, lieutenant," said strong shortly. "can't you get any more speed out of this thing?" [illustration: _it would be a rough ride, but at least he was hidden_] "yes, sir," replied the officer. he rammed the accelerator to the floor and the small truck blasted through the streets as though shot out of cannon. in a few minutes the truck screamed to a halt in front of the building and strong leaped toward the door, followed closely by sergeant morgan and the space marine lieutenant. strong found walters before the telemetering board waiting impatiently for some figures dr. joan dale had sent him to be analyzed and evaluated. he spun around when strong entered the room at a dead run. "steve!" he exclaimed. "what's the matter? anything happen to the cadets?" "we didn't find them, sir, but we did find something else. we--" before strong could finish, the calculator began pouring out its answers. "excuse me, steve! these figures could tell us why the screens are failing." "but i know why they're failing, sir!" shouted strong. "you know what?" exclaimed walters. as all the men in the room stared at him, strong hurriedly told the commanding officer what he had found, concluding, "i think the room i stumbled into was used as a repair shop. but it was gas-free and pure oxygen was coming out of the pipe i described." "i see," said walters grimly. "let me check that against these figures." he turned to the calculator and with the assistance of joe howard, kit barnard, and the chief electronics engineer began studying the figures. strong paced up and down nervously. the faces of the technicians in the room clearly showed the strain they had been under the past few days. and when they heard the startling news strong had delivered, there wasn't one who didn't feel his fingers tighten into fists at brett and miles' selfishness. walters straightened up and glanced at the faces of the men around him. "well, gentlemen," he said. "i think the figures speak for themselves." there was a murmur of agreement. walters turned back to strong. "those figures prove conclusively that what you say is true. it is impossible for the screens to collapse except from a vital leak--exactly such a leak as you have described." walters turned and began to snap orders to the men around him. "i want every available man sent out on the double. i want every inch of that area searched for an opening to a mine shaft or anything that leads underground. take half the men off the spaceport detail." "shall we continue evacuation operations for the miners and their families?" asked the young space marine lieutenant. "there is quite a force of men out there that could be used in the search." "what do you think, steve? should we take off the guardsmen and suspend evacuation in the hope that we can find that leak?" "i would say yes, commander," said strong. "your figures and those dr. dale sent you point to a leak of this nature." "very well, lieutenant," said walters. "order every man to the area and begin search operations immediately. i want that leak found--and found fast! and i want charles brett and quent miles arrested at once!" * * * * * tom and astro bent over the lead boxes again and heaved them to their shoulders. a quick glance showed them that miles had not followed them to the floor of the cavern as he had done before, but had remained on guard on the balcony. as they struggled to lift the boxes to their shoulders, tom whispered out of the side of his mouth, "i know how we can get out of here, astro." "how?" "since brett is staying on the ship for this trip, miles is going to have trouble watching both of us." "yeah, i know," muttered astro. "want me to jump him?" "no," tom growled. "miles has been trailing us through the tunnel by twenty to thirty feet each trip. when we pass that spot where the light is, you drop your box. he'll be watching you then and that will give me a chance to grab that booby trap you took apart, remember?" "yeah!" "o.k. now remember, when i give you the word, you drop your box on the right-hand side of the tunnel." "hurry up down there!" yelled miles from the balcony. "we haven't got all night." "keep your shirt on, buster," growled astro. "we're tired." the two cadets balanced the heavy lead boxes on their shoulders, and, with tom leading the way, climbed up the stairs past miles and started up the tunnel in front of the black-suited spaceman. they walked slowly, side by side, and as before, miles stayed a good twenty paces behind them. as they neared the light where they knew the explosive charge would be, tom began slowing his pace. "come on, get going, corbett!" miles yelled. "he's tired," said astro. "leave him alone." "what are you, his protector?" snarled miles. "get going, i said." "o.k.," said tom, struggling forward. they came closer and closer to the light. tom glanced at astro and winked. astro winked back and braced himself to fake the accident. as closely as tom could remember, astro had tossed the charge to one side about ten feet beyond the light. if he knew exactly where it was, he could fall forward on top of it and stuff it in his tunic. he tried to recreate the scene as it happened. they passed under the light. one step ... two steps ... three steps.... "now, astro," tom whispered. the big cadet lunged to one side, dropping the heavy box to the floor. at the same time, tom dropped his box and lunged forward, arms outstretched, feeling along the floor for the precious explosives. miles ran up quickly, ray gun cocked and ready. "get up!" he shouted. "get up or i'll freeze you both and leave you here!" tom and astro struggled to their feet. they lifted the heavy boxes to their shoulders and started down the tunnel again. when astro dared a glance at tom, he saw his unit mate grin and wink at him. astro winked back. suddenly it seemed that the heavy lead box was as light as air! chapter the streets of olympia echoed to the thunderous roar of jet trucks and jet cars racing to sector twelve. miners, solar guardsmen, and space marines jammed the vehicles, their faces grim with determination as they prepared for an all-out attempt to prevent the death of the colony. walters, strong, and kit barnard sat behind blake, the space marine lieutenant, and sergeant morgan as they rocketed through the streets. there was little conversation, each man thinking bitterly of charles brett and quent miles. walters had already foreseen the possibility of trouble with emotional miners and had ordered blake to be personally responsible for the safety of miles and brett when they were arrested. "they get a fair trial like anyone else," declared walters. "and they are innocent until proven guilty by a jury." now, as he sat beside strong, walters wondered if they would be able to save the city from the ammonia gas. he had taken a calculated risk in ordering guardsmen at the spaceport to aid in this search. if they should fail to find the leak, and the gas death spread farther across the city, the miners and their families would be helpless before it. the thought of the riots that would ensue if the people tried to get aboard the spaceships without order made the hardened commander shudder. the jet car slowed and finally stopped. "what's the matter?" growled walters. "this is as far as we can go in the car, sir," replied blake. "the gas is so thick i can't see where i'm driving." "very well. put on your masks," walters announced. "keep in contact with the spaceport control tower. they'll relay messages to me and my orders back to you. let's go. spaceman's luck." the men opened the doors of the small jet car and stepped out into the swirling mists. though there were more than a thousand men searching the area, they could not rid themselves of a strange feeling of loneliness as they each walked forward into the mists of death. strong and walters inched their way down the street like blind men, feeling for each step with hesitant feet. "are you sure we're heading in the right direction, steve?" asked walters. "yes, commander," replied strong. "the warehouse is located about a half mile down this street." "of all the blasted messes," grumbled walters. "we've got the finest radar system in the universe and we have to walk along here feeling our way like blind men." "there's no other way, i'm afraid," said strong grimly. "are you still with us, kit?" called walters. "right here, sir," came barnard's voice, immediately behind them. the spacemen continued their slow march through the mist in silence. once, when walters stumbled and nearly fell, he roared angrily. "by the craters of luna, when i get my hands on those two space crawlers, there won't be enough of them left for a trial!" "yes, sir," said steve. "but if anything has happened to those cadets, you'll have to excuse ranks, sir, and wait your turn." "of course!" walters exclaimed a moment later. "that's what happened to manning! he didn't run away. he must have gotten on to them during the trip out here and they shut him up." "exactly what i was thinking, sir," said strong, and then suddenly stopped. "i just bumped into a wall. we're here." * * * * * tom and astro climbed wearily through the trap door into the room above the main shaft while quent miles watched them closely, keeping his paralo-ray gun leveled. the two boys hitched the heavy lead boxes into a more comfortable position on their shoulders and started toward the door leading outside. but neither boy thought of his discomfort or weariness now. with the explosive charge safely hidden under tom's blouse, they had a chance to fight back. it was a small chance, perhaps, but at least a chance. outside, they walked slowly through the swirling methane ammonia and tom edged closer to his unit mate. "can you hear me, astro?" he whispered through the mask amplifier. the big cadet simply nodded, keeping his eyes forward. "we'll have to bluff our way now," continued tom in a low whisper. "this stuff has to be set off with a charge of electricity." "where do we get it?" mumbled astro. "the paralo-ray gun." "you're space happy. it won't work." "i know that," hissed tom. "but maybe miles doesn't. i'll challenge miles, hold the stuff right in front of me, and warn him that if he fires he'll set off the explosive and blow the four of us up." "oh, brother. that's a bluff to end all bluffs! suppose he doesn't bite?" "then get set to take another paralo-ray charge." "o.k.," sighed astro. "when do you want to try it?" "i'll give you the word," replied tom. "just be ready." the cadet turned away quickly. "watch it," he hissed. "he's suspicious." the two boys plodded along across the field as miles moved up closer. he stared at them for a long moment and then continued to walk along directly behind them. when they reached the ship, miles allowed them to rest and catch their breath before making the long climb up the ladder to the air-lock portal. brett suddenly appeared in the open portal above them. "hey, miles," he called, "is that the last of it?" "yes," miles called back. "you get in touch with our pal?" "uh-huh. he's going to meet us out in space." "in space?" miles stared up at brett with a strange gleam in his eye. "why not the hide-out?" "i don't know," brett replied from above. "let's not waste time talking now. get those other two cases up here. i want to blast off." miles turned to the two cadets and waved his paralo-ray gun menacingly. "all right, you two. get going!" "give us a few more minutes, miles," said tom. "we're so tired we can hardly move." "get up, i said," snarled the black-suited spaceman. "i can't," whined tom. "you'll have to give me a hand." miles pointed his gun straight at the young cadet. "all right. that means the big fella makes two trips and i freeze you right now." "no, no!" cried tom, jumping to his feet. "i can make it. please don't freeze me again." astro turned away to hide his smile. sneering his disgust at tom's apparent fear, miles prodded the cadets up the ladder. tom went first, the heavy box digging into his shoulder. astro followed, cursing the fog that prevented him from seeing where miles stood below him so he could drop the heavy box on him. above them, charles brett watched them emerge out of the ammonia mist, ray gun held tightly in his hand. tom climbed into the air lock safely and dropped the box on the edge of the platform, slumping to the deck beside it. astro followed seconds later, and then miles. "don't stop now," barked miles. "put those boxes below with the rest of them." tom got up slowly, leaning heavily on the outer edge of the precariously placed box. the box suddenly tilted and then slipped out of the air lock to disappear in the mist. "why, you clumsy--" brett roared, raising his gun menacingly. astro stepped in front of tom. "i'll get it," he cried. "don't shoot!" "go on then," snarled brett. "go down with him, miles. i'll stay here with corbett." "you go down with him," sneered miles. "i've been up and down that ladder fifty times while you sat up here doing nothing." "is that so?" cried brett angrily, turning to face the black-clad spaceman. this gave tom the opportunity he was waiting for. he pulled the small charge of explosives from his tunic and held it in front of him. "all right, you two!" he shouted. "drop those paralo-ray guns. this is the booby trap you planted in the tunnel. you fire those ray guns and we all go up together." brett jumped back. miles took a half step forward and stopped. "you haven't got the nerve," he sneered. "shoot and you'll find out," said tom. "go ahead! shoot, if you've got the guts. get down the ladder, astro," he said. "they won't fire as long as i've got this in my hand." brett had begun to shake with fear but miles brought his ray gun up slowly. he aimed it at astro who was starting down the ladder, his head and shoulders still showing in the open air-lock portal. tom saw what miles was going to do. "jump, astro!" he shouted. astro jumped at the exact instant miles fired. "rush him," cried miles. brett made a headlong dash for tom, but the cadet side-stepped at the last moment and brett fell headlong out of the ship, wailing in sudden terror as he fell to the ground. miles turned to tom. he ripped off his mask and with his free hand closed the air-lock portal. "you fooled brett, but you didn't fool me, corbett." he laughed. "it takes a direct electric charge to set that stuff off. you just helped me get rid of a very obnoxious partner." he leveled his paralo-ray gun. "i hate to do this," he said, "but it's you or me." he fired. tom was again frozen into that immobile state more dead than alive. miles laughed and hurried to the control deck. * * * * * astro got up on his knees slowly. though the fall had been a hard one, he had rolled quickly with the first impact, thus preventing any injuries. he shook his head, regained his sense of direction, and then rose to his feet, starting back to the ship in hope of helping tom. he tripped over something and fell to the ground. groping around in the thickening ammonia gas he felt the still form of a body. for a moment, thinking it was tom, his heart nearly stopped, and then he breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness when he recognized charley brett. he felt the man's heart. there was a faint beat. astro opened the valve on brett's oxygen mask wide and waited until the man was breathing normally. then he began feeling his way back to the ladder. suddenly he heard a sound that made his blood run cold. it was the unmistakable whine of the cooling pumps building for blast-off. and he was directly underneath the exhaust tubes. he scrambled away, heading back to the spot where brett lay. the whining of the pumps built to an agonizing scream. there were scant seconds left to save himself. he could not wait to find brett. he began running wildly away from the ship, stumbling, falling, rising to his feet again to plunge on, away from the deadly white-hot exhaust blast of the _space knight_. [illustration] there was a terrific explosion, and then astro was lifted off his feet and hurled through the mist, head over heels. he screamed and then blacked out. * * * * * "we found him about a thousand yards away from the warehouse, commander," said the guardsman. "he looks pretty beat and his clothes are burned a little. i think he must have been caught in the blast of that ship we heard take off." walters looked down at astro's big frame, sprawled on the ground, and then at the medical corpsman who was giving him a quick examination. the corpsman straightened up and turned to walters and captain strong. "he'll be all right as soon as he wakes up." "shock?" asked strong. "yes. and complete fatigue. look at his hands and knees. he's been doing some pretty rough work." the corpsman indicated the big cadet's hands, skinned and swollen from his labor in the mines. "wake him up!" growled walters. "wake him up!" exclaimed the corpsman. "why, sir, i couldn't allow--" "wake him up. and that's an order!" insisted walters. "very well, sir. but this will have to go into my report to the senior medical officer." "and i'll commend you for insisting on proper care for your patients," walters stated. "but in the meantime we've got to find out what happened. and cadet astro is the only one who can tell us." the corpsman turned to his emergency kit. he took out a large hypodermic needle, filled with a clear fluid, and injected it into the big cadet's arm. in less than a minute astro was sitting up and telling walters everything that had happened. when he told of the pipe that was sucking off the oxygen from the main pumps, walters dispatched an emergency crew to the mine immediately to plug the leak. then, when astro revealed the secret of the mine, the presence of the uranium pitchblende, walters shook his head slowly. "amazing!" he exclaimed. "greed can ruin a man. he could have declared such a discovery and still had more money than he could have spent in a lifetime." walters spun around. "steve, i want the _polaris_ ready to blast off within an hour. we're going after one of the dirtiest space rats that ever hit the deep!" [illustration] chapter roger peered around the edge of the baffling shields. the power deck was empty. he edged out and stood upright, eyes moving constantly for signs of miles. no longer needing the cumbersome space suit, he stripped it off and walked across the deck to the ladder. he stopped to listen again but there was only the sound of the rockets under emergency space drive. a quick glance at the control panel told him that the ship was hurtling through space at a fantastic speed. satisfied that miles was nowhere near, roger gripped the rocketman's wrench tightly and began climbing slowly and cautiously. when he reached the next deck, he raised his head through the hatch slowly. then, in one quick movement, he pulled himself up on the deck and ran for cover behind a small locker to his right. above him, through the open network of frames and girders, he could see the control deck, but miles was nowhere in sight. something on the opposite side of the ship caught his eye. miles' space suit hung on its rack, the heavy fish-bowllike space helmet beside it in its open locker. roger's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the holster for a paralo-ray gun nearby. but the large flap was closed and he could not see if it held a gun. [illustration: _slowly and cautiously he began climbing_] the young cadet moved away from the protection of the locker and started toward the space suit. he moved slowly, watching the upper deck where he figured miles would be at the control board, operating the ship. suddenly miles appeared above him, walking across the open control deck with a clip board in his hand, making a standard check of the many instruments. before roger could find a hiding place, miles saw the cadet. he drew his paralo-ray gun quickly, firing with the speed of a practiced hand. roger dove toward the space suit and wrenched open the holster but found it empty. miles was behind him now, running down the ladder. roger spun around, darted to the ladder leading to the power deck, and just missed being hit by miles' second shot. he jumped the ten feet to the power deck and darted behind the huge bank of atomic motors. miles came down the ladder slowly, gun leveled, eyes searching the deck. he stopped with his back to the rocket motors and called, "all right, manning, come on out. if you come out without any trouble, i won't freeze you. i'll just tie you up again." roger was silent, gripping the wrench tightly and praying for a chance to strike. miles still remained in one position, protected by the motor housing. "i'm going to count five, manning!" he shouted. "then i'll hunt you down and freeze you solid." gripping the wrench tightly and raising it above his head, roger eased out from his hiding place and slipped across the floor lightly. he was within four feet of miles when the black-suited spaceman spun around and stepped back quickly. "sucker," he snarled, and fired. roger stood motionless, his arm still raised, the wrench falling to the deck. miles stuck his face close to roger's head and said, "i don't know how you got here, but it doesn't make any difference now. in a little while you and your pal, corbett, are going for a swim out in space." holding roger by the arm, he tipped the boy over and lowered him to the deck. roger's arm stuck up like the branch of a tree. miles stood over him, flipped on the neutralizer charge of the gun, and fired again, releasing roger from the paralyzing effect of the ray. the young cadet began to shake violently and through his chattering teeth he muttered a space oath. miles only grinned. "just wanted you to make yourself comfortable, manning," he said. he flipped the gun to direct charge again and pointed it at the boy. seeing it was useless to try and jump the burly spaceman, roger relaxed and stretched out on the deck. miles fired again calmly, and after testing the effect of the ray with his toe, he turned to the ladder. as the spaceman climbed back to the control deck, roger, though in a paralyzed state, could hear the communicator loud-speaker paging miles. * * * * * "come in, quent! this is ross! come in!" tom corbett sat bound and gagged in the copilot's chair of the black ship, listening to miles call again and again over the audioceiver. the fact that miles was identifying himself as ross puzzled the young cadet and he wondered if it was an alias. tom was even more puzzled when miles addressed the person he was calling as quent. "this is ross! acknowledge, quent! come in!" static spluttered over the loud-speaker and then a clear, harsh voice that was a perfect imitation, answered, "i read you, ross," it said. "where are you?" tom watched as miles made a hasty check on the astrogation chart. "space quadrant four," he replied. "chart c for charley! where are you?" "same space quadrant, but on chart b for baker," came the reply. "i think we can make visual contact on radar in above five minutes. make the usual radar signal for identification. o.k.?" "good!" the _space knight_ pilot replied. "what course are you on?" there was a pause and then the voice answered, "south southwest. speed, emergency maximum." "very well. i will adjust course to meet you. but what's the hurry?" asked tom's captor. "better get out of space as soon as possible." "yeah, i guess you're right." tom listened intently. he closed his eyes and tried to visualize the charts and space quadrants he had heard mentioned. he knew the quadrants by heart, and knew that he was close to the asteroid belt. but each quadrant had at least a dozen or more charts, each one taking in a huge area of space. "is brett with you?" asked the voice over the audioceiver. "no. i'll tell you about it when we get together. all the rockets in space broke loose up there on titan for a while." "what do you mean? hey! i think i just picked you up on my radar!" said the voice over the loud-speaker. "give me the identification signal." tom watched miles go to the radarscope and make a minute adjustment. the voice came over the loud-speaker again. "that's you, all right. cut back to minimum speed and i'll maneuver to your space lock." "very well," replied the spaceman on the _space knight_. he cut the rockets and in a matter of minutes the ship was bumped heavily as contact was made. the voice over the communicator announced the two space vessels had been coupled. "open your air lock and come aboard." "you come aboard my ship," said miles. "we've got the stuff here." "o.k. but i have to go below and wake up that jerk, manning." "wake him up?" "yeah. i got him frozen." "all right, make it snappy." miles turned to look at tom, a sneer on his face. "i'm giving you a break, corbett," he said. "you're going to swim with your cadet buddy. you'll have company!" gagged, tom could only glare his hatred at the black-suited spaceman. in a moment he heard the air lock open below and then footsteps clattered up the ladder to the control deck. the hatch opened and roger stumbled inside. he saw tom immediately and yelled, "tom! what are--" suddenly he stopped. he looked at the man standing beside tom and gasped in astonishment. tom watched the hatch as roger's captor stepped inside. what he saw made him twist around in his chair and stare at the man beside him, utterly bewildered. "_twins!_" cried roger. "identical twins." the man stepped through the hatch and walked over to his brother. they shook hands and slapped each other on the back. "what happened to charley, ross?" asked quent miles. "just a minute, quent," replied his brother. he turned and grinned at tom and roger. "surprised, huh? don't let it bother you. we've been driving people crazy ever since we were born. does this tell you how we won the race?" "t-t-twin pilots," stuttered tom in amazement. "and twin ships?" "exactly." ross laughed. "pretty smart, eh?" "never mind them now," snarled quent. "i've been sitting up there on that asteroid rock talking to myself. what happened to charley?" "take it easy, will you, quent?" said ross. "i want to have some fun." he turned to manning. "untie corbett and get on the other side of the deck. have yourselves a nice long talk before you take your last walk." roger slowly bent over to untie tom, muttering a space oath under his breath. the two brothers retired to the opposite side of the control deck and sat down. ross kept his paralo-ray pistol in his hand and never once took his eyes off the two cadets. "well, what happened?" demanded quent. "what are you doing here with corbett and where in the blazes is charley?" "charley is back on titan, and probably dead," replied ross easily. "he wouldn't pay any attention to us when we suggested plugging up the old tunnels when we started mining that uranium, so the oxygen which we were sucking off from the main screen supply took too much. the screens started to go. practically the whole city is flooded with ammonia gas and it's being abandoned." roger and tom stood quietly, listening, and when roger heard the news he turned to tom with a questioning look on his face. tom merely nodded grimly. "but what are you doing here with this load of pitchblende?" quent persisted. "everything would have been all right, even with the screens letting go," explained ross, "if it hadn't been for corbett and that big jerk astro. they followed me out to the warehouse and down into the mine. good thing we caught them, or we'd be on our way to a prison asteroid right now." quent glared over at tom. "and charley spilled the beans about the whole thing, eh?" "not exactly, but the solar guard knows enough to be suspicious," replied ross. "we had some trouble with the radiation-detection gear and wanted to haul it out to the hide-out for manning to check. we decided to bring out as much of the stuff as we had mined, and when we caught corbett and astro snooping around, we made them load the ship. corbett, here, got smart and astro escaped. in the fight, charley fell out of the ship. i don't know if he got away or not." "do we have a whole shipload of the stuff?" asked quent. ross grinned. "about two million credits' worth." quent rubbed his hands together. "we're in clover." he laughed and slapped his brother on the back. "well, i suppose the solar guard is looking for us by now?" ross grinned. "right. so we pull the old trick, eh? we have two very likely prospects right there." he pointed to roger and tom. "what is that supposed to mean?" snapped roger. "you'll find out, squirt," sneered quent miles. "wait a minute, quent," said ross. "i just thought of something. no one knows there are two of us, except these two punks here. we can't work the old gag. we can only use one of them." "how do you mean?" "simple. the solar guard thinks manning took it on the lam from ganymede, right?" quent nodded. "well, we take manning, dress him up in one of our outfits and stick him aboard the empty ship alongside. the ship blows up, and should they find anything of manning, he'll be dressed like you, or me, and that will end the situation right there. later, we can dump corbett out in a space suit with a little oxygen, and write a note, sticking it in his glove. when they find him, they'll think he got away from quent miles, and when his oxygen gave out, wrote the note giving all the details. and who can say no, since quent miles, as such, will be dead?" "end to the affair!" shouted quent. "that's perfect." the audioceiver behind them crackled into life, and there was a clear, piercing signal, a sign that an emergency transmission was taking over all channels. the signal continued until the clear, strong voice of commander walters flooded the control deck of the ship. "attention! attention! this is commander walters of the solar guard! attention all solar guard units in space quadrants one through seven--repeat, all ships in quadrants one through seven. this is emergency alert for the rocket ship _space knight_, believed to be heading for the asteroid belt. all ships are to institute an immediate search of quadrants one through seven for the _space knight_ and arrest any and all persons aboard. repeat. all ships...." ross miles rose up and snapped off the audioceiver. "come on. we've got to get out of here!" "what about them?" asked quent, pointing to roger and tom. "will we have time to--?" "plenty of time," said ross coldly. "blast 'em now." "with pleasure," replied quent miles, taking his gun from his holster. "jump, roger!" shouted tom. both boys threw themselves sideways as miles leveled his gun. tom plunged headlong through the hatch door and scrambled down the ladder. roger tried to follow, but quent fired as roger started to jump feet first through the hatch. his body became rigid as he tumbled through the hatch. tom looked up just in time to break his unit mate's fall, but seeing that it would be useless to stay with him, left him on the deck and turned to flee through the depths of the black ship. chapter "never mind, manning!" shouted quent miles as he jumped past roger's body. "we've got to find corbett. take the starboard ladder; i'll take the port. search all the way aft to the exhaust tubes if you have to!" ross nodded quickly, hefted his ray gun, and moved down the opposite ladder. tom watched both of them come down like twin devils, hands holding the ray guns as steady as rocks. the cadet hid behind the open door leading to the lower cargo holds. ross was the nearer of the two, walking like a cat, slowly, ready to spring or fire at the slightest movement. tom quickly saw that if he jumped ross, quent would be on him in seconds. his only chance lay in their passing him, giving him the opportunity to return to the control deck and search for a ray gun for himself. and if that failed, at least he could call commander walters. ross crept closer. tom crouched tensely. should ross see him, tom would have to make an attempt to knock him out and get the ray gun before quent could do anything. "careful, quent!" called ross as he moved toward the open hatch. "you too," replied his brother. "this kid is plenty smart." tom breathed a silent prayer. ross was now opposite the door. should the black-suited spaceman decide to look behind it, tom would be at his mercy. ross stopped beside the door and hesitated a moment. "hey, ross!" quent called, and ross turned away from the door. "i think i hear something down inside the hold. slip down the ladder a little way and cover me. i'll go down inside and look around. he must be down here somewhere, and if you guard the door, he can't get out." ross grinned. "like flushing quail in venus jungles," he said, moving away from the door and down into the hold where the lead boxes filled with uranium pitchblende were stored. tom could scarcely suppress a loud sigh of relief at his narrow escape. after a moment he peered cautiously around the edge of the door, and seeing the way clear to the control deck, ran back to the ladder. he paused at roger's inert form and bent over, his lips close to the paralyzed cadet's ear. "i'm going to try and find a ray gun," he whispered quickly. "if i can't, then i'm going to try and get in touch with commander walters or the solar guard patrols." he patted the blond-haired cadet on the shoulder and raced up the ladder to the control deck. once inside, he barred the door to the rest of the ship and began a frantic search of the many lockers and drawers. but it was fruitless. he could find no ray gun or weapon of any kind. desperate, knowing that ross and quent would return to the control deck when they had searched the rest of the ship, tom turned and scrambled up the ladder to the radar deck. again, barring the door behind him, he sat before the audioceiver and began calling the _polaris_. "this is cadet corbett aboard rocket ship _space knight_ in quadrant four, chart c for charley. corbett aboard spaceship _space knight_ in quadrant four, chart c for charley! come in, commander walters! come in!" tom spun the dials on the audioceiver desperately, ranging over every circuit and repeating his cry. "this is cadet corbett! i am being held prisoner with cadet roger manning aboard the spaceship _space knight_ in space quadrant four, chart c for charley...." suddenly the hum of the generators stopped and the glow of the tubes in the audioceiver died. without a second's hesitation, tom spun around and lunged for the door leading back to the control deck. "they must have shut off the power," he decided. "when they didn't find me down below, they guessed that i came this way." he raced through the control deck and down the ladder to the starboard companionway. if he could only get to the ship alongside! he chided himself for not thinking of it before and darted toward the air lock that coupled the two ships together in space. he turned a corner in the companionway and saw the door to the coupling chamber ahead. it was open. he dashed inside. "greetings, corbett!" sneered ross miles. he stood just inside the doorway, the ray gun leveled at tom. "we figured you'd get around to thinking about the other ship sooner or later," said quent behind him, jamming the ray gun in his back. "so we just came here and waited for you." "go get the other one, quent," said ross. jerking tom sideways into the coupling chamber, he rammed his gun into the curly-haired cadet's stomach. "i'll get this guy fixed aboard the other ship, and then set the firing chambers so they'll blow up." "what are we going to do with manning?" asked quent. "we'll figure that out later. hurry up! corbett probably called the solar guard." "that's right, i did, miles," said tom. "they're probably closing in on you right now." "is that so?" snarled quent. "well, it's too bad you won't be alive to say hello to them." * * * * * "i want every pound of thrust you have on that power deck, astro," roared commander walters into the intercom. "we just received word from a freighter that picked up an s o s from tom aboard the _space knight_." steve strong and kit barnard sat in the pilot and copilot's chairs on the control deck of the _polaris_ and watched the needle of the accelerometer climb as astro poured on the power in answer to walters' command. "if i know astro," said strong, "you'll probably get the fastest ride you've ever had short of hyperdrive, kit." kit barnard gulped as he watched the needle. "i see what you mean," he said. walters strode up and down the deck behind the two veteran spacemen, a scowl on his face. "by the stars," he rumbled, "this is the most incredible thing i've run up against in all my years in space!" he paced up and down several times silently. "to think that two men could--_would_--jeopardize the safety and lives of thousands of people for--a--a uranium mine! it's beyond my comprehension." "excuse me, sir," said sid, kit barnard's young assistant, coming down the radar-bridge ladder. "this report just came in from titan spaceport control." walters took the message and read it quickly. he grunted and handed it to strong. "they've found the mine and the leak," he said. "the screens are working again." "then you'll call off the evacuation operations, sir?" asked strong. "right." walters turned to sid. "son, send a message back to titan control and tell captain howard to stop all evacuations as soon as he has enough oxygen to provide for the citizens of titan. and then stand by for a general order to all units in this area." "yes, sir," said sid, climbing back up to the radar bridge quickly. the three men on the control deck fell silent as the ship hurtled through space. each of them prayed silently for tom and roger's safety. on the power deck below, astro opened every valve and adjusted the firing chambers to their emergency maximum, forcing the giant ship faster and faster through space. and when he had done all he could, he paced up and down the deck, snapping a greasy wiping rag against his thigh again and again. his face showed the concern he felt for tom and roger, and at the same time, there was a questioning look in his eye. the auxiliary loud-speaker of the audioceiver overhead spluttered with static. he stopped to listen. "this is lieutenant frazer aboard the solar guard cruiser _hydra_ to commander walters!" crackled an unfamiliar voice. "come in, commander walters!" astro stared at the loud-speaker and held his breath. "this is walters on the _polaris_. go ahead, frazer!" "i am in command of a squadron of ships on space maneuvers in quadrant five, sir. shall i abandon my orders and proceed under your general emergency alert to search quadrant four?" "how many ships do you have with you, lieutenant?" asked walters. "three heavy cruisers and a rocket destroyer, sir," replied the voice across the gulf of space. "and i am fully armed, sir." "proceed to quadrant four, lieutenant, and seize the vessel _space knight_." there was a pause, and then astro's blood ran cold as he heard the words, "and if necessary open fire!" on the control deck, captain strong turned to walters quickly. "but tom and roger, sir," he protested. commander walters glared at strong and turned back to the audioceiver. "proceed to quadrant four," he said coldly. "seize the vessel _space knight_, and if there is any resistance, open fire!" * * * * * "did'ja hear that!" yelled quent on the control deck of the _space knight_. [illustration: "_proceed to quadrant four and seize the_ space knight!"] "i heard," replied ross grimly. "with a whole squadron sweeping this quadrant we won't make it." "what are we going to do?" asked quent. "we're staying right here." "what?" "right here," said ross. "get corbett off the other ship and set the fuses in the firing chambers to blow up after we cast off." "but i don't see--" "don't ask questions!" snapped ross. "do as i tell you." "o.k." quent spun away and headed for the coupling locks that held the two ships together. ross turned back to the ladder and flipped his ray gun on neutralizing charge, releasing roger from the effects of the paralo ray. the blond-haired cadet staggered to his feet shakily. "where's tom?" he said, clenching his teeth to keep them from rattling. "if you've done anything to him--!" "take it easy, manning," growled ross. "just get up on the control deck and behave." roger glared at the spaceman, and realizing it would be useless to jump him in his weakened condition, started up the ladder. ross followed at a careful distance. a few minutes later quent appeared on the control deck, forcing tom ahead of him. "all right," he growled. "what do i do now?" "did you cast off the other ship?" asked ross. and when quent nodded, he jerked his head toward tom and roger and barked, "cover them!" as quent stood before the two cadets, his gun leveled, ross strode to the audioceiver and flipped it on. "this is quent miles to commander walters aboard the _polaris_," he called. "come in, walters." tom and roger looked at each other, puzzled. "if you can hear me, walters, this is quent miles. i'm surrendering to you. and you alone! call off your squadrons and come alongside in the _polaris_ by yourself. if you hear me, walters, you better do what i say, or you'll never see manning and corbett again." he flipped the audioceiver off and grinned at his brother. "when walters comes aboard, he's going to get a nice surprise." "like what?" demanded tom. ross grinned wickedly, looking very much like the devil incarnate. "you heard walters' order to open fire, didn't you?" he said. "it seems that space cadets aren't worth much as hostages. but what do you think it will be like with a full-fledged commander in our hands, eh? and a rocket cruiser like the _polaris_ to run around in." "you wouldn't dare kidnap commander walters!" exclaimed tom. "oh, no." ross laughed. "listen, punk, with a murder charge hanging over our heads, and a couple of million credits' worth of pitchblende in the holds, both of us would do anything! and don't you forget it!" he turned to his brother. "come on over here, quent, and i'll tell you what we're going to do." when the two spacemen were out of earshot, tom turned to roger. "how do you feel, roger?" "as if i'm going to shake myself apart," replied the radar-deck cadet, his teeth still chattering from the effects of the paralo ray. "well, hold on just a little bit longer, boy, because the next few minutes might spell the difference between getting out of here and--" tom was cut off by a sudden blast from the loud-speaker of the audioceiver. "this is commander walters!" came a clear voice. "i accept your proposal, miles. but i warn you, if anything has happened to those boys--" "no, commander!" yelled tom. "it's a trap!" " ... you will suffer for it," the voice continued. "no use, tom," said roger. "the set was only on reception." the two boys looked at each other and then across the control deck to the grinning faces of the twins, quent and ross miles. [illustration] chapter "ease her up a little more, steve!" commander walters stood at the viewport watching the mighty _polaris_ slide alongside the black ship toward the coupling devices that would lock the two ships together in space. "a little more!" said walters. "about twenty feet!" "short burst on the main jets!" strong called into the intercom. "aye, aye!" shouted astro from below. the giant ship inched along, the skins of the two ships barely touching. "that's it!" shouted walters. "the magnetic coupling links are in place. we're locked together!" he turned to strong and barnard. "secure ship and come with me." "are you going to leave anyone on the ship, sir?" asked strong as he cut all power. "no, i want everyone with me," replied walters. "no telling what miles might try. as soon as we get aboard, spread out and search the ship. find tom and roger if you can and then come up to the control deck." "aye, aye, sir," acknowledged strong. walters turned to the audioceiver and spoke sharply into the microphone. "this is walters, miles. we're alongside and preparing to board your ship. i warn you not to try any tricks. i've accepted your surrender and hold you to it on your honor as a spaceman!" he paused, waiting for acknowledgment, then called again. "are you there, miles?" there was a crackle of static over the loud-speaker and miles' voice rang out on the control deck of the _polaris_. "i'm here, walters. come on aboard!" walters turned to strong and kit. "let's go. you know your jobs, so search the ship and report on the control deck." he strode toward the coupling locks that held the two ships together in space. aboard the black ship, quent and ross miles smiled at each other. "you know what to do, quent?" said ross. the brother nodded. "all set!" he said. "get going then. and don't make a move until you hear me draw their attention!" "right!" the two brothers shook hands and quent turned away, hurriedly leaving the control deck. ross walked over to tom and roger, who watched the scene with anxious eyes. "i really hate to do this, boys," he said, "but as you can see, things are pretty tight!" with that, he suddenly brought the butt of his ray gun down hard on roger's head. the blond-haired cadet slumped to the floor. tom leaped at the spaceman, but before he could close with him, ross stepped back quickly and brought the gun down sharply on his head. the cadet slumped to the deck. quickly ross propped them up against the bulkhead. then, after a fast look around the control deck for any last thing he might have forgotten, he walked casually over to the control station and sat down. seconds later walters and strong stepped inside. "i arrest you for murder, willful destruction of solar guard property, and illegal operation of a uranium mine, quent miles!" said walters. the spaceman shrugged and said nothing. strong bent over the unconscious forms of the two cadets and tried to bring them to, but they failed to respond. "better leave them alone, steve," said walters. "we have to get a medical officer for them. they look as if they've been bumped pretty hard." strong stood up abruptly and walked over to miles, who lounged casually in his chair. ignoring walters, the solar guard captain stood in front of the black-suited spaceman, his jaw within an inch of the other man's face. "if anything serious has happened to those two boys, miles," he said in a cold, flat voice, full of menace, "i'll tear you apart!" miles paled for an instant and then grinned uneasily. "don't worry about it, strong. they're pretty tough kids." kit barnard suddenly burst into the control room. "i've searched the cargo holds, commander," he said. "nothing there but lead boxes. didn't find the boys--" barnard stopped suddenly at the sight of the two unconscious cadets. "tom! roger!" he cried. "they were slugged, kit," said strong. "you go back to the _polaris_ and send out an emergency call. find the closest ship with a medical officer aboard and arrange for a meeting out here in space. we'll be ready to blast in five minutes." "o.k., steve," replied kit, turning to the door and then stopping to glare at miles. "and save a piece of that space rat for me!" under barnard's steely look, miles rose to his feet and stepped back hesitantly. then, suddenly, he jumped up on the chair, scrambled to the top of the master control panel, and crouched there tensely. strong, walters, and kit were momentarily stunned by his strange action. it seemed like a senseless and futile effort to get away. there was no way miles could get out of the control deck or off the ship. beyond the reach of anyone on the control deck, miles began to laugh. walters turned beet red with anger. "this is stupid, miles!" he roared. "you can't get away and you know it!" "that all depends on where you're standing, walters!" said a voice from the hatch. the three spacemen whirled at the sound of the voice and were dumfounded by the appearance of quent miles, standing to one side of the hatch, holding an automatic paralo-ray rifle, trained on them. "stay right where you are," he said softly. "the first man that moves gets frozen solid!" walters, strong, and kit were too stunned to make a move. they could only stare in open disbelief at quent miles. "come on down, ross!" called quent. "and if anyone tries to stop him, i'll let all three of you have it!" ross climbed down from the control panel and stripped the three helpless spacemen of their weapons. he threw them out of the hatch and then went to stand by his brother. as they stood side by side, strong and walters couldn't help but gasp at the identical features of the two men. "you can never hope to get away, either of you," growled walters, when he finally regained his composure. quent laughed. "we're doing more than just hope, walters." "just for your information," ross chimed in, "we're changing ships and taking the cargo with us." he backed toward the hatch slowly. "come on, quent." the two brothers stepped back through the doorway, ross keeping his rifle leveled at the three men. safely outside, quent slammed the heavy door closed. then, with a rocket wrench, he worked on the outer nuts of the door used in emergency to seal off the ship by compartments. "all set!" said quent, stepping back. "they can't get out now until someone comes and loosens up those nuts." "get down below and start transferring that cargo to the _polaris_," ordered ross, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "i'll get on the audioceiver and tell that cruiser squadron to go back." quent laughed. "you know, ross, this is terrific," he chortled. "we not only get away, but we get ourselves a solar guard rocket cruiser. nobody'll be able to touch us in that ship." "nobody but me, miles!" said a voice behind them. the two brothers spun around to see astro, stripped to the waist, a heavy lug wrench in his hand, legs spread apart, ready to spring. "had me fooled there for a while, ross!" he growled. "i saw your brother back at the academy and thought it was you. but he didn't have the split ear lobe, the one i gave you. remember?" ross slowly reached for the rifle that was slung over his shoulder. "don't do it, ross!" warned astro. "get your hands off that rifle or i'll ram this wrench down your throat!" ross lowered his hand again slowly. "who is this guy, ross?" asked quent, licking his lips nervously. "how does he know about us?" ross kept his eyes on astro, glaring at the cadet in hot fury. "i met him on a deep spacer, five years ago, when you were laid up in the hospital," he said between his teeth. "this punk was a wiper on the power deck. i was his petty officer." "we got into a fight," snarled astro, "when he wanted to send me into a firing chamber without letting it cool off first." "there are two of us now, astro!" said ross. astro nodded slowly. "that's right. two of you!" suddenly he dove toward the two men, arms outstretched. with one mighty swipe of the wrench he knocked quent unconscious. ross was hurled against the bulkhead by the impact but managed to stay on his feet. desperately he tore the paralo-ray rifle from his shoulder, but before he could level it, astro was upon him, wrenching it out of his grasp. pushing ross away, he calmly broke it in two and threw the pieces to one side. then he faced the black-clad spaceman squarely. "i was a kid when i first saw you, ross," he said between his teeth. "so you had me fooled like everyone else. when your brother showed up at the academy with his ears in good shape, i thought it was a curious coincidence two guys should look so much alike. and on titan, when you had me hauling up those boxes, you wore your hat all the time, along with the oxygen mask, so i didn't think anything of it. but now i know!" [illustration] all the while astro talked, the two men circled each other like two wrestlers, each waiting for his opponent to make a mistake. "so you know!" sneered ross. "all right, wiper, come on!" the black-suited spaceman suddenly dove straight at astro and the cadet caught the full force of his body in his stomach. he sprawled on the deck, gasping. miles was on top of him in a second, hands at astro's throat. [illustration] fire danced in the cadet's brain as ross miles' steely fingers closed around his windpipe. slowly, with every ounce of strength he had in his body, astro grasped miles' wrists in his hands and began squeezing. the fingers around the muscular wrists were the fingers of a boy filled with hate and revenge. slowly, very slowly, as the seconds ticked away and the wind whistled raggedly in his throat, astro increased the enormous pressure. now he felt the fingers around his throat begin to relax a little, and then a little more, and he kept tightening the pressure of his mighty hands. expressions of surprise and then pain spread across miles' face and he finally relaxed his grip around astro's throat. he struggled to free himself from the viselike grip but it was hopeless. astro continued to apply pressure. he forced miles up from his chest and then up on his feet, never relenting. miles' face was now twisted in agony. they stood on the deck, face to face, for almost a minute in silent struggle. there seemed to be no end to the power in the cadet's hands. suddenly ross miles slumped to his knees and sprawled on the deck as astro let him go. the black-clad spaceman had fainted. * * * * * "they got a couple of hard bumps, but they'll be all right," announced the medical officer, straightening up. "but that man outside, ross miles, is going to stand trial with a broken wrist!" he turned to strong. "what do you feed these cadets?" strong smiled and replied, "these are special types we train to take care of space rats!" tom and roger lay stretched out on emergency cots set up on the control deck of the _polaris_. they grinned weakly at astro, who hovered over them solicitously. "this is the first time we've ever wound up an assignment on our backs, you big venusian hick!" said roger. "and i suppose i'll have to thank you for saving my life!" astro grinned. "wasn't much to save, roger." "listen you!" roger rose on one elbow, but the medical officer pressed him gently back on the cot. "did you ever find out how bill sticoon's ship was sabotaged, captain strong?" asked tom. "we sure did, tom," said strong. "one of brett's confederates slugged the solar guard officer in charge of monitoring the race on deimos and took his place. if it hadn't been for a brash stereo reporter that kept taking pictures of everything and everyone, the impersonator wouldn't have been caught." "and to think that i wanted to give that reporter a few lumps!" tom exclaimed. "did you find out anything about the crash of gigi duarte's ship, sir?" asked roger. "yes. ross confessed that he was in luna city and planted a time bomb on gigi's ship when the french chicken came in for refueling." "say," exclaimed roger, "i just happened to think! with miles disqualified, kit wins the race!" seated in the pilot's chair, kit turned to roger and waved a paper. "here's the contract, roger. signed, sealed, and with only the crystal to be delivered." "there's only one thing bothering me now," sighed tom. "what's that, tom?" asked strong. "do you think i could get a three-day pass before we go back to class at the academy?" strong and kit looked at each other, puzzled. "with sick leave, you'll have plenty of time," said strong. "why a three-day pass especially?" tom settled deeper into the cot. "well, sir," he said, grinning, "i figure it'll take just about three days for astro and roger to argue it out about who did the most to catch ross and quent miles. and i don't want to have to listen to it!" [illustration] [illustration] transcriber's notes: standardized punctuation corrected " where necessary list of illustrations: changed quadrant five in caption to quadrant four to match story page : changed oufit to outfit (printer error) page : changed jet-car to jet car for consistency page : changed well to we'll (printer error) page : changed corbet to corbett (printer error) page : changed i'll met you to i'll meet you (printer error) page : changed come alone with to come along with (printer error) page : changed quadrant five in caption to quadrant four to match story [transcriber's note: this etext is a translation of project gutenberg's # .] the works of voltaire. volume xxxiii from the printing house of a. firmin didot, rue jacob, no . the works of voltaire prefaces, cautions, notes, etc. by m. beuchot. volume xxxiii. novels. volume i. in paris, lefÈvre, bookseller, rue de l'Éperon, ko . werdet et lequien fils, rue du battoir, no . mdcccxxix. micromegas, philosophical history. publisher's preface. voltaire's lengthy correspondences do not contain anything that might indicate the period in which _micromegas_ was published. the engraved title of the edition that i believe to be the original displays no date. abbot trublet, in his _biography of fontenelle_, does not hesitate to say that _micromegas_ is directed against fontenelle; but does not speak of the date of publication. i have therefore retained that given by the kehl editions: . however there is an edition carrying the date of . is this date authentic? i would not make this claim; far from it. i have therefore followed the kehl editions, in which _micromegas_ is preceded by this warning: this novel can be seen as an imitation of gulliver's travels. it contains many allusions. the dwarf of saturn is mr. fontenelle. despite his gentleness, his carefulness, his philosophy, all of which should endear him to mr. voltaire, he is linked with the enemies of this great man, and appears to share, if not in their hate, at least in their preemptive censures. he was deeply hurt by the role he played in this novel, and perhaps even more so due to the justness, though severe, of the critique; the strong praise given elsewhere in the novel only lends more weight to the rebukes. the words that end this work do not soften the wounds, and the good that is said of the secretary of the academy of paris does not console mr. fontenelle for the ridicule that is permitted to befall the one at the academy of saturn. the notes without signature, and those indicated by letters, are written by voltaire. the notes signed with a k have been written by the kehl publishers, mr. condorcet and mr. decroix. it is impossible to rigorously distinguish between the additions made by these two. the additions that i have given to the notes of voltaire or to the notes of the kehl publishers, are separated from the others by a --, and are, as they are mine, signed by the initial of my name. beuchot october , . contents i. voyage of an inhabitant of the sirius star to the planet saturn. ii. conversation between the inhabitant of sirius and that of saturn. iii. voyage of the two inhabitants of sirius and saturn. iv. what happened on planet earth. v. experiments and reasonings of the two voyagers. vi. what happened to them among men. vii. conversation with the men. micromegas, philosophical history chapter i. voyage of an inhabitant of the sirius star to the planet saturn. on one of the planets that orbits the star named sirius there lived a spirited young man, who i had the honor of meeting on the last voyage he made to our little ant hill. he was called micromegas[ ], a fitting name for anyone so great. he was eight leagues tall, or , geometric paces of five feet each. [ ] from _micros_, small, and from _megas_, large. b. certain geometers[ ], always of use to the public, will immediately take up their pens, and will find that since mr. micromegas, inhabitant of the country of sirius, is , paces tall, which is equivalent to , feet, and since we citizens of the earth are hardly five feet tall, and our sphere , leagues around; they will find, i say, that it is absolutely necessary that the sphere that produced him was , , times greater in circumference than our little earth. nothing in nature is simpler or more orderly. the sovereign states of germany or italy, which one can traverse in a half hour, compared to the empires of turkey, moscow, or china, are only feeble reflections of the prodigious differences that nature has placed in all beings. [ ] this is how the text reads in the first editions. others, in place of "geometers," put "algebraists." b. his excellency's size being as great as i have said, all our sculptors and all our painters will agree without protest that his belt would have been , feet around, which gives him very good proportions.[ ] his nose taking up one third of his attractive face, and his attractive face taking up one seventh of his attractive body, it must be admitted that the nose of the sirian is , feet plus a fraction; which is manifest. [ ] i restore this sentence in accordance with the first editions. b. as for his mind, it is one of the most cultivated that we have. he knows many things. he invented some of them. he was not even years old when he studied, as is customary, at the most celebrated[ ] colleges of his planet, where he managed to figure out by pure willpower more than of euclid's propositions. that makes more than blaise pascal, who, after having figured out while screwing around, according to his sister's reports, later became a fairly mediocre geometer[ ] and a very bad metaphysician. towards his th year, near the end of his infancy, he dissected many small insects no more than feet in diameter, which would evade ordinary microscopes. he wrote a very curious book about this, and it gave him some income. the mufti of his country, an extremely ignorant worrywart, found some suspicious, rash[ ], disagreeable, and heretical propositions in the book, smelled heresy, and pursued it vigorously; it was a matter of finding out whether the substantial form of the fleas of sirius were of the same nature as those of the snails. micromegas gave a spirited defense; he brought in some women to testify in his favor; the trial lasted years. finally the mufti had the book condemned by jurisconsults who had not read it, and the author was ordered not to appear in court for years[ ]. [ ] in place of "the most celebrated" that one finds in the first edition, subsequent editions read "some jesuit." b. [ ] pascal became a very great geometer, not in the same class as those that contributed to the progress of science with great discoveries, like descartes, newton, but certainly ranked among the geometers, whose works display a genius of the first order. k. [ ] the edition that i believe to be original reads: "rash, smelling heresy." the present text is dated . b. [ ] mr. voltaire had been persecuted by the theatin boyer for having stated in his _letters on the english_ that our souls develop at the same time as our organs, just like the souls of animals. k. he was thereby dealt the minor affliction of being banished from a court that consisted of nothing but harassment and pettiness. he wrote an amusing song at the expense of the mufti, which the latter hardly noticed; and he took to voyaging from planet to planet in order to develop his heart and mind[ ], as the saying goes. those that travel only by stage coach or sedan will probably be surprised learn of the carriage of this vessel; for we, on our little pile of mud, can only conceive of that to which we are accustomed. our voyager was very familiar with the laws of gravity and with all the other attractive and repulsive forces. he utilized them so well that, whether with the help of a ray of sunlight or some comet, he jumped from globe to globe like a bird vaulting itself from branch to branch. he quickly spanned the milky way, and i am obliged to report that he never saw, throughout the stars it is made up of, the beautiful empyrean sky that the vicar derham[ ] boasts of having seen at the other end of his telescope. i do not claim that mr. derham has poor eyesight, god forbid! but micromegas was on site, which makes him a reliable witness, and i do not want to contradict anyone. micromegas, after having toured around, arrived at the planet saturn. as accustomed as he was to seeing new things, he could not, upon seeing the smallness of the planet and its inhabitants, stop himself from smiling with the superiority that occasionally escapes the wisest of us. for in the end saturn is hardly nine times bigger than earth, and the citizens of this country are dwarfs, no more than a thousand fathoms tall, or somewhere around there. he and his men poked fun at them at first, like italian musicians laughing at the music of lully when he comes to france. but, as the sirian had a good heart, he understood very quickly that a thinking being is not necessarily ridiculous just because he is only , feet tall. he got to know the saturnians after their shock wore off. he built a strong friendship with the secretary of the academy of saturn, a spirited man who had not invented anything, to tell the truth, but who understood the inventions of others very well, and who wrote some passable verses and carried out some complicated calculations. i will report here, for the reader's satisfaction, a singular conversation that micromegas had with the secretary one day. [ ] see my note, page . b. [this note, in zadig, says: "this line is mostly written at the expense of rollin, who often employs these expressions in his _treatise on studies_. voltaire returns to it often: see, in the present volume, chapter i of micromegas, and in volume xxxiv, chapter xi of _the man of forty crowns_, chapter ix of _the white bull_ and volume xi, the second verse of song viii of _the young virgin_. b."] [ ] english savant, author of _astro-theology_, and several other works that seek to prove the existence of god through detailing the wonders of nature: unfortunately he and his imitators are often mistaken in their explanation of these wonders; they rave about the wisdom that is revealed in a phenomenon, but one soon discovers that the phenomenon is completely different than they supposed; so it is only their own fabrications that give them this impression of wisdom. this fault, common to all works of its type, discredited them. one knows too far in advance that the author will end up admiring whatever he has chosen to discuss. chapter ii. conversation between the inhabitant of sirius and that of saturn. after his excellency laid himself down to rest the secretary approached him. "you have to admit," said micromegas, "that nature is extremely varied." "yes," said the saturnian, "nature is like a flower bed wherein the flowers--" "ugh!" said the other, "leave off with flower beds." the secretary began again. "nature is like an assembly of blonde and brown-haired girls whose jewels--" "what am i supposed to do with your brown-haired girls?" said the other. "then she is like a gallery of paintings whose features--" "certainly not!" said the voyager. "i say again that nature is like nature. why bother looking for comparisons?" "to please you," replied the secretary. "i do not want to be pleased," answered the voyager. "i want to be taught. tell me how many senses the men of your planet have." "we only have ," said the academic, "and we always complain about it. our imagination surpasses our needs. we find that with our senses, our ring, our five moons, we are too restricted; and in spite of all our curiosity and the fairly large number of passions that result from our senses, we have plenty of time to get bored." "i believe it," said micromegas, "for on our planet we have almost , senses; and yet we still have a kind of vague feeling, a sort of worry, that warns us that there are even more perfect beings. i have traveled a bit; and i have seen mortals that surpass us, some far superior. but i have not seen any that desire only what they truly need, and who need only what they indulge in. maybe someday i will happen upon a country that lacks nothing; but so far no one has given me any word of a place like that." the saturnian and the sirian proceeded to wear themselves out in speculating; but after a lot of very ingenious and very dubious reasoning, it was necessary to return to the facts. "how long do you live?" said the sirian. "oh! for a very short time," replied the small man from saturn. "same with us," said the sirian. "we always complain about it. it must be a universal law of nature." "alas! we only live through revolutions around the sun," said the saturnian. (this translates to about , years, by our standards.) "you can see yourself that this is to die almost at the moment one is born; our existence is a point, our lifespan an instant, our planet an atom. hardly do we begin to learn a little when death arrives, before we get any experience. as for me, i do not dare make any plans. i see myself as a drop of water in an immense ocean. i am ashamed, most of all before you, of how ridiculously i figure in this world." micromegas replied, "if you were not a philosopher, i would fear burdening you by telling you that our lifespan is times longer than yours; but you know very well when it is necessary to return your body to the elements, and reanimate nature in another form, which we call death. when this moment of metamorphosis comes, to have lived an eternity or to have lived a day amounts to precisely the same thing. i have been to countries where they live a thousand times longer than we do, and they also die. but people everywhere have the good sense to know their role and to thank the author of nature. he has scattered across this universe a profusion of varieties with a kind of admirable uniformity. for example, all the thinking beings are different, and all resemble one another in the gift of thought and desire. matter is extended everywhere, but has different properties on each planet. how many diverse properties do you count in yours?" "if you mean those properties," said the saturnian, "without which we believe that the planet could not subsist as it is, we count of them, like extension, impenetrability, mobility, gravity, divisibility, and the rest." "apparently," replied the voyager, "this small number suffices for what the creator had in store for your dwelling. i admire his wisdom in everything; i see differences everywhere, but also proportion. your planet is small, your inhabitants are as well. you have few sensations; your matter has few properties; all this is the work of providence. what color is your sun upon examination?" "a very yellowish white," said the saturnian. "and when we divide one of its rays, we find that it contains seven colors." "our sun strains at red," said the sirian, "and we have primary colors. there is no one sun, among those that i have gotten close to that resembles it, just as there is no one face among you that is identical to the others." after numerous questions of this nature, he learned how many essentially different substances are found on saturn. he learned that there were only about thirty, like god, space, matter, the beings with extension that sense, the beings with extension that sense and think, the thinking beings that have no extension; those that are penetrable, those that are not, and the rest. the sirian, whose home contained and who had discovered , of them in his voyages, prodigiously surprised the philosopher of saturn. finally, after having told each other a little of what they knew and a lot of what they did not know, after having reasoned over the course of a revolution around the sun, they resolved to go on a small philosophical voyage together. chapter iii. voyage of the two inhabitants of sirius and saturn. our two philosophers were just ready to take off into saturn's atmosphere with a very nice provision of mathematical instrument when the ruler of saturn, who had heard news of the departure, came in tears to remonstrate. she was a pretty, petite brunette who was only fathoms tall, but who compensated for this small size with many other charms. "cruelty!" she cried, "after resisting you for , years, just when i was beginning to come around, when i'd spent hardly a hundred[ ] years in your arms, you leave me to go on a voyage with a giant from another world; go, you're only curious, you've never been in love: if you were a true saturnian, you would be faithful. where are you running off to? what do you want? our five moons are less errant than you, our ring less inconsistent. it's over, i will never love anyone ever again." the philosopher embraced her, cried with her, philosopher that he was; and the woman, after swooning, went off to console herself with the help of one of the dandies of the country. [ ] the edition is the first that reads "a hundred"; all the earlier editions read: "two hundred." b. our two explorers left all the same; they alighted first on the ring, which they found to be fairly flat, as conjectured by an illustrious inhabitant of our little sphere[ ]; from there they went easily from moon to moon. a comet passed by the last; they flew onto it with their servants and their instruments. when they had traveled about one hundred fifty million leagues, they met with the satellites of jupiter. they stopped at jupiter and stayed for a week, during which time they learned some very wonderful secrets that would have been forthcoming in print if not for the inquisition, which found some of the propositions to be a little harsh. but i have read the manuscript in the library of the illustrious archbishop of...., who with a generosity and goodness that is impossible to praise allowed me to see his books. i promised him a long article in the first edition of moréri, and i will not forget his children, who give such a great hope of perpetuating the race of their illustrious father. [ ] huygens. see volume xxvi, page . b. but let us now return to our travelers. upon leaving jupiter they traversed a space of around one hundred million leagues and approached the planet mars, which, as we know, is five times smaller than our own; they swung by two moons that cater to this planet but have escaped the notice of our astronomers. i know very well that father castel will write, perhaps even agreeably enough, against the existence of these two moons; but i rely on those who reason by analogy. these good philosophers know how unlikely it would be for mars, so far from the sun, to have gotten by with less than two moons. whatever the case may be, our explorers found it so small that they feared not being able to land on it, and they passed it by like two travelers disdainful of a bad village cabaret, pressing on towards a neighboring city. but the sirian and his companion soon regretted it. they traveled a long time without finding anything. finally they perceived a small candle, it was earth; this was a pitiful sight to those who had just left jupiter. nevertheless, from fear of further regret, they resolved to touch down. carried by the tail of a comet, and finding an aurora borealis at the ready, they started towards it, and arrived at earth on the northern coast of the baltic sea, july , , new style. chapter iv. what happened on planet earth. after resting for some time they ate two mountains for lunch, which their crew fixed up pretty nicely. then they decided to get to know the small country they were in. they went first from north to south. the usual stride of the sirian and his crew was around , feet. the dwarf from saturn, who clocked in at no more than a thousand fathoms, trailed behind, breathing heavily. he had to make twelve steps each time the other took a stride; imagine (if it is alright to make such a comparison) a very small lapdog following a captain of the guards of the prussian king. since our strangers moved fairly rapidly, they circumnavigated the globe in hours. the sun, in truth, or rather the earth, makes a similar voyage in a day; but you have to imagine that the going is much easier when one turns on one's axis instead of walking on one's feet. so there they were, back where they started, after having seen the nearly imperceptible pond we call _the mediterranean_, and the other little pool that, under the name _ocean_, encircles the molehill. the dwarf never got in over his knees, and the other hardly wet his heels. on their way they did all they could to see whether the planet was inhabited or not. they crouched, laid down, felt around everywhere; but their eyes and their hands were not proportionate to the little beings that crawl here, they could not feel in the least any sensation that might lead them to suspect that we and our associates, the other inhabitants of this planet, have the honor of existing. the dwarf, who was a bit hasty sometimes, decided straightaway that the planet was uninhabited. his first reason was that he had not seen anyone. micromegas politely indicated that this logic was rather flawed: "for," said he, "you do not see with your little eyes certain stars of the th magnitude that i can perceive very distinctly. do you conclude that these stars do not exist?" "but," said the dwarf, "i felt around a lot." "but," answered the other, "you have pretty weak senses." "but," replied the dwarf, "this planet is poorly constructed. it is so irregular and has such a ridiculous shape! everything here seems to be in chaos: you see these little rivulets, none of which run in a straight line, these pools of water that are neither round, nor square, nor oval, nor regular by any measure; all these little pointy specks scattered across the earth that grate on my feet? (this was in reference to mountains.) look at its shape again, how it is flat at the poles, how it clumsily revolves around the sun in a way that necessarily eliminates the climates of the poles? to tell the truth, what really makes me think it is uninhabited is that it seems that no one of good sense would want to stay." "well," said micromegas, "maybe the inhabitants of this planet are not of good sense! but in the end it looks like this may be for a reason. everything appears irregular to you here, you say, because everything on saturn and jupiter is drawn in straight lines. this might be the[ ] reason that you are a bit puzzled here. have i not told you that i have continually noticed variety in my travels?" [ ] all the editions that precede those of kehl read: "it might be for this" b. the saturnian responded to all these points. the dispute might never have finished if it were not for micromegas who, getting worked up, had the good luck to break the thread of his diamond necklace. the diamonds fell; they were pretty little carats of fairly irregular size, of which the largest weighed four hundred pounds and the smallest fifty. the dwarf recaptured some of them; bending down for a better look, he perceived that these diamonds were cut with the help of an excellent microscope. so he took out a small microscope of feet in diameter and put it up to his eye; and micromegas took up one of , feet in diameter. they were excellent; but neither one of them could see anything right away and had to adjust them. finally the saturnian saw something elusive that moved in the shallow waters of the baltic sea; it was a whale. he carefully picked it up with his little finger and, resting it on the nail of his thumb, showed it to the sirian, who began laughing for a second time at the ludicrously small scale of the things on our planet. the saturnian, persuaded that our world was inhabited, figured very quickly that it was inhabited only by whales; and as he was very good at reasoning, he was determined to infer the origin and evolution of such a small atom; whether it had ideas, a will, liberty. micromegas was confused. he examined the animal very patiently and found no reason to believe that a soul was lodged in it. the two voyagers were therefore inclined to believe that there is no spirit in our home, when with the help of the microscope they perceived something as large as a whale floating on the baltic sea. we know that a flock of philosophers was at this time returning from the arctic circle, where they had made some observations, which no one had dared make up to then. the gazettes claimed that their vessel ran aground on the coast of bothnia, and that they were having a lot of difficulty setting things straight; but the world never shows its cards. i am going to tell how it really happened, artlessly and without bias; which is no small thing for an historian. chapter v. experiments and reasonings of the two voyagers. micromegas slowly reached his hand towards the place where the object had appeared, extended two fingers, and withdrew them for fear of being mistaken, then opened and closed them, and skillfully seized the vessel that carried these fellows, putting it on his fingernail without pressing it too hard for fear of crushing it. "here is a very different animal from the first," said the dwarf from saturn. the sirian put the so-called animal in the palm of his hand. the passengers and the crew, who believed themselves to have been lifted up by a hurricane, and who thought they were on some sort of boulder, scurried around; the sailors took the barrels of wine, threw them overboard onto micromegas hand, and followed after. the geometers took their quadrants, their sextants, two lappland girls[ ], and descended onto the sirian's fingers. they made so much fuss that he finally felt something move, tickling his fingers. it was a steel-tipped baton being pressed into his index finger. he judged, by this tickling, that it had been ejected from some small animal that he was holding; but he did not suspect anything else at first. the microscope, which could barely distinguish a whale from a boat, could not capture anything as elusive as a man. i do not claim to outrage anyone's vanity, but i am obliged to ask that important men make an observation here. taking the size of a man to be about five feet, the figure we strike on earth is like that struck by an animal of about six hundred thousandths[ ] the height of a flea on a ball five feet around. imagine something that can hold the earth in its hands, and which has organs in proportion to ours--and it may very well be that there are such things--conceive, i beg of you, what these things would think of the battles that allow a vanquisher to take a village only to lose it later. [ ] see the notes to the speech in verse, "on moderation" (volume xii), and those of "russia to paris" (volume xiv). k. [ ] the edition that i take to be original reads "sixty thousandths." b. i do not doubt that if ever some captain of some troop of imposing grenadiers reads this work he will increase the size of the hats of his troops by at least two imposing feet. but i warn him that it will have been done in vain; that he and his will never grow any larger than infinitely small. what marvelous skill it must have taken for our philosopher from sirius to perceive the atoms i have just spoken of. when leuwenhoek and hartsoëker tinkered with the first or thought they saw the grains that make us up, they did not by any means make such an astonishing discovery. what pleasure micromegas felt at seeing these little machines move, at examining all their scurrying, at following them in their enterprises! how he cried out! with what joy he placed one of his microscopes in the hands of his traveling companion! "i see them," they said at the same time, "look how they are carrying loads, stooping, getting up again." they spoke like that, hands trembling from the pleasure of seeing such new objects, and from fear of losing them. the saturnian, passing from an excess of incredulity to an excess of credulity, thought he saw them mating. "ah!" he said. "i have caught nature in the act"[ ]. but he was fooled by appearances, which happens only too often, whether one is using a microscope or not. [ ] _j'ai pris la nature sur le fait_. a happy, good-natured turn of phrase expressed by fontenelle upon making some observations of natural history. k. chapter vi. what happened to them among men. micromegas, a much better observer than his dwarf, clearly saw that the atoms were speaking to each other, and pointed this out to his companion, who, ashamed of being mistaken about them reproducing, did not want to believe that such a species could communicate. he had the gift of language as well as the sirian. he could not hear the atoms talk, and he supposed that they did not speak. moreover, how could these impossibly small beings have vocal organs, and what would they have to say? to speak, one must think, more or less; but if they think, they must therefore have the equivalent of a soul. but to attribute the equivalent of a soul to this species seemed absurd to him. "but," said the sirian, "you believed right away that they made love. do you believe that one can make love without thinking and without uttering one word, or at least without making oneself heard? do you suppose as well that it is more difficult to produce an argument than an infant? both appear to be great mysteries to me." "i do not dare believe or deny it," said the dwarf. "i have no more opinions. we must try to examine these insects and reason after." "that is very well said," echoed micromegas, and he briskly took out a pair of scissors with which he cut his fingernails, and from the parings of his thumbnail he improvised a kind of speaking-trumpet, like a vast funnel, and put the end up to his ear. the circumference of the funnel enveloped the vessel and the entire crew. the weakest voice entered into the circular fibers of the nails in such a way that, thanks to his industriousness, the philosopher above could hear the drone of our insects below perfectly. in a small number of hours he was able to distinguish words, and finally to understand french. the dwarf managed to do the same, though with more difficulty. the voyagers' surprise redoubled each second. they heard the mites speak fairly intelligently. this performance of nature's seemed inexplicable to them. you may well believe that the sirian and the dwarf burned with impatience to converse with the atoms. the dwarf feared that his thunderous voice, and assuredly micromegas, would deafen the mites without being understood. they had to diminish its force. they placed toothpicks in their mouths, whose tapered ends fell around the ship. the sirian put the dwarf on his knees and the ship with its crew on a fingernail. he lowered his head and spoke softly. finally, relying on these precautions and many others, he began his speech like so: "invisible insects, that the hand of the creator has caused to spring up in the abyss of the infinitely small, i thank him for allowing me to uncover these seemingly impenetrable secrets. perhaps those at my court would not deign to give you audience, but i mistrust no one, and i offer you my protection." if anyone has ever been surprised, it was the people who heard these words. they could not figure out where they were coming from. the chaplain of the vessel recited the exorcism prayers, the sailors swore, and the philosophers of the vessel constructed systems; but no matter what systems they came up with, they could not figure out who was talking. the dwarf from saturn, who had a softer voice than micromegas, told them in a few words what species they were dealing with. he told them about the voyage from saturn, brought them up to speed on what mr. micromegas was, and after lamenting how small they were, asked them if they had always been in this miserable state so near nothingness, what they were doing on a globe that appeared to belong to whales, whether they were happy, if they reproduced, if they had a soul, and a hundred other questions of this nature. a reasoner among the troop, more daring than the others, and shocked that someone might doubt his soul, observed the interlocutor with sight-vanes pointed at a quarter circle from two different stations, and at the third spoke thusly: "you believe then, sir, that because you are a thousand fathoms tall from head to toe, that you are a--" "a thousand fathoms!" cried the dwarf. "good heavens! how could he know my height? a thousand fathoms! you cannot mistake him for a flea. this atom just measured me! he is a surveyor, he knows my size; and i, who can only see him through a microscope, i still do not know his!" "yes, i measured you," said the physician, "and i will measure your large companion as well." the proposition was accepted, his excellency laid down flat; for were he to stay upright his head would have been among the clouds. our philosophers planted a great shaft on him, in a place that doctor swift would have named, but that i will restrain myself from calling by its name, out of respect for the ladies. next, by a series of triangles linked together, they concluded that what they saw was in effect a young man of , feet[ ]. [ ]the edition i believe to be original reads, "a beautiful young ... of , feet." b. so micromegas delivered these words: "i see more than ever that one must not judge anything by its apparent size. oh god! you who have given intelligence to substance that appears contemptible. the infinitely small costs you as little as the infinitely large; and if it is possible that there are such small beings as these, there may just as well be a spirit bigger than those of the superb animals that i have seen in the heavens, whose feet alone would cover this planet." one of the philosophers responded that he could certainly imagine that there are intelligent beings much smaller than man. he recounted, not every fabulous thing virgil says about bees, but what swammerdam discovered, and what réaumur has anatomized. he explained finally that there are animals that are to bees what bees are to man, what the sirian himself was for the vast animals he had spoken of, and what these large animals are to other substances before which they looked like atoms. little by little the conversation became interesting, and micromegas spoke thusly: chapter vii. conversation with the men. "oh intelligent atoms, in which the eternal being desired to make manifest his skill and his power, you must, no doubt, taste pure joys on your planet; for having so little matter, and appearing to be entirely spirit, you must live out your life thinking and loving, the veritable life of the mind. nowhere have i seen true bliss, but it is here, without a doubt." at this all the philosophers shook their heads, and one of them, more frank than the others, avowed that if one excepts a small number of inhabitants held in poor regard, all the rest are an assembly of mad, vicious, and wretched people. "we have more substance than is necessary," he said, "to do evil, if evil comes from substance; and too much spirit, if evil comes from spirit. did you know, for example, that as i am speaking with you[ ], there are , madmen of our species wearing hats, killing , other animals wearing turbans, or being massacred by them, and that we have used almost surface of the earth for this purpose since time immemorial?" [ ] we saw, at the end of chapter iii, that the story occurs in . voltaire is referring to the war between the turks and the russians, from to . b. the sirian shuddered, and asked the reason for these horrible quarrels between such puny animals. "it is a matter," said the philosopher, "of some piles of mud as big as your heel[ ]. it is not that any of these millions of men that slit each other's throats care about this pile of mud. it is only a matter of determining if it should belong to a certain man who we call 'sultan,' or to another who we call, for whatever reason, 'czar.' neither one has ever seen nor will ever see the little piece of earth, and almost none of these animals that mutually kill themselves have ever seen the animal for which they kill." [ ] crimea, which all the same was not reunited with russia until . b. "oh! cruel fate!" cried the sirian with indignation, "who could conceive of this excess of maniacal rage! it makes me want to take three steps and crush this whole anthill of ridiculous assassins." "do not waste your time," someone responded, "they are working towards ruin quickly enough. know that after ten years only one hundredth of these scoundrels will be here. know that even if they have not drawn swords, hunger, fatigue, or intemperance will overtake them. furthermore, it is not they that should be punished, it is those sedentary barbarians who from the depths of their offices order, while they are digesting their last meal, the massacre of a million men, and who subsequently give solemn thanks to god." the voyager was moved with pity for the small human race, where he was discovering such surprising contrasts. "since you are amongst the small number of wise men," he told these sirs, "and since apparently you do not kill anyone for money, tell me, i beg of you, what occupies your time." "we dissect flies," said the philosopher, "we measure lines, we gather figures; we agree with each other on two or three points that we do not understand." it suddenly took the sirian and the saturnian's fancy to question these thinking atoms, to learn what it was they agreed on. "what do you measure," said the saturnian, "from the dog star to the great star of the gemini?" they responded all at once, "thirty-two and a half degrees." "what do you measure from here to the moon?" " radii of the earth even." "how much does your air weigh?" he thought he had caught them[ ], but they all told him that air weighed around times less than an identical volume of the purest water, and , times less than a gold ducat. the little dwarf from saturn, surprised at their responses, was tempted to accuse of witchcraft the same people he had refused a soul fifteen minutes earlier. [ ] the edition i believe to be original reads "put them off" in place of "caught them." finally micromegas said to them, "since you know what is exterior to you so well, you must know what is interior even better. tell me what your soul is, and how you form ideas." the philosophers spoke all at once as before, but they were of different views. the oldest cited aristotle, another pronounced the name of descartes; this one here, malebranche; another leibnitz; another locke. an old peripatetic spoke up with confidence: "the soul is an entelechy, and a reason gives it the power to be what it is." this is what aristotle expressly declares, page of the louvre edition. he cited the passage[ ]. [ ] here is the passage such as it is transcribed in the edition dated : "entele'xeia' tis esi kai' lo'gos toû dy'namin e'xontos toude' ei'nai." this passage of aristotle, _on the soul_, book ii, chapter ii, is translated thusly by casaubon: _anima quaedam perfectio et actus ac ratio est quod potentiam habet ut ejusmodi sit_. b. "i do not understand greek very well," said the giant. "neither do i," said the philosophical mite. "why then," the sirian retorted, "are you citing some man named aristotle in the greek?" "because," replied the savant, "one should always cite what one does not understand at all in the language one understands the least." the cartesian took the floor and said: "the soul is a pure spirit that has received in the belly of its mother all metaphysical ideas, and which, leaving that place, is obliged to go to school, and to learn all over again what it already knew, and will not know again." "it is not worth the trouble," responded the animal with the height of eight leagues, "for your soul to be so knowledgeable in its mother's stomach, only to be so ignorant when you have hair on your chin. but what do you understand by the mind?" "you are asking me?" said the reasoner. "i have no idea. we say that it is not matter--" "but do you at least know what matter is?" "certainly," replied the man. "for example this stone is grey, has such and such a form, has three dimensions, is heavy and divisible." "well!" said the sirian, "this thing that appears to you to be divisible, heavy, and grey, will you tell me what it is? you see some attributes, but behind those, are you familiar with that? "no," said the other. "--so you do not know what matter is." so micromegas, addressing another sage that he held on a thumb, asked what his soul was, and what it did. "nothing at all," said the malebranchist philosopher[ ]. "god does everything for me. i see everything in him, i do everything in him; it is he who does everything that i get mixed up in." [ ] see the opuscule entitled "all in god" in _miscellaneous_ ( ). "it would be just as well not to exist," retorted the sage of sirius. "and you, my friend," he said to a leibnitzian who was there, "what is your soul?" "it is," answered the leibnitzian, "the hand of a clock that tells the time while my body rings out. or, if you like, it is my soul that rings out while my body tells the time, or my soul is the mirror of the universe, and my body is the border of the mirror. all that is clear." a small partisan of locke was nearby, and when he was finally given the floor: "i do not know," said he, "how i think, but i know that i have only ever thought through my senses. that there are immaterial and intelligent substances i do not doubt, but that it is impossible for god to communicate thought to matter i doubt very much. i revere the eternal power. it is not my place to limit it. i affirm nothing, and content myself with believing that many more things are possible than one would think." the animal from sirius smiled. he did not find this the least bit sage, while the dwarf from saturn would have kissed the sectarian of locke were it not for the extreme disproportion. but there was, unfortunately, a little animalcule in a square hat who interrupted all the other animalcule philosophers. he said that he knew the secret: that everything would be found in the _summa_ of saint thomas. he looked the two celestial inhabitants up and down. he argued that their people, their worlds, their suns, their stars, had all been made uniquely for mankind. at this speech, our two voyagers nearly fell over with that inextinguishable laughter which, according to homer[ ], is shared with the gods. their shoulders and their stomachs heaved up and down, and in these convulsions the vessel that the sirian had on his nail fell into one of the saturnian's trouser pockets. these two good men searched for it a long time, found it finally, and tidied it up neatly. the sirian resumed his discussion with the little mites. he spoke to them with great kindness, although in the depths of his heart he was a little angry that the infinitely small had an almost infinitely great pride. he promised to make them a beautiful philosophical book[ ], written very small for their usage, and said that in this book they would see the point of everything. indeed, he gave them this book before leaving. it was taken to the academy of science in paris, but when the ancient[ ] secretary opened it, he saw nothing but blank pages. "ah!" he said, "i suspected as much." [ ] illiad, i, . b. [ ] the edition that i believe to be original, and the one dated , reads, "philosophical book, that would teach them of admirable things, and show them the goodness of things." [ ] although this scene occurs in , as one saw in pages to , one could assign the epithet of "old" to fontenelle, who was at that point, and who died years later. in he resigned from his position as perpetual secretary. end of the history of micromegas. transcriber's note: this etext was produced from if worlds of science fiction september . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. [illustration] _they wanted to go home--back to the planet they'd known. but even the stars had changed. did the fate of all creation hinge upon an--_ an empty bottle by mari wolf * * * * * hugh mccann took the last of the photographic plates out of the developer and laid them on the table beside the others. then he picked up the old star charts--volume , number --maps of space from various planetary systems within a hundred light years of sol. he looked around the observation room at the others. "we might as well start checking." the men and women around the table nodded. none of them said anything. even the muffled conversation from the corridor beyond the observation room ceased as the people stopped to listen. mccann set the charts down and opened them at the first sheet--the composite map of the stars as seen from earth. "don't be too disappointed if we're wrong," he said. amos carhill's fists clenched. he leaned across the table. "you still don't believe we're near sol, do you? you're getting senile, hugh! you know the mathematics of our position as well as anybody." "i know the math," hugh said quietly. "but remember, a lot of our basics have already proved themselves false this trip. we can't be sure of anything. besides, i think i'd remember this planet we're on if we'd ever been here before. we visited every planetary system within a hundred light years of sol the first year." carhill laughed. "what's there to remember about this hunk of rock? tiny, airless, mountainless--the most monotonous piece of matter we've landed on in years." hugh shrugged and turned to the next chart. the others clustered around him, checking, comparing the chart with the photographic plates of their position, finding nothing familiar in the star pattern. "i still think we would have remembered this planet," hugh said. "just because it _is_ so monotonous. after all, what have we been looking for, all these years? life. other worlds with living forms, other types of evolution, types adapted to different environments. this particular planet is less capable of supporting life than our own moon." martha carhill looked up from the charts. her face was as tense and strained as her husband's, and the lines about her mouth deeply etched. "we've got to be near earth. we've just got to. we've got to find people again." her voice broke. "we've been looking for so long--" hugh mccann sighed. the worry that had been growing in him ever since they first left the rim of the galaxy and turned homeward deepened into a nagging fear. he didn't know why he was afraid. he too hoped that they were near earth. he almost believed that they would soon be home. but the others, their reactions--he shook his head. they no longer merely hoped. with them, especially with the older, ones, it was faith, a blind, unreasoning, fanatic faith that their journey was almost over and they would be on earth again and pick up the lives they had left behind fifty-three years before. "look," amos carhill said. "here are our reference points. here's andromeda galaxy, and the dark nebula, and the arch of our own milky way." he pointed to the places he had named on the plates. "now we can check some of these high magnitude reference stars with the charts." hugh let him take the charts and go through them, checking, rejecting. carhill was probably right. he'd find sol soon enough. it had been too long for one shipful of people to follow a quest, especially a hopeless one. for fifty-three years they had scouted the galaxy, looking for other worlds with life forms. a check on diverging evolutions, they had called it--uncounted thousands of suns without planets, bypassed. thousands of planetary systems, explored, or merely looked at and rejected. heavy, cold worlds with methane atmospheres and lifeless rocks without atmospheres and even earth-sized, earth-type planets, with oceans and oxygen and warmth. but no life. no life anywhere. that was one of the basics they had lost, years ago--their belief that life would arise on any planet capable of supporting it. "we could take a spectrographic analysis of some of those high magnitude stars," carhill said. then abruptly he straightened, eyes alight, his hand on the last chart. "we don't need it after all. look! there's sirius, and here it is on the plates. that means alpha centauri must be--" he paused. he frowned and ran his hand over the plate to where the first magnitude star was photographed. "it must be. alpha centauri. it has to be!" "except that it's over five degrees out of position." hugh looked at the plate, and then at the chart, and then back at the plate again. and then he knew what it was that he had feared subconsciously all along. "you're right, amos," he said slowly. "there's alpha centauri--about twenty light years away. and there's sirius, and arcturus and betelgeuse and all the others." he pointed them out, one by one, in their unfamiliar locations on the plates. "but they're all out of position, in reference to each other." * * * * * he stopped. the others stared back at him, not saying anything. little by little the faith began to drain out of their eyes. "what does it mean?" martha carhill's voice was only a whisper. "it means that we discarded one basic too many," hugh mccann said. "relativity. the theory that our subjective time, here on the ship, would differ from objective time outside." "no," amos carhill said slowly. "no, it's a mistake. that's all. we haven't gone into the future. we can't have. it isn't possible that more time has elapsed outside the ship than--" "why not?" hugh said softly. "why not millions of years? we've exceeded the speed of light, many times." "which disproves that space-time theory in itself!" carhill shouted. "does it?" hugh said. "or does it just mean we never really understood space-time at all?" he didn't wait for them to answer. he pointed at the small, far from brilliant, star that lay beyond alpha centauri on the plates. "that's probably sol. if it is, we can find out the truth soon enough." he looked at their faces and wondered what their reactions would be, if the truth was what he feared. * * * * * the ship throbbed softly, pulsating in the typical vibrations of low speed drive. in the forward viewscreens the star grew larger. the people didn't look at it very often. they moved about the corridors of the ship, much as they usually moved, but quietly. they seemed to be trying to ignore the star. "you can't be sure, hugh." nora mccann laid her hand on her husband's arm. "no, of course i can't be sure." the door from their quarters into the corridor was open. several more people came in--young people who had been born on the ship. they were talking and laughing. "would it be so hard on the young ones, hugh? they've never seen the earth. they're used to finding nothing but lifeless worlds everywhere." one of the young boys in the hall looked up at the corridor viewscreen and pointed at the star and then shrugged. the others turned away, not saying anything, and after a minute they left and the boy followed them. "there's your answer," hugh mccann said dully. "earth's a symbol to them. it's home. it's the place where there are millions more like us. sometimes i think it's the only thing that has kept us sane all these years--the knowledge that there is a world full of people, somewhere, that we're not alone." her hand found his and he gripped it, almost absently, and then he looked up at their own small viewscreen. the star was much bigger now. it was already a definite circle of yellow light. a yellow g-type sun, like a thousand others they had approached and orbited around and left behind them. a yellow sun that could have been anywhere in the galaxy. "hugh," she said after a moment, "do you really believe that thousands of years have gone by, outside?" "i don't know what to believe. i only know what the plates show." "that may not even be sol, up ahead," she said doubtfully. "we may be in some other part of space altogether, and that's why the charts are different." "perhaps. but either way we're lost. lost in space or in time or in both. what does it matter?" "if we're just lost in space it's not so--so irrevocable. we could still find our way back to earth, maybe." he didn't answer. he looked up at the screen and the circle of light and his lips tightened. whatever the truth was, they didn't have long to wait. they'd be within gravitational range in less than an hour. he wondered why he was reacting so differently from the others. he was just as afraid as they were. he knew that. but he wasn't fighting the thought that perhaps they had really traveled out of their own time. he wondered what it was that made him different from the other old ones, the ones like carhill who refused even to face the possibility, who insisted on clinging to their illusions in the face of the photographic evidence. * * * * * he didn't think that he was a pessimist. and yet, after only three years of their trip, after only fifty earthlike but lifeless worlds, he had been the first to consider the possibility that life was unique to earth and that their old theories concerning its spontaneous emergence from a favorable environment might be wrong. only nora had agreed with him then. only nora could face this possibility with him now. the two of them were very much alike in their outlooks. they were both pragmatists. but this time there would be no long years during which the others could slowly shift their opinions, slowly relinquish their old beliefs and turn to new ones. the yellow sun was too large and urgent in the screen. "hugh!" he turned to the door and saw amos carhill standing there, bracing himself against the corridor wall. there was no color at all in carhill's face. "come on up to the control room with me, hugh. we're going to start decelerating any minute now." hugh frowned. he would prefer to stay and watch their approach on the screen, with nora at his side. he had no duties in the control room. he was too old to have any part in the actual handling of the ship. amos was old, too. but they would be there, all the old ones, looking through the high powered screens for the first clear glimpse of the third planet from the sun. "all right, amos." hugh got up and started for the door. "i'll wait here for you, hugh," nora said. he smiled at her and then followed carhill out into the crowded corridor. no one spoke to them. most of the people they passed were neither talking, nor paying any attention to anything except the corridor screens, which they could no longer ignore. the few who were talking spoke about earth and how wonderful it would be to get home again. "you're wrong, hugh," amos said suddenly. "i hope i am." the crowd thinned out as they passed into the forward bulkheads. the only men they saw now were the few young ones on duty. except for their set, anxious faces they might have been handling any routine landing in any routine system. the ship quivered for just a second as it shifted over into deceleration. there was an instant of vertigo and then it was gone and the ship's gravity felt as normal as ever. hugh didn't even break stride at the shift. he followed carhill to the control room doorway and pushed his way in, taking a place among the others who already clustered about the great forward screen. the pilot ignored them and worked his controls. the screen cleared as the ship's deceleration increased. the pilot didn't look at it. he was a young man. he had never seen the earth. "look!" amos carhill cried triumphantly. the screen focused. the selector swung away from the yellow sun and swept its orbits. the dots that were planets came into focus and out again. hugh mccann didn't even need to count them, nor to calculate their distance from the sun. he knew the system too well to have any trouble recognizing it. the sun was sol. the third planet was the double dot of earth and moon. he realized suddenly that he had more than half expected to see an empty orbit. "it's the earth all right," carhill said. "we're home!" they were all staring at the double dot, where the selector focused sharply now. hugh mccann alone looked past it, at the background of stars that were strewn in totally unfamiliar patterns across the sky. he sighed. "look beyond the system," he said. they looked. for a long time they stared, none of them speaking, and then they turned to hugh, many of them accusingly, as if he himself had rearranged the stars. "how long have we been gone?" carhill's voice broke. hugh shook his head. the star patterns were too unfamiliar for even a guess. there was no way of knowing, yet, how long their fifty-three years had really been. * * * * * carhill shook his head, slowly. he turned back to the screen and stared at the still featureless dot that was the earth. "we can't be the only ones left," he said. no one answered him. they were still stunned. they couldn't even accept, yet, the strange constellations on the screen. end of the voyage. fifty-three years of searching for worlds with life. and now earth, under an unfamiliar sky, and quite possibly no life at all, anywhere, except on the ship. "we might as well land," mccann said. the ship curved away from the night side of the earth and crossed again into the day. they were near enough so that the planetary features stood out sharply now, even through the dense clouds that rose off the oceans. but although the continental land masses and the islands were clearly defined, they were as unrecognizable as the star constellations had been. "that must be north america," amos carhill said dully. "it's smaller than the continent on the night side...." "it might be anywhere," hugh mccann said. "we can't tell. the oceans look bigger too. there's less land surface." he stared down at the topography thousands of miles below them. mountains rose jaggedly. there were great plains, and crevasses, and a rocky, lifeless look everywhere. no soil. no erosion, except from the wind and the rains. "there's no chlorophyll in the spectrum," haines said. "it seems to rule out even plant life." "i don't understand." martha carhill turned away from the screen. "everything's so different. but the moon looked just exactly like it always did." "that's because it has no atmosphere," hugh said. "so there's no erosion. and no oceans to sweep in over the land. but i imagine that if we explored it we'd find changes. new craters. maybe even new mountains by now." "how long has it been?" carhill whispered. "and even if it's been millions of years, what happened? why aren't there any plants? won't we find anything?" "maybe there was an atomic war," the pilot said. "maybe." carhill had thought of that too. probably all of them had. "or maybe the sun novaed." no one answered him. the concept of a nova and then of its dying down, until now the sun was just as it had been when they left, was too much. "the sun looks hotter," carhill added. the ship dropped lower, its preliminary circle of the planet completed. it settled in for a landing, just as it had done thousands of times before. and the world below could have been any of a thousand others. they dropped quickly, braking through the atmosphere, riding it down. the topography came up to meet them and the general features blurred, leaving details standing out sharply, increasing in sharpness as if the valleys and mountains below were tiny microscopic crystals under a rapidly increasing magnification. the pilot picked their landing place without difficulty. it was a typical choice, a spot on the broad shelving plain at the edge of the ocean. the type of base from which all tests on a planet could be run quickly, and a report written up, and the files of another world closed and tagged with a number and entered in one of the great storage encyclopedias. even to hugh there was an air of unreality about the landing, as if this planet wasn't really earth at all, despite its orbit around the sun, despite its familiar moon. it looked too much like too many others. the actual landing was over quickly. the ship quivered, jarred slightly, and then was still, resting on the gravelled plain that had obviously once been part of the ocean bed. the ocean itself lay only a few hundred yards away. hugh mccann looked out through the viewscreen, turned to direct vision now. he stared at the waves swelling against the shore and his sense of unreality deepened. even though this was what he had more than half expected, he couldn't quite accept it, yet. "we might as well go out and look around," he said. "air pressure, earth-norm." haines began checking off the control panel by rote. "composition: oxygen, nitrogen, water vapor--" "there's certainly nothing out there that could hurt us," martha carhill snapped. "what could there be?" "we might check for radioactivity," hugh said quietly. she turned and stared at him. her mouth opened and then snapped shut again. "no," haines said. "there's no radioactivity either. everything's clear. we won't need space suits." he pressed the button that opened the inner locks. * * * * * carhill glanced over at him and then switched on the communicator, and the noises from the rest of the ship flooded into the control room. everywhere people were milling about. snatches of talk drifted in, caught up in the background as various duty officers, reported clearance on the landing. most of the background voices were young, talking too loudly and with too much forced cheerfulness about what lay outside the ship. hugh sighed, as aware of all the people as if he were out in the corridors with them. it was the space-born ones who were doing most of the talking. the children, the young people, the people no longer young but still born since the voyage started, still looking upon earth more as a wonderful legend than as their own place of origin. the old ones, those who had left the earth in their own youth, had the least of all to say. they knew what was missing outside. the younger ones couldn't really know. even the best of the books and the pictures and the three dimensional movies can give only a superficial idea of what a living world is like. "hugh." carhill clutched his arm. "yes, amos." "there must be people, somewhere. there have to be. our race can't be dead." hugh mccann looked past him, out at the sky and the clouds of water vapor that swirled up to obscure the sun. the stars, of course, were completely hidden in the daylight. "if there are any others, amos, we can be pretty certain they're not on earth." "they may have left. they may have gone somewhere else." "no!" martha carhill's face twisted and then went rigid. "there's no one anywhere. there can't be. it's been too long. you saw the stars, amos--the stars--all wrong, every one of them!" her hands came up to her face and she started to cry. amos crossed over to her and put his arms around her. hugh mccann watched them for a moment and then he turned and left them and went out through the locks after the young people. he didn't know what to think. he wished that they had never turned back to earth at all, that they had kept going, circling around the rim of the galaxy forever. he went through the outer lock and then down the ramp to the ground. he stood on the earth again, for the first time since his early youth. and it was not the same. there was bare rock under his feet and bare rock all around him, gravel and boulders and even fine grained sand. but no dust. no dirt. no trace of anything organic or even ever touched by anything organic. he had walked too many worlds like this. too many bare gray worlds with bare gray oceans and clouds of vapor swirling up into the warm air. too many worlds where there was wind and sound and surf; where there should have been life, but wasn't. this was just another of those worlds. this wasn't earth. this was just a lifeless memory of the earth he had known and loved. for fifty-three years they had clung to the thought of home, of people waiting for them, welcoming them back someday. fifty-three years, and for how many of those ship-years had earth lain lifeless like this? he looked up at the sky and at all the stars that he couldn't see and he cursed them all and cursed time itself and then, bitterly, his own fatuous stupidity. the people came out of the ship and walked about on the graveled plain, alone or in small groups. they had stopped talking. they seemed too numbed by what they had found to even think, for a while. shock, hugh mccann thought grimly. first hysteria and tears and loud unbelief, and now shock. anything could come next. * * * * * he stood with the warm wind blowing in his face and watched the people. in the bitter mood that gripped him he was amused by their reactions. some of them walked around aimlessly, but most, those who were active in the various departments, soon started about the routine business of running tests on planetary conditions. they seemed to work without thinking, by force of habit, their faces dazed and uncaring. conditioning, hugh thought. starting their reports. the reports that they know perfectly well no one will ever read. he wandered over to where several of the young men were sending up an atmosphere balloon and jotting down the atmospheric constituents as recorded by the instruments. "how's it going?" he said. "earth-norm. naturally--" the young man flushed. "temperature's up though. ninety-three. and a seventy-seven percent humidity." he left them and walked down across the rocks to the ocean's edge. two young girls were down there before him, sampling the water, running both chemical and biological probing tests. "hello, mr. mccann," the taller girl said dully. "want our report?" "found anything?" he knew already that there was nothing to find. if there were life the instruments would have recorded its presence. "no. water temperature eighty-six. sodium chloride four-fifths earth normal." she looked up, surprised. "why so low?" "more water in the ocean, maybe. or maybe we've had a nova since we were here last." it was getting late, almost sunset. soon it would be time for the photographic star-charts to be made. hugh brought himself up short and smiled bitterly. he too was in the grip of habit. still, why not? perhaps they could estimate, somehow, how many millions of years had passed. why? what good would it do them to find out? after a while the sun set and a little later the full moon rose, hazy and indistinct behind the clouds of water vapor. hugh stared at it, watched it rise higher until it cleared the horizon, a great bloated bulk. then he sighed and shook his head to clear it and started to work. the clouds were thick. he had to move the screening adjustment almost to its last notch before the vapor patterns blocked out and the stars were bright and unwavering and ready to be photographed. he inserted the first plate and snapped the picture of the stars whose names he knew but whose patterns were wrong, some subtly, some blatantly. there was something he was overlooking. some other factor, not taken into account. he developed the first plates and compared them with the star charts of earth as it had been before they left it, and he shook his head. whatever the factor was, it eluded him. he went back to work. "oh, here you are, hugh." he jumped at the sound of carhill's voice. he had been working almost completely by habit, slowly swinging the telescope across the sky and snapping the plates. and trying to think. "why waste time on that?" carhill added bitterly. "who's ever going to see our records now?" behind carhill, several of the other old ones nodded. hugh was surprised that they had managed to come back to the ship without his hearing them. but of course they had come back in at sundown, as usual on a routine check, and now they were gathering to compile their reports. hugh looked from face to face, wondering if he too was as numb and dazed and haggard appearing as they were. he probably was. "what do you suggest, amos?" he said. "i say there's no use going on," carhill said flatly. "you've all run your tests. and what have you found? no fossils. not even a single-celled life form in the ocean. no way even to tell how many millions of years it's been." "maybe it hasn't been so long," haines said. "maybe something happened here fairly recently, and the people all went to some other system--to one of the centauri planets, maybe." amos carhill laughed bitterly. "you can say that in the face of the evidence? we _know_ that millions of years have passed. nothing's the same. even the tides are three times what they were. it's obvious what happened. the sun novaed. novaed and cooled. do you really believe that our race has lasted that long, on some nearby system?" * * * * * his voice rose. he glared about at the others. he threw back his head suddenly and laughed, and the laughter echoed and re-echoed off the steel walls. "i say let's die now!" carhill cried. "there's no use going on. hugh was right, as usual. we shouldn't have tried to come back. we've been fools, all these years, thinking we had a world to come home to." the people muttered, crowded closer. they pushed into the observation room, shoved nearer to it in the outside corridor. they muttered in a rising note of panic as the numbing shock that gripped them gave way. "why not die here?" martha carhill's voice rose shrill above the sound of her husband's laughter. "we should have died here millions of years ago!" hugh mccann looked at her and at amos and at all the others. he sighed. why not? why go on? there was no answer. even a pragmatist gave up eventually, when the facts were all against him. he glanced down at the reports on the table. all the routine reports, gathered together into routine form, written up in routine terminology. reports on an earth-type planet that just happened to be the earth itself. and then, quite suddenly, the obvious, satisfactory answer came to him. the factors clicked into place, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of them long ago. he looked up from the reports, at the people on the verge of panic, and he knew what to say to quiet them. he had the factors now. "no!" he cried. "you're wrong. there's no reason at all to assume that our race is dead!" amos carhill stopped laughing and stared at him and the others stared also and none of them believed him at all. "it's simple!" he cried. "why has so much time passed outside the ship while to us only fifty-three years have gone by?" "because we traveled too fast," carhill said flatly. "that's why." "yes," hugh said softly. "but there's one thing we've been forgetting. what we did, others could do also. probably lots of expeditions started out after we left, all trying for the speed of light." they stared at him. slowly the dazed look died out of their eyes as they realized what he meant, and what the concept might mean to them. the concept of other ships, following them out into time. the concept of other men, also millions of years from the earth they had left. "you mean," carhill said slowly, "that you believe other people got caught in the same trap we did--that there may be others _in this time also_?" hugh nodded. "why not? maybe they colonized some of those earth-type planets we checked on. anyway, we can look for them." "no." carhill shook his head. "if any of them had started after us we would have crossed their paths already. we never have. we never found a trace of any other expedition. even if there is another, even if there are colonies somewhere, we could spend another fifty years looking." "well," martha carhill whispered. "why not? it would give us something to look for." hugh mccann glanced around the circle of faces and saw the new hope that came into them, the new belief that sprang into existence so quickly because they wanted to believe. he smiled, somewhat sadly, and picked up the pile of reports and the photographs he had just developed. then he slipped out of the room, through the crowd outside, away from them and the rising hum of their voices. he didn't need to say anything more. the ship would go on. * * * * * "hugh, is that you?" "yes, nora." she was waiting for him in the corridor. she came up to him and smiled and slipped her arm through his. they walked on together, down the hall past the last of the people. "i heard what you said, hugh. you convinced them." he nodded. "i wonder why it took me so long to think of it." the voices died away behind them. they were all alone. they rounded a corner where a viewscreen picked up the image of the moon, so familiar, now the only thing that was familiar about this earth. nora shivered. "you were very logical, hugh. but i didn't believe you." he glanced around and saw that there was no one near them and that the communicators in this part of the ship were turned off. only then did he answer her. "i didn't believe myself, nora." "tell me." "when we're outside." they went down the winding ramp that led to the interior of the ship. it too was deserted now. they left the carpeted, muffled corridors and their footsteps rang on the steel plates that lay down the middle of the ship, its heart, where the energy converters were, and the disposal units, and the plant rooms, and the great glass spheres of the hydroponics tanks. "it's ironic, isn't it?" nora said slowly. "we left here so long ago, looking for worlds with life, and we come back to find our own world dead." "it's ironic, all right." he walked along the row of tanks until he came to the one he was searching for, and then he picked up a glass cylinder and filled it from the tank. "i had to tell them something, nora. they couldn't have gone on, otherwise." the bottle was full. he stoppered it and then turned away. they crossed to the nearest lock and he pushed the button that opened it. they waited a few minutes until the door came open, and then they went out, down the ramp to the ground, across the slippery rocks. even through the clouds there was enough light to see by. "it's warm," she said. "it always is, now." they were approaching the ocean. the surf beat loudly in their ears. the spray was warm against their faces, almost as warm as the night wind. "tell me," she said. "you know what really happened, don't you?" "i think so. i can't really be sure." they paused on the low ledge where he had stood earlier and watched the girls gather their data for the reports. at their feet the waves washed up to the edges of the tide pools, eddying into and out of them softly. the water looked dark and cold, but they knew that it too was warm. "there've been lots of changes, and they all fit a pattern," he said. "the temperature. the difference in salt content in the water. the higher tides. those things could happen for several reasons. but there's only one explanation for the other changes, the ones i found on the star charts." she waited. the water lapped in and out, reaching almost to where they stood. "the earth rotates faster now," he said. "and the stars are nearer. much nearer than they were." "isn't that impossible?" "how do we know? we exceeded the speed of light. who could say what continuum that might have put us in? i remember an analogy i read once, in a layman's book on different theories of space-time. '--the future and the past, two branches of a hyperbola, each with the speed of light as its limit--'" "you mean," she whispered, "that we're not in the future at all? we're in the past--the far past--before there was any life on earth?" * * * * * he looked down at the pools of water at their feet, the lifeless water that according to all their old discarded theories should have been teeming with life. he nodded slowly and lifted the glass cylinder he had brought from the ship and stared at it. "that bottle," she whispered. "you filled it with bacteria, didn't you?" he nodded again. "you're mad, hugh. you can't mean that _that bottle_ is the origin of life on earth! you can't." "maybe this isn't our earth, nora. maybe there are thousands of continuums and thousands of earths, all waiting for a ship to land someday and give them life." slowly he unstoppered the cylinder and knelt down at the water's edge. for a minute he paused, wondering if there were other continuums or only this one, wondering just how deep the paradox lay. then he tipped the bottle up and poured, and the liquid from the cylinder ran down into the tide pools and eddied there and was lost in the liquid of the ocean. he poured until the bottle was empty and all the single-celled bacteria from the ship's tank mingled with the warm, lifeless waters. the water temperatures were the same. everything was the same, and the conditions were very favorable and the bacteria would divide and redivide and keep on dividing for millions of years. "we'll hold the ship under light speed," he said. "and in a few million years we can drop back here and see how evolution is getting along." he stood up and she took his hand and moved closer to him. they were both shivering, despite the warmth of the air. "but how did life originate in the beginning?" she asked suddenly. hugh mccann shook his head in the darkness. "i don't know. we've been all over the galaxy and haven't found life anywhere. perhaps it can't have a natural cause. perhaps it's always planted. a closed circle from beginning to end." "but something--someone--must have started the circle. who?" he looked down at the empty cylinder that he had dropped at the water's edge and then he looked out at the ocean, lifeless no longer. and once again he shook his head. "we did, nora. we're the beginning." for a long moment their eyes met and held, and then they turned and walked away from the ocean, back toward the ship, and the people. and the moonlight glinted off the empty bottle. the end * * * * * transcriber's note: this etext was produced from amazing stories january . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. before egypt by e. k. jarvis _it was mallison's strangest assignment. the weird little professor wanted to go to egypt. that meant a trip back to earth so far as mallison was concerned. but the professor pointed to a distant star and mallison wondered: "who moved egypt?"_ [illustration: jaws agape, the hideous serpent hung poised above her slim thigh.] * * * * * mike mallison and nicko were in the office when the new clients entered. a girl and an elderly man. the girl smiled at mike. then she looked at nicko and a sharp involuntary scream got past her lips. "it's all right, lady," mike said. "he won't hurt you. he never injures a client. won't you sit down?" nicko wasn't offended. he was used to women reacting that way at first sight of him. in fact, the hideous little martian misfit had caused even strong men to turn pale. the elderly man was also staring but with more clinical interest than horror. he turned his eyes on mike and said, "i am professor arnold brandon. this is my daughter, doree." "i'm mike mallison." he indicated with a nod. "this is my assistant, nicko." nicko grinned, thus baring his tusks and adding new hideousness to his face. he waved his four arms and said, "i'm delighted to make your acquaintances. i hope your trip to outer port was not too tiring." nicko's tones were bell-like--his diction perfect. the girl gasped. the man blinked, then turned again to mike. "i hope you received our electrogram." "yes, but it was a little vague. it merely said you would arrive at outer port as of this date." "quite. we wish to charter your ship for a cruise." mike considered. the _space queen_ was at liberty but he wasn't sure about these two. other than the fact that the man was old, the girl gray-eyed, slim, and damned pretty, he knew nothing about them. they certainly didn't look like big game hunters. "for what destination?" professor brandon hesitated. "out toward orion, sir." "a man could cruise out toward orion for the rest of his life and still not arrive at a destination. could you be more specific?" "there is a planet out there i wish to visit but at this time i'd rather discuss details other than its location." "such as--?" "the cost is very important to us." doree brandon spoke up. "my father holds the chair of ancient cultures at casa blanca university, and educators, as you may know, are not very well paid. we've been saving for this trip for a long time--" * * * * * she faltered, somewhat embarrassed and mike asked, "in what segment of orion is this planet located?" "the ninth, sir." mike leaned forward. "may i assume your trip is of a scientific nature?" "you may, sir." "then i wonder if you are familiar with the terran educational foundation? i happened to have had contact with them some five years ago." "i'm quite familiar with the organization." "did it occur to you that they might assume some of the cost of your trip?" "they refused. they make the absurd claim that this planet i spoke of doesn't exist." "but you have proof to the contrary?" "an ancient document," doree brandon cut in. "a papyrus scroll. father translated it." "and the foundation did not agree with his translation?" "i did not submit the scroll. they know nothing about it." "father bought it from two men in paris and worked three years on the translation." doree looked at her father with great pride. "my reasons for not submitting it were personal," professor brandon said, "and are not pertinent to this discussion." "may i suggest," mike said gently, "that a pair of crooks sold you a counterfeit--" "you may not, sir!" doree reflected her father's indignation. "i'll have you know my father is the foremost authority in his field!" mike raised a protective hand. "all right--all right. i'm sorry." "then perhaps you'll tell us the approximate cost of the cruise?" "i can haul you to the ninth segment and back for around seven thousand but that won't leave much leeway for search." professor brandon beamed. "we can just about manage it. and i assure you very little search will be necessary." "if you'll give me the planet's location i'll plot a course and give you an exact figure." "it is not my intention to seem mysterious, but i'd prefer to give you that data after blast-off." * * * * * mike scowled and half-rose from his chair. professor brandon hastily drew a pack of yellow bills from his pocket and laid it on the table. "there are four thousand. i have the rest at the hotel. we shall demonstrate complete faith in you by paying the seven thousand before we leave outer port." with that he smiled and arose from his chair. "i guess that concludes our business at this time. we'll be at the hotel when you wish to contact us. come doree." he herded the girl out quickly and closed the door. nicko chuckled. "smart old codger. he had you pegged dead to rights." mike turned his scowl on nicko and snapped, "for christ's sake, speak terran!" nicko had inadvertently used a plutonian hill dialect he'd heard once, this being the hideous little martian's amazing talent--an instinctive grasp of all tongues. his lingual talents were a tremendous asset to mike but at times they drove him crazy because nicko might absent-mindedly use several different tongues during a conversation; some of which he could not classify himself, having forgotten where he heard them. "i said he had you pegged. he knew you were ready to turn him down so he upped with the mool. he knew once you touched the yellow you'd be his pup." "i'm not so damned sure about that--" mike mallison was a big game guide--a life he loved. he was a man of action and asked nothing better than the perils of his calling; the stalking of the great plutonian ice bears; crouching in a venusian swamp waiting for the ten-ton lizards to blow slime a hundred feet in the air and rise from their lava-hot beds; matching wits with the telepathic uranian rock wolves, the most elusive beast in the universe; setting his sights on a martian jet-bat so some terran millionaire could have a new trophy for his game room. "you're not sure," nicko was saying in ganymedian french, "but you'll stay glued to the mool." mike was busy thinking and didn't ask for a translation. after all, he needed the money and if he didn't take it these two deluded characters would no doubt find someone who would. "besides," nicko said in terran, "the female's a dream. the legs--the torso--very nice to be in space with." "shut up! this is a business trip! remember that. exactly the same as though we were hauling a couple of fat terran bankers." "sure. but that kitty's got more in the bank than--" "get the hell out of here! go over to the exchange and see if our new pile came in on that ship." * * * * * outer port was a man-made satellite artificially oxygenated and gravitated. it was the largest of a group assembled during the experimental period of the late twenty-first century. later, methods of shifting asteroids and small planets into desired orbits were developed and the construction of space globes and platforms was discontinued. at that time, the interplanetary guild of space guides purchased the satellite and moored it on the perimeter of the system to serve as a headquarters for their activities. they smashed a bottle of wine on it and christened it outer port after which every guide got drunk by way of celebration. it was a bleak establishment. with no solar supplement, it lay in the eternal twilight of far space, the artificial heat of its surface rising against eternal cold thus causing a perpetual fogging of its atmosphere mixture. so when the _space queen_ blasted fifteen hours later, doree brandon brightened perceptibly. professor brandon remained in the lounge. nicko was aft, watching the tube primers. doree was with mike in the control cabin. "getting used to nicko?" mike asked. doree smiled. "i owe him an apology. he is--" she looked up suddenly. "he is _he_, isn't he?" mike laughed. "nicko is male. beyond that point he's hard to classify." "that odd face! those green scales! the four arms were a little difficult to get used to but now i think he's--well, kind of cute." "good for you." "where did you ever find him?" "on mars. i'll tell you about it sometime. right now i've got to finish setting our primary course." "i imagine you'd like the exact location of the planet as soon as possible." "no great hurry. any time in the next twelve hours will do. just a matter of pin-pointing the arc of the basic course. your father didn't appear to feel too well when we blasted. how is he now?" "he's been under a terrific strain. perhaps we could let him rest awhile." * * * * * mike turned on her sharply. "listen--i'm going to ask you a straight question and i'd like a straight answer. does that planet really exist?" her eyes widened, her head came up dangerously; and mike noted this made her extremely attractive. "now wait a minute. don't get sore. i'm not implying your father doesn't _believe_ it's there. and after all, i've taken your money, so its a deal but--" she almost smiled. "you just think that perhaps he's an impractical old dreamer with delusions." "i didn't say that." there was a pause while doree evidently decided not to get angry. "i assure you, mr. mallison, i believe with all my heart that father's planet is exactly where he will direct you. of course nothing is certain in this universe, but--" mike grinned and held out his hand. "i believe you. accept my apology. and please call me mike. we're going to see a lot of each other for a while." she took his hand and smiled back. their eyes held and mike liked what he saw--pert elfin features; shining chestnut hair; even white teeth. "we'll let your father rest a while," mike said. "i'll get the figures from him later." * * * * * but he was fated never to get the location of the planet from the old scientist. in fact, he was never again to see professor brandon in the confines of the _space queen_. he finished setting primary course and then nicko returned to report. "everything grooved. temp up. color down. tubes solid. primers closed." nicko spoke in four languages. doree, who understood two of them, gasped. nicko grinned. "thought i was a mental void, eh, kitty? why i can spit dialects you never heard of." "cut it out, nicko. treat our clients with a little more respect or i'll pry a few scales off your back." "okay, but those legs--that torso." mike whirled and nicko bounced out of the cabin. "you've got to know him. he's completely loyal and he'd die ten times for any one of us. but he never learned tact." "i don't know why you had to cut him off so abruptly." doree was indignant. it was mike's turn to blink. "he was getting pretty personal--" "i guess i know a compliment when i hear one, mr. mallison." "mike." she grinned. "okay--mike. i'd like to see the ship when you've got time." "i've got time now. let's go." they started at the prow and worked backwards. her trip to outer port had been her first space flight, a fact that amazed mike in this age when even the middle-class terrans vacationed on mars. "we had so little time," doree said. "and so little money." he explained the working of the _space queen_, enjoying the chore, and they worked their way slowly backward. amidship, doree said, "i think i'll look in on father." she went below and almost immediately, nicko appeared at the after end of the companionway. "we've got company, mike." "what do you mean, company?" "ship winging to." mike scowled. "out here? the radio hasn't spoken. maybe they're in trouble and can't sound out." he ran aft, nicko stumping along behind. he looked out the stern port. a ship all right. a slim cruiser of the d class, the light of faraway suns reflecting against its hull, giving it the ghostly appearance of all craft in space. "ever see that ship before?" mike asked. "not me. i'll bet my right top arm it never moored at outer port. if it had we'd know the boat." "lots of ships never moored at outer port. go forward and see if you can speak to them. maybe they can sound in." nicko left and mike watched the ship arc closer. mike admired the skill of the pilot, then realized the ship was on complete automatic, taking its impulses from radar bounced against the hull of the _space queen_. no human pilot could hold a ship that steady. she appeared intent on locking to the _space queen_'s after hatch. mike wished her all the luck in the universe and hoped he had what she was looking for. in case of illness his stock of medicines was only standard and would not cover any extraordinary cases. * * * * * then he stiffened. there was movement next to the antenna prow on the ship's nose. a small hatch was opening. mike cursed himself for stupidity. yet at the same time, he could think of nothing that should have made him suspicious. these were peaceful areas. it would have been ridiculous for bandits to work this area. raiding here made as much sense as operating in the heart of the gobi desert back on terra. even as he whirled to try and reach the control cabin in time, a steel arm shot out from the pit uncovered by the raised hatch. mike didn't see the fine-wired grid at the end of the arm but he knew it was there and he knew its purpose. * * * * * as he ran, he sensed the magnetic wires groping toward the hull of the _space queen_. if they made contact-- contact was made while he ran up the companionway. the electroparalysis bolt hit him while he was still twenty feet from the control cabin. it caught him on his right toe with his left foot extended. it froze him in that position, held him in the grotesque running pose while fire poured through his veins. it held not only mike and every other living thing aboard, but froze the ship itself into immobility; everything stopped except the raging movement of flaming gases in the jet tubes and these too died out as their source of supply was speedily choked. mike blacked out. when his consciousness returned, mike figured he had been out for about an hour. he based this on past experience with electroparalysis rays. using every ounce of will-power, he forced his elevated foot toward the companionway floor. the magnetic field permeating the dead ship was still potent, forming, in a sense, a maze of invisible wires, holding him in his frozen position. he knew that in the companionway he had taken the full brunt of the charge. possibly the others were again able to move about. but no one came to his aid. his foot touched the floor. he pulled at his back foot like a man striving to loose himself from thick mud. he got it forward. a step, then another. from the control cabin came the sound of dolorous curses emitted in many languages. nicko was again functioning. mike got his hands on the safety bars of the ladder leading down to the lounge. he pulled himself toward it and as he was descending, the magnetism of the electroparalytic bolt loosed its hold and he fell headlong. picking himself up, he hurried into the lounge. doree was alone. she was still frozen to the chair in which she sat. her legs were drawn up gracefully under her slim body. only her eyes were alive--questioning, beseeching. mike picked her up and laid her on the floor. he knelt and began massaging the rigid muscles, drawing her legs out slowly, watching her eyes for indications of pain. "you'll be all right in a few minutes," he said. "we have to take it slow and easy or you'll get the bends." while he worked he was asking himself questions. who? in god's name--why? what reason had anyone for attacking the ship? there was nothing of value aboard. he had no enemies--to his knowledge--in this part of the universe. * * * * * doree was trying to speak. her throat worked. her eyes were frantic. mike got her legs straightened out without sending her into screaming pain. now she was rising into a sitting position on her own power. "took--took--fa--him--" she whispered hoarsely. "your father--where is he?" "mckee--talbott--took him!" "who in the hell are mckee and talbott?" gradually, her throat unlocked. "they came in and took him--carried him out." "i asked you who they were." tears welled in her eyes. she bit her lower lip and tried to control her fluttering throat. "i--i tried to scream. when they carried him out i couldn't do a thing." she burst into tears. she was normal again. mike got to his feet. "i've got to check the ship. when i get back i want some answers and you'd better have them ready." he hurried from the lounge and up the ladder, almost slamming into nicko as he gained the companionway. nicko's scales were a sickly, pale green. he tottered weakly on his stumpy legs using all four of his arms to support himself against the bulkhead. he grinned hideously. "friends of yours?" "i don't know who the hell they were. you all right?" "i'm fine." mike scowled up and down the companionway. "what shape are we in?" "bad." "how bad?" "the worst. the pile's gone." "the _pile_!" mike ran aft. the door to the tube cabin stood open. the alley into which the fifteen-pound, lead-crated pile had lately been driven, was empty. * * * * * swiftly mike assessed the situation. a helpless ship. a derelict. they'd entered through the aft airlock. they'd taken professor brandon off that way. then they'd closed the lock again. that meant only one thing. through pure cruelty, they had avoided swift death to the ship's occupant in favor of a long, lingering one. only the basest of men would do a thing like that. mike was not acquainted with mckee or talbott, but he knew something about them. they were the lowest type of the human species. only the bloodthirsty pirates of ganymede ever made their victims walk space. he returned to where nicko was clinging to the companionway guard-rail. nicko said, "you haven't seen it all, yet." "is there more?" "that's only the beginning. they smashed everything in the control cabin. all the navigating instruments. even if we had a pile this boat couldn't find its way down main street at high noon." it followed, mike thought grimly. "i'll be drummed out of the guild for this." "if you ever get within shouting distance of outer port again, which you won't." mike doubled his fists. "to stand flatfooted and let a boarder move in and take my pile--and my client. how much of an idiot can a man be!" doree came up the ladder, her eyes wide with fright. "did you find him?" "no--and don't start crying. why didn't you tell me about these men? why didn't you give me a chance to protect my ship?" "we--we didn't know they'd follow us. we--i didn't dream they had any idea of--" "they followed you. and they had the idea. they took our pile and shoved us off on a blind orbit. they arranged for us to die out here." "won't we--we be found?" "a million to one shot in these spaces." "more than that," nicko said. "a billion to one. it's empty out here, lady." mike saw that doree was again about to burst into tears. he took her by the arm. "we're going to the lounge and you're going to tell me all about this--what's been going on." he drew her toward the ladder, calling over his shoulder. "clean up what you can, nicko. see what other deviltry they arranged." in the lounge, mike sat doree firmly into a chair. "now let's not have any tears. just tell it the way it happened." * * * * * doree had got control of herself. she sat straight, miserable, a little pathetic, mike thought. she said, "lorn mckee and dean talbott were paris art collectors. their reputations were not of the best but when they approached father he listened to them. "they had a strange looking scroll made of papyrus. it had writing on it in an ancient script and they wanted father to translate it for them." "would that have made it more valuable?" "of course. at first father was suspicious, thinking it was some kind of a hoax. they told him the scroll had come from an egyptian tomb but would tell him no more relative to its origination. they brought it to him because he was terra's foremost authority in that field. "father discovered immediately that the scroll was genuine and very old. papyrus was a material the ancient egyptians used." "and--?" mike asked impatiently. "he refused to translate it for them because they in turn would not tell him what they proposed to do with it. he felt it should be turned over to the proper authorities--some university--and besides, he was suspicious of the two men. so they went away and tried to get it translated elsewhere. this was impossible, so they came back and offered to sell it to father for a very low price but with the stipulation that he keep what he learned strictly to himself. "he wanted to make the translation and was tempted because he already had a clue to its nature. he believed the scroll verified a theory long in existence on terra relative to the extraterrestrial origination of mankind." "you mean he thought it proved the neanderthal and cro-magnon came from other planets." "no, not so far back as that. there is little doubt they originated on terra. father is a specialist in egyptology. and it was his belief that a great deal of their early history was purposely distorted. there is confusion in what little can be found concerning them and father sincerely believed they came from another planet. he was sure they brought with them a knowledge of science far greater than any existing upon terra." "and the papyrus verified his belief?" "completely." "what did it tell him?" "that the forefathers of those who later became the egyptians, left their native planet after a disagreement with the ruling pharaoh and sought a new home. they cruised for several lifetimes, raising and educating their children and dying off, until they found terra, a planet almost identical to their own. the papyrus gave the location of their home planet--hieroglyphics which father translated into a table of accurate equations." "how could he know they were accurate?" doree's head came up sharply. "if you were really aware of my father's ability in his field, it wouldn't occur to you to ask." * * * * * "i don't blame you for your faith but i still think it was a gigantic hoax--for one reason." "and that--?" "if the ancestors of the egyptians came to terra, they had to have great scientific and technical knowledge to get there. all right--then what happened to the knowledge and the science? the egyptians certainly didn't take advantage of it." "they used some of it. no one has been able to prove conclusively how they built the pyramids." "slave labor." "that is not a complete explanation." "all right--forget the pyramids. what happened to the rest of their science?" "the answer lies in a basic trend of the egyptians as a people. they were completely preoccupied with death rather than life. to them, their years of living was only a period in which to prepare for eternity. their ambitions and talents were directed toward the building of great tombs and the perfect preservation of bodies after death. in the light of this does it seem so strange that they turned their backs on all knowledge except that which aided them in dead directions?" * * * * * mike was regarding doree with a new respect. "i owe you an apology. you're a smart girl. you've got a brain in your head. i'm so used to carting empty-headed females around the system that i'd forgotten smart ones existed." "i'm sure you mean that as a compliment, but the fact remains that father and i blundered you into a perilous position. we should have told you about mckee and talbott. but we didn't think--" "your shortcoming was that you were honest and thought everyone else was. that's a common failing." "but we knew they had bad reputations." "it's pretty obvious how their thinking went. they must have had a clue to the contents of the papyrus. they knew your father wouldn't act without integrity but they banked on his eagerness as a student--figured it would cause him to accept their terms in order to get his hands on the scroll because there was certainly nothing dishonorable about buying it from them. they knew also that he would keep his word, being that kind of a man." doree's shoulders drooped in misery. "i guess that's about it." "it was the best way they could think of to get the papyrus translated and still keep the contents secret." mike rubbed his chin. "they were pretty smart boys. they were certain your father would find a way to act on whatever information it contained and all they had to do was stay on his trail and await their opportunity." "how could anyone be so vile?" mike ignored the question. "i said they were smart, but they weren't smart enough." "what do you mean?" "this little trick of marooning us on a fatal orbit in space. it won't work." "why not?" "we'll follow them." doree was completely bewildered. "but you said your pile was stolen." "it was. we won't need it." "and all your instruments were smashed." "we won't need them, either. your father will tell them the planet's location. there's not much else he can do. then--we'll follow them." "one of us is crazy," doree said, weakly. "no. mckee and talbott were just badly informed. they have an automatic ship and evidently don't know too much about it. you see, the electroparalysis ray has one basic element around which it functions--magnetism. the jolt they handed us was of such size that it created a magnetic field around their ship. if they had been going through an asteroid belt they would have been bombarded into oblivion. as it is they'll still be bombarded in a sense--by us." "you mean--" "the field envelopes their ship and trails out behind it like an invisible chain. they couldn't possibly have shoved us hard enough to get us clear of it. so when they pulled out, the _space queen_ nosed right around and followed them." mike grinned. "we're on their tail right now, just as surely as if they had us on a tow-rope." "then we can still help father!" mike sobered. "we don't know what we can do. we're still not out of the woods. there's a little problem of landing a dead ship on that planet after we come within range of its gravity. then, too, heaven only knows where we'll set down. if it's a big planet--" instead of wincing before this new peril, doree stiffened against it. "i'm sure you'll do all that any man could do." "i'll do my best." "and so long as the whole disaster was our fault--" "forget it." mike conscious of a warmth rising within him, took his eyes quickly from her face and went to check ship.... * * * * * the slow passage of time was the most difficult factor to contend with. mike wracked his brain for a means of speeding up the _space queen_. he was confident that the craft was moving straight and true in the wake of the other ship and that unless drastic adjustments were made in the course, she would continue to do so. but so slowly--so very slowly. acceleration caused by the magnetic field had long-since reached its apex and now the _space queen_ moved at a steady unchanging pace. he achieved a little more speed by taking charges from three of the primers, placing them in the pile head, and igniting with the fourth primer. he picked up possibly two gs before the power burned out. he and nicko donned space suits, magnetized themselves aft, and opened the suit's drive plugs to the maximum. the resulting force smashed them against the hull, almost breaking their ribs. some additional acceleration was achieved but pathetically little. who would have thought, mike pondered bitterly, that i'd land out here pushing my own ship through space? what a laugh the wits at outer port would get when and if this little adventure was sounded around. _if_--that was the big word that stuck in mike's mind. an important facet of the problem was keeping doree's morale high. mike enjoyed this. he learned all about her and there came a sudden dizzy moment when he found himself kissing her. after that he was more careful. then, at the last came the great thrill--abruptly, as all such things come. mike was puttering with the radio when nicko turned from the port to say, "indescribably beautiful land ho! luscious round planet dead ahead at five o'clock!" mike leaped to the port. smaller than terra and with different continental markings, but in other respects, quite similar. nicko jumped up and down clapping his four hands. mike grabbed him and lifted him in a bear-hug, scratching himself unmercifully on the little martian's sharp scales. then he bolted aft to tell doree. there was no restraint in his kiss this time and for a few moments the ship and the landfall vanished from their minds. they did not know where they were; nor did they care. then mike jerked himself back to the business at hand and rushed to the pilot cabin; the dangerous business ahead of them. * * * * * they were already in range, being gripped and dragged down by the planet's pull. mike ordered nicko and doree into straps and buckled himself into the pilot's chair. he surveyed the fast-greatening planet. there would be no choice of landing fields. mike could only hope to bring the _space queen_ down on dry land rather than in the center of an ocean. she was responding to her fins now and mike put her into a long glide. below, the land and the water separated themselves and mike studied the gray expanse below. ocean. mike leveled out and struggled for altitude. there was minor response as the atmosphere outside clawed at the hull, dragging it down, heating it a dull red. all during the trip he had fought inertia. now his problem was reversed, rapid acceleration being the demon of the moment. a helpless shell rocketing toward a solid obstacle. mike felt a surge of relief as the streaming gray below turned to racing green. at least they would not finish up trapped in a submarine. but the land could be as lethal as the sea and now the moment was at hand. mike angled the fins to their maximum. he yelled. "contact!" then he prayed. there was a great crash--and oblivion. * * * * * pain brought back mike's consciousness. without opening his eyes, he analyzed the pain. it was in his shoulder. he tried the muscles gingerly and decided it wasn't broken. if that was the case the others could have come through also. the results of crashes of this kind were usually extreme one way or another. either the passengers came through unhurt or they were mangled into stew meat. mike opened his eyes. all was quiet. both nicko and doree lay motionless under their straps; still unconscious but with no visible injuries. but there was something else there in the center of the cabin floor; something mike's dazed mind had difficulty in accepting. a snake. it was coiled lazily, its green and gold body the thickness of a man's arm. it had a flat, triangular head with deadliness written all over it and its eyes were upon the only moving thing in the room--doree's rising and falling breast. the chill that went through mike almost paralyzed him. in hypnotized fascination he watched the sinuous uncoiling of the serpent; the gliding movement in doree's direction. then the girl's eyes opened. "don't move!" mike snapped. "everything is all right. we got down. but you must stop breathing--hold your breath. don't even move your eyes! stare straight at the ceiling." doree obeyed, and thus did not see the snake. but her fright was apparent. mike moved a slow hand toward the buckle on his chest. the serpent's head flicked around at the movement. mike's cold hand gripped the buckle. he knew the snake's length was such that it could reach him in a single long strike. he could only hope the serpent would hesitate for a few seconds. the snake's head came around, then drew back. at that moment a voice broke the silence. "you--beautiful serpent. gorgeous green and gold clothes line. over this way. here i am." nicko's voice and with it the little martian unbuckled his strap and put his feet on the floor. a hiss. the snake struck. doree turned her eyes downward and screamed. the snake's great head slammed against nicko's leg. the martian laughed. the snake ricocheted backward, dazed from the contact, two of its fangs broken off on nicko's steel-hard scales. nicko got up and walked over and put his heel on the serpent's head and crushed it. as the long body lashed and writhed, nicko looked down at it with a kind of compassion. "good-bye, little sister." nicko looked over at mike in assumed surprise. "was my pretty cousin bothering you? she only wanted to say hello." "all right," mike barked. "you've had your little joke. let's find out where we are." "in a jungle i guess--from the nature of the welcoming committee." mike helped doree from her couch. she had sustained no injuries other than a slightly sprained wrist. mike got a rifle from the gun cabinet, gave another to nicko and armed doree with a small pistol which she tried to refuse. investigation showed the hull to be intact but two of the hatches had been torn off their hinges and were nowhere in sight. "a beautiful glide," nicko commented, looking back at the broad furrow that gave evidence of how the _space queen_ had come in. it was a good thing for them. * * * * * "a lucky one," mike replied. he scanned the thick tropical vegetation on every side. "we could be down in the green jungles of terra," nicko said. "we could at that. there is a river around here somewhere." "how do you know?" "i got a flash of a river as we glided in. thought we were going to hit it. then we went over. it ought to be in that direction. let's go." doree, still stunned by the episode of the snake, was mute and pale as she followed close behind mike. nicko brought up the rear. the going was hard until mike broke through into a comparatively open area. he pointed. "there it is." a silent, ominous river, dark under the hot rays of a high sun. around them, nothing moved; only the black waters of the river rushing onward toward some distant rendezvous with the sea. doree shuddered. * * * * * mike drew her into the circle of his arm. "don't be afraid. this is a break--just what we wanted. all rivers go somewhere and this one saves us from fighting our way through the jungle an inch at a time." "but we have no boat." "we can make a boat." nicko said. "the rubber mattresses and cushions from the ship. i'll bet no one on this planet has ever seen such a boat as we'll have." mike and nicko struggled back and forth from the river bank to the ship, bringing what was needed. doree, fearing to remain alone, trailed with them until she was exhausted, whereupon mike began building the raft, leaving the rest of the trips to the indestructible nicko. mike bound the mattresses and cushions to a base of woven reeds. the reeds grew in abundance in a nearby swamp. doree helped with the braiding and the work went swiftly. nicko made a half dozen more trips and returned from the last one with several scales knocked off his back. "somebody threw a brick at me," he said. mike scanned the now-menacing jungle wall. "a brick?" "that was what it felt like. it hurt like hell." "you didn't see anybody?" "i did not. i didn't wait long enough." "we've got to get out of here." "an observation of amazing erudition." mike lashed a long flat piece of driftwood to the raft as a steering oar, found two other such pieces to serve as unattached oars, and helped nicko finish with loading the supplies. "all right," he said. "let's go." they cast loose and while doree worked with the stern oar, mike and nicko paddled feverishly toward the middle of the river. with this objective achieved, nicko took over the stern. mike forced doree to lie down. he put a pillow under her head, kissed her and sat beside her until her eyes closed. then he went back and sat down beside nicko. the latter had not forgotten his terrifying grin. "we certainly get around, don't we?" he said cheerfully. "i'm glad it makes you so happy." "as a matter of fact i'm scared stiff. it is just that my sainted mother told me always to keep a brave front." * * * * * mike looked at his assistant with sudden fondness. "who was your mother, nicko?" nicko shook his dragon's head sadly. "i can't seem to remember but i know i had one. and of course she was saintly." "and your father?" a distant sound intruded, touching mike's ears lightly. his eyes were still upon nicko as the latter said, "you've got me--but i have a feeling he was a gallant knight in armor who swept my beautiful mother off her fairy-like feet." "no doubt," mike smiled. the sound was louder now, but it still did not catch his attention. he was remembering that encounter in the polar forests of mars; the day he found little nicko crouching under a bush; how he'd come within an ace of putting a bullet into the hideous creature's brain. but some vagrant touch of compassion had stayed him. the little monster seemed so lost, so pathetic, so helpless. he'd taken nicko back to camp, the martian infant's parentage and ancestry a mystery mike felt would never be solved. what sort of hideous mating had occurred, he wondered, to produce this mongrel creature with the brain of a human and the body of a beast? mike held forth his hand. "you were a vicious little devil," he said. "i'll wear that scar forever." nicko sighed gustily. "if you beat me unmercifully each fine morning for the rest of my miserable life, the punishment would be light for such a heinous deed." mike laughed and started to get to his feet. halfway up, he paused, crouching there. then his voice thundered. "grab an oar! pull for shore! pull for god's sake!" in an instant both of them were tearing the water in an effort to reach the nearest bank. as they worked, the current upon which they moved swept forward at an ever-increasing speed and the roar about them was like the crashing of skyscrapers under bombardment. they came ashore a scant six feet above certain death. fortunately the raft was light and they were able to gain a foothold and lift it from the snarling waters. then, gasping for breath, they moved a few feet down-stream and stood looking at the frothing cataract that dropped the great river a sheer two-hundred feet to boulders below. "i ought to be whipped for not attending to business," mike said bitterly. doree was clinging to his arm looking down at the awe-inspiring sight. "you saved us, darling. why should you criticize yourself?" "it was too close--far too close." nicko said, "it seems to me the important thing now is where we go from here." "we carry the raft down those rocks and beyond the rough water." "but why all that effort? couldn't we be as happy up here as down there?" "all rivers lead to civilization," mike said. "or at least, they lead to the places civilization naturally springs up." "a logical observation." "also, i've got a hunch about this river. i may be wrong but i think it might take us right where we want to go. i'll bet there are interesting things ahead." * * * * * mike turned and directed his words to doree. "that papyrus your father translated said the forefathers of the egyptians sought a planet similar to their own. perhaps the similarity had to be more than general. such a thing is indicated by their traveling around for several lifetimes. anyhow, except for the tropical climate, this river bears a great resemblance to one of the tributaries that feeds the nile back on terra." "you're quite right," doree marveled. "and this could well be victoria falls. i wonder if another egypt doesn't lie below." there was awe in doree's voice. "before egypt--" "what did you say?" "an egypt--a great civilization that flourished on this planet before egypt--before the terran egypt was even dreamed of." mike smiled fleetingly. "that's what you and your father have believed, isn't it? so why be surprised?" "it's just that--well, being so close to it--realizing it might _really_ exist--" mike laughed. "i understand. but we're still a long way from it." he turned to the martian. "come on, nicko, let's get busy with this stuff." the portage was laborious and dangerous. it took the balance of that day. even when the sun set they had still not reached the termination of white water. they found an open area beside the racing river that would have been covered during high water and mike decided it would be a good place to camp. while mike broke out the supplies, and doree prepared the meal, nicko stood on the alert with a rifle over his arm scanning the line of undergrowth at the edge of the forest. after all three had eaten, mike directed nicko to bed down in order to be ready for the second watch. he urged doree to sleep also, but she insisted on sitting with him during his watch. and though her head drooped several times, she remained with him and refused to sleep. when nicko took over the watch, mike stretched out under his blanket near doree. he dozed off and was then awakened by a pressure against his back. doree, snuggling close. "it's cold," she murmured, and drifted to sleep with a contented sigh. it was a calm, restful slumber. * * * * * the sharp bark of nicko's rifle awakened mike after what seemed to him only a few moments of sleep. he sprang up to find dawn breaking and nicko sending another shot into the undergrowth. mike grabbed his own rifle and ran to the martian's side. "what's wrong?" nicko lowered his weapon. "i saw four platoons of infantry charging out of the brush--i think." "in other words you think maybe you saw something. you don't know what it was. it could have been nothing at all." "all right. have it your way," nicko said serenely. "come on. let's get going. we'll eat something on the raft." * * * * * but they never reached the raft. mike's words had hardly been spoken when the forest erupted with a mass of savagery. several hundred tall, screaming black men clad sketchily in brilliantly colored feathers and paint. both rifles barked. nicko's shot was high, but mike brought the foremost of the black warriors skidding forward on his face. maybe that will stop them, mike thought desperately. maybe they've never seen firearms before. he held up his second shot for the briefest moment hoping the savages would be awed into retreat. but this was not the case. they charged forward in renewed fury and mike again went to work. he dropped three more of the charging maniacs while nicko, probably the poorest shot who ever lifted a rifle, accounted for one unfortunate warrior with a twenty-shot spray of atomic pellets. the black men, who had had only a scant fifty yards to cover, were now upon the three. two of them seized doree, an act which turned mike into a terrible fighting machine. not able to fire the gun effectively at such close range, he reversed it and created bloody havoc, using the butt as a club. two skulls cracked sharply under its impact and as he fought, mike saw nicko go down. he couldn't reach him. several warriors raised the iron-toothed clubs they carried and crashed them down upon nicko's unprotected body. the result would have been comic under less grim circumstances. the clubs of the warriors caused nicko's almost indestructible hide to ring like a great bell. the handle of one warrior's lethal bludgeon snapped and the attacker stared at it in amazement. the rest beat down again upon the prone nicko, their clubs bouncing off and resounding in a sort of anvil chorus. the attention of the warriors bent upon annihilating mike was diverted by the intriguing spectacle of this strange four-armed creature refusing to be clubbed to death. so mike was able to get in some telling blows that felled three more of the terrible warriors. he knew however, that the end was already written in the bloody sands around him. he could only fight to the last moment, bringing down as many of the enemy as possible. his heart was sick at what would surely be doree's fate. he saw her just beyond the perimeter of battle still held by her two captors who were viewing the fight with rapt interest. if he could only reach her. one swing of his gun butt and she would serve no vile purpose in the hands of these raiders. [illustration: the beastman's intent was all too clear.] mike mowed a bloody path in her direction. he covered more than half the distance before he knew he would never make it. however, the end of this affair was not written in the sands, but in the skies overhead. mike realized this when the attackers stopped fighting, all eyes turned heavenward in sudden terror. mike's eyes followed theirs and he saw the ship. * * * * * it was a craft such as he could never have imagined in dream or reverie. a great rectangular platform, its polished sides inlaid with gold and fist-sized gems. there was a high railing around its edge over which myriad faces peered down. above it, elevated upon shining cables, were two glowing balls not more than two feet in diameter, and even in his preoccupation with more serious matters, mike realized the whole craft was suspended from these two balls, that they were its means of buoyancy. then he was in the midst of a disordered flight as the warriors charged screaming back to the forest. the ship was settling swiftly toward the surface of the river and now a crystalline ray of some sort shot out from the forward deck, cutting down the terrorized warriors in their flight. * * * * * every able-bodied one had fled the scene of battle. some gained the forest where the crystalline ray crisped the overgrowth into black ashes as it nipped at their singed heels. those not fortunate enough to escape were but small nubs of blackened ashes on the open shore. the ray had avoided touching the heart of the battleground and mike found himself standing alone among the bodies of the blacks he had dispatched. nicko was getting wearily to his feet. doree stood frozen nearby, abandoned by her captors, the great ship holding her gaze as a snake would hold that of a bird. the ship hung motionless a few inches above the rushing water, its port side flanking the shore. and as a section of the railing arced down from its position to become a landing ladder, mike realized the futility of delayed flight. this was a fighting ship; a patrol craft ready and able to spread devastation in any direction. there were perhaps a hundred men aboard and as a squad filed down the ladder, mike was struck by the perfection of their six-foot bodies and by the pride and arrogance of their manner. their attitude was one of casual contempt mixed with mild interest. doree had moved into the shelter of his arm and the grumbling nicko had also come close but with interest centered more upon his aching scales than this new possible enemy. while the squad stood at attention, their leader surveyed the bloody section of shore. he checked each of the prone men and found only one still alive, a seven-foot, ebon-skinned warrior who got to his feet when the leader kicked him and stood erect but swaying drunkenly from the blow mike had laid across his skull during the battle. shoving the warrior roughly toward the silent trio, the leader took a small object from the gold-inlaid shoulder sack that seemed to be a part of his uniform. the object consisted of a short rod with a crystal ball on one end. the man grasped the ball in his palm, pointed the rod at the fallen men and began spraying them with the same crystalline ray that had emanated from the ship. the resulting fire was instantaneous and intense. the prone bodies crackled for a moment and were reduced to charred fragments. the leader went about this work with the distasteful look of a man cleaning out a garbage pail. when the task was finished, he turned his attention to the four prisoners. * * * * * nicko was the prime object of his interest. he cut the little martian out of the group, shoving him roughly aside, then walked slowly around him several times as though unable to convince himself that such an improbable creature could really exist. a sharp command from the deck of the ship terminated his inspection and he spoke brusquely to the group in a tongue mike did not understand. "what did he say?" mike asked of nicko. for once, the latter was not interested. "how do i know?" he growled. "gad! my aching back!" the leader motioned to the squad, whereupon the prisoners were pushed toward the ladder. the boarding was accomplished swiftly. the prisoners were herded forward and onto a gold-inlaid bench just above the prow. the ladder was lifted and the craft moved straight upward like an elevator. after ascending three or four hundred yards, it leveled off and swept gently forward, down-river. none of those aboard laid hands upon the prisoners. nicko was still the center of attention and also of the conversation passed among the soldiers. they were handsome specimens, erect and beautifully built, clad in identical uniforms the cost of which would have been staggering on terra or anywhere else in the system. "this ship," mike said. "is there anything familiar about it?" he had spoken to doree and the latter looked at him questioningly and then glanced about the ship. "i've certainly never seen anything like it before." "of course not, but the styling, the decorations, they could only be classed as--" "egyptian!" "at least a forerunner of what we consider egyptian. and this river. look out ahead of us. see how it broadens. see the wide level fields on either side." "the nile," doree whispered. "not the nile, but obviously a sister. the egyptians who fled this planet certainly hunted until they found exactly what they wanted--found it on terra in a system far from their own." mike turned his attention to a conversation that was going on between nicko and the black prisoner. the language was a primitive guttural of some sort but nicko was obviously using it skilfully. he grinned at mike and said, "we were wrong about those people. they are fine characters. this is m'landa, a leader of the tribe known as the h'lorkas--or at least that's as close as i can give it to you in terran. he is an extremely fine fellow." "is that so?" mike asked grimly. "then why did they grab doree?" "they meant her no harm. they didn't want her injured." "i can imagine why. and if they're such fine fellows why did they attack us?" the question seemed to embarrass nicko. "i guess my aim wasn't so bad after all. they were keeping a sharp eye on us--wishing us no harm whatever. but when i fired, i killed one so they naturally got sore." * * * * * "what does he know about this outfit?" "scoundrels. we would have been better off with the h'lorkas. this is a patrol ship of the ptomenites. they are the tyrants of this planet, their power contested only by the people of baserite to the north. but the baserites always come out on the bloody end of the stick." "has he any idea what will happen to us?" "he expects to be sacrificed to some slob of a god they worship. then his body will be preserved and put in a trophy room they call the gallery of the dead." mike turned a quick, meaningful look at doree, but he had no time to comment because at that moment the door of a small cabin opened and a girl came forth. the cabin was aft of the ship and the girl came swiftly forward, pride and arrogance written in every line of her beautiful body. but it was not these qualities that caused mike to gasp and doree to blush deeply. it was the regal figure's almost complete nudity. she wore only the briefest of attire across her breast and hips. "my dark friend says that's katal'halee, princess of the ptomenites," nicko whispered. "she rides along with the boys once in a while for the exhilarating pleasure of it." "i imagine the boys get a little pleasure out of having her along, too," mike said. then, with the queenly nude not a dozen feet away, doree grasped mike's arm. he glanced across and saw that her eyes were sweeping past katal'halee to the small cabin. its door had again opened. two men emerged and moved forward. they seemed entirely at home and wore smug smiles. "lorn mckee!" doree gasped. "dean talbott!" the terran origination of these two was obvious. mckee was bald, paunchy, middle-aged, his face loose from easy living. talbott tended toward the more athletic figure. he was dark, his eyes clear and sharp, his mouth cruel. "surprise," nicko said with a noticeable lack of warmth in his voice. "bet you never expected to see us on your front porch." * * * * * talbott smiled coldly. "yes, and no. after we left you in space we thought we were rid of you. but we saw you tagging after us when we were over the planet and it was too late to do anything about it. congratulations. how did you manage it?" "what have you done with my father?" doree asked. talbott pondered the loathing in her eyes. it did not seem to bother him. "your father is well taken care of. he will be--" mckee raised a delicate hand. "but the details would only horrify you." mike was on his feet and had the terran by the throat. talbott gagged and flailed helplessly. he was no weakling, but still not a match for mike's strength and rage. the haughty-eyed native girl had been standing silent, regarding the tableaux. now she snapped a command and two soldiers stepped forward and seized mike. a third hit mike a vicious blow across the skull with the flat of an ugly jeweled sword he carried. mike staggered and fell back on the bench, blood running from his scalp. talbott rubbed his throat and adjusted his clothing. viciousness shone in his eyes. "we had no great animosity toward you before, but now--" "that's why you left us stranded in space?" mike asked. "it was just that we did not want to bloody our hands killing you but you had to be got out of the way." * * * * * "well, we're in the way now." "not at all. we have had time to put ourselves in solid with these fierce but rather stupid people. we've also had time to arrange for this hostile reception accorded you. we told them--" "i can't see that it matters what you told them. we can see the result." "i'm more interested in how you got to them," nicko said. "you don't know their lingo." "there are ways if one has the time." mckee had come forward and was regarding nicko with interest. he was not alone. katal'halee and every soldier within range was also regarding him with interest. "just what manner of creature is this, anyhow?" talbott asked. "why you slab-sided slob--!" nicko yelled. talbott flushed and took a backward step. the three soldiers moved forward, scowling. "take it easy," mike said. "we know how we stand. it's just as well we don't antagonize these people any further until we can get some kind of foothold." "you'll get a foothold," mckee sneered. "in the priests' embalming rooms." with that, he turned and walked away, obviously satisfied with the situation. talbott turned to follow him. he bowed to katal'halee as though awaiting her pleasure. the proud native princess appeared to have had enough of this spectacle and moved haughtily aft. as he followed her, talbott glanced swiftly back at the prisoners as if to say: _see how solidly we're in? you haven't got a chance._ this was all too evident. "what do you suppose they're up to?" mike asked. doree looked up questioningly. "what do you mean?" "they aren't just here to enjoy the hospitality of these people. they've got something more in mind." "they're after the loot, what else?" nicko said. "if you're right and i think you are, they must have a plan. and if the plan is what i think it is, they've got their ship ready for a quick blast-off." doree's face was tight with inner turmoil. "we've got to find father! we've got to help him!" mike took her hand. "we'll do our best, but you must keep a grip on yourself. your going to pieces won't help." doree made an effort. "i'm sorry. i'll--" her words were broken off by sudden activity on the ship. mike glanced out and noted the landscape had changed to one of broad cultivation. the rough jungle country had completely vanished. obviously the ship had been moving at great speed, its effect on the passengers lessened by the huge glass shield in front of the ship's prow. looking ahead, he could see the spires of a city in the distance. but this was not the object of the patrol's concern. their eyes were riveted to another ship--a strange shining craft that was moving in from the left at great speed. mike heard shouts of both consternation and anger in the odd tongue of these people as they appeared to be girding for battle. the approaching ship was of radically different design than the one on which they were trapped. it was completely of metal and had no golden or jeweled decorations. it was long and slim and completely enclosed and had the appearance of a true fighting ship. none of its passengers were visible. nicko had been talking to the feathered warrior. the latter had sat silent during the brush with mckee and talbott and mike had almost forgotten his presence. * * * * * nicko turned in excitement. "he says that's a baserite raider! he says it's very seldom they come in so close but that one's planning to raise general hell with this scow. this isn't one of the ptomenite's fighter fleet and we'll have a pretty rough time." the golden craft was following a two-pronged plan. the ptomenites were spraying the sky with their deadly crystal ray and at the same time kiting for home as fast as the ship would go. out beyond, the slim ship did a remarkable roll to avoid the ray and screamed in for the kill. the wind was howling around the ptomenite ship now, and her timbers groaned under the pressure. then the baserite craft attempted a strike. it appeared to be trying for only a close arc but at the last moment it nosed down in a breathtaking maneuver and streaked straight for the exposed deck. * * * * * frantically, the ptomenites brought their ray gun around to bear on the death-laden juggernaut. they were partially successful, spitting forth a deadly barrage just as the prow of the attacker crashed into the deck. had the blow been uncontested, the baserite ship would have roared on through and gone its way in triumph. but the crystalline force-field crashed out with a viciousness of its own. it had no seeming effect upon the hull of the baserite raider, but it hurled the craft back from its position and far out into the sky. great damage had already been done, however. a gaping hole left the bejeweled deck almost split in two. but by lucky chance, the overhead globes had not been damaged and the speed of the ptomenite ship did not diminish. it was streaking toward the city, now seen clearly from the deck and as the baserite ship righted itself, mike saw similar ships--sleek metal fighters, rising from a port near the city. the commander of the baserite ship seemed to be making a decision as his craft hung in space. to attack or flee? could he reach and demolish the crippled barge before the ptomenite fighters reached the scene? both mike and nicko hung upon this indecision. nicko said, "i hope that stupid codger doesn't commit suicide. if he does, we go down too." "maybe it's just as well," mike said grimly. "i've always subscribed to staying alive as long as possible," nicko retorted. the commander made his decision. the ship streaked in, dancing like a zephyr to avoid the crystalline ray. but there was no longer any great danger from this because the tilt of the deck made accurate aiming impossible for the ptomenites. straight in for the kill now, came the baserite ship; straight in toward the crippled deck awash with the blood of smashed and maimed soldiers; alive with the screams of the agonized and the dying. doree covered her face with her hands and came into mike's arms. so she did not see that the ptomenites had one maneuver left; a perilous one, but nonetheless a maneuver. the craft was now over the level ground on the near outskirts of the city. it hung motionless, allowing the baserite craft to take deadly aim. but as the sleek ship rocketed in, the commander of the ptomenite craft waited until the last moment and then released whatever force held the ship in the air. the split deck dropped like a stone, but too late for the other ship to change course. * * * * * the baserites had gambled and lost. as the ship arced again skyward, a dozen similar fighters closed in from two directions. they emitted the deadly crystalline fire. for a few moments, the baserite ship seemed unharmed. then it's hull began to glow; a faint pink, a cherry red, a bright crimson. then a brilliant explosion lighted a sky made hazy by the descending sun. and there was nothing. even as the ptomenite ship plummetted downward, mike marveled at the effectiveness of the crystalline ray. nothing remotely resembling it existed in the universe he knew. then his attention was concentrated solely upon perils of the moment the ptomenite commander was not able to stop the rapid descent. he could only lessen it slightly and mike held doree tight in his arms when the crash came. he noted, fleetingly, that neither mckee nor talbott had been injured by the thrust of the baserite ship. the door to the after cabin was open and he saw them crouching inside, terror written across their faces. standing above them, proud and erect in the face of death, stood the princess katal'halee and mike felt a touch of admiration. then the craft hit the ground.... mike realized he was not unconscious. he realized also that the ship had braked slightly against the rocketing drop at just the last moment. it had blunted the force of the impact but little, however, and chaos reigned upon the shattered deck. mike found that both nicko and doree were unconscious but that the h'lorkan tribesman was shaking his head groggily. * * * * * mike looked swiftly about. the dust cleared slightly nearby and he saw that the prow of the deck had buckled as it hit, leaving a dark opening beneath. there was room for a man in there. mike glanced around. in the confusion, no one was paying any attention to the prisoners. help was coming from the city but the rescuers were still quite a distance away. mike motioned to the h'lorkan, gesturing frantically. the other quickly understood. mike picked doree up and put her inside the dark opening. he followed her and moved her further inside away from the small opening. then he looked out to find that the h'lorkan had had difficulty with nicko, but had found a way of grasping him so as not to get cut by the sharp scales. he pushed the little martian's body in to mike and followed quickly. mike turned immediately to doree and began examining her for injury. there was a small gash on her forehead and a bruise on her shoulder. she moaned and opened her eyes. mike put a finger over her lips. "be very quiet." "where are we? what happened?" "the ship crashed," he whispered, "but we may be safe for a while." doree smiled weakly. "i thought it was the end." "how do you feel?" "all right--i guess. nothing seems to be broken." "lie and rest." mike turned and found nicko was sitting up, his eyes open but still a trifle vacant. "you okay?" "guess so. they couldn't kill me with a club but i get knocked out coming downstairs." "something must have hit you on the head just right." "something sure did. tell me, what's the situation?" "i don't know. i'm playing it from hand to mouth. we're hidden under the ruins of the ship." "they'll be after us." "if they weren't killed." mike found a small opening and peered out. help had come from the city now and he saw a line of stretcher bearers moving away from the wreck. his spirits rose as he identified three of the casualties. mckee, talbott, katal'halee. were any or all of them dead? he had no way of knowing. but at least they appeared to be past caring about the four prisoners--at least for a time. this did not insure safety however. the entrance to the improvised cave darkened and a face appeared. mike held his breath, expecting challenge and exposure. but none came. then mike realized that dusk had fallen and the eyes of the searcher could not penetrate their hiding place with any degree of surety. there were sharp words in the alien tongue. obviously the searcher was calling for any trapped or injured person. desperately, mike hoped he would let it go at that. but such was not the case. the man got down on his knees and pushed inside. he found himself taken instantly into the iron grasp of three desperate tenants. the h'lorkan got him by the legs, nicko hit him in the middle, and mike got strong hands on his throat, drove powerful fingers into it, shutting off the man's breath forever. the man struggled helplessly for a few moments. then he lay still as mike snapped his neck suddenly backward and broke it. * * * * * the darkness served another purpose. it kept doree from the horror of seeing a man killed not two feet from her eyes. but she realized what was happening and buried her face in her hands. "i'm sorry," mike whispered. "but this is a matter of survival. try and look at it in that light." there was nothing to do now but wait. mike's hopes were slim and desperate ones--that the slain man would not be missed for a while, and that the wreckage of the ship would not be cleared away until the following day. the time dragged. activity around the wreck dwindled and died out. total darkness had not yet come and mike prayed for a few more minutes of safety. but he was not to get it. a commotion over toward the city brought him to a break in the wreckage through which he could scan the area. a huge derrick-like affair, encrusted with the usual gold and gems, was lumbering toward the wrecked platform. a gang of workmen followed on foot. incandescent balls were carried by another group, brightly illuminating the scene. "we've got to run for it!" mike said. "out--everybody! run straight to the left! there's an airfield over there. mckee and talbott's ship is on the far edge. i saw it just before we fell!" the four wormed their way out from under the wreckage. "that ship should be primed to go!" nicko said with excitement. "that's what i'm hoping." "no!" doree cried, and pulled away from mike. "no! i won't go away from here and leave my father! we've got to try to help him!" * * * * * mike did not hesitate. he swung a short solid right. it cracked against doree's jaw and she went limp. "sorry," he said grimly, "but this is no time to argue." "we're going to hit that ship and blast out?" nicko asked. "what else? she'll hate me for it, but we've got to use common sense. there's nothing we can do for professor brandon this trip. maybe we can come back later." "it will be hard on the kitty." "okay," mike retorted harshly. "my responsibility is getting doree out of here alive!" "i'm not arguing," nicko said. "let's move." the h'lorkan had remained silent the whole time. he had done what was expected of him promptly and efficiently and proven himself a good comrade. but there was no time now to explain the plan to him. if he had remained where he was they would probably have gone off and left him. but when they started across the open country, he ran with them. mike momentarily expected the light from the glowing bulbs to pick them out, but luck was with them and they gained the edge of the airfield without being detected. they disappeared in among the craft. there was quite an assortment of these and from the design and variations in size, mike got the impression they were pleasure craft and not a part of the fighting force. encrusted jewels were used in profusion and decorations along with both silver and gold. on this planet these precious materials seemed to have little value as no guards were posted over the field. * * * * * there were lights in a few of them. these, mike carefully skirted until the party came at last to the sleek black hull of the ship mckee and talbott had arrived in. no sight ever gladdened his heart more than that of the great, competent-looking monster. the ramp was down and all was darkness inside. "shall i go ahead and check?" nicko asked. "it wouldn't help. if anyone's in there they'd probably nab you." "maybe i don't nab as easily as you think," nicko growled. "anyhow, there isn't time. i think that crew spotted us when we entered the field. we've got to get in and away." "once inside we can lock the hatches and hold them off until we blast." "you think so?" mike asked. "with that funny fire ray they've got?" "well, maybe they just won't see us then." "let's hope not." nicko went up the ramp first. mike followed with doree in his arms. the h'lorkan warrior brought up the rear. into the dark maw of the ship they went, where nicko found a utility flashlight on its hook near the door to the companionway. he sent a beam on ahead. "holy mother mars!" he croaked. the light flashed back off thousands of brilliant jewels almost blinding them. the companionway was strewn inches deep in multicolored gems. "that's about what i figured," mike said. "those two have been loading loot ever since they set down here. i'll bet every cabin's packed to the guards." this was true. as they moved through the ship it was like walking in the treasure house of a neptunian robber baron. "there's well over a billion in here," nicko marveled. "whatever you say about our friends--they aren't small timers." "it will be a touchy job getting this ship off the ground," mike said. nicko grinned hideously. "want to stop and throw a few tons overboard?" "there's no time or believe me, i would. let's get to the control cabin. it was the one cabin in which no wealth was stored. in the place of jewels and bar-gold there was something else. it seemed mckee and talbott had not been as negligent of their hoard as it had first appeared. the half-dozen native guards in the control room allowed the four to enter, standing close against the near wall. then they fell upon them. taken by surprise and attacked by a greater number, the fugitives had no chance. the h'lorkan warrior, last into the room, fought bravely, but when the lights were turned on, the prisoners had been swiftly cuffed and subdued. doree had been jerked cruelly from mike's arms and he saw a tall native warrior just disappearing through the door carrying her in his arms. mike's shoulders slumped as he tasted the bitter dregs of defeat.... * * * * * they were led through the city streets under heavy guard, streets brightly illuminated by myriad glowing balls. the populace eyed them curiously, their importance evidently indicated by the escort of a dozen grim soldiers. only mike and nicko and m'landa took the long walk up the avenue, doree having been spirited away. mike was a man in deep torment as he wondered helplessly about her fate. was she already dead? had she been made the plaything of some high official? of mckee or talbott or both? this last thought brought red rage flashing into his heart. they were taken into a huge, gloomy building and down a long corridor. as they approached it, a sound greatened before them; a rolling muted thunder of mixed anger, pain, and terror. they entered a long, narrow corridor, one wall broken at regular intervals by small metal doors. mike realized the sound came from beyond these doors--from the angry throats of prisoners--that this could be nothing other than the city's prison. there was no doubt of it. the cavalcade stopped. one of the doors was unlocked and thrown open, the three pushed roughly inside. the door slammed, the lock was turned and the guards stalked away as they had come. the interior of the cell was very dim. mike blinked his eyes, striving to pierce the dimness. he opened them and got a surprise. this was more of a cage than a prison. the entire wall opposite the door consisted of bars. the three went forward and stood in mute wonder at what they saw. the cells were elevated and ran in a circle around an amphitheater--a great lighted pit--so that the prisoners were spectators at the drama that went on below. it was indeed a strange place, this pit, its purpose temporarily obscure to the three prisoners. it contained great vats of steaming, multicolored liquids, many tables, a great number and variety of frames, racks, and instruments. there were perhaps a dozen men at work down there. they appeared to be making preparation for what was to follow. mike wondered about their occupation, then turned sharply on nicko. "what's the matter with you? why aren't you finding out about this?" nicko stared in amazement. "me? how the devil can i--?" "the h'lorkan. he might be able to give you some information. ask him!" nicko shuddered as though coming out of a daze. "sure. i guess my wheels got kind of stopped." m'landa, who never seemed to speak unless spoken to, answered nicko's questions calmly. mike watched the two as they conversed; saw nicko's increasing indignation and horror. "all right!" mike snapped. "don't keep it to yourself. what did he say?" "not much. just that these are the high priests of the ptomenties. they prepare the bodies of the dead for burial and their job is to make them look so life-like that you wouldn't even know they were dead. this is their experimental laboratory--where they keep their hands in. they experiment on the prisoners." as the chill went through mike, he saw four guards who had been stationed on the far side of the pit acknowledge a sign from one of the priests and start toward a staircase leading to the prisoner's balcony. they stopped at one of the cells and unlocked a door set in the barred front. as they entered a roar of hatred went up from every cell in the dreadful circle. * * * * * as he watched, mike was conscious of the fact that only he and nicko were watching the proceedings, that m'landa's face was not glued to the bars. the thing's too horrible for the h'lorkan to take, mike thought. he's crouching back there behind us--covering his face most likely. and i can't say i blame him. the guards came forth from the cell dragging a screaming victim, a tall naked speciman who bested even the ptomenites in physical perfection. here, mike realized, was truly a man. the screams had been from rage, not from fear. as the door snapped behind him, the victim stopped screaming, evidently realizing this was the end, that escape was now impossible. he raised his head, a look of contempt lighting his handsome features. he walked proudly amidst the guards. he seemed completely indifferent to whatever fate awaited him. mike stared as the man was led to the center of the pit. chains were clamped to his wrists and ankles. then the guards lifted him, holding him horizontal. one of the priests extended his arms upward, over the prone man, and seemed to be mouthing a prayer or incantation. he appeared to mike to be asking some deity to accept this poor offering. this ceremony over, the guards walked with the helpless man toward a great vat of smoking purple liquid. but at this moment, mike's attention was diverted. a door had opened far down the circle and two figures were approaching. as the guards lifted the unfortunate prisoner and threw him in the vat a great roar of fury went up from the circle of cells. and mike recognized the approaching figures. mckee and talbott. mckee was amply bandaged about the head and shoulders. talbott appeared to have come off better, only his right wrist and elbow tightly wrapped. they moved past the cells until they were confronting mike and nicko. there they stopped. mckee, the fat one, grinned and glanced at his companion. "dangerous looking specimens, aren't they?" talbott wore a sneer. "quite. the priests will have a lot of fun with the scaly creature. i understand they're already discussing him--eager to get their hands on him." mike's rage tore at his own throat. he strove for control of his voice. "what have you swine done with doree?" a look of disappointment came on talbott's face. "i wanted her for--for other things, but i wasn't able to handle it. so she comes in here like the rest." "you mean they're going to throw her into that--?" the question was from nicko as every scale on his body quivered. mike saw that the prisoner below had now been removed from the vat. he had been laid on a table and one of the priests was advancing upon the body with a long shining needle in his hand. he pointed the needle very carefully at a place on the man's skull. "she's next, i understand," talbott was saying easily. "she is in the other block. only male prisoners on this side. they'll bring her in soon. it will be quite a show. perhaps we'll stay to watch." mike could control himself no longer. he flung himself against the bars like a wild beast. even though in no danger, mckee drew back in alarm. he said, "the sooner that one's in the hall of the dead, the better." * * * * * mike had been conscious of a hand touching his arm but he had paid no attention. now, as the two terrans turned to leave, he turned also, with tears of helpless anger welling in his eyes. it was m'landa. the h'lorkan spoke. "what's he saying?" mike asked. as m'landa spoke, a quick change came over nicko. he whirled and stared back in to the cell. "he says there's another man in this cell with us. he's been talking to him. he's a baserite." now mike saw the man sitting in a shadow against the wall. two things had kept him from noticing before--the dim light and the incidents of terrible interest down in the pit. as they approached, the man got to his feet and spoke. mike could not understand what he said, but he now knew the man thrown brutally into the vat of purple liquid had also been a baserite. this man in the cell could have been his twin. "are you able to understand him?" mike asked nicko. "sure. he said he was watching us--trying to figure out whether we were spies?" "spies! spying on whom?" the questions and answers were going back and forth through nicko. he asked the baserite. the man said, "upon me." "who are you?" "i am mertaan, a fighting prince of baser. i was taken from a baserite ship." "too bad, fellow. i'm sorry." "it was no accident. i arranged to be taken." "that hardly makes any sense." the man spoke through grim lips, his clear eyes blazing. "that's why i wondered about you--wondered if our plot was suspected. we can't take a chance." "your plot?" "yes. but i think you are genuine prisoners." nicko translated and added, "you can be damned sure about that." "what plot are you talking about?" mike asked. "baser attacks the ptomenites in force tonight." "i'm glad to hear that but i don't see how you can be much help in here." "this is one facet of the plan. we corrupted a scant few of the ptomenite guards. they are our men." an odd thought struck nicko. "we're glad to hear that too, but could you tell me something? with gold and jewels lying around on the ground what kind of bait lures a man on this planet." "our women are the most beautiful and exciting females in existence," the baserite said grimly. nicko whistled and mike snapped. "quit taking up time with silly questions. we want to know more of this plot." mertaan took a key from the front of his jacket. "there is one or more baserites in every cell of this block. each has a key that will unlock his cell. the baserite war fleet comes over soon. when we hear the whine of the ships, we strike. are you with us?" "we could hardly be with the ptomenites." mertaan eyed nicko suspiciously. "is the strange one also with us?" "just wait and find out!" nicko said. * * * * * the baserite turned even grimmer of face. "i am taking no chances. this plan must work. my brother just died down there in their reeking vat--" mike was astounded. "you mean you had a key? you could send the whole cell block to his rescue? but you let him die?" ice glazed over the pain in the baserite's eyes. "there is much more at stake here than one life. a nation. the time was not right. i had hoped my brother would be spared a few minutes longer but it was not to be." mike marveled anew. truly--these baserites were men of iron will. "when?" mike asked grimly. "soon." mertaan took a small, strange-looking weapon from his pocket. it resembled a pistol enough to be identified as such. "i wish i could offer you arms, but smuggling them in was very risky. what few we have are in the hands of picked warriors." sweat was standing out on mike's brow. "never mind the guns. i just hope it's soon. the next one to go into that vat is a girl who--" the baserite's eyes filled with quick sympathy. "one of you, my friend?" "one of us." "i can only hope the ships come first." mike licked his dry lips. "but if they don't--you say you have some guns--the keys." he was looking at the baserite with fixed calculation, his thoughts transparent. mertaan had no difficulty in divining them. "we cannot move until the ships come. if you strive to change this i shall kill you swiftly and silently. i shall kill everyone in the cell to ensure silence." mike's look remained fixed. he knew he did not have the courage to watch doree die horribly when there was a key and a weapon within his reach. he deliberately forced the cold look from his face but whether the baserite's suspicion was lulled, he could not tell. mertaan smiled coldly and said, "there is another of your kind in the cell block." * * * * * mike took a step forward, but the baserite stepped warily back. "an old man?" mike asked. "a very old man. he is four cells down. we know nothing of him because no one can speak his language." professor brandon! mike sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. "he will be released when the time comes?" "if he chooses. none will be forced to go against their wishes, but i cannot imagine anyone refusing." mike turned to the bars gripping them hard. several priests were working ghoulishly over the body of the dead baserite. mike looked toward the various entrances to the pit. through which of these would they bring doree? he prayed that none of the doors would open. but as though part of a plan to torture him, one of the doors opened suddenly. two guards came through. they were leading doree. she was very pale and seemed to mike to have grown increasingly beautiful. she wore a simple golden robe and the guards did not treat her as roughly as they had handled the baserite. small consolation. she had found a great courage and walked serenely with her head held high and mike's pride and love almost burst his heart. desperately he tried to keep control over himself. * * * * * doree advanced under close scrutiny of the guards to the point at which the baserite had been slain. she appeared empty of all fear. then a priest advanced and stood for a moment looking at her. in his hands he held two lengths of golden chain. a great silence fell over the watching prisoners in the cells, every eye glued on the priest and this beautiful girl. then a great roar of anger arose as the priest reached out and whipped doree's gown from her body. she stood naked in the center of the pit. mike went mad. with a roar he turned and hurled himself upon mertaan. the latter, even though sharply alert for attack, was not quick enough to get his weapon into action against mike's lightning rush. mike closed with him and they went down. the baserite was probably the stronger of the two, but his strength was no match for mike's demoniacal rage. his hands went around the baserite's throat. "must i kill you?" he snarled, "or will you give me the key?" there was no fear in mertaan's expression but now, under pressure of mike's steel fingers, it changed. he appeared to be listening for his own death. but not for his death. he tore frantically at mike's fists and got a few words past them. "listen--listen, man! can't you hear them? the ships are coming over! the time is now!" mike could not understand the words but the meaning got through to him as a high whining sound transcended the roar of the prisoners. and mike realized the roar had not been caused by the priest's unveiling of doree's beautiful body, but by the whine from above. the prisoners knew that the moment had come and they were already pouring from the cells. mike sprang to his feet and lifted the baserite. the latter snatched the key from his jacket and unlocked the front cell-gate. mike went through first to find himself packed into a plunging, screaming mob. here and there he spotted a baserite frantically trying to establish some sort of order in the ranks of the prisoners. but they remained a snarling, bloodthirsty wave of disorganized vengeance. mike tore his way savagely through the pack with nicko and m'landa close behind him. "we've got to get down first!" he yelled. "she'll be killed in the rush!" even now, below them, the panicked priests were knocking each other down in their rush for the exits. nicko pushed forward. "let me go first! i'll make way!" and he did. he flexed his scales until each one stood out from his ugly body like a razor-edged knife. then he charged the mob. blood splashed until nicko was a great red smear. those he hit screamed in pain and fell back, leaving an avenue down which the three raced. they came to a stairway and as they tumbled into the pit, mike looked swiftly over his shoulder. he was thinking of mertaan's weapon. but it was not available. mertaan had been lost in the mob of screaming prisoners. mike snatched up an odd-looking instrument from a table he passed. he knew nothing of its original use but it would make an excellent club. he baptized it by catching a fleeing, terrified priest and splitting his skull with one blow. this brought him within a few steps of where doree lay. she had been knocked to the floor as the desperate priests sought to escape the wrath of their prisoners. * * * * * mike's eyes were only for her. he did not see a guard nearby who turned suddenly and charged him with the flat ugly sword gripped tight in his fist. mike knelt down to lift doree. the sword plunged down. but instead of going into mike's back, it was driven deep into the breast of m'landa who had hurled himself forward. nicko, with a curse bellowed in some obscure dialect, leaped forward and took the guard into his hands. he lifted the guard and held him aloft with one hand. with the other he tore the man's throat out and hurled him dying and bloody across the pit. the whole building trembled at that moment, obviously from a bomb hurled off a baserite ship. but mike and nicko were scarcely aware of this new thunder. mike had set doree on her feet and was now holding the fallen h'lorkan warrior in his arms. gently he withdrew the sword. there was a lump in his throat. he said, "thanks, friend. you'll never be forgotten. i will always remember." m'landa smiled. he spoke and nicko interpreted. "this is a fine worthy death. i could ask for no more. i die pleasantly, in the hope that the ptomenites are brought down forever." then he was dead and there was no time to mourn him. "back upstairs," mike said. "your father is in a cell there. we've got to get him and then find a way out of here and to the ship--if we aren't too late. i've got a hunch mckee and talbott will be heading in the same direction." nicko had picked up doree's robe. he threw it over her shoulders and he and mike formed a cordon in front and in back of the girl, nicko going first. they headed for a stairway while all about them bloody slaughter was taking place. the priests had found the exit doors mysteriously locked and what few guards were in the pit proved to be helpless against the outraged horde from above. the priests and the guards were being torn to pieces as though by the fangs of maddened dogs. the screams of terror and agony were a crescendo drowning the whine of the ships overhead. * * * * * professor brandon was crouching in the far corner of the cell. a man of peace, this place of blood and confusion was beyond his conception. he was in a daze, his mind having thrown up a buffer against horror. doree's arms went around him but mike pushed her back almost roughly. "there is no time," he said. "we've got to get out of here." he picked the frail brandon up in his arms. "you take the lead, nicko. take my club. it's up to you to cut a path through." they left the cell and went out onto the balcony and discovered that the frantic priests had at last broken through the locked doors of their prison-pit. the ones remaining alive had fled the place with the prisoners on their heels. sounds from beyond indicated that some of the frenzied prisoners had abandoned the chase and were now stalking through the building, killing and looting. "out this way," mike directed, indicating an open doorway. "this is the side toward the blast field." "the passage is empty," nicko said. "come on." "watch yourself!" mike snapped. and it was well that nicko did because halfway down the passage, three of the blood-crazed prisoners leaped on him from a side passage. one brought a club down viciously, aimed by sheer chance at the base of nicko's skull, the one vulnerable spot on his body. nicko avoided the blow and smashed the prisoner's head. the other two landed astride nicko. it was like jumping into a nest of sharp knives. ripped, bloody, screaming, they staggered away and fled. no one else challenged the right of way and nicko led the party out into the night. overhead, the sky was bright with battle and here and there about the area, there were sharp skirmishes, evidently between baserite and ptomenite troops. there was no way to tell which way the battle swayed. "straight ahead," mike ordered. "skirt the wall of that building." they reached the field, ran across the last open area and faded in among the ships. mike smiled grimly as he saw the dark, unlighted outline of the terran space craft. they had beaten mckee and talbott! perhaps the two scoundrels had been slain. "up the ramp, quick!" mike directed. * * * * * but mckee and talbott had not been killed. nor had mike beaten them to the ship. he had preceded nicko up the ramp and as he came to the hatch, the lights of the ship flashed on and talbott stepped forth holding a terran pistol. beyond him, inside, stood mckee and the princess katal'halee. "i told you all we had to do was wait here--that they would show up," talbott said. mckee pushed forward, a somewhat mystified expression on his face. "sure, but i still can't figure how you convinced this katal babe they're responsible for the uprising." talbott's smile was one of grim satisfaction. "i have persuasive ways," he said. "i'll back them down the ramp and she can pronounce sentence and i'll execute them." "why stall?" mckee asked. "kill all five of them and let's get out of here. about time we started thinking of our own skins." "i'm taking the princess with us, you idiot!" "you're the idiot!" mckee snapped. "not letting well enough alone!" * * * * * the proud ptomenite princess pushed forward, her cold eyes on mike and he realized of course, why the two terran schemers could talk so freely. katal'halee could not understand a word they said. talbott motioned with the gun and mike backed slowly down the ramp. he was still holding professor brandon in his arms, the old man's eyes blank and uncomprehending. "that'll do," talbott said. he stepped aside and the princess pointed a contemptuous finger at the group. she spoke sharply and mike looked swiftly at nicko. "it's a death sentence," nicko said. "she's accusing us of everything but stopping up the royal sink." the princess now stepped aside and motioned imperiously to talbott. he raised his gun. but a new voice barked sharply. a fine needle of crystalline ray shot out of the darkness and melted the gun in talbott's hand. talbott jerked his seared member back with a squall of pain. mertaan stepped into the circle of light. he looked at mike. "i had reason to follow you," he said and nicko quickly interpreted. "but it can wait a few moments." he turned to the princess katal'halee and a hatred built up over generations flashed between them. yet, their eyes seemed also to mirror a mutual respect. mertaan said, "you are wrong about your betrayers. it was these two who made the arrangements--contacted our allies within your city. the tall one is very good at getting his points over with gestures and pictures." evidently, on this planet, even enemies did not lie to each other. katal'halee's eyes turned on the pair with a venom that sent every drop of blood from their faces. "what did they ask in return?" "only seats of power in the city after we conquered it." * * * * * nicko was translating for mike and the latter whistled softly. "so that was the idea. the jewels in the ship were only an ace in the hole." "but they must figure the battle goes bad for the baserites," nicko said. "they planned to take off." "the last minute," mertaan told katal'halee, "your fine friends turned milk-white. they had no stomach for the battle they helped arrange." "a truce between us, baserite," the princess said. "give me these two and a gun with which to march them off into the darkness. you and i can settle accounts later." mike was astounded when, without hesitation, mertaan took another weapon from his person and handed it to the princess. mike's flesh crawled as he stood rigid, expecting a blast from the royal ptomenite that would wipe them all out. he wondered at mertaan's gullibility. but evidently the word of these fierce people could be taken at face value. the princess ignored all but mckee and talbott. she pointed the gun at them and motioned. now they understood what had transpired. sweat streamed from their faces. "no!--please, no!" talbott screamed. "he lies! he tells you lies!" they both fell to their knees. mertaan smiled coldly at them. "where are your pictures and persuasive manners now, scum!" he kicked them cruelly to their feet and they staggered off into the darkness before katal'halee's weapon, still pleading for mercy. mertaan appeared to forget about them. he turned to mike. "into your ship. quick! there is not too much time." "you're helping us to make our escape?" "i have a reason. hurry." they went up the ramp and inside. mertaan stopped just outside the hatch and mike turned. the baserite said, "i know not from whence you came, stranger, but i ask that you go back to your world, wherever it is. tell your people of us and plead our cause. tell of the generations of cruelty on this planet and bring help for the oppressed. this i ask of you." "but this uprising--your attack--" mertaan shook his head. "it does not go well. we will fight to the death as my people have fought before but i fear the result. the ptomenites are powerful." "thanks." mike held out his hand. the baserite took it, a little clumsily and smiled a farewell to nicko who was peering around mike, interpreting. "go with your gods," the baserite said. then he turned and hurried back to the carnage and the bloodshed.... * * * * * "father is resting," doree said. "i'm sure he'll be all right in a little while. the treatment he received was a shock." "it would have shaken a far stronger man. he'll be all right when he gets back to terra and they honor him for this discovery." the ship rocketed smoothly through space. doree slipped into mike's arms. "he found what he wanted. so did i." mike kissed her. a while later she asked, "do you think the baserites won?" mike stared out through the port, his eyes sad. "somehow i don't think so. we can only hope. but soon a few thousand ships will appear in their skies. their doors will be opened to all the universe and tyranny will not survive." "then we'll go back," doree said. "then we'll go back." the end * * * * * the consolidator: or, memoirs of sundry transactions from the world in the moon. translated from the lunar language, by the author of the true-born english man. it cannot be unknown to any that have travell'd into the dominions of the czar of muscovy, that this famous rising monarch, having studied all methods for the encrease of his power, and the enriching as well as polishing his subjects, has travell'd through most part of europe, and visited the courts of the greatest princes; from whence, by his own observation, as well as by carrying with him artists in most useful knowledge, he has transmitted most of our general practice, especially in war and trade, to his own unpolite people; and the effects of this curiosity of his are exceeding visible in his present proceedings; for by the improvements he obtained in his european travels, he has modell'd his armies, form'd new fleets, settled foreign negoce in several remote parts of the world; and we now see his forces besieging strong towns, with regular approaches; and his engineers raising batteries, throwing bombs, &c. like other nations; whereas before, they had nothing of order among them, but carried all by ouslaught and scalado, wherein they either prevailed by the force of irresistible multitude, or were slaughter'd by heaps, and left the ditches of their enemies fill'd with their dead bodies. we see their armies now form'd into regular battalions; and their strelitz musqueteers, a people equivalent to the turks janizaries, cloath'd like our guards, firing in platoons, and behaving themselves with extraordinary bravery and order. we see their ships now compleatly fitted, built and furnish'd, by the english and dutch artists, and their men of war cruize in the baltick. their new city of petersburgh built by the present czar, begins now to look like our portsmouth, fitted with wet and dry docks, storehouses, and magazines of naval preparations, vast and incredible; which may serve to remind us, how we once taught the french to build ships, till they are grown able to teach us how to use them. as to trade, our large fleets to arch-angel may speak for it, where we now send sail yearly, instead of or , which were the greatest number we ever sent before; and the importation of tobaccoes from england into his dominions, would still increase the trade thither, was not the covetousness of our own merchants the obstruction of their advantages. but all this by the by. as this great monarch has improved his country, by introducing the manners and customs of the politer nations of europe; so, with indefatigable industry, he has settled a new, but constant trade, between his country and china, by land; where his carravans go twice or thrice a year, as numerous almost, and as strong, as those from egypt to persia: nor is the way shorter, or the desarts they pass over less wild and uninhabitable, only that they are not so subject to flouds of sand, if that term be proper, or to troops of arabs, to destroy them by the way; for this powerful prince, to make this terrible journey feazible to his subjects, has built forts, planted collonies and garisons at proper distances; where, though they are seated in countries intirely barren, and among uninhabited rocks and sands; yet, by his continual furnishing them from his own stores, the merchants travelling are reliev'd on good terms, and meet both with convoy and refreshment. more might be said of the admirable decorations of this journey, and how so prodigious an attempt is made easy; so that now they have an exact correspondence, and drive a prodigious trade between muscow and tonquin; but having a longer voyage in hand, i shall not detain the reader, nor keep him till he grows too big with expectation. now, as all men know the chineses are an ancient, wise, polite, and most ingenious people; so the muscovites begun to reap the benefit of this open trade; and not only to grow exceeding rich by the bartering for all the wealth of those eastern countries; but to polish and refine their customs and manners, as much on that side as they have from their european improvements on this. and as the chineses have many sorts of learning which these parts of the world never heard of, so all those useful inventions which we admire ourselves so much for, are vulgar and common with them, and were in use long before our parts of the world were inhabited. thus gun-powder, printing, and the use of the magnet and compass, which we call modern inventions, are not only far from being inventions, but fall so far short of the perfection of art they have attained to, that it is hardly credible, what wonderful things we are told of from thence, and all the voyages the author has made thither being imploy'd another way, have not yet furnish'd him with the particulars fully enough to transmit them to view; not but that he is preparing a scheme of all those excellent arts those nations are masters of, for publick view, by way of detection of the monstrous ignorance and deficiencies of european science; which may serve as a lexicon technicum for this present age, with useful diagrams for that purpose; wherein i shall not fail to acqaint the world, . with the art of gunnery, as practis'd in china long before the war of the giants, and by which those presumptuous animals fired red-hot bullets right up into heaven, and made a breach sufficient to encourage them to a general storm; but being repulsed with great slaughter, they gave over the siege for that time. this memorable part of history shall be a faithful abridgement of ibra chizra-le-peglizar, historiagrapher-royal to the emperor of china, who wrote anno mundi . his volumes extant, in the publick library at tonquin, printed in leaves of vitrify'd diamond, by an admirable dexterity, struck all at an oblique motion, the engine remaining intire, and still fit for use, in the chamber of the emperor's rarities. and here i shall give you a draft of the engine it self, and a plan of its operation, and the wonderful dexterity of its performance. if these labours of mine shall prove successful, i may in my next journey that way, take an abstract of their most admirable tracts in navigation, and the mysteries of chinese mathematicks; which out-do all modern invention at that rate, that 'tis inconceivable: in this elaborate work i must run thro' the volumes of augro-machi-lanquaro-zi, the most ancient mathematician in all china: from thence i shall give a description of a fleet of ships of sail, built at the expence of the emperor tangro the th; who having notice of the general deluge, prepar'd these vessels, to every city and town in his dominions one, and in bulk proportion'd to the number of its inhabitants; into which vessel all the people, with such moveables as they thought fit to save, and with days provisions, were receiv'd at the time of the floud; and the rest of their goods being put into great vessels made of china ware, and fast luted down on the top, were preserv'd unhurt by the water: these ships they furnish'd with fathom of chain instead of cables; which being fastned by wonderful arts to the earth, every vessel rid out the deluge just at the town's end; so that when the waters abated, the people had nothing to do, but to open the doors made in the ship-sides, and come out, repair their houses, open the great china pots their goods were in, and so put themselves in statu quo. the draft of one of these ships i may perhaps obtain by my interest in the present emperor's court, as it has been preserv'd ever since, and constantly repair'd, riding at anchor in a great lake, about miles from tonquin; in which all the people of that city were preferv'd, amounting by their computation to about a million and half. and as these things must be very useful in these parts, to abate the pride and arrogance of our modern undertakers of great enterprizes, authors of strange foreign accounts, philosophical transactions, and the like; if time and opportunity permit, i may let them know, how infinitely we are out-done by those refined nations, in all manner of mechanick improvements and arts; and in discoursing of this, it will necessarily come in my way to speak of a most noble invention, being an engine i would recommend to all people to whom 'tis necessary to have a good memory; and which i design, if possible, to obtain a draft of, that it may be erected in our royal societies laboratory: it has the wonderfullest operations in the world: one part of it furnishes a man of business to dispatch his affairs strangely; for if he be a merchant, he shall write his letters with one hand, and copy them with the other; if he is posting his books, he shall post the debtor side with one hand, and the creditor with the other; if he be a lawyer, he draws his drafts with one hand, and ingrosses them with the other. another part of it furnishes him with such an expeditious way of writing, or transcribing, that a man cannot speak so fast, but he that hears shall have it down in writing before 'tis spoken; and a preacher shall deliver himself to his auditory, and having this engine before him, shall put down every thing he says in writing at the same time; and so exactly is this engine squar'd by lines and rules, that it does not require him that writes to keep his eye upon it. i am told, in some parts of china, they had arriv'd to such a perfection of knowledge, as to understand one anothers thoughts; and that it was found to be an excellent preservative to humane society, against all sorts of frauds, cheats, sharping, and many thousand european inventions of that nature, at which only we can be said to out-do those nations. i confess, i have not yet had leisure to travel those parts, having been diverted by an accidental opportunity of a new voyage i had occasion to make for farther discoveries, and which the pleasure and usefulness thereof having been very great, i have omitted the other for the present, but shall not fail to make a visit to those parts the first opportunity, and shall give my country-men the best account i can of those things; for i doubt not in time to bring our nation, so fam'd for improving other people's discoveries, to be as wise as any of those heathen nations; i wish i had the same prospect of making them half so honest. i had spent but a few months in this country, but my search after the prodigy of humane knowledge the people abounds with, led me into acquaintance with some of their principal artists, engineers, and men of letters; and i was astonish'd at every day's discovery of new and of unheard-of worlds of learning; but i improv'd in the superficial knowledge of their general, by no body so much as by my conversation with the library-keeper of tonquin, by whom i had admission into the vast collection of books, which the emperors of that country have treasur'd up. it would be endless to give you a catalogue, and they admit of no strangers to write any thing down, but what the memory can retain, you are welcome to carry away with you; and amongst the wonderful volumes of antient and modern learning, i could not but take notice of a few; which, besides those i mentioned before, i saw, when i lookt over this vast collection; and a larger account may be given in our next. it would be needless to transcribe the chinese character, or to put their alphabet into our letters, because the words would be both unintelligible, and very hard to pronounce; and therefore, to avoid hard words, and hyroglyphicks, i'll translate them as well as i can. the first class i came to of books, was the constitutions of the empire; these are vast great volumes, and have a sort of engine like our magna charta, to remove 'em, and with placing them in a frame, by turning a screw, open'd the leaves, and folded them this way, or that, as the reader desires. it was present death for the library-keeper to refuse the meanest chinese subject to come in and read them; for 'tis their maxim, that all people ought to know the laws by which they are to be govern'd; and as above all people, we find no fools in this country, so the emperors, though they seem to be arbitrary, enjoy the greatest authority in the world, by always observing, with the greatest exactness, the pacta conventa of their government: from these principles it is impossible we should ever hear, either of the tyranny of princes, or rebellion of subjects, in all their histories. at the entrance into this class, you find some ancient comments, upon the constitution of the empire, written many ages before we pretend the world began; but above all, one i took particular notice of, which might bear this title, natural right prov'd superior to temporal power; wherein the old author proves, the chinese emperors were originally made so, by nature's directing the people, to place the power of government in the most worthy person they could find; and the author giving a most exact history of emperors, brings them into about or periods of lines when the race ended; and when a collective assembly of the nobles, cities, and people, nominated a new family to the goverment. this being an heretical book as to european politicks, and our learned authors having long since exploded this doctrine, and prov'd that kings and emperors came down from heaven with crowns on their heads, and all their subjects were born with saddles on their backs; i thought fit to leave it where i found it, least our excellent tracts of sir robert filmer, dr. hammond l...y, s....l, and others, who have so learnedly treated of the more useful doctrine of passive obedience, divine right, &c. should be blasphem'd by the mob, grow into contempt of the people; and they should take upon them to question their superiors for the blood of algernon sidney, and argyle. for i take the doctrines of passive obedience, &c. among the states-men, to be like the copernican system of the earths motion among philosophers; which, though it be contrary to all antient knowledge, and not capable of demonstration, yet is adher'd to in general, because by this they can better solve, and give a more rational account of several dark phanomena in nature, than they could before. thus our modern states-men approve of this scheme of government; not that it admits of any rational defence, much less of demonstration, but because by this method they can the better explain, as well as defend, all coertion in cases invasive of natural right, than they could before. here i found two famous volumes in chyrurgery, being an exact description of the circulation of the blood, discovered long before king solomon's allegory of the bucket's going to the well; with several curious methods by which the demonstration was to be made so plain, as would make even the worthy doctor b------ himself become a convert to his own eye-sight, make him damn his own elaborate book, and think it worse nonsence than ever the town had the freedom to imagine. all our philosophers are fools, and their transactions a parcel of empty stuff, to the experiments of the royal societies in this country. here i came to a learned tract of winds, which outdoes even the sacred text, and would make us believe it was not wrote to those people; for they tell folks whence it comes, and whither it goes. there you have an account how to make glasses of hogs eyes, that can see the wind; and they give strange accounts both of its regular and irregular motions, its compositions and quantities; from whence, by a sort of algebra, they can cast up its duration, violence, and extent: in these calculations, some say, those authors have been so exact, that they can, as our philosophers say of comets, state their revolutions, and tell us how many storms there shall happen to any period of time, and when; and perhaps this may be with much about the same truth. it was a certain sign aristotle had never been at china; for, had he seen the th volume of the chinese navigation, in the library i am speaking of, a large book in double folio, wrote by the famous mira-cho-cho-lasmo, vice-admiral of china, and said to be printed there about years before the deluge, in the chapter of tides he would have seen the reason of all the certain and uncertain fluxes and refluxes of that element, how the exact pace is kept between the moon and the tides, with a most elaborate discourse there, of the power of sympathy, and the manner how the heavenly bodies influence the earthly: had he seen this, the stagyrite would never have drowned himself, because he could not comprehend this mystery. 'tis farther related of this famous author, that he was no native of this world, but was born in the moon, and coming hither to make discoveries, by a strange invention arrived to by the virtuosoes of that habitable world, the emperor of china prevailed with him to stay and improve his subjects, in the most exquisite accomplishments of those lunar regions; and no wonder the chinese are such exquisite artists, and masters of such sublime knowledge, when this famous author has blest them with such unaccountable methods of improvement. there was abundance of vast classes full of the works of this wonderful philosopher: he gave the how, the modus of all the secret operations of nature; and told us, how sensation is convey'd to and from the brain; why respiration preserves life; and how locomotion is directed to, as well as perform'd by the parts. there are some anatomical dissections of thought, and a mathematical description of nature's strong box, the memory, with all its locks and keys. there you have that part of the head turn'd in-side outward, in which nature has placed the materials of reflecting; and like a glass bee-hive, represents to you all the several cells in which are lodg'd things past, even back to infancy and conception. there you have the repository, with all its cells, classically, annually, numerically, and alphabetically dispos'd. there you may see how, when the perplext animal, on the loss of a thought or word, scratches his pole: every attack of his invading fingers knocks at nature's door, allarms all the register-keepers, and away they run, unlock all the classes, search diligently for what he calls for, and immediately deliver it up to the brain; if it cannot be found, they intreat a little patience, till they step into the revolvary, where they run over little catalogues of the minutest passages of life, and so in time never fail to hand on the thing; if not just when he calls for it, yet at some other time. and thus, when a thing lyes very abstruse, and all the rumaging of the whole house cannot find it; nay, when all the people in the house have given it over, they very often find one thing when they are looking for another. next you have the retentive in the remotest part of the place, which, like the records in the tower, takes possession of all matters, as they are removed from the classes in the repository, for want of room. these are carefully lockt, and kept safe, never to be open'd but upon solemn occasions, and have swinging great bars and bolts upon them; so that what is kept here, is seldom lost. here conscience has one large ware-house, and the devil another; the first is very seldom open'd, but has a chink or till, where all the follies and crimes of life being minuted are dropt in; but as the man seldom cares to look in, the locks are very rusty, and not open'd but with great difficulty, and on extraordinary occasions, as sickness, afflictions, jails, casualties, and death; and then the bars all give way at once; and being prest from within with a more than ordinary weight, burst as a cask of wine upon the fret, which for want of vent, makes all the hoops fly. as for the devil's ware-house, he has two constant warehouse-keepers, pride and conceit, and these are always at the door, showing their wares, and exposing the pretended vertues and accomplishments of the man, by way of ostentation. in the middle of this curious part of nature, there is a clear thorough-fare, representing the world, through which so many thousand people pass so easily, and do so little worth taking notice of, that 'tis for no manner of signification to leave word they have been here. thro' this opening pass millions of things not worth remembring, and which the register-keepers, who stand at the doors of the classes, as they go by, take no notice of; such as friendships, helps in distress, kindnesses in affliction, voluntary services, and all sorts of importunate merit; things which being but trifles in their own nature, are made to be forgotten. in another angle is to be seen the memory's garden, in which her most pleasant things are not only deposited, but planted, transplanted, grafted, inoculated, and obtain all possible propagation and encrease; these are the most pleasant, delightful, and agreeable things, call'd envy, slander, revenge, strife and malice, with the additions of ill-turns, reproaches, and all manner of wrong; these are caressed in the cabinet of the memory, with a world of pleasure never let pass, and carefully cultivated with all imaginable art. there are multitudes of weeds, toys, chat, story, fiction, and lying, which in the great throng of passant affairs, stop by the way, and crowding up the place, leave no room for their betters that come behind, which makes many a good guess be put by, and left to go clear thro' for want of entertainment. there are a multitude of things very curious and observable, concerning this little, but very accurate thing, called memory; but above all, i see nothing so very curious, as the wonderful art of wilful forgetfulness; and as 'tis a thing, indeed, i never could find any person compleatly master of, it pleased me very much, to find this author has made a large essay, to prove there is really no such power in nature; and that the pretenders to it are all impostors, and put a banter upon the world; for that it is impossible for any man to oblige himself to forget a thing, since he that can remember to forget, and at the same time forget to remember, has an art above the devil. in his laboratory you see a fancy preserv'd a la mummy, several thousand years old; by examining which you may perfectly discern, how nature makes a poet: another you have taken from a meer natural, which discovers the reasons of nature's negative in the case of humane understanding; what deprivation of parts she suffers, in the composition of a coxcomb; and with what wonderful art she prepares a man to be a fool. here being the product of this author's wonderful skill, you have the skeleton of a wit, with all the readings of philosophy and chyrurgery upon the parts: here you see all the lines nature has drawn to form a genius, how it performs, and from what principles. also you are instructed to know the true reason of the affinity between poetry and poverty; and that it is equally derived from what's natural and intrinsick, as from accident and circumstance; how the world being always full of fools and knaves, wit is sure to miss of a good market; especially, if wit and truth happen to come in company; for the fools don't understand it, and the knaves can't bear it. but still 'tis own'd, and is most apparent, there is something also natural in the case too, since there are some particular vessels nature thinks necessary, to the more exact composition of this nice thing call'd a wit, which as they are, or are not interrupted in the peculiar offices for which they are appointed, are subject to various distempers, and more particularly to effluxions and vapour, diliriums giddiness of the brain, and lapsa, or looseness of the tongue; and as these distempers, occasion'd by the exceeding quantity of volatiles, nature is obliged to make use of in the composition, are hardly to be avoided, the disasters which generally they push the animal into, are as necessarily consequent to them as night is to the setting of the sun; and these are very many, as disobliging parents, who have frequently in this country whipt their sons for making verses; and here i could not but reflect how useful a discipline early correction must be to a poet; and how easy the town had been had n---t, e---w, t. b--- p---s, d-- s-- d---fy, and an hundred more of the jingling train of our modern rhymers, been whipt young, very young, for poetasting, they had never perhaps suckt in that venome of ribaldry, which all the satyr of the age has never been able to scourge out of them to this day. the further fatal consequences of these unhappy defects in nature, where she has damn'd a man to wit and rhyme, has been loss of inheritance, parents being aggravated by the obstinate young beaus, resolving to be wits in spight of nature, the wiser head has been obliged to confederate with nature, and with-hold the birth-right of brains, which otherwise the young gentleman might have enjoy'd, to the great support of his family and posterity. thus the famous waller, denham, dryden, and sundry others, were oblig'd to condemn their race to lunacy and blockheadism, only to prevent the fatal destruction of their families, and entailing the plague of wit and weathercocks upon their posterity. the yet farther extravagancies which naturally attend the mischief of wit, are beau-ism, dogmaticality, whimsification, impudensity, and various kinds of fopperosities (according to mr. boyl,) which issuing out of the brain, descend into all the faculties, and branch themselves by infinite variety, into all the actions of life. these by conseqence, beggar the head, the tail, the purse, and the whole man, till he becomes as poor and despicable as negative nature can leave him, abandon'd of his sense, his manners, his modesty, and what's worse, his money, having nothing left but his poetry, dies in a ditch, or a garret, a-la-mode de tom brown, uttering rhymes and nonsence to the last moment. in pity to all my unhappy brethren, who suffer under these inconveniencies, i cannot but leave it on record, that they may not be reproached with being agents of their own misfortunes, since i assure them, nature has form'd them with the very necessity of acting like coxcombs, fixt upon them by the force of organick consequences, and placed down at the very original effusion of that fatal thing call'd wit. nor is the discovery less wonderful than edifying, and no humane art on our side the world ever found out such a sympathetick influence, between the extreams of wit and folly, till this great lunarian naturalist furnisht us with such unheard-of demonstrations. nor is this all i learnt from him, tho' i cannot part with this, till i have publisht a memento mori, and told 'em what i had discovered of nature in these remote parts of the world, from whence i take the freedom to tell these gentlemen, that if they please to travel to these distant parts, and examine this great master of nature's secrets, they may every man see what cross strokes nature has struck, to finish and form every extravagant species of that heterogenious kind we call wit. there c--- s--- may be inform'd how he comes to be very witty, and a mad-man all at once; and p---r may see, that with less brains and more p--x he is more a wit and more a mad-man than the coll. ad---son may tell his master my lord ---- the reason from nature, why he would not take the court's word, nor write the poem call'd, the campaign, till he had l. per annum secur'd to him; since 'tis known they have but one author in the nation that writes for 'em for nothing, and he is labouring very hard to obtain the title of blockhead, and not be paid for it: here d. might understand, how he came to be able to banter all mankind, and yet all mankind be able to banter him; at the fame time our numerous throng of parnassians may see reasons for the variety of the negative and positive blessings they enjoy; some for having wit and no verse, some verse and no wit, some mirth without jest, some jest without fore-cast, some rhyme and no jingle, some all jingle and no rhyme, some language without measure; some all quantity and no cudence, some all wit and no sence, some all sence and no flame, some preach in rhyme, some sing when they preach, some all song and no tune, some all tune and no song; all these unaccountables have their originals, and can be answer'd for in unerring nature, tho' in our out-side guesses we can say little to it. here is to be seen, why some are all nature, some all art; some beat verse out of the twenty-four rough letters, with ten hammers and anvils to every line, and maul the language as a swede beats stock-fish; others buff nature, and bully her out of whole stanza's of ready-made lines at a time, carry all before them, and rumble like distant thunder in a black cloud: thus degrees and capacities are fitted by nature, according to organick efficacy; and the reason and nature of things are found in themselves: had d---y seen his own draft by this light of chinese knowledge, he might have known he should be a coxcomb without writing twenty-two plays, to stand as so many records against him. dryden might have told his fate, that having his extraordinary genius flung and pitcht upon a swivle, it would certainly turn round as fast as the times, and instruct him how to write elegies to o. c. and king c. the second, with all the coherence imaginable; how to write religio laicy, and the hind and panther, and yet be the same man, every day to change his principle, change his religion, change his coat, change his master, and yet never change his nature. there are abundance of other secrets in nature discover'd in relation to these things, too many to repeat, and yet too useful to omit, as the reason why phisicians are generally atheists; and why atheists are universally fools, and generally live to know it themselves, the real obstructions, which prevent fools being mad, all the natural causes of love, abundance of demonstrations of the synonimous nature of love and leachery, especially consider'd a la modern, with an absolute specifick for the frenzy of love, found out in the constitution, anglice, a halter. it would be endless to reckon up the numerous improvements, and wonderful discoveries this extraordinary person has brought down, and which are to be seen in his curious chamber of rarities. particularly, a map of parnassus, with an exact delineation of all the cells, apartments, palaces and dungeons, of that most famous mountain; with a description of its heighth, and a learned dissertation, proving it to be the properest place next to the p---e house to take a rise at, for a flight to the world in the moon. also some enquiries, whether noah's ark did not first rest upon it; and this might be one of the summits of ararat, with some confutations of the gross and palpable errors, which place this extraordinary skill among the mountains of the moon in africa. also you have here a muse calcin'd, a little of the powder of which given to a woman big with child, if it be a boy it will be a poet, if a girl she'll be a whore, if an hermaphrodite it will be lunatick. strange things, they tell us, have been done with this calcin'd womb of imagination; if the body it came from was a lyrick poet, the child will be a beau, or a beauty; if an heroick poet, he will be a bulley; if his talent was satyr, he'll be a philosopher. another muse they tell us, they have dissolv'd into a liquid, and kept with wondrous art, the vertues of which are soveraign against ideotism, dullness, and all sorts of lethargick diseases; but if given in too great a quantity, creates poesy, poverty, lunacy, and the devil in the head ever after. i confess, i always thought these muses strange intoxicating things, and have heard much talk of their original, but never was acquainted with their vertue a la simple before; however, i would always advise people against too large a dose of wit, and think the physician must be a mad-man that will venture to prescribe it. as all these noble acquirements came down with this wonderful man from the world in the moon, it furnisht me with these useful observations. . that country must needs be a place of strange perfection, in all parts of extraordinary knowledge. . how useful a thing it would be for most sorts of our people, especially statesmen, p----t-men, convocation-men, phylosophers, physicians, quacks, mountebanks, stock-jobbers, and all the mob of the nation's civil or ecclesiastical bone-setters, together with some men of the law, some of the sword, and all of the pen: i say, how useful and improving a thing it must be to them, to take a journey up to the world in the moon; but above all, how much more beneficial it would be to them that stay'd behind. . that it is not to be wonder'd at, why the chinese excell so much all these parts of the world, since but for that knowledge which comes down to them from the world in the moon, they would be like other people. . no man need to wonder at my exceeding desire to go up to the world in the moon, having heard of such extraordinary knowledge to be obtained there, since in the search of knowledge and truth, wiser men than i have taken as unwarrantable flights, and gone a great deal higher than the moon, into a strange abbyss of dark phanomena, which they neither could make other people understand, nor ever rightly understood themselves, witness malbranch, mr. lock, hobbs, the honourable boyle and a great many others, besides messieurs norris, asgil, coward, and the tale of a tub. this great searcher into nature has, besides all this, left wonderful discoveries and experiments behind him; but i was with nothing more exceedingly diverted, than with his various engines, and curious contrivances, to go to and from his own native country the moon. all our mechanick motions of bishop wilkins, or the artificial wings of the learned spaniard, who could have taught god almighty how to have mended the creation, are fools to this gentleman; and because no man in china has made more voyages up into the moon than my self, i cannot but give you some account of the easyness of the passage, as well as of the country. nor are his wonderful tellescopes of a mean quality, by which such plain discoveries are made, of the lands and seas in the moon, and in all the habitable planets, that one may as plainly fee what a clock it is by one of the dials in the moon, as if it were no farther off than windsor-castle; and had he liv'd to finish the speaking-trumpet which he had contriv'd to convey sound thither, harlequin's mock-trumpet had been a fool to it; and it had no doubt been an admirable experiment, to have given us a general advantage from all their acquir'd knowledge in those regions, where no doubt several useful discoveries are daily made by the men of thought for the improvement of all sorts of humane understanding, and to have discoursed with them on those things, must have been very pleasant, besides, its being very much to our particular advantage. i confess, i have thought it might have been very useful to this nation, to have brought so wonderful an invention hither, and i was once very desirous to have set up my rest here, and for the benefit of my native country, have made my self master of these engines, that i might in due time have convey'd them to our royal society, that once in years they might have been said to do something for publick good; and that the reputation and usefulness of the so so's might be recover'd in england; but being told that in the moon there were many of these glasses to be had very cheap, and i having declar'd my resolution of undertaking a voyage thither, i deferred my design, and shall defer my treating of them, till i give some account of my arrival there. but above all his inventions for making this voyage, i saw none more pleasant or profitable, than a certain engine formed in the shape of a chariot, on the backs of two vast bodies with extended wings, which spread about yards in breadth, compos'd of feathers so nicely put together, that no air could pass; and as the bodies were made of lunar earth which would bear the fire, the cavities were fill'd with an ambient flame, which fed on a certain spirit deposited in a proper quantity, to last out the voyage; and this fire so order'd as to move about such springs and wheels as kept the wings in a most exact and regular motion, always ascendant; thus the person being placed in this airy chariot, drinks a certain dozing draught, that throws him into a gentle slumber, and dreaming all the way, never wakes till he comes to his journey's end. of the consolidator. these engines are call'd in their country language, dupekasses; and according to the ancient chinese, or tartarian, apezolanthukanistes; in english, a consolidator. the composition of this engine is very admirable; for, as is before noted, 'tis all made up of feathers, and the quality of the feathers, is no less wonderful than their composition; and therefore, i hope the reader will bear with the description for the sake of the novelty, since i assure him such things as these are not to be seen in every country. the number of feathers are just , they are all of a length and breadth exactly, which is absolutely necessary to the floating figure, or else one side or any one part being wider or longer than the rest, it would interrupt the motion of the whole engine; only there is one extraordinary feather which, as there is an odd one in the number, is placed in the center, and is the handle, or rather rudder to the whole machine: this feather is every way larger than its fellows, 'tis almost as long and broad again; but above all, its quill or head is much larger, and it has as it were several small bushing feathers round the bottom of it, which all make but one presiding or superintendent feather, to guide, regulate, and pilot the whole body. nor are these common feathers, but they are pickt and cull'd out of all parts of the lunar country, by the command of the prince; and every province sends up the best they can find, or ought to do so at least, or else they are very much to blame; for the employment they are put to being of so great use to the publick, and the voyage or flight so exceeding high, it would be very ill done if, when the king sends his letters about the nation, to pick him up the best feathers they can lay their hands on, they should send weak, decay'd, or half-grown feathers, and yet sometimes it happens so; and once there was such rotten feathers collected, whether it was a bad year for feathers, or whether the people that gather'd them had a mind to abuse their king; but the feathers were so bad, the engine was good for nothing, but broke before it was got half way; and by a double misfortune, this happen'd to be at an unlucky time, when the king himself had resolv'd on a voyage, or flight to to the moon; but being deceiv'd, by the unhappy miscarriage of the deficient feathers, he fell down from so great a height, that he struck himself against his own palace, and beat his head off. nor had the sons of this prince much better success, tho' the first of them was a prince mightily belov'd by his subjects; but his misfortunes chiefly proceeded from his having made use of one of the engines so very long, that the feathers were quite worn out, and good for nothing: he used to make a great many voyages and flights into the moon, and then would make his subjects give him great sums of money to come down to them again; and yet they were so fond of him, that they always complyed with him, and would give him every thing he askt, rather than to be without him: but they grew wiser since. at last, this prince used his engine so long, it could hold together no longer; and being obliged to write to his subjects to pick him out some new feathers, they did so; but withall sent him such strong feathers, and so stiff, that when he had placed 'em in their proper places, and made a very beautiful engine, it was too heavy for him to manage: he made a great many essays at it, and had it placed on the top of an old idol chappel, dedicated to an old bramyn saint of those countries, called, phantosteinaschap; in latin, chap. de saint stephano; or in english, st. stephen's: here the prince try'd all possible contrivances, and a vast deal of money it cost him; but the feathers were so stiff they would not work, and the fire within was so choaked and smother'd with its own smoak, for want of due vent and circulation, that it would not burn; so he was oblig'd to take it down again; and from thence he carried it to his college of bramyn priests, and set it up in one of their publick buildings: there he drew circles of ethicks and politicks, and fell to casting of figures and conjuring, but all would not do, the feathers could not be brought to move; and, indeed, i have observ'd, that these engines are seldom helpt by art and contrivance; there is no way with them, but to have the people spoke to, to get good feathers; and they are easily placed, and perform all the several motions with the greatest ease and accuracy imaginable; but it must be all nature; any thing of force distorts and dislocates them, and the whole order is spoiled; and if there be but one feather out of place, or pincht, or stands wrong, the d---l would not ride in the chariot. the prince thus finding his labour in vain, broke the engine to pieces, and sent his subjects word what bad feathers they had sent him: but the people, who knew it was his own want of management, and that the feathers were good enough, only a little stiff at first, and with good usage would have been brought to be fit for use, took it ill, and never would send him any other as long as he liv'd: however, it had this good effect upon him, that he never made any more voyages to the moon as long as he reign'd. his brother succeeded him; and truly he was resolved upon a voyage to the moon, as soon as ever he came to the crown. he had met with some unkind usage from the religious lunesses of his own country; and he turn'd abogratziarian, a zealous fiery sect something like our anti-every-body-arians in england. 'tis confest, some of the bramyns of his country were very false to him, put him upon several ways of extending his power over his subjects, contrary to the customs of the people, and contrary to his own interest; and when the people expressed their dislike of it, he thought to have been supported by those clergy-men; but they failed him, and made good, that old english verse; that priests of all religions are the same. he took this so hainously, that he conceiv'd a just hatred against those that had deceiv'd him; and as resentments seldom keep rules, unhappily entertain'd prejudices against all the rest; and not finding it easy to bring all his designs to pass better, he resolved upon a voyage to the moon. accordingly, he sends a summons to all his people according to custom, to collect the usual quantity of feathers for that purpose; and because he would be sure not be used as his brother and father had been, he took care to send certain cunning-men express, all over the country, to bespeak the people's care, in collecting, picking and culling them out, these were call'd in their language, tsopablesdetoo; which being translated may signify in english, men of zeal, or booted apostles: nor was this the only caution this prince used; for he took care, as the feathers were sent up to him, to search and examine them one by one in his own closet, to see if they were fit for his purpose; but, alas! he found himself in his brother's case exactly; and perceived, that his subjects were generally disgusted at his former conduct, about abrogratzianism, and such things, and particularly set in a flame by some of their priests, call'd, dullobardians, or passive-obedience-men, who had lately turn'd their tale, and their tail too upon their own princes; and upon this, he laid aside any more thoughts of the engine, but took up a desperate and implacable resolution, viz. to fly up to the moon without it; in order to this, abundance of his cunning-men were summon'd together to assist him, strange engines contriv'd, and methods propos'd; and a great many came from all parts, to furnish him with inventions and equivalent for their journey; but all were so preposterous and ridiculous, that his subjects seeing him going on to ruin himself, and by consequence them too, unanimously took arms; and if their prince had not made his escape into a foreign country, 'tis thought they would have secur'd him for a mad-man. and here 'tis observable, that as it is in most such cases, the mad councellors of this prince, when the people begun to gather about him, fled; and every one shifted for themselves; nay, and some of them plunder'd him first of his jewels and treasure, and never were heard of since. from this prince none of the kings or government of that country have ever seem'd to incline to the hazardous attempt of the voyage to the moon, at least not in such a hair-brain'd manner. however, the engine has been very accurately re-built and finish'd; and the people are now oblig'd by a law, to send up new feathers every three years, to prevent the mischiefs which happen'd by that prince aforesaid, keeping one set so long that it was dangerous to venture with them; and thus the engine is preserved fit for use. and yet has not this engine been without its continual disasters, and often out of repair; for though the kings of the country, as has been noted, have done riding on the back of it, yet the restless courtiers and ministers of state have frequently obtained the management of it, from the too easy goodness of their masters, or the evils of the times. to cure this, the princes frequently chang'd hands, turn'd one set of men out and put another in: but this made things still worse; for it divided the people into parties and factions in the state, and still the strife was, who should ride in this engine; and no sooner were these skaet-riders got into it, but they were for driving all the nation up to the moon: but of this by it self. authors differ concerning the original of these feathers, and by what most exact hand they were first appointed to this particular use; and as their original is hard to be found, so it seems a difficulty to resolve from what sort of bird these feathers are obtained: some have nam'd one, some another; but the most learned in those climates call it by a hard word, which the printer having no letters to express, and being in that place hierogliphical, i can translate no better, than by the name of a collective: this must be a strange bird without doubt; it has heads, claws, eyes and teeth innumerable; and if i should go about to describe it to you, the history would be so romantick, it would spoil the credit of these more authentick relations which are yet behind. 'tis sufficient, therefore, for the present, only to leave you this short abridgement of the story, as follows: this great monstrous bird, call'd the collective, is very seldom seen, and indeed never, but upon great revolutions, and portending terrible desolations and destructions to a country. but he frequently sheds his feathers; and they are carefully pickt up, by the proprietors of those lands where they fall; for none but those proprietors may meddle with them; and they no sooner pick them up but they are sent to court, where they obtain a new name, and are called in a word equally difficult to pronounce as the other, but very like our english word, representative; and being placed in their proper rows, with the great feather in the center, and fitted for use, they lately obtained the venerable title of, the consolidators; and the machine it self, the consolidator; and by that name the reader is desir'd for the future to let it be dignified and distinguish'd. i cannot, however, forbear to descant a little here, on the dignity and beauty of these feathers, being such as are hardly to be seen in any part of the world, but just in these remote climates. and first, every feather has various colours, and according to the variety of the weather, are apt to look brighter and clearer, or paler and fainter, as the sun happens to look on them with a stronger or weaker aspect. the quill or head of every feather is or ought to be full of a vigorous substance, which gives spirit, and supports the brightness and colour of the feather; and as this is more or less in quantity, the bright colour of the feather is increased, or turns languid and pale. tis true, some of those quills are exceeding empty and dry; and the humid being totally exhal'd, those feathers grow very useless and insignificant in a short time. some again are so full of wind, and puft up with the vapour of the climate, that there's not humid enough to condence the steam; and these are so fleet, so light, and so continually fluttering and troublesome, that they greatly serve to disturb and keep the motion unsteddy. others either placed too near the inward concealed fire, or the head of the quill being thin, the fire causes too great a fermentation; and the consequence of this is so fatal, that sometimes it mounts the engine up too fast, and indangers precipitation: but 'tis happily observed, that these ill feathers are but a very few, compar'd to the whole number; at the most, i never heard they were above of the whole number: as for the empty ones, they are not very dangerous, but a sort of good-for-nothing feathers, that will fly when the greatest number of the rest fly, or stand still when they stand still. the fluttering hot-headed feathers are the most dangerous, and frequently struggle hard to mount the engine to extravagant heights; but still the greater number of the feathers being stanch, and well fixt, as well as well furnisht, they always prevail, and check the disorders the other would bring upon the motion; so that upon the whole matter, tho' there has sometims been oblique motions, variations, and sometimes great wandrings out of the way, which may make the passage tedious, yet it has always been a certain and safe voyage; and no engine was ever known to miscarry or overthrow, but that one mentioned before, and that was very much owing to the precipitate methods the prince took in guiding it; and tho' all the fault was laid in the feathers, and they were to blame enough, yet i never heard any wise man, but what blam'd his discretion, and particularly, a certain great man has wrote three large tracts of those affairs, and call'd them, the history of the opposition of the feathers; wherein, tho' it was expected he would have curst the engine it self and all the feathers to the devil, on the contrary, he lays equal blame on the prince, who guided the chariot with so unsteddy a hand, now as much too slack, as then too hard, turning them this way and that so hastily, that the feathers could not move in their proper order; and this at last put the fire in the center quite out, and so the engine over-set at once. this impartiality has done great justice to the feathers, and set things in a clearer light: but of this i shall say more, when i come to treat of the works of the learned in this lunar world. this is hinted here only to inform the reader, that this engine is the safest passage that ever was found out; and that saving that one time, it never miscarried; nor if the common order of things be observed, cannot miscarry; for the good feathers are always negatives, when any precipitant motion is felt, and immediately suppress it by their number; and these negative feathers are indeed the travellers safety; the other are always upon the flutter, and upon every occasion hey for the moon, up in the clouds presently; but these negative feathers are never for going up, but when there is occasion for it; and from hence these fluttering fermented feathers were called by the antients high-flying feathers, and the blustering things seem'd proud of the name. but to come to their general character, the feathers, speaking of them all together, are generally very comely, strong, large, beautiful things, their quills or heads well fixt, and the cavities fill'd with a solid substantial matter, which tho' it is full of spirit, has a great deal of temperament, and full of suitable well-dispos'd powers, to the operation for which they are design'd. these placed, as i noted before, in an extended form like two great wings, and operated by that sublime flame; which being concealed in proper receptacles, obtains its vent at the cavities appointed, are supplied from thence with life and motion; and as fire it fell, in the opinion of some learned men, is nothing but motion, and motion tends to fire: it can no more be a wonder, if exalted in the center of this famous engine, a whole nation should be carried up to the world in the moon. 'tis true, this engine is frequently assaulted with fierce winds, and furious storms, which sometimes drive it a great way out of its way; and indeed, considering the length of the passage, and the various regions it goes through, it would be strange if it should meet with no obstructions: these are oblique gales, and cannot be said to blow from any of the thirty-two points, but retrograde and thwart: some of these are call'd in their language, pensionazima, which is as much as to say, being interpreted, a court-breeze; another sort of wind, which generally blows directly contrary to the pensionazima, is the clamorio, or in english, a country gale; this is generally tempestuous, full of gusts and disgusts, squauls and sudden blasts, not without claps of thunder, and not a little flashing of heat and party-fires. there are a great many other internal blasts, which proceed from the fire within, which sometimes not circulating right, breaks out in little gusts of wind and heat, and is apt to indanger setting fire to the feathers, and this is more or less dangerous, according as among which of the feathers it happens; for some of the feathers are more apt to take fire than others, as their quills or heads are more or less full of that solid matter mention'd before. the engine suffers frequent convulsions and disorders from these several winds; and which if they chance to overblow very much, hinder the passage; but the negative feathers always apply temper and moderation; and this brings all to rights again. for a body like this, what can it not do? what cannot such an extension perform in the air? and when one thing is tackt to another, and properly cosolidated into one mighty consolidator, no question but whoever shall go up to the moon, will find himself so improv'd in this wonderful experiment, that not a man ever perform'd that wonderful flight, but he certainly came back again as wise as he went. well, gentlemen, and what if we are called high-flyers now, and an hundred names of contempt and distinction, what is this to the purpose? who would not be a high-flyer, to be tackt and consolidated in an engine of such sublime elevation, and which lifts men, monarchs, members, yea, and whole nations, up into the clouds; and performs with such wondrous art, the long expected experiment of a voyage to the moon? and thus much for the description of the consolidator. the first voyage i ever made to this country, was in one of these engines; and i can safely affirm, i never wak'd all the way; and now having been as often there as most that have us'd that trade, it may be expected i should give some account of the country; for it appears, i can give but little of the road. only this i understand, that when this engine, by help of these artificial wings, has raised it self up to a certain height, the wings are as useful to keep it from falling into the moon, as they were before to raise it, and keep it from falling back into this region again. this may happen from an alteration of centers, and gravity having past a certain line, the equipoise changes its tendency, the magnetick quality being beyond it, it inclines of course, and pursues a center, which it finds in the lunar world, and lands us safe upon the surface. i was told, i need take no bills of exchange with me, nor letters of credit; for that upon my first arrival, the inhabitants would be very civil to me: that they never suffered any of our world to want any thing when they came there: that they were very free to show them any thing, and inform them in all needful cases; and that whatever rarities the country afforded, should be expos'd immediately. i shall not enter into the customs, geography, or history of the place, only acquaint the reader, that i found no manner of difference in any thing natural, except as hereafter excepted, but all was exactly as is here, an elementary world, peopled with folks, as like us as if they were only inhabitants of the same continent, but in a remote climate. the inhabitants were men, women, beasts, birds, fishes, and insects, of the same individual species as ours, the latter excepted: the men no wiser, better, nor bigger than here; the women no handsomer or honester than ours: there were knaves and honest men, honest women and whores of all sorts, countries, nations and kindreds, as on this side the skies. they had the same sun to shine, the planets were equally visible as to us, and their astrologers were as busily impertinent as ours, only that those wonderful glasses hinted before made strange discoveries that we were unacquainted with; by them they could plainly discover, that this world was their moon, and their world our moon; and when i came first among them, the people that flockt about me, distinguisht me by the name of, the man that came out of the moon. i cannot, however, but acquaint the reader, with some remarks i made in this new world, before i come to any thing historical. i have heard, that among the generallity of our people, who being not much addicted to revelation, have much concern'd themselves about demonstrations, a generation have risen up, who to solve the difficulties of supernatural systems, imagine a mighty vast something, who has no form but what represents him to them as one great eye: this infinite optick they imagine to be natura naturans, or power-forming; and that as we pretend the soul of man has a similitude in quality to its original, according to a notion some people have, who read that so much ridicul'd old legend, call'd bible, that man was made in the image of his maker: the soul of man, therefore, in the opinion of these naturallists, is one vast optick power diffus'd through him into all his parts, but seated principally in his head. from hence they resolve all beings to eyes, some more capable of sight and receptive of objects than others; and as to things invisible, they reckon nothing so, only so far as our sight is deficient, contracted or darkened by accidents from without, as distance of place, interposition of vapours, clouds, liquid air, exhalations, &c. or from within, as wandring errors, wild notions, cloudy understandings, and empty fancies, with a thousand other interposing obstacles to the sight, which darken it, and prevent its operation; and particularly obstruct the perceptive faculties, weaken the head, and bring mankind in general to stand in need of the spectacles of education as soon as ever they are born: nay, and as soon as they have made use of these artificial eyes, all they can do is but to clear the sight so far as to see that they can't see; the utmost wisdom of mankind, and the highest improvement a man ought to wish for, being but to be able to see that he was born blind; this pushes him upon search after mediums for the recovery of his sight, and away he runs to school to art and science, and there he is furnisht with horoscopes, microscopes, tellescopes, caliscopes, money-scopes, and the d---l and and all of glasses, to help and assist his moon-blind understanding; these with wonderful skill and ages of application, after wandring thro' bogs and wildernesses of guess, conjectures, supposes, calculations, and he knows not what, which he meets with in physicks, politicks, ethicks, astronomy, mathematicks, and such sort of bewildring things, bring him with vast difficulty to a little minute-spot, call'd demonstration; and as not one in ten thousand ever finds the way thither, but are lost in the tiresome uncouth journey, so they that do, 'tis so long before they come there, that they are grown old and good for little in the journey; and no sooner have they obtained a glimering of this universal eye-sight, this eclaricissment general, but they die, and have hardly time to show the way to those that come after. now, as the earnest search after this thing call'd demonstration fill'd me with desires of seeing every thing, so my observations of the strange multitude of mysteries i met with in all men's actions here, spurr'd my curiosity to examine, if the great eye of the world had no people to whom he had given a clearer eye-sight, or at least, that made a better use of it than we had here. if pursuing this search i was much delighted at my arrival into china, it cannot be thought strange, since there we find knowledge as much advanc'd beyond our common pitch, as it was pretended to be deriv'd from a more ancient original. we are told, that in the early age of the world, the strength of invention exceeded all that ever has been arrived to since: that we in these latter ages, having lost all that pristine strength of reason and invention, which died with the ancients in the flood, and receiving no helps from that age, have by long search arriv'd at several remote parts of knowledge, by the helps of reading conversation and experience; but that all amounts to no more than faint imitations, apings, and resemblances of what was known in those masterly ages. now, if it be true as is hinted before, that the chinese empire was peopled long before the flood; and that they were not destroyed in the general deluge in the days of noah; 'tis no such strange thing, that they should so much out-do us in this sort of eye-sight we call general knowledge, since the perfections bestow'd on nature, when in her youth and prime met with no general suffocation by that calamity. but if i was extreamly delighted with the extraordinary things i saw in those countries, you cannot but imagine i was exceedingly mov'd, when i heard of a lunar world; and that the way was passable from these parts. i had heard of a world in the moon among some of our learned philosophers, and moor, as i have been told, had a moon in his head; but none of the fine pretenders, no not bishop wilkins, ever found mechanick engines, whose motion was sufficient to attempt the passage. a late happy author indeed, among his mechanick operations of the spirit, had found out an enthusiasm, which if he could have pursued to its proper extream, without doubt might, either in the body or out of the body, have landed him somewhere hereabout; but that he form'd his system wholly upon the mistaken notion of wind, which learned hypothesis being directly contrary to the nature of things in this climate, where the elasticity of the air is quite different and where the pressure of the atmosphere has for want of vapour no force, all his notion dissolv'd in its native vapour call'd wind, and flew upward in blew strakes of a livid flame call'd blasphemy, which burnt up all the wit and fancy of the author, and left a strange stench behind it, that has this unhappy quality in it, that every body that reads the book, smells the author, tho' he be never so far off; nay, tho' he took shipping to dublin, to secure his friends from the least danger of a conjecture. but to return, to the happy regions of the lunar continent, i was no sooner landed there, and had lookt about me, but i was surpriz'd with the strange alteration of the climate and country; and particularly a strange salubrity and fragrancy in the air, which i felt so nourishing, so pleasant and delightful, that tho' i could perceive some small respiration, it was hardly discernable, and the least requisite for life, supplied so long that the bellows of nature were hardly imployed. but as i shall take occasion to consider this in a critical examination into the nature, uses and advantages of good lungs, of which by it self, so i think fit to confine my present observations to things more particularly concerning the eye-sight. i was, you may be sure, not a little surprized, when being upon an eminence i found my self capable by common observation, to see and distinguish things at the distance of miles and more, and seeking some information on this point, i was acquainted by the people, that there was a certain grave philosopher hard by, that could give me a very good account of things. it is not worth while to tell you this man's lunar name, of whether he had a name, or no; 'tis plain, 'twas a man in the moon; but all the conference i had with him was very strange: at my first coming to him, he askt me if i came from the world in the moon? i told him, no: at which he began to be angry, told me i ly'd, he knew whence i came as well as i did; for he saw me all the way. i told him, i came to the world in the moon, and began to be as surly as he. it was a long time before we could agree about it, he would have it, that i came down from the moon; and i, that i came up to the moon: from this, we came to explications, demonstrations, spheres, globes, regions, atmospheres, and a thousand odd diagrams, to make the thing out to one another. i insisted on my part, as that my experiment qualified me to know, and challeng'd him to go back with me to prove it. he, like a true philosopher, raised a thousand scruples, conjectures, and spherical problems, to confront me; and as for demonstrations, he call'd 'em fancies of my own. thus we differ'd a great many ways; both of us were certain, and both uncertain; both right, and yet both directly contrary; how to reconcile this jangle was very hard, till at last this demonstration happen'd, the moon as he call'd it, turning her blind-side upon us three days after the change, by which, with the help of his extraordinary glasses, i that knew the country, perceived that side the sun lookt upon was all moon, and the other was all world; and either i fancy'd i saw or else really saw all the lofty towers of the immense cities of china: upon this, and a little more debate, we came to this conclusion, and there the old man and i agreed, that they were both moons and both worlds, this a moon to that, and that a moon to this, like the sun between two looking-glasses, and shone upon one another by reflection, according to the oblique or direct position of each other. this afforded us a great deal of pleasure; for all the world covet to be found in the right, and are pleas'd when their notions are acknowledg'd by their antagonists: it also afforded us many very useful speculations, such as these; . how easy it is for men to fall out, and yet all sides to be in the right? . how natural it is for opinion to despise demonstration? . how proper mutual enquiry is to mutual satisfaction? from the observation of these glasses, we also drew some puns, crotchets and conclusions. st, that the whole world has a blind-side, a dark-side, and a bright-side, and consequently so has every body in it. dly, that the dark-side of affairs to day, may be the bright-side to morrow; from whence abundance of useful morals were also raised; such as, . no man's fate is so dark, but when the sun shines upon it, it will return its rays, and shine for it self. . all things turn like the moon, up to day, down to morrow, full and change, flux and reflux. . humane understanding is like the moon at the first quarter, half dark. dly, the changing-sides ought not to be thought so strange, or so much condemn'd by mankind, having its original from the lunar influence, and govern'd by the powerful operation of heavenly motion. thly, if there be any such thing as destiny in the world, i know nothing man is so predestinated to, as to be eternally turning round; and but that i purpose to entertain the reader with at least a whole chapter or section of the philosophy of humane motion, spherically and hypocritically examin'd and calculated, i should inlarge upon that thought in this place. having thus jumpt in our opinions, and perfectly satisfied our selves with demonstration, that these worlds were sisters, both in form, function, and all their capacities; in short, a pair of moons, and a pair of worlds, equally magnetical, sympathetical, and influential, we set up our rest as to that affair, and went forward. i desir'd no better acquaintance in my new travels, than this new sociate; never was there such a couple of people met; he was the man in the moon to me, and i the man in the moon to him; he wrote down all i said, and made a book of it, and call'd it, news from the world in the moon; and all the town is like to see my minutes under the same title; nay, and i have been told, he published some such bold truths there, from the allegorical relations he had of me from our world: that he was call'd before the publick authority, who could not bear the just reflections of his damn'd satyrical way of writing; and there they punisht the poor man, put him in prison, ruin'd his family; and not only fin'd him ultra tenementum, but expos'd him in the high places of their capital city, for the mob to laugh at him for a fool: this is a punishment not unlike our pillory, and was appointed for mean criminals, fellows that cheat and couzen people, forge writings, forswear themselves, and the like; and the people, that it was expected would have treated this man very ill, on the contrary pitied him, wisht those that set him there placed in his room, and exprest their affections, by loud shouts and acclamations, when he was taken down. but as this happen'd before my first visit to that world, when i came there all was over with him, his particular enemies were disgrac'd and turn'd out, and the man was not at all the worse receiv'd by his country-folks than he was before; and so much for the man in the moon. after we had settled the debate between us, about the nature and quality, i desir'd him to show me some plan or draft of this new world of his; upon which, he brought me out a pair of very beautiful globes, and there i had an immediate geographical description of the place. i found it less by degrees than our terrestial globe, but more land and less water; and as i was particularly concern'd to see something in or near the same climate with our selves, i observ'd a large extended country to the north, about the latitude of to northern distance; and enquiring of that country, he told me it was one of the best countries in all their world: that it was his native climate, and he was just a going to it, and would take me with him. he told me in general, the country was good, wholsome, fruitful, rarely scituate for trade, extraordinarily accommodated with harbours, rivers and bays for shipping; full of inhabitants; for it had been peopled from all parts, and had in it some of the blood of all the nations in the moon. he told me, as the inhabitants were the most numerous, so they were the strangest people that liv'd; both their natures, tempers, qualities, actions, and way of living, was made up of innumerable contradictions: that they were the wisest fools, and the foolishest wise men in the world; the weakest strongest, richest poorest, most generous covetous, bold cowardly, false faithful, sober dissolute, surly civil, slothful diligent, peaceable quarrelling, loyal seditious nation that ever was known. besides my observations which i made my self, and which could only furnish me with what was present, and which i shall take time to inform my reader with as much care and conciseness as possible; i was beholding to this old lunarian, for every thing that was historical or particular. and first, he inform'd me, that in this new country they had very seldom any clouds at all, and consequently no extraordinary storms, but a constant serenity, moderate breezes cooled the air, and constant evening exhalations kept the earth moist and fruitful; and as the winds they had were various and strong enough to assist their navigation, so they were without the terrors, dangers, ship-wrecks and destructions, which he knew we were troubled with in this our lunar world, as he call'd it. the first just observation i made of this was, that i suppos'd from hence the wonderful clearness of the air, and the advantage of so vast optick capacities they enjoy'd, was obtained: alas! says the old fellow, you see nothing to what some of our great eyes see in some parts of this world, nor do you see any thing compar'd to what you may see by the help of some new invented glasses, of which i may in time let you see the experiment; and perhaps you may find this to be the reason why we do not so abound in books as in your lunar world; and that except it be some extraordinary translations out of your country, you will find but little in our libraries, worth giving you a great deal of trouble. we immediately quitted the philosophical discourse of winds, and i began to be mighty inquisitive after these glasses and translations, and st, i understood here was a strange sort of glass that did not so much bring to the eye, as by i know not what wonderful operation carried out the eye to the object, and quite varies from all our doctrine of opticks, by forming several strange phanomena in sight, which we are utterly unacquainted with; nor could vision, rarification, or any of our school-mens fine terms, stand me in any stead in this case; but here was such additions of piercing organs, particles of transparence, emission, transmission, mediums, contraction of rays, and a thousand applications of things prepar'd for the wondrous operation, that you may be sure are requisite for the bringing to pass something yet unheard of on this side the moon. first we were inform'd, by the help of these glasses, strange things, which pass in our world for non-entities, is to be seen, and very perceptible; for example: state polity, in all its meanders, shifts, turns, tricks, and contraries, are so exactly delineated and describ'd, that they are in hopes in time to draw a pair of globes out, to bring all those things to a certainty. not but that it made some puzzle, even among these clear-sighted nations, to determine what figure the plans and drafts of this undiscover'd world of mysteries ought to be describ'd in: some were of opinion, it ought, to be an irregular centagon, a figure with an hundred cones or angles: since the unaccountables of this state-science, are hid in a million of undiscover'd corners; as the craft, subtilty and hypocrisy of knaves and courtiers have concealed them, never to be found out, but by this wonderful d---l-scope, which seem'd to threaten a perfect discovery of all those nudities, which have lain hid in the embrio, and false conceptions of abortive policy, ever since the foundation of the world. some were of opinion, this plan ought to be circular, and in a globular form, since it was on all sides alike, full of dark spots, untrod mazes, waking mischiefs, and sleeping mysteries; and being delineated like the globes display'd, would discover all the lines of wickedness to the eye at one view: besides, they fancied some sort of analogy in the rotundity of the figure, with the continued circular motion of all court-policies, in the stated round of universal knavery. others would have had it hyrogliphical as by a hand in hand, the form representing the affinity between state policy here, and state policy in the infernal regions, with some unkind similies between the oeconomy of satan's kingdom, and those of most of the temporal powers on earth; but this was thought too unkind. at last it was determin'd, that neither of these schemes were capable of the vast description; and that, therefore, the drafts must be made single, tho' not dividing the governments, yet dividing the arts of governing into proper distinct schemes, viz. . a particular plan of publick faith; and here we had the experiment immediately made: the representation is quallified for the meridian of any country, as well in our world as theirs; and turning it to'ards our own world, there i saw plainly an exchequer shut up, and mourning families selling their coaches, horses, whores, equipages, &c. for bread, the government standing by laughing, and looking on: hard by i saw the chamber of a great city shut up, and forty thousand orphans turn'd adrift in the world; some had no cloaths, some no shoes, some no money; and still the city magistrates calling upon other orphans, to pay their money in. these things put me in mind of the prophet ezekiel, and methoughts i heard the same voice that spoke to him, calling me, and telling me, come hither, and i'll show thee greater abominations than these: so looking still on that vast map, by the help of these magnifying glasses, i saw huge fleets hir'd for transport-service, but never paid; vast taxes anticipated, that were never collected; others collected and appropriated, but misapplied: millions of talleys struck to be discounted, and the poor paying per cent, to receive their money. i saw huge quantities of money drawn in, and little or none issued out; vast prizes taken from the enemy, and then taken away again at home by friends; ships sav'd on the sea, and sunk in the prize offices; merchants escaping from enemies at sea, and be pirated by sham embargoes, counterfeit claims, confiscations, &c a-shoar: there we saw turkey-fleets taken into convoys, and guarded to the very mouth of the enemy, and then abandon'd for their better security: here we saw mons. pouchartrain shutting up the town-house of paris, and plundring the bank of lyons. . here we law the state of the war among nations; here was the french giving sham-thanks for victories they never got, and some body else adressing and congratulating the sublime glory of running away: here was te deum for sham-victories by land; and there was thanksgiving for ditto by sea: here we might see two armies fight, both run away, and both come and thank god for nothing: here we saw a plan of a late war like that in ireland; there was all the officers cursing a dutch general, because the damn'd rogue would fight, and spoil a good war, that with decent management and good husbandry, might have been eek't out this twenty years; there was whole armies hunting two cows to one irishman, and driving of black cattle declar'd the noble end of the the war: here we saw a country full of stone walls and strong towns, where every campaign, the trade of war was carried on by the soldiers, with the same intriguing as it was carried on in the council chambers; there was millions of contributions raised, and vast sums collected, but no taxes lessen'd; whole plate fleets surpriz'd, but no treasure found; vaft sums lost by enemies, and yet never found by friends, ships loaded with volatile silver, that came away full, and gat home empty; whole voyages made to beat no body, and plunder every body; two millions robb'd from the honest merchants, and not a groat sav'd for the honest subjects: there we saw captains lifting men with the governments money, and letting them go again for their own; ships fitted out at the rates of two millions a year, to fight but once in three years, and then run away for want of powder and shot. there we saw partition treaties damned, and the whole given away, confederations without allies, allies without quota's, princes without armies, armies without men, and men without money, crowns without kings, kings without subjects, more kings than countries, and more countries than were worth fighting for. here we could see the king of france upbraiding his neighbours with dishonourably assisting his rebels, though the mischief was, they did it not neither; and in the same breath, assisting the hungarian rebels against the emperor; m. ld n. refusing so dishonourable an action, as to aid the rebellious camisars, but leaguing with the admirant de castile, to invade the dominions of his master to whom he swore allegiance: here we saw protestants fight against protestants, to help papists, papists against papists to help protestants, protestants call in turks, to keep faith against christians that break it: here we could see swedes fighting for revenge, and call it religion; cardinals deposing their catholick prince, to introduce the tyranny of a lutheran and call it liberty; armies electing kings, and call it free choice; french conquering savoy, to secure the liberty of italy. . the map of state policy contains abundance of civil transactions, no where to be discover'd but in this wonderful country, and by this prodigious invention: as first, it shows an eminent prelate running in every body's debt to relieve the poor, and bring to god robbery for burnt-offering: it opens a door to the fate of nations; and there we might see the duke of s--y bought three times, and his subjects sold every time; portugal bought twice, and neither time worth the earnest; spain bought once, but loth to go with the bidder; venice willing to be bought, if there had been any buyers; bavaria bought, and run away with the money; the emperor bought and sold, but bilkt the chapman; the french buying kingdoms he can't keep, the dutch keep kingdoms they never bought; and the english paying their money without purchase. in matters of civil concerns, here was to be seen religion with no out-side, and much out-side with no religion, much strife about peace, and no peace in the design: here was plunder without violence, violence without persecution, conscience without good works, and good works without charity; parties cutting one anothers throats for god's sake, pulling down churches de propoganda fide, and making divisions by way of association. here we have peace and union brought to pass the shortest way, extirpation and destruction prov'd to be the road to plenty and pleasure: here all the wise nations, a learned author would have quoted, if he could have found them, are to be seen, who carry on exclusive laws to the general safety and satisfaction of their subjects. occasional bills may have here a particular historical, categorical description: but of them by themselves. here you might have the rise, original, lawfulness, usefulness, and necessity of passive obedience, as fairly represented as a system of divinity, and as clearly demonstrated as by a geographical description; and which exceeds our mean understanding here, 'tis by the wonderful assistance of these glasses, plainly discerned to be coherent with resistance, taking arms, calling in foreign powers, and the like. --- here you have a plain discovery of c. of e. politicks, and a map of loyalty: here 'tis as plainly demonstrated as the nose in a man's face, provided he has one, that a man may abdicate, drive away, and dethrone his prince, and yet be absolutely and intirely free from, and innocent of the least fracture, breach, incroachment, or intrenchment, upon the doctrine of non-resistance: can shoot at his prince without any design to kill him, fight against him without raising rebellion, and take up arms, without leaving war against his prince. here they can persecute dissenters, without desiring they should conform, conform to the church they would overthrow; pray for the prince they dare not name, and name the prince they do not pray for. by the help of these glasses strange insights are made, into the vast mysterious dark world of state policy; but that which is yet more strange, and requires vast volumes to descend to the particulars of, and huge diagrams, spheres, charts, and a thousand nice things to display is, that in this vast intelligent discovery it is not only made plain, that those things are so, but all the vast contradictions are made rational, reconciled to practice, and brought down to demonstration. german clock-work, the perpetual motions, the prim mobilies of our short-sighted world, are trifles to these nicer disquisitions. here it would be plain and rational, why a parliament-man will spend l. to be chosen, that cannot get a groat honestly by setting there: it would be easily made out to be rational, why he that rails most at a court is soonest receiv'd into it: here it would be very plain, how great estates are got in little places, and double in none at all. 'tis easy to be prov'd honest and faithful to victual the french fleet out of english stores, and let our own navy want them; a long sight, or a large lunar perspective, will make all these things not only plain in fact, but rational and justifiable to all the world. 'tis a strange thing to any body without doubt, that has not been in that clear-sighted region, to comprehend, that those we call high-flyers in england are the only friends to the dissenters, and have been the most diligent and faithful in their interest, of any people in the nation; and yet so it is, gentlemen, and they ought to have the thanks of the whole body for it. in this advanc'd station, we see it plainly by reflexion, that the dissenters, like a parcel of knaves, have retained all the high-church-men in their pay; they are certainly all in their pension-roll: indeed, i could not see the money paid them there, it was too remote; but i could plainly see the thing; all the deep lines of the project are laid as true, they are so tackt and consolidated together, that if any one will give themselves leave to consider, they will be most effectually convinced, that the high-church and the dissenters here, are all in a caball, a meer knot, a piece of clock-work; the dissenters are the dial-plate, and the high-church the movement, the wheel within the wheels, the spring and the screw to bring all things to motion, and make the hand on the dial-plate point which way the dissenters please. for what else have been all the shams they have put upon the governments, kings, states, and people they have been concern'd with? what schemes have they laid on purpose to be broken? what vast contrivances, on purpose to be ridicul'd and expos'd? the men are not fools, they had never v---d to consolidate a b--- but that they were willing to save the dissenters, and put it into a posture, in which they were sure it would miscarry. i defy all the wise men of the moon to show another good reason for it. methinks i begin to pity my brethren, the moderate men of the church, that they cannot see into this new plot, and to wish they would but get up into our consolidator, and take a journey to the moon, and there, by the help of these glasses, they would see the allegorical, symbollical, hetrodoxicallity of all this matter; it would make immediate converts of them; they would see plainly, that to tack and consolidate, to make exclusive laws, to persecute for conscience, disturb, and distress parties; these are all phanatick plots, meer combinations against the church, to bring her into contempt, and to fix and establish the dissenters to the end of the chapter: but of this i shall find occasion to speak occasionally, when an occasion presents it self, to examine a certain occasional bill, transacting in these lunar regions, some time before i had the happiness to arrive there. in examining the multitude and variety of these most admirable glasses for the assisting the opticks, or indeed the formation of a new perceptive faculty; it was you may be sure most surprizing to find there, that art had exceeded nature; and the power of vision was assisted to that prodigious degree, as even to distinguish non-entity it self; and in these strange engines of light it could not but be very pleasing, to distinguish plainly betwixt being and matter, and to come to a determination, in the so long canvast dispute of substance, vel materialis, vel spiritualis; and i can solidly affirm, that in all our contention between entity and non-entity, there is so little worth meddling with, that had we had these glasses some ages ago, we should have left troubling our heads with it. i take upon me, therefore, to assure my reader, that whoever pleases to take a journey, or voyage, or flight up to these lunar regions, as soon as ever he comes ashoar there, will presently be convinc'd, of the reasonableness of immaterial substance, and the immortality, as well as immateriality of the soul: he will no sooner look into these explicating glasses, but he will be-able to know the separate meaning of body, soul, spirit, life, motion, death, and a thousand things that wise-men puzzle themselves about here, because they are not fools enough to understand. here too i find glasses for the second sight, as our old women call it. this second sight has been often pretended to in our regions, and some famous old wives have told us, they can see death, the soul, futurity, and the neighbourhood of them, in the countenance: by this wonderful art, these good people unfold strange mysteries, as under some irrecoverable disease, to foretell death; under hypocondriack melancholy, to presage trouble of mind; in pining youth, to predict contagious love; and an hundred other infallibilities, which never fail to be true as soon as ever they come to pass, and are all grounded upon the same infallibility, by which a shepherd may always know when any one of his sheep is rotten, viz. when he shakes himself to pieces. but all this guess and uncertainty is a trifle, to the vast discoveries of these explicatory optick-glasses; for here are seen the nature and consequences of secret mysteries: here are read strange mysteries relating to predestination, eternal decrees, and the like: here 'tis plainly prov'd, that predestination is, in spight of all enthusiastick pretences, so intirely committed into man's power, that whoever pleases to hang himself to day, won't live till to morrow: no, though forty predestination prophets were to tell him, his time was not yet come. there abstruse points are commonly and solemnly discuss'd here; and these people are such hereticks, that they say god's decrees are all subservient to the means of his providence; that what we call providence is a subjecting all things to the great chain of causes and consequences, by which that one grand decree, that all effects shall obey, without reserve to their proper moving causes, supercedes all subsequent doctrines, or pretended decrees, or predestination in the world: that by this rule, he that will kill himself, god, nature, providence, or decree, will not be concern'd to hinder him, but he shall die; any decrees, predestination, or fore-knowledge of infinite power, to the contrary in any wise, notwithstanding that it is in a man's power to throw himself into the water, and be drown'd; and to kill another man, and he shall die, and to say, god appointed it, is to make him the author of murther, and to injure the murtherer in putting him to death for what he could not help doing. all these things are received truths here, and no doubt would be so every where else, if the eyes of reason were opened to the testimony of nature, or if they had the helps of these most incomparable glasses. some pretended, by the help of these second-sight glasses, to see the common periods of life; and others said, they could see a great way beyond the leap in the dark: i confess, all i could see of the first was, that holding up the glass against the sea, i plainly saw, as it were on the edge of the horizon, these words, the verge of life and death is here. 'tis best to know where 'tis, but not how far. as to seeing beyond death, all the glasses i lookt into for that purpose, made but little of it; and these were the only tubes that i found defective; for here i could discern nothing but clouds, mists, and thick dark hazy weather; but revolving in my mind, that i had read a certain book in our own country, called, nature; it presently occurr'd, that the conclusion of it, to all such as gave themselves the trouble of making out those foolish things call'd inferences, was always look up; upon which, turning one of their glasses up, and erecting the point of it towards the zenith, i saw these words in the air, revelation, in large capital letters. i had like to have rais'd the mob upon me for looking upright with this glass; for this, they said, was prying into the mysteries of the great eye of the world; that we ought to enquire no farther than he has inform'd us, and to believe what he had left us more obscure: upon this, i laid down the glasses, and concluded, that we had moses and the prophets, and should be never the likelier to be taught by one come from the moon. in short, i found, indeed, they had a great deal more knowledge of things than we in this world; and that nature, science, and reason, had obtained great improvements in the lunar world; but as to religion, it was the same equally resign'd to and concluded in faith and redemption; so i shall give the world no great information of these things. i come next to some other strange acquirements obtained by the helps of these glasses; and particularly for the discerning the imperceptibles of nature; such as, the soul, thought, honesty, religion, virginity, and an hundred other nice things, too small for humane discerning. the discoveries made by these glasses, as to the soul, are of a very diverting variety; some hieroglyphical, and emblematical, and some demonstrative. the hieroglyphical discoveries of the soul make it appear in the image of its maker; and the analogy is remarkable, even in the very simily; for as they represent the original of nature as one great eye, illuminating as well as discerning all things; so the soul, in its allegorical, or hieroglyphical resemblance, appears as a great eye, embracing the man, enveloping, operating, and informing every part; from whence those sort of people who we falsly call politicians, acting so much to put out this great eye, by acting against their common understandings, are very aptly represented by a great eye, with six or seven pair of spectacles on; not but that the eye of their souls may be clear enough of it self, as to the common understanding; but that they happen to have occasion to look sometimes so many ways at once, and to judge, conclude, and understand so many contrary ways upon one and the same thing; that they are fain to put double glasses upon their understanding, as we look at the solar ecclipses, to represent 'em in different lights, least their judgments should not be wheadled into a compliance with the hellish resolutions of their wills; and this is what i call the emblematick representation of the soul. as for the demonstrations of the soul's existence, 'tis a plain case, by these explicative glasses, that it is, some have pretended to give us the parts; and we have heard of chyrurgeons, that could read an anatomical lecture on the parts of the soul; and these pretend it to be a creature in form, whether camelion or salamandar, authors have not determin'd; nor is it compleatly discover'd when it comes into the body, or how it goes out, or where its locality or habitation is, while 'tis a resident. but they very aptly show it, like a prince, in his seat, in the middle of his palace the brain, issuing out his incessant orders to innumerable troops of nerves, sinews, muscles, tendons, veins, arteries, fibres, capilaris, and useful officers, call'd organici, who faithfully execute all the parts of sensation, locomotion, concoction, &c. and in the hundred thousandth part of a moment, return with particular messages for information, and demand new instructions. if any part of his kingdom, the body, suffers a depredation, or an invasion of the enemy, the expresses fly to the seat of the soul, the brain, and immediately are order'd back to smart, that the body may of course send more messengers to complain; immediately other expresses are dispatcht to the tongue, with orders to cry out, that the neighbours may come in and help, or friends send for the chyrurgeon: upon the application, and a cure, all is quiet, and the same expresses are dispatcht to the tongue to be hush, and say no more of it till farther orders: all this is as plain to be seen in these engines, as the moon of our world from the world in the moon. as the being, nature, and scituation of humane soul is thus spherically and mathematically discover'd, i could not find any second thoughts about it in all their books, whether of their own composition or by translation; for it was a general received notion, that there could not be a greater absurdity in humane knowledge, than to imploy the thoughts in questioning, what is as plainly known by its consequences, as if seen with the eye; and that to doubt the being or extent of the soul's operation, is to imploy her against her self; and therefore, when i began to argue with my old philosopher, against the materiality and immortality of this mystery we call soul, he laught at me, and told me, he found we had none of their glasses in our world; and bid me send all our scepticks, soul-sleepers, our cowards, bakers, kings and bakewells, up to him into the moon, if they wanted demonstrations; where, by the help of their engines, they would make it plain to them, that the great eye being one vast intellect, infinite and eternal, all inferior life is a degree of himself, and as exactly represents him as one little flame the whole mass of fire; that it is therefore uncapable of dissolution, being like its original in duration, as well as in its powers and faculties, but that it goes and returns by emission, regression, as the great eye governs and determines; and this was plainly made out, by the figure i had seen it in, viz. an eye, the exact image of its maker: 'tis true, it was darkened by ignorance, folly and crime, and therefore oblig'd to wear spectacles; but tho' these were defects or interruptions in its operation, they were none in its nature; which as it had its immediate efflux from the great eye, and its return to him must partake of himself, and could not but be of a quality uncomatable, by casualty or death. from this discourse we the more willingly adjourned our present thoughts, i being clearly convinced of the matter; and as for our learned doctors, with their second and third thoughts, i told him i would recommend them to the man in the moon for their farther illumination, which if they refuse to accept, it was but just they should remain in a wood, where they are, and are like to be, puzzling themselves about demonstrations, squaring of circles, and converting oblique into right angles, to bring out a mathematical clock-work soul, that will go till the weight is down, and then stand still till they know not who must wind it up again. however, i cannot pass over a very strange and extraordinary piece of art which this old gentleman inform'd me of, and that was an engine to screw a man into himself: perhaps our country-men may be at some difficulty to comprehend these things by my dull description; and to such i cannot but recommend, a journey in my engine to the moon. this machine that i am speaking of, contains a multitude of strange springs and screws, and a man that puts himself into it, is very insensibly carried into vast speculations, reflexions, and regular debates with himself: they have a very hard name for it in those parts; but if i were to give it an english name, it should be call'd, the cogitator, or the chair of reflection. and first, the person that is seated here feels some pain in passing some negative springs, that are wound up, effectually to shut out all injecting, disturbing thoughts; and the better to prepare him for the operation that is to follow, and this is without doubt a very rational way; for when a man can absolutely shut out all manner of thinking, but what he is upon, he shall think the more intensly upon the one object before him. this operation past, here are certain screws that draw direct lines from every angle of the engine to the brain of the man, and at the same time, other direct lines to his eyes; at the other end of which lines, there are glasses which convey or reflect the objects the person is desirous to think upon. then the main wheels are turn'd, which wind up according to their several offices; this the memory, that the understanding; a third the will, a fourth the thinking faculty; and these being put all into regular motions, pointed by direct lines to their proper objects, and perfectly uninterrupted by the intervention of whimsy, chimera, and a thousand fluttering damons that gender in the fancy, but are effectually lockt out as before, assist one another to receive right notions, and form just ideas of the things they are directed to, and from thence the man is impower'd to make right conclusions, to think and act like himself, suitable to the sublime qualities his soul was originally blest with. there never was a man went into one of these thinking engines, but he came wiser out than he was before; and i am persuaded, it would be a more effectual cure to our deism, atheism, scepticism, and all other scisms, than ever the italian's engine, for curing the gout by cutting off the toe. this is a most wonderful engine, and performs admirably, and my author gave me extraordinary accounts of the good effects of it; and i cannot but tell my reader, that our sublunar world suffers millions of inconveniencies, for want of this thinking engine: i have had a great many projects in my head, how to bring our people to regular thinking, but 'tis in vain without this engin; and how to get the model of it i know not; how to screw up the will, the understanding, and the rest of the powers; how to bring the eye, the thought, the fancy, and the memory, into mathematical order, and obedient to mechanick operation; help boyl, norris, newton, manton, hammond, tillotson, and all the learned race, help phylosophy, divinity, physicks, oeconomicks, all's in vain, a mechanick chair of reflection is the only remedy that ever i found in my life for this work. as to the effects of mathematical thinking, what volumes might be writ of it will more easily appear, if we consider the wondrous usefulness of this engine in all humane affairs; as of war, peace, justice, injuries, passion, love, marriage, trade, policy, and religion. when a man has been screw'd into himself, and brought by this art to a regularity of thought, he never commits any absurdity after it; his actions are squared by the same lines, for action is but the consequence of thinking; and he that acts before he thinks, sets humane nature with the bottom upward. m. would never have made his speech, nor the famous b----ly wrote a book, if ever they had been in this thinking engine: one would have never told us of nations he never saw, nor the other told us, he had seen a great many, and was never the wiser. h. had never ruin'd his family to marry whore, thief and beggar-woman, in one salliant lady, after having been told so honestly, and so often of it by the very woman her self. our late unhappy monarch had never trusted the english clergy, when they preacht up that non-resistance, which he must needs see they could never practice; had his majesty been screw'd up into this cogitator, he had presently reflected, that it was against nature to expect they should stand still, and let him tread upon them: that they should, whatever they had preacht or pretended to, hold open their throats to have them be cut, and tye their own hands from resisting the lord's anointed. had some of our clergy been screw'd in this engine, they had never turned martyrs for their allegiance to the late king, only for the lechery of having dr. s------- in their company. had our merchants been manag'd in this engine, they had never trusted their turkey fleet with a famous squadron, that took a great deal of care to convoy them safe into the enemies hands. had some people been in this engine, when they had made a certain league in the world, in order to make amends for a better made before, they would certainly have consider'd farther, before they had embarkt with a nation, that are neither fit to go abroad nor stay at home. as for the thinking practis'd in noble speeches, occasional bills, addressings about prerogative, convocation disputes, turnings in and turnings out at ours, and all the courts of christendom, i have nothing to say to it. had the duke of bavaria been in our engine, he would never have begun a quarrel, which he knew all the powers of europe were concern'd to suppress, and lay all other business down till it was done. had the elector of saxony past the operation of this engine, he would never have beggar'd a rich electorate, to ruin a beggar'd crown, nor sold himself for a kingdom hardly worth any man's taking: he would never have made himself less than he was, in hopes of being really no greater; and stept down from a protestant duke, and imperial elector, to be a nominal mock king with a shadow of power, and a name without honour, dignity or strength. had mons. tallard been in our engine, he would not only not have attackt the confederates when they past the morass and rivulet in his front, but not have attackt them at all, nor have suffer'd them to have attackt him, it being his business not to have fought at all, but have linger'd out the war, till the duke of savoy having been reduced, the confederate army must have been forced to have divided themselves of course, in order to defend their own. some that have been very forward to have us proceed the shortest way with the scots, may be said to stand in great need of this chair of reflection, to find out a just cause for such a war, and to make a neighbour-nation making themselves secure, a sufficient reason for another neighbour-nation to fall upon them: our engine would presently show it them in a clear sight, by way of paralel, that 'tis just with the fame right as a man may break open a house, because the people bar and bolt the windows. if some-body has chang'd hands there from bad to worse, and open'd instead of closing differences in those cases, the cogitator migyt have brought them, by more regular thinking, to have known that was not at all the method of bringing the s---s to reason. our cogitator would be a very necessary thing to show some people, that poverty and weakness is not a sufficient ground to oppress a nation, and their having but little trade, cannot be a sufficient ground to equip fleets to take away what they have. i cannot deny, that i have often thought they have had something of this engine in our neighbouring antient kingdom, since no man, however we pretend to be angry, but will own they are in the right of it, as to themselves, to vote and procure bills for their own security, and not to do as others demand without conditions fit to be accepted: but of that by it self. there are abundance of people in our world, of all sorts and conditions, that stand in need of our thinking engines, and to be screw'd into themselves a little, that they might think as directly as they speak absurdly: but of these also in a class by it self. this engine has a great deal of philosophy in it; and particularly, 'tis a wonderful remedy against poreing; and as it was said of mons. jurieu at amsterdam, that he us'd to lose himself in himself; by the assistance of this piece of regularity, a man is most effectually secur'd against bewildring thoughts, and by direct thinking, he prevents all manner of dangerous wandring, since nothing can come to more speedy conclusions, than that which in right lines, points to the proper subject of debate. all sorts of confusion of thoughts are perfectly avoided and prevented in this case, and a man is never troubled with spleen, hyppo, or mute madness, when once he has been thus under the operation of the screw: it prevents abundance of capital disasters in men, in private affairs; it prevents hasty marriages, rash vows, duels, quarrels, suits at law, and most sorts of repentance. in the state, it saves a government from many inconveniences; it checks immoderate ambition, stops wars, navies and expeditions; especially it prevents members making long speeches when they have nothing to say; it keeps back rebellions, insurrections, clashings of houses, occasional bills, tacking, &c. it has a wonderful property in our affairs at sea, and has prevented many a bloody fight, in which a great many honest men might have lost their lives that are now useful fellows, and help to man and manage her majesty's navy. what if some people are apt to charge cowardice upon some people in those cases? 'tis plain that cannot be it, for he that dare incur the resentment of the english mob, shows more courage than would be able to carry him through forty sea-fights. 'tis therefore for want of being in this engine, that we censure people, because they don't be knocking one another on the head, like the people at the bear-garden; where, if they do not see the blood run about, they always cry out, a cheat; and the poor fellows are fain to cut one another, that they may not be pull'd a pieces; where the case is plain, they are bold for fear, and pull up courage enough to fight, because they are afraid of the people. this engine prevents all sorts of lunacies, love-frenzies, and melancholy-madness, for preserving the thought in right lines to direct objects, it is impossible any deliriums, whimsies, or fluttering air of ideas, can interrupt the man, he can never be mad; for which reason i cannot but recommend it to my lord s---, my lord n---, and my lord h-----, as absolutely necesssary to defend them from the state-madness, which for some ages has possest their families, and which runs too much in the blood. it is also an excellent introduction to thought, and therefore very well adapted to those people whose peculiar talent and praise is, that they never think at all. of these, if his grace of b---d would please to accept advice from the man in the moon, it should be to put himself into this engine, as a soveraign cure to the known disease call'd the thoughtless evil. but above all, it is an excellent remedy, and very useful to a sort of people, who are always travelling in thought, but never deliver'd into action; who are so exceeding busy at thinking, they have no leisure for action; of whom the late poet sung well to the purpose; ---- some modern coxcombs, who retire to think, 'cause they have nought to do; for thoughts were giv'n for actions government, where action ceases, thought impertinent: the sphere of action is life's happiness, and he that thinks beyond, thinks like an ass. rochest. poems, p. . these gentlemen would make excellent use of this engine, for it would teach 'em to dispatch one thing before they begin another; and therefore is of singular use to honest s----, whose peculiar it was, to be always beginning projects, but never finish any. the variety of this engine, its uses, and improvements, are innumerable, and the reader must not expect i can give any thing like a perfect description of it. there are yet another sort of machine, which i never obtained a sight of, till the last voyage i made to this lunar orb, and these are called elevators: the mechanick operations of these are wonderful, and helpt by fire; by which the sences are raised to all the strange extreames we can imagine, and whereby the intelligent soul is made to converse with its own species, whether embody'd or not. those that are rais'd to a due pitch in this wondrous frame, have a clear prospect into the world of spirits, and converse with visions, guardian-angels, spirits departed, and what not: and as this is a wonderful knowledge, and not to be obtained, but by the help of this fire; so those that have try'd the experiment, give strange accounts of sympathy, prexistence of souls, dreams, and the like. i confess, i always believ'd a converse of spirits, and have heard of some who have experienced so much of it, as they could obtain upon no body else to believe. i never saw any reason to doubt the existent state of the spirit before embody'd, any more than i did of its immortality after it shall be uncas'd, and the scriptures saying, the spirit returns to god that gave it, implies a coming from, or how could it be call'd a return. nor can i see a reason why embodying a spirit should altogether interrupt its converse with the world of spirits, from whence it was taken; and to what else shall we ascribe guardian angels, in which the scripture is also plain; and from whence come secret notices, impulse of thought, pressing urgencies of inclination, to or from this or that altogether involuntary; but from some waking kind assistant wandring spirit, which gives secret hints to its fellow-creature, of some approaching evil or good, which it was not able to foresee. for spirits without the helps of voice converse. i know we have supplied much of this with enthusiasm and conceited revelation; but the people of this world convince us, that it may be all natural, by obtaining it in a mechanick way, viz. by forming something suitable to the sublime nature, which working by art, shall only rectify the more vigorous particles of the soul, and work it up to a suitable elevation. this engine is wholly applied to the head, and works by injection; the chief influence being on what we call fancy, or imagination, which by the heat of strong ideas, is fermented to a strange heighth, and is thus brought to see backward and forward every way, beyond it self: by this a man fancies himself in the moon, and realizes things there as distinctly, as if he was actually talking to my old phylosopher. this indeed is an admirable engine, 'tis compos'd of an hundred thousand rational consequences, five times the number of conjectures, supposes, and probabilities, besides an innumerable company of fluttering suggestions, and injections, which hover round the imagination, and are all taken in as fast as they can be concocted and digested there: these are form'd into ideas, and some of those so well put together, so exactly shap'd, so well drest and set out by the additional fire of fancy, that it is no uncommon thing for the person to be intirely deceived by himself, not knowing the brat of his own begetting, nor be able to distinguish between reality and representation: from hence we have some people talking to images of their own forming, and seeing more devils and spectres than ever appear'd: from hence we have weaker heads not able to bear the operation, seeing imperfect visions, as of horses and men without heads or arms, light without fire, hearing voices without sound, and noises without shapes, as their own fears or fancies broke the phanomena before the intire formation. but the more genuine and perfect use of these vast elevations of the fancy, which are perform'd, as i said, by the mechanick operation of innate fire, is to guide mankind to as much fore-sight of things, as either by nature, or by the aid of any thing extranatural, may be obtain'd; and by this exceeding knowledge, a man shall forebode to himself approaching evil or good, so as to avoid this, or be in the way of that; and what if i should say, that the notices of these things are not only frequent, but constant, and require nothing of us, but to make use of this elevator, to keep our eyes, our ears, and our fancies open to the hints; and observe them; you may suppose me, if you please, come by this time into those northern kingdoms i mention'd before, where my old philosopher was a native, and not to trouble you with any of the needful observations, learned inscriptions, &c. on the way, according to the laudable practices of the famous mr. br---mly, 'tis sufficient to tell you i found there an opulent, populous, potent and terrible people. i found them at war with one of the greatest monarchs of the lunar world, and at the same time miserably rent and torn, mangl'd and disorder'd among themselves. as soon as i observ'd the political posture of their affairs, (for here a man sees things mighty soon by the helps of such a masterly eye-sight as i have mention'd) and remembring what is said for our instruction, that a kingdom divided against its self cannot stand; i ask'd the old gentleman if he had any estate in that country? he told me, no great matter; but ask'd me why i put that question to him? because, said i, if this people go on fighting and snarling at all the world, and one among another in this manner, they will certainly be ruin'd and undone, either subdu'd by some more powerful neighbour; whilst one party will stand still and see the t'others throat cut, tho' their own turn immediately follows, or else they will destroy and devour one another. therefore i told him i would have him turn his estate into money, and go some where else; or go back to the other world with me. no, no, reply'd the old man, i am in no such fear at this time, the scale of affairs is very lately chang'd here, says he, in but a very few years. i know nothing of that, said i, but i am sure there never was but one spot of ground in that world which i came from, that was divided like them, and that's that very country i liv'd in. here are three kingdoms of you in one spot, said i, one has already been conquer'd and subdu'd, the t'other suppres'd its native lnhabitants, and planted it with her own, and now carries it with so high a hand over them of her own breed, that she limits their trade, stops their ports, when the inhabitants have made their manufactures, these wont give them leave to send them abroad, impose laws upon them, refuse to alter and amend those they would make for themselves, make them pay customs, excises, and taxes, and yet pay the garrisons and guards that defend them, themselves; press their inhabitants to their fleets, and carry away their old veteran troops that should defend them, and leave them to raise more to be serv'd in the same manner, will let none of their mony be carry'd over thither, nor let them coin any of their own; and a great many such hardships they suffer under the hand of this nation as meer slaves and conquer'd people, tho' the greatest part of the traders are the people of the very nation that treats 'em thus. on the other hand, this creates eternal murmurs, heart-burnings and regret, both in the natives and the transplanted inhabitants; the first have shewn their uneasiness by frequent insurrections and rebellions, for nature prompts the meanest animal to struggle for liberty; and these struggles have often been attended with great cruelty, ravages, death, massacres, and ruin both of families and the country it self: as to the transplanted inhabitants, they run into clandestine trade, into corresponding with their masters enemies, victualling their navies, colonies and the like, receiving and importing their goods in spight of all the orders and directions to the contrary. these are the effects of divisions, and feuds on that side; on the other hand there is a kingdom entire unconquer'd and independent, and for the present, under the same monarch with the rest.---- but here their feuds are greater than with the other, and more dangerous by far because national: this kingdom joins to the north part of the first kingdom, and terrible divisions ly among the two nations. the people of these two kingdoms are call'd if you please for distinction sake, for i cannot well make you understand their hard names, solunarians and nolunarians, these to the south and those to the north, the solunarians were divided in their articles of religion; the governing party, or the establish'd church, i shall call the solunarian church; but the whole kingdom was full of a sort of religious people call'd crolians, who like our dissenters in england profess divers sub-divided opinions by themselves, and cou'd not, or wou'd not, let it go which way it will, joyn with the establish'd church. on the other hand, the establish'd church in the northern kingdom was all crolians, but full of solunarians in opinions, who were dissenters there, as the crolians were dissenters in the south, and this unhappy mixture occasion'd endless feuds, divisions, sub-divisions and animosities without number, of which hereafter. the northern men are bold, terrible numerous and brave, to the last degree, but poor, and by the encroachments of their neighbours, growing poorer every day. the southern are equally brave, more numerous and terrible, but wealthy and care not for wars, had rather stay at home and quarrel with one another, than go abroad to fight, making good an old maxim, too poor t'agree, and yet too rich to fight. between these the feud is great, and every day growing greater; and those people who pretend to have been in the cogitator or thinking engine tell us, all the lines of consequences in that affair point at a fatal period between the kingdoms. the complaints also are great, and back'd with fiery arguments on both sides; the northern men say, the solunarians have dealt unjustly and unkindly by them in several articles; but the southern men reply with a most powerful argument, viz. they are poor, and therefore ought to be oppress'd, suppress'd, or any thing. but the main debate is like to lye upon the article of choosing a king; both the nations being under one government at present, but the settlement ending in the reigning line, the northern men refuse to joyn in government again, unless they have a rectification of some conditions in which, they say, they have the worst of it. in this case, even the southern men themselves, say, they believe the nolunarians have been in the chair of reflection, the thinking engine, and that having screw'd their understandings into a direct position to that matter before them, they have made a right judgment of their own affairs, and with all their poverty stand on the best foot as to right. but as the matter of this northern quarrel comes under a second head, and is more properly the subject of a second voyage to the moon; the reader may have it more at large consider'd in another class, and some farther enlightnings in that affair than perhaps can be reasonably expected of me here. but of all the feuds and brangles that ever poor nation was embroild in, of all the quarrels, the factions and parties that ever the people of any nation thought worth while to fall out for, none were ever in reality so light, in effect so heavy, in appearance so great, in substance so small, in name so terrible, in nature so trifling, as those for which this southern country was altogether by the ears among themselves. and this was one reason why i so earnestly enquir'd of my lunarian philosopher, whether he had an estate in that country or no. but having told him the cause of that enquiry, he reply'd, there was one thing in the nature of his country-men which secur'd them from the ruin which usually attended divided nations, viz. that if any foreign nation thinking to take the advantage of their intestine divisions fell upon them in the highest of all their feuds, they'd lay aside their parties and quarrels and presently fall in together to beat out the common enemy; and then no sooner had they obtain'd peace abroad, by their conduct and bravery, but they would fall to cutting one anothers throats again at home as naturally as if it had been their proper calling, and that for trifles too, meer trifles. very well, said i to my learned self, pretty like my own country still, that whatever peace they have abroad, are sure to have none at home. to come at the historical account of these lunarian dissentions, it will be absolutely necessary to enter a little into the story of the place, at least as far as relates to the present constitution, both of the people, the government, and the subject of their present quarrels. and first we are to understand, that there has for some ages been carry'd on in these countries, a private feud or quarrel among the people, about a thing call'd by them upogyla, with us very vulgarly call'd religion. this difference, as in its original it was not great, nor indeed upon points accounted among themselves essential, so it had never been a difference of any height, if there had not always been some one thing, or other, hapning in the state which made the court-polititians think it necessary to keep the people busy and embroil'd, to prevent their more narrow inspection into depredations and encroachments on their liberties, which was always making on them by the court. 'tis not deny'd but there might be a native want of charity in the inhabitant, adapting them to feud, and particularly qualifying them to be alwavs piquing one another; and some of their own nation, who by the help of the famous perspectives before-mentioned, pretend to have seen farther into the insides of nature and constitution than other people, tell us the cross lines of nature which appear in the make of those particular people, signify a direct negative as to the article of charity and good neighbour-hood. 'twas particularly unhappy to this wrangling people, that reasons of state should always fall in, to make that uncharitableness and continual quarrelling humour necessary to carry on the publick affairs of the nation, and may pass for a certain proof, that the state was under some diseases and convulsions, which, like a body that digests nothing so well as what is hurtful to its constitution, makes use of those things for its support, which are in their very nature, fatal to its being, and must at last tend to its destruction. but as this however enclin'd them to be continually snarling at one another, so as in all quarrels it generally appears one side must go down. the prevailing party therefore always kept the power in their hands, and as the under were always subject to the lash they soon took care to hook their quarrel into the affairs of state, and so join religious differences, and civil differences together. these things had long embroil'd the nation, and frequently involv'd them in bitter enmities, feuds, and quarrels, and once in a tedious, ruinous, and bloody war in their own bowels, in which, contrary to all expectation, this lesser party prevail'd. and since the allegorick relation may bear great similitude with our european affairs on this side the moon: i shall for the ease of expression, and the better understanding of the reader, frequently call them by the same names our unhappy parties are call'd by in england, as solunnarian churchmen, and crolian dissenters, at the same time desiring my reader to observe, that he is always to remember who it is we are talking of, and that he is by no means to understand me of any person, party, people, nation, or place on this side the moon, any expression, circumstance, similitude, or appearance to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding. this premis'd, i am to tell the reader that the last civil war in this lunar country ended in the victors confounding their own conquests by their intestine broils, they being as is already noted a most eternally quarrelling nation; upon this new breach, they that first began the war, turn'd about, and pleading that they took up arms to regulate the government, not to overthrow it, fell in with the family of their kings, who had been banish'd, and one of them destroy'd, and restor'd the crown to the family, and the nation to the crown, just for all the world as the presbyterians in england did, in the case of king charles the second. the party that was thus restor'd, accepted the return the others made to their duty, and their assistance in restoring the family of their monarch, but abated not a tittle of the old rancour against them as a party which they entertain'd at their first taking arms, not allowing the return they had made to be any attonement at all for the crimes they had been guilty of before. 'tis true they pass'd an act or grant of general pardon, and oblivion, as in all such cases is usual, and as without which the other would never ha' come in, or have join'd powers to form the restoration they were bringing to pass, but the old feud of religion continu'd with this addition, that the dissenters were rebels, murtherers, king-killers, enemies to monarchy and civil government, lovers of confusion, popular, anarchial governments, and movers of sedition; that this was in their very nature and principles, and the like. in this condition, and under these mortifications this party of people liv'd just an egyptian servitude, viz. of years, in which time they were frequently vex'd with persecution, harass'd, plunder'd, fin'd, imprisoned, and very hardly treated, insomuch that they pretend to be able to give an account of vast sums of their country-mony, levy'd upon them on these occasions, amounting as i take it to millions of lunatians, a coin they keep their accounts by there, and much about the value of our pound sterling; besides this they were hook't into a great many sham plots, and sworn out of their lives and estates in such a manner, that in the very next reign the government was so sensible of their hard treatment, that they revers'd several sentences by the same authority that had executed them; a most undeniable proof they were asham'd of what had been done; at last, the prince who was restor'd as abovesaid, dyed, and his brother mounted the throne; and now began a third scene of affairs, for this prince was neither church-man, nor dissenter, but of a different religion from them all, known in that country by the name of abrogratzianism, and this religion of his had this one absolutely necessary consequence in it, that a man could not be sincerely and heartily of this, but he must be an implacable hater of both the other. as this is laid down as a previous supposition, we are with the same reason to imagine this prince to be entirely bent upon the suppression and destruction of both the other, if not absolutely as to life and estate, yet entirely as to religion. to bring this the more readily to pass like a true polititian, had his methods and particulars been equally politick with his generals, he began at the right end, viz. to make the breach between the solunnarian church, and the crolian dissenters as wide as possible, and to do this it was resolv'd to shift sides, and as the crown had always took part with the church, crush'd, humbl'd, persecuted, and by all means possible mortify'd the dissenters, as is noted in the reign of his predecessor. this prince resolv'd to caress, cherish, and encourage the crolians by all possible arts and outward endearments, not so much that they purpos'd them any real favour, for the destruction of both was equally determin'd, nor so much that they expected to draw them over to abrogratzianism, but two reasons may be suppos'd to give rise to this project. . the lunarian church party had all along preach'd up for a part of their religion, that absolute undisputed obedience, was due from every subject to their prince without any reserve, reluctance or repining; that as to resistance, it was fatal to body, soul, religion, justice and government; and tho' the doctrine was repugnant to nature, and to the very supreme command it self, yet he that resisted, receiv'd to himself damnation, just for all the world like our doctrine of passive obedience. now tho' these solunarian church-men did not absolutely believe all they said themselves to be true, yet they found it necessary to push these things to the uttermost extremities, because they might the better fix upon the crolian dissenters, the charge of professing less loyal principles than they. for as to the crolians, they profess'd openly they would pay obedience to the prince, as far as the laws directed, but no farther. these things were run up to strange heights, and the people were always falling out about what they would do, or wou'd not do, if things were so or so, as they were not, and were never likely to be; and the hot men on both sides were every now and then going together by the ears about chimeras, shadows, may-be's and supposes. the hot men of the solunarian church were for knocking the crolians in the head, because as they said they were rebels, their fathers were rebels, and they would certainly turn rebels again upon occasion. the crolians insisted upon it, that they had nothing to do with what was done before they were born, that if they were criminal, because their fathers were so, then a great many who were now of the solunarian church were as guilty as they, several of the best members of that church having been born of crolian parents. in the matter of loyalty they insisted upon it, they were as loyal as the solunarians, for that they were as loyal as nature, reason and the laws both of god and man requir'd, and what the other talk'd of more, was but a meer pretence, and so it would be found if ever their prince should have occasion to put them to the tryal, that he that pretended to go beyond the power of nature and reason, must indeed go beyond them, and they never desir'd to be brought into the extream, but they were ready at any time to shew such proofs, and give such demonstrations of their loyalty, as would satisfy any reasonable prince, and for more they had nothing to say. in this posture of affairs, this new prince found his subjects when he came to the crown, the solunarian church caress'd him, and notwithstanding his being devoted to the abrogratzian faith, they crown'd him with extraordinary acclamations. they were the rather enclin'd to push this forward by how much they thought it would singularly mortify the crolians, and all the sorts of dissenters, for they had all along declar'd their abhorrence of the abrogratzians to such a degree that they publickly endeavour'd to have got a general concurrence of the whole nation in the publick cortez, or dyet of the kingdom, to have joyn'd with them in excluding this very prince by name, and all other princes that should ever embrace the abrogratzian faith. and it wanted but a very little of bringing it to pass, for almost all the great men of the nation, tho' solunarians, yet that were men of temper, moderation, and fore-sight, were for this exclusive law. but the high priests and patriarchs of the solunarian church prevented it, and upon pretence of this passive obedience principle, made their interest and gave their voices for crowning, or entailing the crown and government on the head of one of the most implacable enemies both to their religion and civil right that ever the nation saw; but they liv'd to repent it too late. this conquest over the crolians and the moderate solunarians, if it did not suppress them entirely, it yet gave the other part such an ascendant over them, that they made no doubt when that prince came to the crown, they had done so much to oblige him, that he could deny them nothing, and therefore in expectation they swallow'd up the whole body of the crolians at once, and began to talk of nothing less than banishing them to the northern part of the country, or to certain islands, and countries a vast way off, where formerly great numbers of them had fled for shelter in like cases. and this was the more probable by an unhappy stroke these crolians attempted to strike, but miscarry'd in at the very beginning of this prince's reign: for as they had always profest an aversion to this prince on account of his religion, as soon as their other king was dead, they set up one of his natural sons against this king, which the solunarians had so joyfully crown'd. this young prince invaded his dominions, and great numbers of the most zealous crolians joyn'd him---- but to cut the story short, he was entirely routed by the forces of the new prince, for all the solunarian church joyn'd with him against the crolians without any respect to the interest of religion, so they overthrew their brethren: the young invaded prince was taken and put to death openly, and great cruelties were exercis'd in cold blood upon the poor unhappy people that were taken in the defeat! thus a second time these loyal solunarian church-men establish'd their enemy, and built up what they were glad afterwards to pull down again, and to beg the assistance of those crolians whom they had so rudely handled, to help them demolish the power they had erected themselves, and which now began to set its foot upon the throat of those that nourish'd and supported it. upon this exceeding loyalty and blind assistance given to their prince, the solunarians made no question but they had so eternally bound him to them, that it would be in their power to pull down the very name of crolianism, and utterly destroy it from the nation. but the time came on to undeceive them, for this prince, whose principle as an abrogratzian, was to destroy them both, as it happened, was furnish'd with counsellors and ecclesiasticks of his own profession, ten thousand times more bent for their general ruin, than himself. for abstracted from the venom and rancour of his profession as an abrogratzian, and from the furious zeal of his bramin, priests, and religious people, that continually hung about him, and that prompted him to act against his temper and inclination, by which he ruin'd all, he was else a forward and generous prince, and likely to have made his people great and flourishing. but his furious church-men ruin'd all his good designs, and turn'd all his projects to compass the introduction of his own religion into his dominions. nay, and had he not fatally been push'd on by such as really design'd his ruin, to drive this deep design on too hastily and turn the scale of his management from a close and conceal'd, to an open and profess'd design, he might have gone a great way with it.--------- had he been content to have let that have been twenty year a doing, which he impatiently as well as preposterously attempted all at once.------- wise men have thought he might in time have supprest the solunarian religion, and have set up his own. to give a short scheme of his proceedings, and with them of the reason of his miscarriage. . having defeated the rebellious crolians, as is before noted, and reflecting on the danger he was in upon the sudden progress of that rebellion, for indeed he was within a trifle of ruin in that affair; and had not the crolians been deceiv'd by the darkness of the night and led to a large ditch of water, which they could not pass over, they had certainly surpriz'd and overthrown his army, and cut them in pieces, before they had known who had hurt them. upon the sense of this danger, he takes up a pretence of necessity for the being always ready to resist the factious crolians, as he call'd them, and by that insinuation hooks himself into a standing army in time of peace; ----- nay, and so easy were the solunarian church to yield up any point, which they did but imagin would help to crush their brethren the crolians, that they not only consented to this unusual invasion of their antient liberties, but sent up several testimonials of their free consent, nay, and of their joy of having arriv'd to so great a happiness, as to have a prince that setting aside the formality of laws would vouchsafe to govern them by the glorious method of a standing army.------ these testimonials were things not much unlike our addresses in england, and which when i heard i could not but remember our case, in the time of the late king james, when the city of carlisle in their address, thankt his majesty for the establishing a standing army in england in time of peace, calling it the strength, and glory of the kingdom. so strong is the ambition and envy of parties, these solunarian gentlemen not grudging to put out one of their own eyes, so they might at the same time put out both the eyes of their enemies; the crolians rather consented to this badge of their own slavery, and brought themselves who were a free people before, under the power and slavery of the sword. the ease with which this prince got over so considerable a point as this, made him begin to be too credulous and to perswade himself that the solunarian church-men were really in earnest, as to their pageant-doctrin of non-resistance, and that as he had seen them bear with strange extravagancies on the crolian part, they were real and in earnest when they preach'd that men ought to obey for conscience's sake, whatever hardship were impos'd upon them, and however unjust, or contrary to the laws of god, nature, reason, or their country; what principle in the world could more readily prompt a prince to attempt what he so earnestly coveted, as this zealous prince did the restoring the abrogratzian faith, for since he had but two sorts of people to do with; one he had crush'd by force, and had brought the other to profess it their religion, their duty, and their resolution to bear every thing he thought fit to impose upon them, and that they should be damn'd if they resisted, the work seem'd half done to his hand. and indeed when i reflected on the coherence of things, i could not so much blame this prince for his venturing upon the probability, for whoever was but to go up to this lunar world and read the stories of that time, with what fury the hot men of the solunarian church acted against the dissenting crolians, and with what warmth they assisted their prince against them, and how cruelly they insulted them after they were defeated in their attempt of dethroning him, how zealously they preach'd up the doctrine of absolute undisputed resignation to his will, how frequently they obey'd several of his encroachments upon their liberties, and what solemn protestations they made to submit to him in any thing, and to stand by and assist him in whatever he commanded them to the last drop, much with the same zeal and forwardness, as our life-and-fortune men did here in england. i say, when all this was consider'd, i could not so much condemn his credulity, nor blame him for believing them, for no man could have doubted their sincerity, but he that at the same time must have taxt them with most unexampled hipocrisie. for the solunarians now began to discern their prince was not really on their side, that neither in state matters any more than religion, he had any affection for them, and the first absolute shock he gave them, was in publishing a general liberty to the crolians. 'tis true this was not out of respect to the crolian religion any more than the solunarian, but purely because by that means he made way for an introduction of the abrogratzian religion which now began to appear publickly in the country. but however, as this was directly contrary to the expectation of the solunarians, it gave them such a disgust against their prince, that from that very time being disappointed in the soveraign authority they expected, they entred into the deepest and blackest conspiracy against their prince and his government that ever was heard of. many of the crolians were deluded by the new favour and liberty they receiv'd from the prince to believe him real, and were glad of the mortification of their brethren; but the more judicious seeing plainly the prince's design, declar'd against their own liberty, because given them by an illegal authority, without the assent of the whole body legally assembled. when the solunarians saw this they easily reconcil'd themselves to the crolians, at least from the outside of the face, for the carrying on their design, and so here was a nation full of plots, here was the prince and his abrogratzians plotting to introduce their religion, here was a parcel of blind short-sighted crolians plotting to ruin the solunarian establishment, and weakly joining with the abrogratzians to satisfy their private resentments; and here was the wiser crolians joining heartily with the solunarians of all sorts, laying aside private resentments, and forgetting old grudges about religion, in order to ruin the invading projects of the prince and his party. there was indeed some verbal conditions past between them, and the solunarians willing to bring them into their party promised them upon the faith of their nation, and the honour of the solunarian religion, that there should be no more hatred, disturbance or persecution for the sake of religion between them, but that they would come to a temper with them, and always be brethren for the future. they declared that persecution ran contrary to their religion in general, and to their doctrin in particular; and backt their allegations with some truths they have not since thought fit to like, nor much to regard. however by this artifice, and on these conditions, they brought the crolians to join with them in their resolutions to countermine their designing prince; these indeed were for doing it by the old way down-right, and to oppose oppression with force, a doctrin they acknowledg'd, and profest to join with all the lunar part of mankind in the practice, and began to tell their brethren how they had impos'd upon themselves and the world, in pretending to absolute submission against nature and universal lunarian practice. but a cunning fellow personating a solunarian, and who was in the plot, gravely answer'd them thus, 'look ye, gentlemen, we own with you that nature, reason, law, justice, and custom of nations is on your side, and that all power derives from, centers in, and on all recesses or demises of power returns to its great original the party governed: nay we own our great eye from whom all the habitable parts of this globe are inlightned, has always directed us to practice what nature thus dictates, always approv'd and generally succeeded the attempt of dethroning tyrants. but our case differs, we have always pretended to this absolute undisputed obedience, which we did indeed to gain the power of your party; and if we should turn round at once to your opinion, tho' never so right, we should so fly in the face of our own doctrin, sermons, innumerable pamphlets and pretensions, as would give all our enemies too great a power over us in argument, and we should never be able to look mankind in the face: but we have laid our measures so that by prompting the king to run upon us in all sorts of bare-fac'd extreams and violences, we shall bring him to exasperate the whole nation; then we may underhand foment the breach on this side, raise the mob upon him, and by acting on both sides seem to suffer a force in falling in with the people, and preserve our reputation. 'thus we shall bring the thing to pass, betray our prince, take arms against his power, call in foreign force to do the work, and even then keep our hands seemingly out of the broil, by being pretended sticklers for our former prince; so save our reputation, and bring all to pass with ease and calmness; while the eager party of the abrogratzians will do their own work by expecting we will do it for them. the crolians astonish'd both at the policy, the depth, the knavery and the hypocrisy of the design, left them to carry it on, owning it was a masterpiece of craft, and so stood still to observe the issue, which every way answer'd the exactness of its contrivance. when i saw into the bottom of all this deceit, i began to take up new resolutions of returning back into our old world again, and going home to england, where tho' i had conceiv'd great indignation at the treatment our passive obedience men gave their prince here, and was in hopes in these my remote travels to have found out some nations of honour and principles. i was fill'd with amazement to see our moderate knaves so much out-done, and i was inform'd that all these things were meer amusements, vizors, and shams, to bring an innocent prince into the snare. would any mortal imagin who has read this short part of the story, that all this was a solunarian church plot, a meer conspiracy between these gentlemen and the crolian dissenters, only to wheedle in the unhappy prince to his own destruction, and bring the popular advantage of the mob, to a greater ascendant on the crown. of all the richlieus, mazarines, gondamours, oliver cromwels, and the whole train of polititians that our world has produc'd, the greatest of their arts are follies to the unfathomable depth of these lunarian policies; and for wheedle, lying, swearing, preaching, printing, &c. what is said in our world by priests and polititans, we thank god may be believ'd; but if ever i believe a solunarian priest preaching non-resistance of monarchs, or a solunarian polititian turning abrogratzian, i ought to be mark'd down for a fool; nor will ever any prince in that country take their word again, if ever they have their senses about 'em, but as this is a most extraordinary scene, so i cannot omit a more particular and sufficient relation of some parts of it, than i us'd to give. the solunarian clergy had carry'd on their non-resistance doctrin to such extremities, and had given this new prince such unusual demonstrations of it, that he fell absolutely into the snare, and entirely believ'd them; he had try'd them with such impositions as they would never have born from any prince in the world, nor from him neither, had they not had a deep design, and consequently stood in need of the deepest disguise imaginable; they had yielded to a standing army, and applauded it as a thing they had desir'd; they had submitted to levying taxes upon them by new methods, and illegal practices; they had yielded to the abrogation or suspension at least of their laws, when the king's absolute will requir'd it; not that they were blind, and did not see what their prince was doing, but that the black design was so deeply laid, they found it was the only way to ruin him, to push him upon the highest extreams, and then they should have their turn serv'd.---- thus if he desir'd one illegal thing of them, they would immediately grant two; one would have thought they had read our bible, and the command, when a man takes away the cloak, to give him the coat also. nor was this enough, but they seem'd willing to admit of the publick exercise of the abrogratzian religion in all parts; and when the prince set it up in his own chappel, they suffered it to be set up in their cities, and towns, and the abrogratzian clergy began to be seen up and down in their very habits; a thing which had never been permitted before in that country, and which the common people began to be very uneasy at. but still the solunarian clergy, and all such of the gentry, especially as were in the plot, by their sermons, printed books, and publick discourses, carry'd on this high topping notion of absolute submission, so that the people were kept under, and began to submit to all the impositions of the prince. these things were so acted to the life, that not only the prince, but none of his abrogratzian counsellors could see the snare, the hook was so finely covered by the church-artificers, and the bait so delicious, that they all swallow'd it with eagerness and delight. but the conspirators willing to make a sure game of it, and not thinking the king, or all his counsellors would drive on so fast as they would have them, tho' they had already made a fair progress for the time, resolv'd to play home, and accordingly they persuade their prince, that they will not only submit to his arbitrary will, in matters of state, and government, but in matters of religion; and in order to carry this jest on, one of the heads of their politicks, and a person of great estem for his abilities in matters of state, being without question one of the ablest heads of all the solunarian nobility, pretended to be converted, and turn'd abrogratzian. this immediately took as they desir'd, for the prince caress'd him, and entertain'd him with all possible endearments, proferr'd him to several posts of honour and advantage, always kept him near him, consulted him in all emergencies, took him with him to the abrogian sacrifices, and he made no scruple publickly to appear there, and by these degrees and a super-achitophalian hypocrisie, so insinuated himself into the credulous prince's favour, that he became his only confident, and absolute master of all his designs. now the plot had its desir'd effect, for he push'd the king upon all manner of precipitations; and if even the abrogratzians themselves who were about the king, interpos'd for more temperate proceedings, he would call them cowards, strangers, ignorant of the temper of the lunarians, who when they were a going, might be driven, but if they were suffered to cool and consider, would face about and fall off. indeed the men of prudence and estates among his own party, i mean the abrogratzians in the country, frequently warn'd him to take more moderate measures, and to proceed with more caution; told him he would certainly ruin them all, and himself, and that there must be some body about his majesty that push'd him upon these extremes, on purpose to set all the nation in a flame, and to overthrow all the good designs, which with temper and good conduct, might be brought to perfection. had these wary councils been observ'd, and a prudence and policy agreeable to the mighty consequence of things been practis'd, the solunarian church had run a great risque of being over thrown, and to have sunk gradually in the abrogian errors, the people began to be drawn off gradually, and the familiarity of the thing made it appear less frightful to unthinking people, who had entertain'd strange notions of the monstrous things that were to be seen in it, so that common vogue had fill'd the peoples minds with ignorant aversions, that 'tis no absurdity to say, i believe there was people who would have spent the last drop of their blood against abrogratzianism, that did not know whether it was a man or a horse. this thing consider'd well, would of it self have been sufficient to have made the prince and his friends wary, and to have taught them to suit their measures to the nature and circumstances of things before them; but success in their beginnings blinded their eyes, and they fell into this church snare with the most unpitied willingness that could be imagin'd. the first thing therefore this new counsellor put his master upon, in order to the beginning his more certain ruin, was to introduce several of his abrograzians into places of all kinds, both in the army, navy, treasure, and civil affairs, tho' contrary to some of the general constitutions of government; he had done it into the army before, tho' it had disgusted several of his military men, but now he push'd him upon making it universal, and still the passive solunarians bore it with patience. from this tameness and submission, his next step was to argue that he might depend upon it the solunarian church had so sincerely embrac'd the doctrine of non-resistance, that they were now ripen'd not only to sit still, and see their brethren the crolians suppress'd, but to stand still and be opprest themselves, and he might assure himself the matter was now ripe, he might do just what he wou'd himself with them, they were prepar'd to bare any thing. this was the fatal stroke, for having possest the prince with the belief of this, he let loose the reins to all his long conceal'd desires. down went their laws, their liberties, their corporations, their churches, their colleges, all went to wreck, and the eager abrograzians thought the day their own. the solunarians made no opposition, but what was contain'd within the narrow circumference of petitions, addresses, prayers, and tears; and these the prince was prepar'd to reject, and upon all occasions to let them know he was resolv'd to be obey'd. thus he drove on by the treacherous advice of his new counsels, till he ripen'd all the nation for the general defection which afterward follow'd. for as the encroachments of the prince push'd especially at their church liberties, and threatened the overthrow of all their ecclesiastical privileges, the clergy no sooner began to feel that they were like to be the first sacrifice, but they immediately threw off the vizor, and beat the concionazimir; this is a certain ecclesiastick engine which is usual in cases of general alarm, as the churches signal of universal tumult. this is truly a strange engine, and when a clergy-man gets into the inside of it, and beats it, it roars, and makes such a terrible noise from the several cavities, that 'tis heard a long way; and there are always a competent number of them plac'd in all parts so conveniently, that the alarm is heard all over the kingdom in one day. i had some thoughts to have given the reader a diagram of this piece of art, but as i am but a bad drafts man, i have not yet been able so exactly to describe it, as that a scheme can be drawn, but to the best of my skill, take it as follows. 'tis a hollow vessel, large enough to hold the biggest clergy-man in the nation; it is generally an octagon in figure, open before, from the wast upward, but whole at the back, with a flat extended over it for reverberation, or doubling the sound; doubling and redoubling, being frequently thought necessary to be made use of on these occasions; 'tis very mathematically contriv'd, erected on a pedestal of wood like a windmil, and has a pair of winding stairs up to it, like those at the great tun at hiedlebergh. i could make some hierogliphical discourses upon it, from these references, thus. . that as it is erected on a pedestal like a wind-mill, so it is no new thing for the clergy, who are the only persons permitted to make use of it, to make it turn round with the wind, and serve to all the points of the compass. . as the flat over it assists to encrease the sound, by forming a kind of hollow, or cavity proper to that purpose, so there is a certain natural hollowness, or emptiness, made use of sometimes in it, by the gentlemen of the gown, which serves exceedingly to the propogation of all sorts of clamour, noise, railing, and disturbance. . as the stairs to it go winding up like those by which one mounts to the vast tun of wine at hiedleburgh, which has no equal in our world, so the use made of these ascending steps, is not altogether different, being frequently employ'd to raise people up to all sorts of enthusiasms, spiritual intoxications, mad and extravagant action, high exalted flights, precipitations, and all kinds of ecclesiastick drunkenness and excesses. the sound of this emblem of emptiness, the concionazimir, was no sooner heard over the nation, but all the people discover'd their readiness to join in with the summons, and as the thing had been concerted before, they send over their messengers to demand assistance from a powerful prince beyond the sea, one of their own religion, and who was allied by marriage to the crown. they made their story out so plain, and their king had by the contrivance of their achitophel rendred himself so suspected to all his neighbours, that this prince, without any hesitation, resolv'd to join with them, and accordingly makes vast preparations to invade their king. during this interval their behaviour was quite altred at home, the doctrin of absolute submission and non-resistance was heard no more among them, the concionazimir beat daily to tell all the people they should stand up to defend the rights of the church, and that it was time to look about them for the abrograzians were upon them. the eager clergy made this ecclesiastick engine sound as loud and make all the noise they could, and no men in the nation were so forward as they to acknowledge that it was a state-trick, and they were drawn in to make such a stir about the pretended doctrins of absolute submission, that they did not see the snare which lay under it, that now their eyes were opened, and they had learnt to see the power and superiority of natural right, and would be deceiv'd no longer. others were so honest to tell the truth, that they knew the emptiness and weakness of the pretence all along, and knew what they did when they preacht it up, viz. to suppress and pull down the crolians: but they thought their prince who they always serv'd in crying up that doctrin, and whose exclusion was prevented by it, would ha' had more gratitude, or at least more sense, than to try the experiment upon them, since whatever to serve his designs and their own, which they always thought well united, they were willing to pretend, he could not but see they always knew better than to suffer the practice of it in their own case. that since he had turn'd the tables upon them, 'tis true he had them at an advantage and might pretend they were knaves, and perhaps had an opportunity to call them so with some reason; but they were resolv'd, since he had drove them to the necessity of being one or t'other, tho' he might call them knaves, they would take care he should have no reason to call them fools too. thus the vapour of absolute subjection was lost on a suddain, and as if it had been preparatory to what was coming after, the experiment was quickly made; for the king persuing his encroachments upon the church, and being possest with a belief that pursuant to their open professions they would submit to any thing, he made a beginning with them, in sending his positive command to one of his superintendent priests, or patriarchs, to forbid a certain ecclesiastick to officiate any more till his royal pleasure was known. now it happen'd very unluckily that this patriarch, tho' none of the most learned of his fraternity, yet had always been a mighty zealous promoter of this blind doctrin of non-resistance, and had not a little triumph'd over and insulted the crolian dissenters upon the notion of rebellion, antimonarchical principles and obedience, with a reserve for the laws, and the like, as a scandalous practice, and comprehensive of faction, sedition, dangerous to the church and state, and the like. this reverend father was singl'd out as the first mark of the king's design; the deluded prince believ'd he could not but comply, having so publickly profest his being all submission and absolute subjection; but as this was all conceit, he was pusht on to make the assault where he was most certain to meet a repulse; and this gentleman had long since thrown off the mask, so his first order was disobey'd. the patriarch pretended to make humble remonstrances, and to offer his reasons why he could not in conscience, as he call'd it, comply. the king, who was now made but a meer engine, or machine, screw'd up or down by this false counsellor to act his approaching destruction with his own hand, was prompted to resent this repulse with the utmost indignation, to reject all manner of submissions, excuses or arguments, or any thing but an immediate, absolute compliance, according to the doctrin so often inculcated; and this he run on so high, as to put the patriarch in prison for contumacy. the patriarch as absolutely refus'd to submit, and offer'd himself to the decision of the law. now it was always a sacred rule in these lunar countries, that both king and people are bound to stand by the arbitrimnet of the law in all cases of right or claim, whether publick or private; and this has been the reason that all the princes have endeavour'd to cover their actions with pretences of law, whatever really has been in their design; for this reason the king could not refuse to bring the patriarch to a tryal, where the humour of the people first discover'd it self, for here passive obedience was try'd and cast, the law prov'd to be superior to the king, the patriarch was acquitted, his disobedience to the king justify'd, and the king's command prov'd unjust. the applause of the patriarch, the acclamations of the people, and the general rejoycings of the whole nation at this transaction, gave a black prospect to the abrograzians; and a great many of them came very honestly and humbly to the king and told him, if he continued to go on by these measures he would ruin them all; they told him what general alarm had been over the whole nation by the clamours of the clergy; and the beating of the concionazimir in all parts, inform'd him how the doctrin of absolute obedience was ridicul'd in all places, and how the clergy began to preach it back again like a witches prayer, and that it would infallibly raise the devil of rebellion in all the nation, they besought him to content himself with the liberty of their religion, and the freedom they enjoy'd of being let into places and offices of trust and honour, and to wait all reasonable occasions to encrease their advantages, and gradually to gain ground; they entreated him to consider the impossibility of reducing so mighty, so obstinate, and so resolute a nation all at once. they pleaded how rational a thing it was to expect that by degrees and good management, which by precipitate measures would be endanger'd and overthrown. had these wholsome counsels taken place in the king's mind he had been king to his last hour, and the solunarians and crolians too had been all undone, for he had certainly incroach'd upon them gradually, and brought that to pass in time which by precipitant measures he was not likely to effect. it was therefore a master-piece of policy in the solunarian church-men to place a feign'd convert near their prince, who shou'd always biass him with contrary advices, puff him up with vast prospect of success, prompt him to all extreams, and always fool him with the certainty of bringing things to pass his own way. these arts made him set light by the repulse he met with in the matter of the patriarch, and now he proceeds to make two attacks more upon the church; one was by putting some of his abrograzian priests into a college among some of the solunarian clergy; and the other was to oblige all the solunarian clergy to read a certain act of his council, in which his majesty admitted all the abrograzians, crolians, and all sorts of dissenters, to a freedom of their religious exercises, sacrifices, exorcisms, dippings, preachings, &c. and to prohibit the solunarians to molest or disturb them. now as this last was a bitter reproach to the solunarian church for all the ill treatment the dissenting crolians had receiv'd from them, and as it was exprest in the act that all such treatment was unjust and unchristian, so for them to read it in their temples, was to acknowledge that they had been guilty of most unjust and irreligious dealings to the crolians, and that their prince had taken care to do them justice. the matter of introducing the abrograzians into the colleges or seminaries of the solunarian priests, was actually against the sacred constitutions and foundation laws of those seminaries. wherefore in both these articles they not only disobey'd their prince, but they oppos'd him with those trifling things call'd laws, which they had before declar'd had no defensive force against their prince; these they had recourse to now, insisted upon the justice and right devolv'd upon them by the laws, and absolutely refus'd their compliance with his commands. the prince, pusht upon the tenters before, receiv'd their denial with exceeding resentment, and was heard with deep regret, to break out in exclamations at their unexpected faithless proceedings, and sometimes to express himself thus: horrid hypocrisy! surprizing treachery! is this the absolute subjection which in such numerous testimonials or addresses you profest, and for which you so often and so constantly branded the poor crolians, and told me that your church was wholly made up of principles of loyalty and obedience! but i'll be fully satisfied for this treatment. in the minute of one of those excursions of his passion, came into his presence the seemingly revolted lunarian noble man, and falling in with his present passions, prompts him to a speedy revenge; and propos'd his erecting a court of searches, something like the spanish inquisition, giving them plenipotentiary authority to hear and determine all ecclesiastical causes absolutely, and without appeal. he empower'd these judges to place by his absolute will, all the abrograzian students in the solunarian college, and tho' they might make a formal hearing for the sake of the form, yet that by force it should be done. he gave them power to displace all those solunarian clergy-men that had refus'd to read his act of demission to the abrograzian, and crolian dissenters, and 'twas thought he design'd to keep their revenues in petto, till he might in time fill them up to some of his own religion. the commission accordingly began to act, and discovering a full resolution to fulfil his command, they by force proceeded with the students of the solunarian college; and it was very remarkable, that even some of the solunarian patriarchs were of this number, who turn'd out their brethren the solunarian students, to place abrograzians in their room. this indeed they are said to have repented of since, but however, these it seems were not of the plot, and therefore did not foresee what was at hand. the rest of the patriarchs who were all in the grand design, and saw things ripening for its execution, upon the apprehension of this court of searches beginning with them, make an humble address to their prince, containing the reasons why they could not comply with his royal command.------ the incens'd king upbraided them with his having been told by them of their absolute and unreserv'd obedience, and refusing their submissions or their reasons, sent them all to jail, and resolv'd to have brought them before his new high court of searches, in order, as was believ'd, to have them all displac'd. and now all began to be in a flame, the sollicitations of the solunarian party, having obtain'd powerful relief abroad, they began to make suitable preparations at home. the gentry and nobility who the clergy had brought to join with them, furnish'd themselves with horses and arms, and prepar'd with their tenants and dependants to join the succours as soon as they should arrive. in short, the forreign troops they had procur'd, arriv'd, landed, and publish'd a long declaration of all the grievances which they came to redress. no sooner was this forreign army arriv'd with the prince at the head of them, but the face of affairs altred on a suddain. the king indeed, like a brave prince, drew all his forces together, and marching out of his capital city, advanced above stages, things they measure land with in those countries, and much about our furlong, to meet his enemy. he had a gallant army well appointed and furnish'd, and all things much superior to his adversary, but alas the poison of disobedience was gotten in there, and upon the first march he offer'd to make towards the enemy one of his great captains with a strong party of his men went over and revolted. this example was applauded all over the nation, and by this time one of the patriarchs, even the same mention'd before that had so often preacht non-resistance of princes, lays by his sacred vestments, mitre, and staff, and exchanging his robes for a soldier's coat, mounts on horseback, and in short, appears in arms against his lord.----- nor was this all, but the treacherous prelate takes along with him several solunarian lords, and persons of the highest figure, and of the houshold, and family of the king, and with him went the king's own daughter, his principle favourites and friends. at the news of this, the poor deserted prince lost all courage, and abandoning himself to despair, he causes his army to retreat without fighting a stroke, quits them and the kingdom at once, and takes sanctuary with such as could escape with him, in the court of a neighbouring prince. i have heard this prince exceedingly blam'd, for giving himself up to despair so soon. ----- that he thereby abandon'd the best and faithfullest of his friends, and servants, and left them to the mercy of the solunarians; that when all these that would have forsaken him were gone, he had forces equal to his enemies; that his men were in heart, fresh and forward; that he should have stood to the last; retreated to a strong town, where his ships rod, and which was over against the territories of his great allie, to whom he might have deliver'd up the ships which were there, and have thereby made him superior at sea to his enemies, and he was already much superior at land; that there he might have been reliev'd with forces too strong for them to match, and at least might have put it to the issue of a fair battle.------ others, that he might have retreated to his own court, and capital city, and taking possession of the citadel, which was his own, might so have aw'd the citizens who were infinitely rich, and numerous, with the apprehensions of having their houses burnt, they would not have dar'd to have declar'd for his enemies, for fear of being reduc'd to heaps and ruins; and that at last he might have set the city on fire in places, and left the solunarian church-men a token to remember their non-resisting doctrine by, and yet have made an easy retreat down the harbour, to other forts he had below, and might with ease have destroy'd all the shipping, as he went. 'tis confess'd had he done either, or both these things, he had left them a dear bought victory, but he was depriv'd of his counsellor, for as soon as things came to this height, the achitophel we have so often mention'd, left him also, and went away; all his abrograzian priests too fosook him, and he was so bereft of counsel that he fell into the hands of his enemies as he was making his escape, but he got away again, not without the connivance of the enemy, who were willing enough he should go; so he got a vessel to carry him over to the neighbouring kingdom, and all his armies, ships, forts, castles, magazines, and treasure, fell into his enemies hands. the neighbouring prince entertain'd him very kindly, cherish'd him, succour'd him, and furnish'd him with armies and fleets for the recovery of his dominions, which has occasion'd a tedious war with that prince, which continues to this day. thus far passive doctrins, and absolute submission serv'd a turn, bubl'd the prince, wheedled him in to take their word who profess'd it, 'till he laid his finger upon the men themselves, and that unravell'd all the cheat; they were the first that call'd in forreign power, and took up arms against their prince. nor did they end here, but all this scene being over, and the forreign prince having thus deliver'd them, and their own king being thus chas'd away, the people call themselves together, and as reason good, having been deliver'd by him from the miseries, brangles, oppressions, and divisions of the former reign, they thought they could do no less than to crown their deliverer; and having summon'd a general assembly of all their capital men, they gave the crown to this prince who had so generously sav'd them. and here again i heard the first king exceedingly blam'd for quitting his dominions, for had he staid here, tho' he had actually been in their hands, unless they wou'd have murther'd him, they could never have proceeded to the extremeties they did reach to, nor cou'd they ever have crown'd the other prince, he being yet alive and in his own dominions. but by quitting the country, they fix'd a legal period to their obedience, he having deserted their protection, and defence, and openly laid down the administration. but as these sort of politicks cannot be decided by us, unless we know the constitutions of those lunar regions, so we cannot pretend to make a decision of what might, or might not have happen'd. it remains to examine how those solunarians behav'd themselves, who had so earnedly cryed up the principles of obedience, and absolute submission. nothing was so ridiculous, now they saw what they had done, they began to repent, and upon recollection of thoughts some were so asham'd of themselves, that having broken their doctrin, and being now call'd upon to tranfpose their allegiance, truly they stopt in the mid-way, and so became martyrs on both sides. i can liken these to nothing so well as to those gentlemen of our english church, who tho' they broke into the principles of passive obedience by joining, and calling over the p. of o. yet suffer'd deprivations of benefices, and loss of their livings, for not taking the oath; as if they had not as effectually perjur'd themselves by taking up arms against their king, and joyning a forreign power, as they could possibly do afterward, by swearing to live quietly under the next king. but these nice gentlemen are infinitely outdone in these countries, for these solunarians by a true church turn, not only refuse to transpose their allegiance, but pretend to wipe their mouths as to former taking arms, and return to their old doctrins of absolute submission, boast of martyrdom, and boldly reconcile the contraries of taking up arms, and non-resistance, charging all their brethren with schism, rebellion, perjury, and the damnable sin of resistance. nor is this all, for as a great many of these solunarian church-men had no affection to this new prince, but were not equally furnished, or qualify'd for martyrdom with their brethren; they went to certain wise men, who being cunning at splitting hairs, and making distinctions, might perhaps furnish them with some mediums between loyalty and disloyalty; they apply'd themselves with great dilligence to these men, and they by deep study, and long search, either found or made the quaintest device for them that ever was heard of. by this unheard of discovery, to their great joy and satisfaction, they have arriv'd at a power, which all the wise men in our world could never pretend to, and which 'tis thought, could the description of it be regularly made, and brought down hither, would serve for the satisfaction and repose of a great many tender consciences, who are very uneasy at swearing to save their benefices. these great makers of distinction, have learn't to distinguish between active swearing, and passive swearing, between de facto loyalty, and de jure loyalty, and by this decent acquirement they obtain'd the art of reconciling swearing allegiance without loyalty, and loyalty without swearing, so that native and original loyalty may be preserv'd pure and uninterrupted, in spight of all subsequent oaths, to prevailing usurpations. many are the mysteries, and vast the advantages of this new invented method, mental reservations, inuendoes, and double meanings are toys to this, for they may be provided for in the litteral terms of an oath, but no provision can be made against this; for these men after they have taken the oath, make no scruple to declare, they only swear to be quiet, as long as they can make no disturbance; that they are left liberty still to espouse the interest and cause of their former prince, they nicely distinguish between obedience and submission, and tell you a slave taken into captivity, tho' he swears to live peaceably, does not thereby renounce his allegiance to his natural prince, nor abridge himself of a right to attempt his own liberty if ever opportunity present. had these neat distinctions been found out before, none of our solunarian clergy, no not the patriarchs themselves surely would have stood out, and suffer'd such depredations on their fortunes and characters as they did; they wou'd never have been such fools to have been turn'd out of their livings for not swearing, when they might have learnt here that they might have swore to one prince, and yet have retain'd their allegiance to another; might have taken an oath to the new, without impeachment of their old oaths to the absent prince.------- it is great pity these gentlemen had not gone up to the moon for instruction in this difficult case. there they might have met with excellent logicians, men of most sublime reasons, dr. overall, dr. sherlock, and all our nice examiners of these things wou'd appear to be no body to them; for as the people in these regions have an extraordinary eye-sight, and the clearness of the air contributs much to the help of their opticks, so they have without doubt a proportion'd clearness of discerning, by which they see as far into mill-stones, and all sorts of solids, as the nature of things will permit, but above all, their faculties are blest with two exceeding advantages. . with an extraordinary distinguishing power, by which they can distinguish even indivisibles, part unity it self, divide principles, and distinguish truth into such and so many minute particles, till they dwindle it away into a very nose of wax, and mould it into any form they have occasion for, by which means they can distinguish themselves into or out of any opinion, either in religion, politicks or civil right, that their present emergencies may call for. . their reasoning faculties have this further advantage, that upon occasion they can see clearly for themselves, and prevent others from the same discovery, so that when they have occasion to see any thing which presents for their own advantage, they can search into the particulars, make it clear to themselves, and yet let it remain dark and mysterious to all the world besides. whether this is perform'd by their exceeding penetration, or by casting an artificial veil over the understandings of the vulgar, authors have not yet determin'd; but that the fact is true, admits of no dispute. and the wonderful benefit of these things in point of dispute is extraordinary, for they can see clearly they have the better of an argument, when all the rest of the world think they have not a word to say for themselves: 'tis plain to them that this or that proves a thing, when nature, by common reasoning, knows no such consequences. i confess i have seen some weak attempts at this extraordinary talent, particularly in the disputes in england between the church and the dissenter, and between the high and low church, wherein people have tollerably well convinc'd themselves when no body else could see any thing of the matter, as particularly the famous mr. w---ly about the antimonarchical principles taught in the dissenters accademies; ditto in l----sly, about the dissenters burning the city, and setting fire to their own houses to destroy their neighbours; and another famous author, who prov'd that christopher love lost his head for attempting to pull down monarchy by restoring king charles the second. these indeed are some faint resemblances of what i am upon; but alas! these are tender sort of people, that han't obtain'd a compleat victory over their consciences, but suffer that trifle to reproach them all the while they are doing it, to rebel against their resolv'd wills, and check them in the middle of the design; from which interruptions arise palpitations of the heart, sickness and squeamishness of stomach; and these have proceeded to castings and vomit, whereby they have been forc'd sometimes to throw up some such unhappy truths as have confounded all the rest, and flown in their own faces so violently, as in spight of custom has made them blush and look downward; and tho' in kindness to one another they have carefully lickt up one anothers filth, yet this unhappy squeamishness of stomach has spoil'd all the design, and turn'd the appetites of their party, to the no small prejudice of a cause that stood in need of more art and more face to carry it on as it shou'd be with a thoro'-pac'd case-harden'd policy, such as i have been relating, is compleatly obtain'd in these regions, where the arts and excellencies of sublime reasonings are carried up to all the extraordinaries of banishing scruples, reconciling contradictions, uniting opposites, and all the necessary circumstances requir'd in a compleat casuist. 'tis not easily conceivable to what extraordinary flights they have carry'd this strength of reasoning, for besides the distinguishing nicely between truth and error, they obtain a most refin'd method of distinguishing truth it self into seasons and circumstances, and so can bring any thing to be truth, when it serves the turn that happens just then to be needful, and make the same thing to be false at another time. and this method of circumstantiating matters of fact into truth or falshood, suited to occasion, is found admirably useful to the solving the most difficult phanomena of state, for by this art the solunarian church made persecution be against their principles at one time, and reducible to practice at another. they made taking up arms, and calling in foreign power to depose their prince, consistent with non-resistance, and passive obedience; nay they went farther, they distinguisht between a crolian's taking arms, and a solunarians, and fairly prov'd this to be rebellion and that to be non-resistance. nay, and which exceeded all the power of human art in the highest degrees of attainment that ever it arriv'd to on our side the moon; they turn'd the tables so dexterously, as to argument upon one sort of crolians, call'd prestarians; that tho' they repented of the war they had rais'd in former times, and protested against the violence offer'd their prince; and after another party had in spight of them beheaded him, took arms against the other party, and never left contriving their ruin, till they had brought in his son, and set him upon the throne again. yet by this most dextrous way of twisting, extending, contracting, and distinguishing of phrases and reasoning, they presently made it as plain as the sun at noon day; that these prestarians were king-killers, common-wealths men, rebels, traytors, and enemies to monarchy; that they restor'd the monarchy only in order to destroy it, and that they preach'd up sedition, rebellion and the like: this was prov'd so plain by these sublime distinctions, that they convinc'd themselves and their posterity of it, by a rare and newly acquir'd art, found out by extraordinary study, which proves the wonderful power of custom, insomuch, that let any man by this method, tell a lye over a certain number of times, he shall arrive to a satisfaction of its certainty, tho' he knew it to be a fiction before, and shall freely tell it for a truth all his life after. thus the prestarians were call'd the murtherers of the father, tho' they restor'd the son, and all the testimonials of their sufferings, protests and insurrections to prevent his death, signify'd nothing, for this method of distinguishing has that powerful charm in it, that all those trifles we call proofs and demonstration were of no use in that case. custom brought the story up to a truth, and in an instant all the crolians were hookt in under the general name of prestarians, at the same time to hook all parties in the crime. now as it happen'd at last that these solunarian gentlemen found it necessary to do the same thing themselves, viz. to lay aside their loyalty, depose, fight against, shoot bullets at, and throw bombs at their king till they frighted him away, and sent him abroad to beg his bread. the crolians began to take heart and tell them, now they ought to be friends with them, and tell them no more of rebellion and disloyalty; nay, they carry'd it so far as to challenge them to bring their loyalty to the test, and compare crolian loyalty and solunarian loyalty together, and see who had rais'd more wars, taken up arms oftenest, or appear'd in most rebellions against their kings; nay, who had kill'd most kings, the crolians or the solunarians, for there having been then newly fought a great battle between the solunarian church-men under their new prince, and the armies of foreign succours under their old king, in which their old king was beaten and forc'd to flie a second time, the crolians told them that every bullet they shot at the battle was as much a murthering their king, as cutting off the head with a hatchet was a killing his father. these arguments in our world would have been unanswerable, but when they came to be brought to the test of lunar reasoning, alas they signify'd nothing; they distinguisht and distinguisht till they brought the prestarian war to be meer rebellion, king-killing, bloody and unnatural; and the solunarian fighting against their king, and turning him adrift to seek his fortune, no prejudice at all to their loyalty, no, nor to the famous doctrine of passive obedience and absolute subjection. when i saw this, i really bewail'd the unhappiness of some of our gentlemen in england, who standing exceedingly in need of such a wonderful dexterity of argument to defend their share in our late revolution, and to reconcile it to their anticedent and subsequent conduct, should not be furnish'd from this more accurate world with the suitable powers, in order the better to defend them against the banter and just raillery of their ill-natur'd enemies the whigs. by this they might have attained suitable reserves of argument to distinguish themselves out of their loyalty, and into their loyalty, as occasion presented to dismiss this prince, and entertain that, as they found it to their purpose; but above all, they might have learnt a way how to justify swearing to one king and praying for another, eating one prince's bread and doing another prince's work, serving one king they don't love and loving another they don't serve; they might easily reconcile the schisms of the church, and prove they are still loyal subjects to king james, while they are only forc'd bonds-men to the act of settlement, for the sake of that comfortable importance, call'd food and rainment; and thus their reputation might have been sav'd, which is most unhappily tarnish'd and blur'd, with the malicious attacks of the whigs on one hand, and the non-jurants on the other. these tax them as above with rebellion by their own principles, and contradicting the doctrin of passive submission and non-resistance, by taking up arms against their prince, calling in a foreign power, and deposing him: they charge them with killing the lord's anointed, by shooting at him at the boyn, where if he was not kill'd it was his own fault, at least 'tis plain 'twas none of theirs. on the other hand, the non jurant clergy charge them with schism, declare the whole church of england schismaticks, and breakers off from the general union of the church, in renouncing their allegiance, and swearing to another power, their former prince being yet alive. 'tis confest all the answers they have been able to make to these things, are very weak and mean, unworthy men of their rank and capacities, and 'tis pity they should not be assisted by some kind communication of these lunar arguments and distinctions, without which, and till they can obtain which, a conforming jacobite must be the absurdest contradiction in nature; a thing that admits of no manner of defence, no, not by the people themselves, and which they would willingly abandon, but that they can find no side to join with them. the dissenting jacobites have some plea for themselves, for let their opinion be never so repugnant to their own interest, or general vogue, they are faithful to some thing, and they wont joyn with these people, because they have perjur'd their faith, and yet pretend to adhere to it at the same time. the conforming whigs won't receive them, because they pretend to rail at the government they have sworn to, and espouse the interest they have sworn against; so that these poor creatures have but one way left them, which is to go along with me, next time i travel to the moon, and that will most certainly do their business, for when they come down again, they will be quite another sort of men, the distinctions, the power of argument, the way of reasoning, they will be then furnish'd with will quite change the scene of the world with them, they'll certainly be able to prove they are the only people, both in justice, in politicks and in prudence; that the extremities of every side are in the wrong, they'll prove their loyalty preserv'd, untainted, thro' all the swearings, fightings, shootings and the like, and no body will be able to come to the test with them; so that upon the whole, they are all distracted if they don't go up to the moon for illumination, and that they may easily do in the next consolidator. but as this is a very long digression, and for which i am to beg my reader's pardon, being an error i slipt into from my abundant respect to these gentlemen, and for their particular instruction, i shall endeavour to make my reader amends, by keeping more close to my subject. to return therefore to the historical part of the solunarian church-men, in the world in the moon. having as is related depos'd their king, and plac'd the crown upon the head of the prince that came to their assistance, a new scene began all over the kingdom. . a terrible and bloody war began thro' all the parts of the lunar world, where their banish'd prince and his new allie had any interest; and the new king having a universal character over all the northern kingdoms of the moon, he brought in a great many potent kings, princes, emperors and states, to take part with him, and so it became the most general war that had happen'd in those ages. i did not trouble my self to enquire into the particular successes of this war, but at what had a more particular regard to the country from whence i came, and for whose instruction i have design'd these sheets, the strife of parties, the internal feuds at home, and their analogy to ours; and whatever is instructively to be deduced from them, was the subject of immediate inquiry. no sooner was this prince plac'd on the throne, but according to his promises to them that invited him over, he conven'd the estates of the realm, and giving them free liberty to make, alter, add or repeal, all such laws as they thought fit, it must be their own fault if they did not establish themselves upon such foundation of liberty, and right, as they desir'd; for he gave them their full swing, never interpos'd one negative upon them for several years, and let them do almost every thing they pleas'd. this full liberty had like to have spoil'd all, for as is before noted, this nation had one unhappy quality they could never be broke of, always to be falling out one among another. the crolians, according to capitulation, demanded the full liberty and toleration of religion, which the solunarians had condition'd with them for, when they drew them off from joyning with the old king, and when they promis'd to come to a temper, and to be brethren in peace and love ever after. nor were the solunarian church-men backward, either to remember, or perform the conditions but by the consent of the king, who had been by agreement made guarantee of their former stipulations, an act was drawn up in full form, and as compleat, as both satisfy'd the desires of the crolians, and testify'd the honesty and probity of the solunarians, as they were abstractedly and moderately consider'd. during the whole reign of this king, this union of parties continu'd without any considerable interruption, there was indeed brooding mischiefs which hovered over every accident, in order to generate strife, but the candor of the prince, and the prudence of his ministers, kept it under for a long time. at last an occasion offer'd it self, which gave an unhappy stroke to the nation's peace. the king thro' innumerable hazards, terrible battles and a twelve years war, had reduc'd his powerful adversary to such a necessity of peace, that he became content to abandon the fugitive king, and to own the title of this warlike prince; and upon these, among various other conditions, very honourable for him, and his allies, and by which vast conquests were surrendred, and disgorg'd to the losers, a peace was made to the universal satisfaction of all those parts of the moon that had been involv'd in a tiresome and expensive war. this peace was no sooner made, but the inhabitants of this unhappy country, according to the constant practice of the place, fell out in the most horrid manner among themselves, and with the very prince that had done all these great things for them; and i cannot forget how the old gentleman i had these relations from, being once deeply engag'd in discourse with some senators of that country, and hearing them reproach the memory of that prince from whom they receiv'd so much, and on the foot of whose gallantry and merit the constitution then subsisted, it put him into some heat, and he told them to their faces that they were guilty both of murther and ingratitude. i thought the charge was very high, but as they return'd upon him, and challeng'd him to make it out, he answer'd he was ready to do it, and went on thus. his majesty, said he, left a quiet, retir'd, compleatly happy condition, full of honour, belov'd of his country, vallu'd and esteem'd, as well as fear'd by his enemies, to come over hither at your own request, to deliver you from the encroachments and tyranny as you call'd it, of your prince. ever since he came hither, he has been your meer journy-man, your servant, your souldier of fortune, he has fought for you, fatigu'd and harras'd his person, and rob'd himself of all his peace for you; he has been in a constant hurry, and run thro' a million of hazards for you; he has convers'd with fire and blood, storms at sea, camps and trenches ashore, and given himself no rest for twelve years, and all for your use, safety and repose: in requital of which, he has been always treated with jealousies, and suspitions, with reproaches, and abuses of all sorts, and on all occasions, till the ungrateful treatment of the solunarians eat into his very soul, tir'd it with serving an unthankful nation, and absolutely broke his heart; for which reason i think him as much murther'd as his predecessor was, whose head was cut off by his subjects. i could not when this was over, but ask the old gentlemen, what was the reason of his exclamation, and how it was the people treated their prince upon this occasion? he told me it was a grievous subject, and a long one, and too long to rehearse, but he would give me a short abridgment of it; and not to look back into his wars, in which he was abominably ill serv'd, his subjects constantly ill treated him in giving him supplies too late, that he cou'd not get into the field, nor forward his preparations in time to be ready for his enemies, who frequently were ready to insult him in his quarters. by giving him sham taxes and funds, that raised little or no mony, by which he having borrow'd mony of his people by anticipation, the funds not answering, he contracted such vast debts as the nation could never pay which brought the war into disrepute, sunk the credit of his exchequer, and fill'd the nation with murmurs and complaint. by betraying his counsel and well laid designs to his enemies, selling their native country to foreigners, retarding their navies and expeditions, till the enemies were provided to receive them, betraying their merchants and trade, spending vast sums to fit out fleets, just time enough to go abroad, and do nothing, and then get home again. but as these were too numerous evils, and too long to repeat, the particular things he related to in his discourse, were these that follow. there had been a hasty peace concluded with a furious and powerful enemy, the king foresaw it would be of no continnuace, and that the demise of a neighbouring king, who by all appearance could not live long, would certainly embroil them again.----- he saw that prince keep up numerous legions of forces, in order to be in a posture to break the peace with advantage. this the king fairly represented to them, and told them the necessity of keeping up such a force, and for such a time, at least as might be necessary to awe the enemy from putting any affront upon them in case of the death of that prince, which they daily expected. the party who had all along malign'd the prosperity of this prince, took fire at the offer, and here began another state plot, which tho' it hookt in two or three sets of men for different ends, yet altogether join'd in affronting and ill treating their prince, upon this article of the army. the nation had been in danger enough from the designs of former princes invading their priviledges, and putting themselves in a posture to tyrannize by the help of standing forces, and the party that first took fire at this proposal tho' the very same men who in the time of an abrogratzian prince, were for caressing him, and giving him thanks for his standing army, as has been noted before, were the very people that began the outcry against this demand, and so specious were the pretences they made, that they drew in the very crolians themselves upon the pretence of liberty, and exemption from arbitrary methods of government to oppose their king. it griev'd this good prince to be suspected of tyrannick designs, and that by a nation who he had done so much, and ventur'd so far to save from tyranny, and standing armies; 'twas in vain he represented to them the pressing occasion; in vain he gave them a description of approaching dangers, and the threatning posture of the enemies armies; in vain he told them of the probabilities of renewing the war, and how keeping but a needful force might be a means of preventing it; in vain he propos'd the subjecting what force should be necessary to the absolute power, both as to time and number of their own cortez or national assembly. it was all one, the design being form'd in the breasts of those who were neither friends to the nation, nor the king, those reasons which would have been of force in another case, made them the more eager; bitter reflections were made on the king, and scurrilous lampoons publish'd upon the subject of tyrants, and governing by armies. nothing could be more ungrateful to a generous prince, nor could any thing more deeply affect this king, than whom none ever had a more genuine, single-hearted design for the peoples good, but above all, like casar in the case of brutus, it heartily mov'd him to find himself push'd at by those very people whom he had all along seen, pretending to adhere to his interest, and the publick benefit, which he had always taken care should never be parted, and to find these people join against this proposal, as a design against their liberties, and as a foundation of tyranny heartily and sensibly afflicted him. it was a strange mistery, and not easily unriddled, that those men who had always a known aversion to the interest of the depos'd king should fall in with this party, and those that were friends to the general good, never forgave it them. all that could be said to excuse them, was the plot i am speaking of, that by carrying this point for that party, they hookt in those forward people to join in a popular cry of liberty and property, things they were never fond of before, and to make some settlement of the peoples claims which they always had oppos'd, and which they would since have been very glad to have repeal'd. so great an ascendant had the personal spleen of this party over their other principles, that they were content to let the liberties of the people be declar'd in their highest claims, rather than not obtain this one article, which they knew would so exceedingly mortify their prince, and strengthen the nations enemies. they freely join'd in acts of succession, abjuration, declaration of the power and claims of the people, and the superiority of their right to the princes prerogative, and abundance of such things, which they could never be otherwise brought to. 'tis true these were great things, but 'twas thought all this might have been obtain'd in conjunction with their prince, rather than by putting affronts and mortifications upon the man that had next to the influence of heaven been the only agent of restoring them to a power and capacity of enjoying, as well as procuring, such things as national priviledges. 'twas vigorosly alledg'd that standing armies in times of peace, were inconsistent with the publick safety, the laws and constitutions of all the nations in the moon. but these allegations were strenuously answer'd, that it was true without the consent of the great national council, it was so, but that being obtain'd, it was not illegal, and publick necessities might make that consent, not only legal, but convenient. 'twas all to no purpose, the whole was carry'd with a torrent of clamour and reflection against the good prince, who consented, because he would in nothing oppose the current of the people; but withal, told them plainly what would be the consequences of their heat, which they have effectually found true since to their cost, and to the loss of some millions of treasure. for no sooner was this army broke, which was the best ever that nation saw, and was justly the terror of the enemy, but the great monarch we mention'd before, broke all measures with this prince and the confederate nations, a proof what just apprehensions they had of his conduct, at the head of such an army. for they broke with contempt, a treaty which the prince upon a prospect of this unkindness of his people had entred into with the enemy, and which he engag'd in, if possible, to prevent a new war, which he foresaw he should be very unfit to begin, or carry on, and which they would never have dar'd to break had not this feud happen'd. it was but a little before i came into this country, when such repeated accounts came, of the incroachments, insults and preparations of their great powerful neighbour, that all the world saw the necessity of a war, and the very people who were to feel it most apply'd to the prince to begin it. he was forward enough to begin it, and in compliance with his people, resolv'd on it; but the grief of the usage he had receiv'd, the unkind treatment he had met with from those very people that brought him thither, had sunk so deep upon his spirits, that he could never recover it; but being very weak in body and mind, and join'd to a slight hurt he receiv'd by a fall from his horse, he dyed, to the unspeakable grief of all his subjects that wish'd well to their native country. this was the melancholly account of this great prince's end, and i have been told that at once every year, there is a kind of fast, or solemn commemoration kept up for the murther of that former prince, who, as i noted, was beheaded by his subjects; so it seems some of the people, who are of opinion this prince was murther'd by the ill treatment of his friends, a way which i must own, is the cruellest of deaths, keep the same day, to commemorate his death, and this is a day, in which it seems both parties are very free with one another, as to rallery and ill language. but the friends of this last prince have a double advantage, for they also commemorate the birth day of this prince, and are generally very merry on that day; and the custom is at their feast on that day, just like our drinking healths, they pledge one another to the immortal memory of their deliverer; as the historical part of this matter was absolutely necessary to introduce the following remarks, and to instruct the ignorant in those things, i hope it shall not be thought a barren digression, especially when i shall tell you that it is a most exact representation of what is yet to come in a scene of affairs, of which i must make a short abstract, by way of introduction. the deceas'd prince we have heard of, was succeeded by his sister in-law, the second daughter of the banish'd prince, a lady of an extraordinary character, of the old race of their kings, a native by birth, a solunarian by profession; exceeding pious, just and good, of an honesty peculiar to her self, and for which she was justly belov'd of all sorts and degrees of her subjects. this princess having the experience of her father and grand-father before her, join'd to her own prudence and honesty of design; it was no wonder if she prudently shun'd all manner of rash counsels, and endeavour'd to carry it with a steady hand between her contending parties. at her first coming to the crown, she made a solemn declaration of her resolutions for peace and just government; she gave the crolians her royal word, that she would inviolably preserve the toleration of their religion and worship, and always afford them her protection, and by this she hop'd they would be easy. but to the solunarians, as those among whom she had been educated, and whose religion she had always profess'd, been train'd up in, and piously persued; she express'd her self with an uncommon tenderness, told them they should be the men of her favour, and those that were most zealous for that church should have most of her countenance; and she back'd this soon after with an unparallel'd act of royal bounty to them, freely parting with a considerable branch of her royal revenue, for the poor priests of that religion, of which there were many in the remote parts of her kingdom. what vast consequences, and prodigiously differing from the design, may words have when mistaken and misayplyed by the hearers. never were significant expressions spoken from a sincere, honest and generous principle, with a single design to ingage all the subjects in the moon, to peace and union, so perverted, misapply'd and turn'd by a party, to a meaning directly contrary to the royal thoughts of the queen: for from this very expression, most zealous, grew all the divisions and subdivisions in the solunarian church, to the ruin of their own cause, and the vast advantage of the crolian interest. the eager men of the church, especially those we have been talking of, hastily catch'd at this expression of the queen, most zealous, and millions of fatal constructions, and unhappy consequences they made of it, some of which are as follows. . they took it to imply that the queen whatever she had said to the crolians, really design'd their destruction, and that those that were of that opinion, must be meant by the most zealous members of the solunarian church, and they could understand zeal no otherwise than their own way. . from this speech, and their mistaking the words most zealous, arose an unhappy distinction among the solunarians themselves, some zealous, some more zealous, which afterwards divided them into two most opposite parties, being fomented by an accident of a book publish'd on an occasion, of which presently. the consequences of this mistake, appear'd presently in the most zealous, in their offering all possible insults to the crolian dissenters, preaching them down, printing them down, and talking them down, as a people not fit to be suffer'd in the nation, and now they thought they had the game sure. down with the crolians began to be all the cry, and truly the crolians themselves began to be uneasy, and had nothing to rely upon but the queens promise, which however her majesty always made good to them. the other party proceeded so far, that they begun to insult the very queen her self, upon the matter of her word, and one of her college-priests told her plainly in print, she could not be a true friend to the solunarian church, if she did not declare war against, and root out all the crolians in her dominions. but these proceedings met with a check, by a very odd accident: a certain author of those countries, a very mean, obscure and despicable fellow, of no great share of wit, but that had a very unlucky way of telling his story, seeing which way things were a going, writes a book, and personating this high solunarian zeal, musters up all their arguments, as if they were his own, and strenuously pretends to prove that all the crolians ought to be destroy'd, hang'd, banish'd, and the d----l and all. as this book was a perfect surprize to all the country, so the proceedings about it on all sides were as extraordinary. the crolians themselves were surpriz'd at it, and so closely had the author couch'd his design, that they never saw the irony of the stile, but began to look about them, to see which way they should fly to save themselves. the men of zeal we talk'd of, were so blinded with the notion which suited so exactly with their real design, that they hugg'd the book, applauded the unknown author, and plac'd the book next their oraclar writings, or laws of religion. the author was all this while conceal'd, and the paper had all the effect he wish'd for. for as it caus'd these first gentlemen to caress, applaud and approve it, and thereby discover'd their real intention, so it met with abhorrence and detestation in all the men of principles, prudence and moderation in the kingdom, who tho' they were solunarians in religion, yet were not for blood, desolation and persecution of their brethren, but with the queen were willing they should enjoy their liberties and estates, they behaving themselves quietly and peaceably to the government. at last it came out that it was writ by a crolian; but good god! what a clamour was rais'd at the poor man, the crolians flew at him like lightning, ignorantly and blindly, not seeing that he had sacrific'd himself and his fortunes in their behalf; they rumag'd his character for reproaches, tho' they could find little that way to hurt him; they plentifully loaded him with ill language and railing, and took a great deal of pains to let the world see their own ignorance and ingratitude. the ministers of state, tho' at that time of the fiery party, yet seeing the general detestation of such a proposal, and how ill it would go down with the nation, tho' they approv'd the thing, yet began to scent the design, and were also oblig'd to declare against it, for fear of being thought of the same mind. thus the author was proscrib'd by proclamation, and a reward of hecato's, a small imaginary coin in those parts, put upon his head. the cortez of the nation being at the same time assembled join'd in censuring the book, and thus the party blindly damn'd their own principles for meer shame of the practice, not daring to own the thing in publick which they had underhand profest, and the fury of all parties fell upon the poor author. the man fled the first popular fury, but at last being betraid fell into the hands of the publick ministry. when they had him they hardly knew what to do with him; they could not proceed against him as author of a proposal for the destruction of the crolians because it appear'd he was a crolian himself; they were loth to charge him with suggesting that the solunarian church-men were guilty of such a design, least he should bring their own writings to prove it true; so they fell to wheadling him with good words to throw himself into their hands and submit, giving him that geu-gau the publick faith for a civil and gentleman-like treatment; the man, believing like a coxcomb that they spoke as they meant, quitted his own defence, and threw himself on the mercy of the queen as he thought; but they abusing their queen with false representations, perjur'd all their promises with him, and treated him in a most barbarous manner, on pretence that there were no such promises made, tho' he prov'd it upon them by the oath of the persons to whom they were made. thus they laid him under a heavy sentence, fin'd him more than they thought him able to pay, and order'd him to be expos'd to the mob in the streets. having him at this advantage they set upon him with their emissaries to discover to them his adherents, as they call'd them, and promis'd him great things on one hand, threatning him with his utter ruin on the other; and the great scribe of the country, with another of their great courtiers, took such a low step as to go to him to the dungeon where they had put him, to see if they could tempt him to betray his friends. the comical dialogue between them there the author of this has seen in manuscript, exceeding diverting, but having not time to translate it 'tis omitted for the present; tho' he promises to publish it in its proper season for publick instruction. however for the present it may suffice to tell the world, that neither by promises of reward or fear of punishment they could prevail upon him to discover any thing, and so it remains a secret to this day. the title of this unhappy book was the shortest way with the crolians. the effects of it were various, as will be seen in our ensuing discourse: as to the author nothing was more unaccountable than the circumstances of his treatment; for he met with all that fate which they must expect who attempt to open the eyes of a nation wilfully blind. the hot men of the solunarian church damn'd him without bell, book, or candle; the more moderate pitied him, but lookt on as unconcern'd: but the crolians, for whom he had run this venture, us'd him worst of all; for they not only abandon'd him, but reproacht him as an enemy that would ha' them destroy'd: so one side rail'd at him because they did understand him, and the other because they did not. thus the man sunk under the general neglect, was ruin'd and undone, and left a monument of what every man must expect that serves a good cause, profest by an unthankful people. and here it was i found out that my lunar philosopher was only so in disguise, and that he was no philosopher, but the very man i have been talking of. from this book, and the treatment its author receiv'd, for they us'd him with all possible rigour, a new scene of parties came upon the stage, and this queen's reign began to be fill'd with more divisions and feuds than any before her. these parties began to be so numerous and violent that it endanger'd the publick good, and gave great disadvantages to the general affairs abroad. the queen invited them all to peace and union, but 'twas in vain; nay, one had the impudence to publish that to procure peace and union it was necessary to suppress all the crolians, and have no party but one, and then all must be of a mind. from this heat of parties all the moderate men fell in with their queen, and were heartily for peace and union: the other, who were now distinguish'd by the title of high solunarians, call'd these all crolians and low solunarians, and began to treat them with more inveteracy than they us'd to do the crolians themselves, calling them traytors to their country, betrayers of their mother, serpents harbour'd in the bosom, who bite, sting and hiss at the hand that succour'd them; and in short the enmity grew so violent, that from hence proceeded one of the subtilest, foolishest, deep, shallow contrivances and plots that ever was hatcht or set on foot by any party of men in the whole moon, at least who pretended to any brains, or to half a degree of common understanding. there had always been dislikes and distasts between even the most moderate solunarians and the crolians, as i have noted in the beginning of this relation, and these were deriv'd from dissenting in opinions of religion, ancient feuds, private interest, education, and the like; and the solunarians had frequently, on pretence of securing the government, made laws to exclude the crolians from any part of the administration, unless they submitted to some religious tests and ceremonies which were prescrib'd them. now as the keeping them out of offices was more the design than the conversion of the crolians to the solunarian church, the crolians, at least many of them, submitted to the test, and frequently conform'd to qualify themselves for publick employments. the most moderate of the solunarians were in their opinion against this practice, and the high men taking advantage of them, drew them in to concur in making a law with yet more severity against them, effectually to keep them out of employment. the low solunarians were easy to be drawn into this project, as it was only a confirming former laws of their own making, and all things run fair for the design; but as the high men had further ends in it than barely reducing the crolians to conformity, they coucht so many gross clauses into their law, that even the grandees of the solunarians themselves could not comply with; nay even the patriarchs of the solunarian church declar'd against it, as tending to persecution and confusion. this disappointment enrag'd the party, and that very rage entirely ruin'd their project; for now the nobility, the patriarchs, and all the wise men of the nation, joining together against these men of heat and fury, the queen began to see into their designs, and as she was of a most pious and peaceable temper, she conceiv'd a just hatred of so wicked and barbarous a design, and immediately dismiss'd from her council and favour the great scribe, and several others who were leaders in the design, to the great mortification of the whole party, and utter ruin of the intended law against the crolians. here i could not but observe, as i have done before in the case of the banish'd king, how impolitick these high solunarian church-men acted in all their proceedings, for had they contented themselves by little and little to ha' done their work, they had done it effectually; but pushing at extremities they overshot themselves, and ruin'd all. for the grandees and patriarchs made but a few trifling objections at first, nay and came off, and yielded some of them too; and if these would ha' consented to ha' parted with some clauses which they have willingly left out since, they had had it pass'd; but these were as hot men always are, too eager and sure of their game, they thought all was their own, and so they lost themselves. if they rail'd at the low solunarian church-men before, they doubled their clamors at them now, all the patriarchs, and all the nobility and grandees, nay even the queen her self came under their censure, and every body who was not of their mind were prestarians and crolians. as this rage of theirs was implacable, so, as i hinted before, it drove them into another subdivision of parties, and now began the mysterious plot to be laid which i mention'd before; for the cortez being summon'd, and the law being proposed, some of these high solunarians appear'd in confederacy with the crolians, in perfect confederacy with them, a thing no body would have imagin'd could ever ha' been brought to pass. now as these sorts of plots must always be carry'd very nicely, so these high gentlemen who confederated with the crolians, having, to spight the other, resolv'd effectually to prevent the passing the law against the qualification of the crolians, it was not their business immediately to declare themselves against it as a law, but by still loading it with some extravagance or other, and pushing it on to some intolerable extreme, secure its miscarriage. in the managing this plot, one of their authors was specially employ'd, and that all that was really true of the crolian dissenters might be ridicul'd, his work was to draw monstrous pictures of them, which no body could believe; this took immediately, for now people began to look at their shooes to see if they were not cloven footed as they went a long streets; and at last finding they were really shap'd like the rest of the lunar inhabitants, they went back to the author, who was a learned member of a certain seminary, or brother-hood of the solunarian clergy, and enquir'd if he were not mad, distracted and raving, or moon-blind, and in want of the thinking engine; but finding all things right there, and that he was in his senses, especially in a morning when he was a little free from, &c. that he was a good, honest, jolly, solunarian priest, and no room could be found for an objection there. upon all these searches it presently appear'd, and all men concluded it was a meer fanatick crolian plot; that this high party of all were but pretenders, and meer traytors to the true high solunarian church-men, that wearing the same cloth had herded among them in disguise, only to wheedle them into such wild extravagancies as must of necessity confuse their councils, expose their persons, and ruin their cause. ---- according to the like practice, put upon their abrograzian prince, and of which i have spoken before. and since i am upon the detection of this most refin'd practice, i crave leave to descend to some particular instances, which will the better evince the truth of this matter, and make it appear that either this was really a crolian plot, or else all these people were perfectly distracted; and as their wits in that lunar world, are much higher strain'd than ours, so their lunacy, where it happens, must according to the rules of mathematical nature, bear an extream equal in proportion. this college fury of a man was the first on whom this useful discovery was made, and having writ several learned tracts wherein he invited the people to murther and destroy all the crolians, branded all the solunarian patriarchs, clergy and gentry that would not come into his proposal, with the name of cowards, traytors and betrayers of lunar religion; having beat the concionazimir at a great assembly of the cadirs, or judges, and told them all the crolians were devils, and they were all perjur'd that did not use them as such: he carry'd on matters so dexterously, and with such surprizing success, that he fill'd even the solunarians themselves with horror at his proposals.----- and as i happen'd to be in one of their publick halls where all such writings as are new are laid a certain time to be read by every comer, i saw a little knot of men round a table, where one was reading this book. there were two solunarian high priests in their proper vestments, one privy councellor of the state, one other noble man, and one who had in his hat a token, to signifie that he possest one of the fine feathers of the consolidator, of which i have given the description already. the book being read by one of the habited priests, he starts up with some warmth, by the moon, says he, i have found this fellow out, he is certainly a crolian, a meer prestarian crolian, and is crept into our church only in disguise, for 'tis certain all this is but meer banter and irony to expose us, and to ridicule the solunarian interest. the privy councellor took it presently, whether he is a crolian or no, says he, i cannot tell, but he has certainly done the crolians so much service, that if they had hir'd him to act for them, they could not have desir'd he should serve them better. truly, says the man of the feather, i was always for pulling down the crolians, for i thought them dangerous to the state; but this man has brought the matter nearer to my view, and shown me what destroying them is, for he put me upon examining the consequences, and now i find it would be lopping off the limbs of the government, and laying it at the mercy of the enemy that they might lop off its head; i assure you he has done the crolians great service, for whereas abundance of our men of the feather were for routing the crolians, they lately fell down to or thereabouts. all this confirm'd the first man's opinion that he was a crolian in disguise, or an emissary employ'd by them to ruin the project of their enemies; for these crolians are damn'd cunning people in their way, and they have mony enough to engage hirelings to their side. another party concern'd in this plot was an old cast-out solunarian priest, who, tho' professing himself a solunarian, was turn'd out for adhering to the abrograzian king, a mighty stickler for the doctrin of absolute subjection. this man draws the most monstrous picture of a crolian that could be invented, he put him in a wolf's skin with long asses ears, and hung him all over full of associations, massacres, persecutions, rebellions, and blood. here the people began to stare again, and a crolian cou'd not go along the street but they were alway's looking for the long ears, the wolf's claws, and the like; 'till at last nothing of these things appearing, but the crolians looking and acting like other folks, they begun to examine the matter, and found this was a meer crolian plot too, and this man was hir'd to run these extravagant lengths to point out the right meaning. the discovery being made, people ever since understand him that when he talks of the dissenters associations, murthers, persecutions, and the like, he means that his readers should look back to the murthers, oppressions and persecutions they had suffered for several past years, and the associations that were now forming to bring them into the same condition again. from this famous author i could not but proceed to observe the farther progress of this most refin'd piece of cunning, among the very great ones, grandees, feathers, and consolidators of the country. for these cunning crolians manag'd their intriegues so nicely, that they brought about a famous division even among the high solunarian party themselves; and whereas the law of qualification was reviv'd again, and in great danger of being compleated; these subtle crolians brought over one hundred and thirty four of the feathers in the famous consolidator to be of their side, and to contrive the utter destruction of it; and thus fell the design which the high solunarian church men had laid for the ruin of the crolians interest, by their own friends first joyning in all the extremes they had proposed, and then pushing it so much farther, and to such mad periods that the very highest of them stood amaz'd at the design, startled, flew back and made a full stop; they were willing to ruin the crolians, but they were not willing to ruin the whole nation. the more these men began to consider, the more furiously these plotters carry'd on their extravagances; at last they made a general push at a thing in which they knew if the other high men joyn'd, they must throw all into confusion, bring a foreign enemy on their backs, unravel all the thread of the war, fight all their victories back again, and involve the whole nation in blood and confusion. they knew well enough that most of the high men would hesitate at this, they knew if they did not the grandees and patriarchs would reject it, and so they plaid the surest game to blast and overthrow this law, that could possibly be plaid. if any man, in the whole world in the moon, will pretend this was not a plot, a crolian design, a meer conspiracy to destroy the law, let him tell me for what other end could these men offer such extreams as they needs must know would meet with immediate opposition, things that they knew all the honest men, all the grandees, all the patriarchs, and almost all the feathers would oppose. from hence all the men of any fore-sight brought it to this pass, as is before noted, that either these one hundred and thirty four were fools or mad-men, or that it was a phanatick crolian plot and conspiracy to ruin the makeing this law, which the rest of the solunarian church men were very forward to carry on. i heard indeed some men argue that this could not be, the breach was too wide between the crolians and these gentlemen ever to come to such an agreement; but the wiser heads who argu'd the other way, always brought them, as is noted above, to this pinch of argument; that either it must be so, be a fanatick crolian plot, or else the men of fury were all fools, madmen, and fitter for an hospital, than a state-house, or a pulpit. it must be allow'd, these crolians were cunning people, thus to wheedle in these high flying solunarians to break the neck of their dear project. but upon the whole, for ought i cou'd see, whether it went one way or t'other, all the nation esteem'd the other people fools ------ fools of the most extraordinary size in all the moon, for either way they pull'd down what they had been many years a building. i cannot say that this was in kindness to the crolians, but in meer malice to the low solunarian party, who had the government in their hands, for malice always carries men on to monstrous extremes. some indeed have thought it hard to call this a plot, and a confederacy with the crolians.------ but i cannot but think it the kindest thing that can be said of them, and that 'tis impossible those people who push'd at some imaginary things in that law could but be in a plot as aforesaid, or be perfectly lunatick, down right mad-men, or traytors to their country, and let them choose which character they like. i cannot in charity but spare them their honesty, and their senses, and attribute it all to their policy. when i had understood all things at large, and found the exceeding depth of the design; i must confess the discovery of these things was very diverting, and the more so, when i made the proper reflections upon the analogy there seem'd to be between these solunarian high church-men in the moon, and ours here in england; our high church-men are no more to compare to these, than the hundred and thirty four, are to the consolidators. ours can plot now and then a little among themselves, but then 'tis all gross and plain sailing, down right taking arms, calling in foreign forces, assassinations and the like; but these are nothing to the more exquisite heads in the moon. for they have the subtillest ways with them, that ever were heard of. they can make war with a prince, on purpose to bring him to the crown; fit out vast navies against him, that he may have the more leisure to take their merchant men; make descents upon him, on purpose to come home and do nothing; if they have a mind to a sea fight, they carefully send out admirals that care not to come within half a mile of the enemy, that coming off safe they may have the boasting part of the victory, and the beaten part both together. 'twould be endless to call over the roll of their sublime politicks. they damn moderation in order to peace and union, set the house on fire to save it from desolation, plunder to avoid persecution, and consolidate things in order to their more immediate dissolution. had our high church-men been masters of these excellent arts, they had long ago brought their designs to pass. the exquisite plot of these high solunarians answer'd the crolians end, for it broke all their enemies measures, the law vanish'd, the grandees could hardly be perswaded to read it, and when it was propos'd to be read again, they hist at it, and threw it by with contempt. nor was this all; for it not only lost them their design as to this law, but it also absolutely broke the party, and just as it was with adam and eve, as soon as they sinn'd they quarrell'd, and fell out with one another; so, as soon as things came to this height, the party fell out one among another, and even the high men themselves were divided, some were for consolidating, and some not for consolidating, some were for tacking, and some not for tacking, as they were, or were not let into the secret. if this confusion of languages, or interest, lost them the real design, it cannot be a wonder; have we not always seen it in our world, that dividing an interest, weakens and exposes it? has not a great many both good and bad designs been render'd abortive in this our lower world, for want of the harmony of parties, and the unanimity of those concern'd in the design? how had the knot of rebellion been dissolv'd in england, if it had not been untied by the very hands of those that knit it? all the contrary force had been entirely broken and subdu'd, and the restoration of monarchy had never happen'd in england, if union and agreement had been found among the managers of that age. the enemies of the present establishment have shown sufficiently that they perfectly understand the shortest way to our infallible destruction, when they bend their principle force at dividing us into parties, and keeping those parties at the utmost variance. but this is not all, the author of this cannot but observe here that as england is unhappily divided among parties, so it has this one felicity even to be found in the very matter of her misfortunes, that those parties are all again subdivided among themselves. how easily might the church have crusht and subdu'd the dissenters if they had been all as mad as one party, if they had not been some high and some low church-men. and what mischief might not that one party ha' done in this nation, had not they been divided again into jurant jacobites and non-jurant, into consolidators and non-consolidators? from whence 'tis plain to me, that just as it is in the moon these consolidating church-men are meer confederates with the whigs; and it must be so, unless we should suppose them meer mad men that don't know what they are a doing, and who are the drudges of their enemies, and kno' nothing of the matter. and from this lunar observation it presently occur'd to my understanding, that my masters the dissenters may come in for a share among the moon-blind men of this generation, since had they done for their own interest what the laws fairly admits to be done, had they been united among themselves, had they form'd themselves into a politick body to have acted in a publick, united capacity by general concert, and as persons that had but one interest and understood it, they had never been so often insulted by every rising party, they had never had so many machines and intrigues to ruin and suppress them, they had never been so often tackt and consolidated to oppression and persecution, and yet never have rebell'd or broke the peace, incurr'd the displeasure of their princes, or have been upbraided with plots, insurrections and antimonarchical principles; when they had made treaties and capitulations with the church for temper and toleration, the articles would have been kept, and these would have demanded justice with an authority that would upon all occasions be respected. were they united in civil polity in trade and interest, would they buy and sell with one another, abstract their stocks, erect banks and companies in trade of their own, lend their cash to the government in a body, and as a body. if i were to tell them what advantages the crolians in the moon make of this sort of management, how the government finds it their interest to treat them civilly, and use them like subjects of consideration; how upon all occasions some of the grandees and nobility appear as protectors of the crolians, and treat with their princes in their names, present their petitions, and make demands from the prince of such loans and sums of mony as the publick occasions require; and what abundance of advantages are reapt from such a union, both to their own body as a party, and to the government also they would be convinc'd; wherefore i cannot but very earnestly desire of the dissenters and whigs in my own country that they would take a journy in my consolidator up to the moon, they would certainly see there what vast advantages they lose for want of a spirit of union, and a concert of measures among themselves. the crolians in the moon are men of large souls, and generously stand by one another on all occasions; it was never known that they deserted any body that suffer'd for them, my old philosopher excepted, and that was a surprize upon them. the reason of the difference is plain, our dissenters here have not the advantage of a cogitator, or thinking engine, as they have in the moon.----- we have the elevator here and are lifted up pretty much, but in the moon they always go into the thinking engine upon every emergency, and in this they out-do us of this world on every occasion. in general therefore i must note that the wisest men i found in the moon, when they understood the notes i had made as above, of the sub-divisions of our parties, told me that it was the greatest happiness that could ha' been obtained to our country, for that if our parties had not been thus divided, the nation had been undone. they own'd that had not their solunarian party been divided among themselves, the crolians had been undone, and all the moon had been involv'd in persecution, and been very probably subjected to the gallunarian monarch. thus the fatal errors of men have their advantages, the seperate ends they serve are not foreseen by their authors and they do good against the very design of the people, and the nature of the evil it self. and now that i may encourage our people to that peace and good understanding among themselves, which can alone produce their safety and deliverance; i shall give a brief account how the crolians in the moon came to open their eyes to their own interest, how they came to unite; and how the fruits of that union secur'd them from ever being insulted again by the solunarian party, who in time gave over the vain and fruitless attempt, and so a universal lunar calm has spread the whole moon ever since. if our people will not listen to their own advantages, nor do their own business, let them take the consequences to themselves, they cannot blame the man in the moon. to endeavour to bring this to pass, as these memoirs have run thro' the general history of the feuds and unhappy breaches between the solunarian church and the crolian dissenters in the world of the moon, it would seem an imperfect and abrupt relation, if i should not tell you how, and by what method, tho' long hid from their eyes, the crolians came to understand their own interest and know their own strength. 'tis true, it seem'd a wonder to me when i consider'd the excellence and variety of those perspective glasses i have mentioned, the clearness of the air, and consequently of the head, in this lunar world. i say it was very strange the crolians should ha' been moon blind so long as they were, that they could not see it was always in their power if they had but pursued their own interest, and made use of those, legal opportunities which lay before them, to put themselves in a posture, as that the government it self should think them a body too big to be insulted, and find it their interest to keep measures with them. it was indeed a long time before they open'd their eyes to these advantages, but bore the insults of the hair-brain'd party, with a weakness and negligence that was as unjustifiable in them, as unaccountable to all the nations of the moon. but at last, as all violent extremes rouze their contrary extremeties, the folly and extravagance of the high solunarians drove the crolians into their senses, and rouz'd them to their own interest, the occasion was among a great many others as follows. the eager solunarian could not on all occasions forbear to show their deep regret at the dissenting crolians enjoying the tolleration of their religion, by a law ---. and when all their legal attempts to lessen that liberty had prov'd abortive, her solunarian majesty on all occasions repeating her assurances of the continuance of her protection, and particularly the maintaining this tolleration inviolable. they proceeded then to show the remains of their mallice, in little insults, mean and illegal methods, and continual private disturbances upon particular persons, in which, however the crolians having recourse to the law, always found justice on their side, and had redress with advantage, of which the following instance is more than ordinarily remarkable. there had been a law made by the men of the feather, that all the meaner idle sort of people, who had no settel'd way of living should go to the wars, and the lazognians, a sort of magistrates there, in the nature of our justices of the peace, were to send them away by force. now it happen'd in a certain solunarian island, that for want of a better, one of their high priests was put into the civil administration, and made a lazognian.----- in the neighbourhood of this man's jurisdiction, one of their own solunarian priests had turn'd crolian, and whether he had a better tallent at performance, or rather was more diligent in his office is not material, but he set up a kind of a crolian temple in an old barn, or some such mechanick building, and all the people flock'd after him. this so provok'd his neighbours of the black girdle, an order of priests, of which he had been one, that they resolv'd to suppress him let it cost what it would. they run strange lengths to bring this to pass. they forg'd strange stories of him, defam'd him, run him into jayl upon frivolous and groundless occasions, represented him as a monster of a man, told their story so plain, and made it so specious, that even the crolians themselves to their shame, believ'd it, and took up prejudices against the poor man, which had like to ha' been his ruin. they proscrib'd him in print for crimes they could never prove, they branded him with forgery, adultery, drunkenness, swearing, breaking jayl, and abundance of crimes; but when matters were examin'd and things came to the test, they could never prove the least thing upon him.----- in this manner however they continually worryed the poor man, till they ruin'd his family and reduc'd him to beggary; and tho' he came out of the prison they cast him into by the meer force of innocence, yet they never left persuing him with all sorts of violence.------ at last they made use of their brother of the girdle who was in commission as above, and this man being high priest and lazonian too, by the first was a party, and by the last had a power to act the tragedy they had plotted against the poor man. in short, they seiz'd him without any crime alledg'd, took violently from him his licence, as a crolian priest, by which the law justify'd what he had done, pretending it was forg'd, and after very ill treating him, condemn'd him to the wars, delivers him up for a souldier, and accordingly carry'd him away. but it happen'd, to their great mortification, that this man found more mercy from the men of the sword, than from those of the word, and so found means to get out of their hands, and afterwards to undeceive all the moon, both as to his own character, and as to what he had suffer'd. for some of the crolians, who began to be made sensible of the injury done the poor man, advis'd him to have recourse to the law, and to bring his adversaries before the criminal bar. but as soon as this was done, good god! what a scene of villainy was here opened: the poor man brought up such a cloud of witnesses to confront every article of their charge, and to vindicate his own character, that when the very judges heard it, tho' they were all solunarians themselves, they held up their hands, and declar'd in open court it was the deepest track of villany that ever came before them, and that the actors ought to be made examples to all the moon. the persons concern'd, us'd all possible arts to avoid, or at least to delay the shame, and adjourn the punishment, thinking still to weary the poor man out.------ but now his brethren the crolians began to see themselves wounded thro' his sides, and above all, finding his innocence clear'd up beyond all manner of dispute, they espous'd his cause, and assisted him to prosecute his enemies, which he did, till he brought them all to justice, expos'd them to the last degree, obtain'd the reparation of all his losses, and a publick decree of the judges of his justification and future repose. indeed when i saw the proceedings against this poor man run to a heighth so extravagant and monstrous, when i found malice, forgery, subornation, perjury, and a thousand unjustifiable things which their own sense, if they had any, might ha' been their protection against, and which any child in the moon might ha' told them must one time or other come upon the stage and expose them; i began to think these people were all in the crolian plot too. for really such proceedings as these were the greatest pieces of service to the crolians as could possibly be done; for as it generally proves in other places as well as in the moon, that mischief unjustly contriv'd falls upon the head of the authors, and redounds to their treble dishonour, so it was here; the barbarity and inhumane treatment of this man, made the sober and honest part even of the solanarians themselves blush for their brethren, and own that the punishment awarded on them was just. thus the crolians got ground by the folly and madness of their enemies, and the very engines and plots laid to injure them, serv'd to bring their enemies on the stage, and expose both them and their cause. but this was not all, by these incessant attacks on them as a party, they began to come to their senses out of a year slumber, they found the law on their side, and the government moderate and just; they found they might oppose violence with law, and that when they did fly to the refuge of justice, they always had the better of their enemy; flusht with this success, it put them upon considering what fools they had been all along to bear the insolence of a few hot-headed men, who contrary to the true intent and meaning of the queen, or of the government, had resolv'd their destruction. it put them upon revolving the state of their own case, and comparing it with their enemies; upon examining on what foot they stood, and tho' establish'd upon a firm law, yet a violent party pushing at the overthrow of that establishment, and dissolving the legal right they had to their liberty and religion; it put them upon duly weighing the nearness of their approaching ruin and destruction, and finding things run so hard against them, reflecting upon the extremity of their affairs, and how if they had not drawn in the high church-champions to damn the projects of their own party, by running at such desperate extremes as all men of any temper must of course abhor, they had been undone; truly now they began to consider, and to consult with one another what was to be done. abundance of projects were laid before them, some too dangerous, some too foolish to be put in practice; at last they resolv'd to consult with my philosopher. he had been but scurvily treated by them in his troubles, and so universally abandon'd by the crolians, that even the solunarians themselves insulted them on that head, and laugh'd at them for expecting any body should venture for them again.----- but he forgetting their unkindness, ask'd them what it was they desir'd of him? they told him, they had heard that he had reported he could put the crolians in a way to secure themselves from any possibility of being insulted again by the solunarians, and yet not disturb the publick tranquility, nor break the laws; and they desir'd him, if he knew such a secret, he would communicate it to them, and they would be sure to remember to forget him for it as long as he liv'd. he frankly told them he had said so, and it was true, he could put them in a way to do all this if they would follow his directions. what's that, says one of the most earnest enquirers? ----- 'tis included in one word, says he, unite. this most significant word, deeply and solidly reflected upon, put them upon strange and various conjectures, and many long debates they had with themselves about it; at last they came again to him, and ask'd him what he mean't by it? he told them he knew they were strangers to the meaning of the thing, and therefore if they would meet him the next day he would come prepar'd to explain himself; accordingly they meet, when instead of a long speech they expected from him what sort of union he mean't, and with who, he brings them a thinking press, or cogitator, and setting it down, goes away without speaking one word. this hyerogliphical admonition was too plain not to let them all into his meaning; but still as they are an obstinate people, and not a little valuing themselves upon their own knowledge and penetration, they slighted the engine and fell to off-hand-surmises, guesses and supposes. . some concluded he mean't unite with the solunarian church, and they reflected upon his understanding, that not being the question in hand, and something remote from their intention, or the high solunarians desire. . some mean't unite to the moderate party of the solunarians, and this they said they had done already. at last some being very cunning, found it out, that it must be his meaning unite one among another; and even there again they misunderstood him too; and some imagin'd he mean't down right rebellion, uniting power, and mobbing the whole moon, but he soon convinc'd them of that too. at last they took the hint, that his advice directed them to unite their subdivided parties into one general interest, and to act in concert upon one bottom, to lay aside the selfish, narrow, suspicious spirit; three qualifications the crolians were but too justly charg'd with, and begin to act with courage, unanimity and largeness of soul, to open their eyes to their own interest, maintain a regular and constant correspondence with one another in all parts of the kingdom, and to bring their civil interest into a form. the author of this advice having thus brought them to understand, and approve his proposal, they demanded his assistance for making the essay, and 'tis a most wonderful thing to consider what a strange effect the alteration of their measures had upon the whole solunarian nation. as soon as ever they had settled the methods they resolv'd to act in, they form'd a general council of the heads of their party, to be always sitting, to reconcile differences, to unite parties, to suppress feuds in their beginning. they appointed general meetings in of the most remote parts of the kingdom, to be half yearly, and one universal meeting of persons deputed to concert matters among them in general. by that time these meetings had sat but once, and the conduct of the council of began to appear, 'twas a wonder to see the prodigious alteration it made all over the country. immediately a crolian would never buy any thing but of a crolian; would hire no servants, employ neither porter nor carman, but what were crolians. the crolians in the country that wrought and manag'd the manufactures, would employ no body but crolian spinners, crolian weavers, and the like. in their capital city the merchandizing crolians would freight no ships but of which the owners and commanders were crolians. they call'd all their cash out of the solunarian bank; and as the act of the cortez confirming the bank then in being seem'd to be their support, they made it plain that cash and credit will make a bank without a publick settlement of law; and without these all the laws in the moon will never be able to support it. they brought all their running cash into one bank, and settled a sub-cash depending upon the grand-bank in every province of the kingdom; in which, by a strict correspondence and crediting their bills, they might be able to settle a paper credit over the whole nation. they went on to settle themselves in all sorts of trade in open companies, and sold off their interests in the publick stocks then in trade. if the government wanted a million of mony upon any emergency, they were ready to lend it as a body, not by different sums and private hands blended together with their enemies, but as will appear at large presently, it was only crolian mony, and pass'd as such. nor were the consequences of this new model less considerable than the proposer expected, for the crolians being generally of the trading manufacturing part of the world, and very rich; the influence this method had upon the common people, upon trade, and upon the publick was very considerable every way. . all the solunarian trades-men and shop-keepers were at their wits end, they sat in their shops and had little or nothing to do, while the shops of the crolians were full of customers, and their people over head and ears in business; this turn'd many of the solunarian trades-men quite off of the hooks, and they began to break and decay strangely, till at last a great many of them to prevent their utter ruin, turn'd crolians on purpose to get a trade; and what forwarded that part of it was, that when a solunarian, who had little or no trade before, came but over to the crolians, immediately every body come to trade with him, and his shop would be full of customers, so that this presently encreas'd the number of the crolians. . the poor people in the countries, carders, spinners, weavers, knitters, and all sorts of manufacturers, run in crowds to the crolian temples for fear of being starv'd, for the crolians were two thirds of the masters or employers in the manufactures all over the country, and the poor would ha' been starv'd and undone if they had cast them out of work. thus infenfibly the crolians encreas'd their number. . the crolians being men of vast cash, they no sooner withdrew their mony from the general bank but the bank languisht, credit sunk, and in a short time they had little to do, but dissolv'd of course. one thing remain'd which people expected would ha' put a check to this undertaking, and that was a way of trading in classes, or societies, much like our east-india companies in england; and these depending upon publick privileges granted by the queen of the country, or her predecessors, no body could trade to those parts but the persons who had those priviledges: the cunning crolians, who had great stocks in those trades, and foresaw they could not trade by themselves without the publick grant or charter, contriv'd a way to get almost all that capital trade into their hands as follows. they concerted matters, and all at once fell to selling off their stock, giving out daily reports that they would be no longer concern'd, that it was a losing trade, that the fund at bottom was good for nothing, and that of two societies the old one had not per cent. to divide, all their debts being paid; that the new society had traded several years, but if they were dissolv'd could not say that they had got any thing; and that this must be a cheat at last, and so they resolv'd to sell. by this artifice, they daily offering to sale, and yet in all their discourse discouraging the thing they were to sell no body could be found to buy. the offering a thing to sale and no bidders, is a certain never-failing prospect of a lowring the price; from this method therefore the value of all the banks, companies, societies and stocks in the country fell to be little or nothing worth; and that was to be bought for or lunarians that was formerly sold at , and so in proportion of all the rest. all this while the crolians employ'd their emissaries to buy up privately all the interest or shares in these things that any of the solunarian party would sell. this plot took readily, for these gentlemen exposing the weakness of these societies, and running down the value of their stocks, and at the same time warily buying at the lowest prices, not only in time got possession of the whole trade, with their grants, privileges and stocks, but got into them at a prodigiously low and despicable price. they had no sooner thus worm'd them out of the trade, and got the greatest part of the effects in their own hands, and consequently the whole management, but they run up the price of the funds again as high as ever, and laught at the folly of those that sold out. nor could the other people make any reflections upon the honesty of the practice, for it was no original, but had its birth among the solunarians themselves, of whom or had frequently made a trade of raising and lowring the funds of the societies by all the clandestine contrivances in the world, and had ruin'd abundance of families to raise their own fortunes and estates. one of the greatest merchants in the moon rais'd himself by this method to such a heighth of wealth, that he left all his children married to grandees, dukes, and great folks; and from a mechanick original, they are now rankt among the lunarian nobility, while multitudes of ruin'd families helpt to build his fortune, by sinking under the knavery of his contrivance. his brother in the same iniquity, being at this time a man of the feather, has carry'd on the same intrieguing trade with all the face and front imaginable; it has been nothing with him to persuade his most intimate friends to sell, or buy, just as he had occasion for his own interest to have it rise, or fall, and so to make his own market of their misfortune. thus he has twice rais'd his fortunes, for the house of feathers demolisht him once, and yet he has by the same clandestine management work'd himself up again. this civil way of robbing houses, for i can esteem it no better, was carry'd on by a middle sort of people, call'd in the moon bloutegondegours, which which signifies men with two tongues, or in english, stock-jobbing brokers. these had formerly such an unlimited power and were so numerous, that indeed they govern'd the whole trade of the country; no man knew when he bought or sold, for tho' they pretended to buy and sell, and manage for other men whose stocks they had very much at command, yet nothing was more frequent than when they bought a thing cheap, to buy it for themselves; if dear, for their employer; if they were to sell, if the price rise, it was sold, if it fell, it was unsold; and by this art no body got any mony but themselves, that at last, excepting the two capital men we spoke of before, these govern'd the prizes of all things, and nothing could be bought or sold to advantage but thro' their hands; and as the profit was prodigious, their number encreas'd accordingly, so that business seem'd engross'd by these men, and they govern'd the main articles of trade. this success, and the imprudence of their conduct, brought great complaints against them to the government, and a law was made to restrain them, both in practice and number. this law has in some measure had its effect, the number is not only lessen'd, but by chance some honester men than usual are got in among them, but they are so very, very, very few, hardly enough to save a man's credit that shall vouch for them. nay, some people that pretend to understand their business better than i do, having been of their number, have affirm'd, it is impossible to be honest in the employment. i confess when i began to search into the conduct of these men, at least of some of them, i found there were abundance of black stories to be told of them, a great deal known, and a great deal more unknown; for they were from the beginning continually encroaching into all sorts of people and societies, and in conjunction with some that were not qualify'd by law, but meerly voluntarily, call'd in the moon by a hard long word, in english signifying projectors these erected stocks in shadows, societies in nubibus, and bought and sold meer vapour, wind, emptiness and bluster for mony, till they drew people in to lay out their cash, and then laught at them. thus they erected paper societies, linnen societies, sulphur societies, copper societies, glass societies, sham banks, and a thousand mock whimsies to hook unwary people in; at last sold themselves out, left the bubble to float a little in the air, and then vanish of it self. the other sort of people go on after all this; and tho' these projectors began to be out of fashion, they always found one thing or other to amuse and deceive the ignorant, and went jobbing on into all manner of things, publick as well as private, whether the revenue, the publick funds, loans, annuities, bear-skins, or any thing. nay they were once grown to that extravagant highth, that they began to stock-job the very feathers of the consolidator, and in time the king's employing those people might have had what feathers they had occasion for, without concerning the proprietors of the lands much about them. 'tis true this began to be notorious, and receiv'd some check in a former meeting of the feathers; but even now, when i came away, the three years expiring, and by course a new consolidator being to be built, they were as busie as ever. bidding, offering, procuring, buying, selling, and jobbing of feathers to who bid most; and notwithstanding several late wholesome and strict laws against all manner of collusion, bribery and clandestine methods, in the countries procuring these feathers; never was the moon in such an uproar about picking and culling the feathers, such bribery, such drunkenness, such caballing, especially among the high solunarian clergy and the lazognians, such feasting, fighting and distraction, as the like has never been known. and that which is very remarkable, all this not only before the old consolidator was broke up, but even while it was actually whole and in use. had this hurry been to send up good feathers, there had been the less to say, but that which made it very strange to me was, that where the very worst of all the feathers were to be found, there was the most of this wicked work; and tho' it was bad enough every where, yet the greatest bustle and contrivance was in order to send up the worst feathers they could get. and indeed some places such sorry, scoundrel, empty, husky, wither'd, decay'd feathers were offer'd to the proprietors, that i have sometimes wonder'd any one could have the impudence to send up such ridiculous feathers to make a consolidator, which, as is before observ'd, is an engine of such beauty, usefulness and necessity. and still in all my observation, this note came in my way, there was always the most bustle and disturbance about the worst feathers. it was really a melancholly thing to consider, and had this lunar world been my native country, i should ha' been full of concern to see that one thing, on which the welfare of the whole nation so much depended, put in so ill a method, and gotten into the management of such men, who for mony would certainly ha' set up such feathers, that wherever the consolidator should be form'd, it would certainly over-set the first voyage; and if the whole nation should happen to be embarkt in it, on the dangerous voyage to the moon, the fall would certainly give them such a shock, as would put them all into confusion, and open the door to the gallunarian, or any foreign enemy to destroy them. it was really strange that this should be the case, after so many laws, and so lately made, against it; but in this, those people are too like our people in england, who have the best laws the worst executed of any nation under heaven. for in the moon this hurry about choosing of feathers was grown to the greatest heighth imaginable, as if it encreast by the very laws that were made to suppress it; for now at a certain publick place where the bloutegondegours us'd to meet every day, any body that had but mony enough might buy a feather at a reasonable rate, and never go down into the country to fetch it; nay, the trade grew so hot, that of a sudden as if no other business was in hand, all people were upon it, and the whole market was chang'd from selling of bear-skins, to buying of feathers. some gave this for a reason why all the stocks of the societies fell so fast, but there were other reasons to be given for that, such as clubs, cabals, stock-jobbers, knights, merchants and thie---s. i mean a private sort, not such as are frequently hang'd there, but of a worse sort, by how much they merit that punishment more, but are out of the reach of the law, can rob and pick pockets in the face of the sun, and laugh at the families they ruin, bidding defiance to all legal resentment. to this height things were come under the growing evil of this sort of people. and yet in the very moon where, as i have noted, the people are so exceeding clear sighted, and have such vast helps to their perceptive faculties, such mists are sometimes cast before the publick understanding, that they cannot see the general interest. this was manifest, in that just as i came away from that country, the great council of their wise men, the men of the feather, were a going to repeal the old law of restraining the number of these people; and tho' as it was, there was not employment for half of them, there being in all, and not above honest ones; yet when i came away they were going to encrease their number. i have nothing to say to this here, only that all wise men that understand trade were very much concern'd at it, and lookt upon it as a most destructive thing to the publick, and forboding the same mischiefs that trade suffer'd before. it was the particular misfortune to these lunar people that this country had a better stock of governors in all articles of their well-fare, than in their trade; their law affairs had good judges, their church good patriarchs, except, as might be excepted; their state good ministers, their army good generals, and their consolidator good feathers; but in matters relating to trade, they had this particular misfortune, that those cases always came before people that did not understand them. even the judges themselves were often found at a loss to determine causes of negoce, such as protests, charter-parties, avarages, baratry, demorage of ships, right of detaining vessels on demorage, and the like; nay, the very laws themselves are fain to be silent and yield in many things a superiority to the custom of merchants. and here i began to congratulate my native country, where the prudence of the government has provided for these things, by establishing in a commission of trade some of the most experienc'd gentlemen in the nation, to regulate, settle, improve, and revive trade in general, by their unwearyed labours, and most consummate understanding; and this made me pity these countries, and think it would be an action worthy of this nation, and be spoken of for ages to come to their glory, if in meer charity they would appoint or depute these gentlemen to go a voyage to those countries of the moon, and bless those regions with the schemes of their sublime undertakings, and discoveries in trade. but when i was expressing my self thus, my philosopher interrupted me, and told me i should see they were already furnisht for that purpose, when i came to examine the publick libraries, of which by it self. but i was farther confirm'd in my observation of the weakness of the publick heads of that country, as to trade, when i saw another most preposterous law going forward among them, the title of which was specious, and contain'd something relating to employing the poor, but the substance of it absolutely destructive to the very nature of their trade, tending to transposing, confounding and destroying their manufactures, and to the ruin of all their home-commerce; never was nation so blind to their own interest as these lunarian law makers, and the people who were the contrivers of this law were so vainly conceited, so fond of the guilded title, and so positively dogmatick, that they would not hear the frequent applications of persons better acquainted with those things than themselves, but pusht it on meerly by the strength of their party, for the vanity of being authors of such a contrivance. but to return to the new model of the crolians. the advice of the lunarian philosopher run now thro' all their affairs, unite was the word thro' all the nation, in trade, in cash, in stocks, as i noted before. if a solunarian ship was bound to any out port, no crolian would load any goods aboard; if any ship came to seek freight abroad, none of the crolians correspondents would ship any thing unless they knew the owners were crolians; the crolian merchants turn'd out all their solunarian masters, sailors and captains from their ships; and thus, as the solunarians would have them be separated in respect of the government, profits, honours and offices, they resolv'd to separate in every thing else too, and to stand by themselves. at last, upon some publick occasion, the publick treasurers of the land sent to the capital city, to borrow lunarians upon very good security of establisht funds; truly no body would lend any mony, or at least they could not raise above a th part of that sum, enquiring at the bank, at their general societies cash, and other places, all was languid and dull, and no mony to be had; but being inform'd that the crolians had erected a bank of their own, they sent thither, and were answered readily, that whatever sum the government wanted, was at their service, only it was to be lent not by particular persons, but such a grandee being one of the prime nobility, and who the crolians now call'd their protector, was to be treated with about it. the government saw no harm in all this; here was no law broken, here was nothing but oppression answered with policy, and mischief fenc'd against with reason. the government therefore took no notice of it, nor made any scruple when they wanted any mony to treat with this nobleman, and borrow any sum of the crolians, as crolians; on the contrary in the name of the crolians; their head or protector presented their addresses and petitions, procur'd favours on one hand, and assistance on the other; and thus by degrees and insensibly the crolians became a politick body, settled and establish'd by orders and rules among themselves; and while a spirit of unanimity thus run thro' all their proceedings, their enemies could never hurt them, their princes always saw it was their interest to keep measures with them, and they were sure to have justice upon any complaint whatsoever. when i saw this, it forc'd me to reflect upon affairs in our own country; well, said i, 'tis happy for england that our dissenters have not this spirit of union and largeness of heart among them; for if they were not a narrow, mean-spirited, short-sighted, self-preserving, friend-betraying, poor-neglecting people, they might ha' been every way as safe, as considerable, as regarded and as numerous as the crolians in the moon; but it is not in their souls to do themselves good, nor to espouse, or stand by those that would do it for them; and 'tis well for the church-men that it is so, for many attempts have been made to save them, but their own narrowness of soul, and dividedness in interest has always prevented its being effectual, and discourag'd all the instruments that ever attempted to serve them. 'tis confest the case was thus at first among the crolians, they were full of divisions among themselves, as i have noted already of the solunarians, and the unhappy feuds among them, had always not only expos'd them to the censure, reproach and banter of their solunarian enemies, but it had serv'd to keep them under, prevent their being valued in the government, and given the other party vast advantages against. but the solunarians driving thus furiously at their destruction and entire ruin, open'd their eyes to the following measures for their preservation: and here again the high solunarians may see, and doubtless whenever they made use of the lunar-glasses they must see it, that nothing could ha' driven the crolians to make use of such methods for their defence, but the rash proceedings of their own warm men, in order to suppressing the whole crolian interest. and this might inform our country-men of the church of england, that it cannot but be their interest to treat their brethren with moderation and temper, least their extravagances should one time or other drive the other as it were by force into their senses, and open their eyes to do only all those things which by law they may do, and which they are laught at by all the world for not doing. this was the very case in the moon: the philosopher, or pretended-such as before, had often publish'd, that it was their interest to unite; but their eyes not being open to the true causes and necessity of it, their ears were shut against the council, till oppression and necessities drove them to it. accordingly they entred into a serious debate, of the state of their own affairs, and finding the advice given, very reasonable; they set about it, and the author gave them a model, entitl'd an enquiry into what the crolians may lawfully do, to prevent the certain ruin of their interest, and bring their enemies to peace. i will not pretend to examine the contents of this sublime tract; but from this very day, we found the crolians in the moon, acting quite on a different foot from all their former conduct, putting on a new temper, and a new face, as you have hear'd. all this while the hot solunarians cried out plots, associations, confederacies, and rebellions, when indeed here was nothing done but what the laws justify'd, what reason directed, and what had the crolians but made use of the cogitator, they would ha' done year before. the truth is, the other people had no remedy, but to cry murther, and make a noise; for the crolians went on with their affairs, and establisht themselves so, that when i came away, they were become a most solid, and well united body, made a considerable figure in the nation, and yet the government was easy; for the solunarians found when they had attain'd the utmost end of their wishes, her solunarian majesty was as safe as before, and the crolians property being secur'd, they were as loyal subjects as the solunarians, as consistent with monarchy, as useful to it, and as pleas'd with it. i cannot but remark here, that this union of the crolians among themselves had another consequence, which made it appear it was not only to their own advantage, but to the general good of all the natien. for, by little, and little, the feuds of the parties cool'd, and the solunarians began to be better reconcil'd to them; the government was easy and safe, and the private quarrels, as i have been told since, begin to be quite forgot. what blindness, said i to my self, has possest the dissenters in our unhappy country of england, where by eternal discords, feuds, distrusts and disgusts among themselves, they always fill their enemies with hopes, that by pushing at them, they may one time or other compleat their ruin; which expectation has always serv'd as a means to keep open the quarrel; whereas had the dissenters been united in interest, affection and mannagement among themselves, all this heat had long ago been over, and the nation, tho' there had been two opinions had retain'd but one interest, been joyn'd in affection, and peace at home been rais'd up to that degree that all wise men wish, as it is now among the inhabitants of the world in the moon. tis true, in all the observations i made in this lunar country, the vast deference paid to the persons of princes began to lessen, and whatever respect they had for the office, they found it necessary frequently to tell the world that on occasion, they could treat them with less respect than they pretended to owe them. for about this time, the divine right of kings, and the inheritances of princes in the moon, met with a terrible shock, and that by the solunarian party themselves; and insomuch that even my philosopher, and he was none of the jure divino men, neither declar'd, against it. they made crowns perfect foot-balls, set up what kings they would, and pull'd down such as they did not like, ratitione voluntas, right or wrong, as they thought best, of which some examples shall be given by and by. after i had thus enquir'd into the historical affairs of this lunar nation, which for its similitude to my native country, i could not but be inquisitive in; i wav'd a great many material things, which at least i cannot enter upon the relation of here, and began to enquire into their affairs abroad. i think i took notice in the beginning of my account of these parts, that i found them engag'd in a tedious and bloody war, with one of the most mighty monarchs of all the moon. i must therefore hint, that among the multitude of things, which for brevity sake i omit, the reader may observe these were some. . that this was the same monarch who harbour'd and entertain'd the abrogratzian prince, who was fled as before, and who we are to call the king of gallunaria. . i have omitted the account of a long and bloody war, which lasted a great many years, and which the present queens predecessor, mannag'd with a great deal of bravery and conduct, and finisht very much to his own glory, and the nations advantage. . i have too much omitted to note, how barbarously the high solunarian church men treated him for all his services, upbraided him with the expence of the war; and tho' he sav'd them all from ruin and abrogratzianism, yet had not one good word for him, and indeed 'tis with some difficulty that i pass this over, because it might be necessary to observe, besides what is said before, that ingratitude is a vice in nature, and practis'd every where, as well as in england. so that we need not upbraid the party among us with their ill treatment of the late king, for these people us'd their good king every jot as bad, till their unkindness perfectly broke his heart. here also i am oblig'd to omit the historical part of the war, and of the peace that follow'd; only i must observe that this peace was very precarious, short and unhappy, and in a few months the war broke out again, with as much fury as ever. in this war happen'd one of the strangest, unaccountable and most preposterous actions, that ever a people in their national capacity could be guilty of. certainly if our people in england, who pretend that kingship is jure divino, did but know the story of which i speak, they would be quite of another mind; wherefore i crave leave to relate part of the history, or original of this last war, as a necessary introduction to the proper observations i shall make upon it. there was a king of a certain country in the moon, call'd in their language, ebronia, who was formerly a confederate with the solunarians. this prince dying without issue, the great monarch we speak of, seiz'd upon all his dominions as his right.----- tho' if i remember right, he had formerly sworn never to lay claim to it, and after that by a subsequent treaty had agreed with the solunarian prince, that another monarch who claim'd a right as well as he, should divide it between them. the breach of this agreement, and seizing this kingdom, put almost all the lunar world into a flame, and war hung over the heads of all the northern nations of the moon, for several claims were made to the succession by other princes, and particularly by a certain potent prince call'd the eagle, of an ancient family, whose lunar name i cannot well express, but in english it signifies the men of the great lip; whether it was originally a sort of a nick name, or whether they had any such thing as a great lip hereditary to the family, by which they were distinguisht, is not worth my while to examine. 'tis without question that the successive right, if their lunar successions, are govern'd as ours are in this world, devolv'd upon this man with the lip and his families; but the gallunarian monarch brought things so to pass, by his extraordinary conduct, that the ebronian king was drawn in by some of his nobility, who this prince had bought and brib'd to betray their country to his interest, and particularly a certain high priest of that country, to make an assignment, or deed of gift of all his dominions to the grandson of this gallunarian monarch. by vertue of this gift, or legacy, as soon as the king dyed, who was then languishing, and as the other parry alledg'd, not in a very good capacity to make a will; the gallunarian king sent his grandson to seize upon the crown, and backing him with suitable forces, took possession of all his strong fortifications and frontiers. nor was this all, the man with the lip indeed talkt big, and threatned war immediately, but the solunarians were so unsettl'd at home, so unprepar'd for war, having but just dismist their auxiliar troops, and disbanded their own, and the prince was so ill serv'd by his subjects, that both he and a powerful neighbour, nations in the same interest, were meerly bullyed by this gallunarian; and as he threatned immediately to invade them, which they were then in no condition to prevent, he forc'd them both to submit to his demand, tacitely allow what he had done in breaking the treaty with him, and at last openly acknowledge his new king. this was indeed a most unaccountable step, but there was a necessity to plead, for he was at their very doors with his forces; and this neighbouring people, who they call mogenites, could not resist him without help from the solunarians, which they were very backward in, notwithstanding the earnest sollicitations of their prince, and notwithstanding they were oblig'd to do it by a solemn treaty. these delays oblig'd them to this strange step of acknowledging the invasion of their enemy, and pulling off the hat to the new king he had set up. 'tis true, the policy of these lunar nations was very remarkable in this case, and they out-witted the gallunarian monarch in it; for by the owning this prince, whom they immediately after declar'd a usurper, and made war against; they stopt the mouth of the gallunarian his grandfather, took from him all pretence of invading them, and making him believe they were sincere, wheedl'd him to restore several thousands of their men who he had taken prisoners in the frontier towns of the ebronians. had the gallunarian prince had but the forecast to ha' seen, that this was but a forc'd pretence to gain time, and that as soon as they had their troops clear and time to raise more, they would certainly turn upon him again, he would never ha' been put by with so weak a trifle as the ceremony of congratulation; whereas had he immediately pusht at them with all his forces, they must ha' been ruin'd, and he had carry'd his point without much interruption. but here he lost his opportunity, which he never retriev'd; for 'tis in the moon, just as 'tis here, when an occasion is lost, it is not easy to be recover'd, for both the solunarians and the mogenites quickly threw off the mask, and declaring this new prince an usurper, and his grandfather an unjust breaker of treaties, they prepar'd for war against them both. as to the honesty of this matter, my philosopher and i differ'd extremely, he exclaim'd against the honour of acknowledging a king, with a design to depose him, and pretending peace when war is design'd; tho' 'tis true, they are too customary in our world; but however, as to him i insisted upon the lawfulness of it, from the universal custom of nations, who generally do things ten times more preposterous and inconsistent, when they suit their occasions. yet i hope no body will think i am recommending them by this relation to the practice of our own nations, but rather exposing them as unaccountable things never to be put in practice, without quitting all pretences to justice and national honesty. the case was this. as upon the progress of matters before related, the solunarians and mogenites had made a formal acknowledgment of this new monarch, the grandson of the gallunarian king, so as i have hinted already, they had no other design than to depose him, and pull him down. accordingly, as soon as by the aforesaid wile they had gain'd breath, and furnisht themselves with forces, they declar'd war against both the gallunarian king, and his grandson, and entred into strict confederacy with the man of the great lip, who was the monarch of the eagle, and who by right of succession, had the true claim to the ebronian crowns. in these declarations they alledge that crowns do not descend by gift, nor are kingdoms given away by legacy, like a gold ring at a funeral, and therefore this young prince could have no right, the former deceas'd king having no right to dispose it by gift. i must allow, that judging by our reason, and the practice in our countries here, on this side the moon; this seem'd plain, and i saw no difference in matters of truth there, or here, but right and liberty both of princes and people seems to be the same in that world, as it is in this, and upon this account i thought the reasons of this war very just, and that the claim of right to the succession of the ebronian crown, was undoubtedly in the man with the lip, and his heirs, and so far the war was most just, and the design reasonable. and thus far my lunar companion agreed with me, and had they gone on so, says he, they had my good wishes, and my judgment had been witness to my pretences, that they were in the right. but in the prosecution of this war, says he, they went on to one of the most impolitick, ridiculous, dishonest, and inconsistent actions, that ever any nation in the moon was guilty of; the fact was thus. having agreed among themselves that the ebronian crown should not be possest by the gallunarian king's grandson, they in the next place began to consider who should have it. the man with the lip had the title, but he had a great government of his own, powerful, happy and remote, being as is noted, the lord of the great eagle, and he told them he could not pretend to come to ebronia to be a king there; his eldest son truly was not only declar'd heir apparent to his father, but had another lunarian kingdom of his own still more remote than that, and he would not quit all this for the crown of ebronia, so it was concerted by all the confederated parties, that the second son of this prince, the man with the lip, should be declar'd king, and here lay the injustice of all the case. i confess at my first examining this matter, i did not see far into it, nor could i reach the dishonesty of it, and perhaps the reader of these sheets may be in the same case; but my old lunarian friend being continually exclaiming against the matter, and blaming his country-men the solunarians for the dishonesty of it, but especially the mogenites, he began to be something peevish with me that i should be so dull as not to reach it, and askt me if he should screw me into the thinking-press for the clearing up my understanding. at last he told me he would write his particular sentiments of this whole affair in a letter to me, which he would so order as it should effectually open mine eyes; which indeed it did, and so i believe it will the eyes of all that read it; to which purpose i have obtain'd of the author to assist me in the translation of it, he having some knowledge also in our sublunar languages. the sustance of a letter, wrote to the author of these sheets, while he was in the regions of the moon. 'friend from the moon, 'according to my promise, i hereby give you a scheme of solunarian honesty, join'd with mogenite policy, and my opinion of the action of my country-men and their confederates, in declaring their new made ebronian king. 'the mogenites and solunarians are look'd upon here to be the original contrivers of this ridiculous piece of pageantry, and tho' some of their neighbours are suppos'd to have a hand in it, yet we all lay it at the door of their politicks, and for the honesty of it let them answer it if they can. ''tis observ'd here, that as soon as the king of gallunaria had declar'd that he accepted the will and disposition of the crown of ebronia, in favour of his grandson, and that according to the said disposition, he had own'd him for king; and in order to make it effectual, had put him into immediate possession of the kingdom. the mogenites and their confederates made wonderful clamours at the injustice of his proceedings, and particularly on account of his breaking the treaty then lately entred into with the king of the solunarians and the mogenites, for the settling the matter of right and possession, in case of the demise of the ebronian king. 'however, the king of gallunaria had no sooner plac'd his grandson on the throne, but the mogenites and other nations, and to all our wonder, the king of solunaria himself acknowledg'd him, own'd him, sent their ministers, and compliments of congratulation, and the like, giving him the title of king of ebronia. 'tho' this proceeding had something of surprize in it, and all men expected to see something more than ordinary politick in the effect of it, yet it did not give half the astonishment to the lunar world, as this unaccountable monster of politicks begins to do. 'we have here two unlucky fellows, call'd pasquin and marforio, these had a long dialogue about this very matter, and pasquin as he always lov'd mischief, told a very unlucky story to his comrade, of a high mogenite skipper, as follows. 'a mogenite ship coming from a far country, the custom house officers found some goods on board, which were controband, and for which they pretended the ship and goods were all confiscated; the skipper, or captain in a great fright, comes up to the custom-house, and being told he must swear to something relating to his taking in those goods, reply'd in his country jargon, ya, dat sall ick doen myn heer; or in english, ay, ay, i'll swear.----- but finding they did not assure him that it would clear his ship he scruples the oath again, at which they told him it would clear his ship immediately. hael, well myn heer, says the mogen man, vat mot ick sagen, ick sall all swear myn skip to salvare, i.e. i shall swear any thing to save my skip. 'we apply this story thus. 'if the mogenites did acknowledge the king of ebronia, we did believe it was done to save the skip; and when they reproacht the gallunarian king, with breaking the treaty of division, we us'd to say we would all break thro' twice as many engagements for half as much advantage. 'this setting up a new king, against a king on the throne, acknowledg'd and congratulated by them, is not only look'd on in the lunar world, as a thing ridiculous, but particularly infamous, that they should first acknowledge a king, and then set up the title of another. if the title of the first ebronian king be good, this must be an impostor, an usurper of another man's right; if it was not good, why did they acknowledge him, and give him the full title of all the ebronian dominions? caress and congratulate him, and make a publick action of it to his ambassador. 'will they tell us they were bully'd, and frighted into it? that is to own they may be hufft into an ill action; for owing a man in the posession of what is none of his own, is an ill thing, and he that may be hufft into one ill action, may by consequence be hufft into another, and so into any thing. 'what will they say for doing it? we have heard there has been in the world you came from, a way found out to own kings de facto, but not de jure; if they will fly to that ridiculous shift, let them tell the world so, that we may know what they mean, for those foolish things are not known here. 'if they own'd the king of ebronia voluntarily, and acknowledg'd his right as we thought they had; how then can this young gentleman have a title, unless they have found out a new division, and so will have two kings of ebronia, make them partners, and have a gallunarian king of ebronia, and a mogenite king of ebronia, both together? 'our lunar nations, princes and states, whatever they may do in your world, always seek for some pretences at least to make their actions seem honest, whither they are so or no; and therefore they generally publish memorials, manifesto's and declarations, of their reasons why, and on what account they do so, or so; that those who have any grounds to charge them with unjustice, may be answer'd, and silenc'd; 'tis for the people in your country, to fall upon their neighbours, only because they will do it, and make probability of conquest, a sufficient reason of conquest; the lunarian nations are seldom so destitute of modesty, but that they will make a shew of justice, and make out the reasons of their proceedings; and tho' sometimes we find even the reasons given for some actions are weak enough; yet it is a bad cause indeed, that can neither have a true reason, nor a pretended one. the custom of the moon has oblig'd us to show so much respect to honesty, that when our actions have the least colour of honesty, yet we will make reasons to look like a defence, whether it be so or no. 'but here is an action that has neither reality, nor pretence, here is not face enough upon it to bear an apology. first, they acknowledge one king, and then set up another king against him; either they first acknowledg'd a wrong king, and thereby became parties to a usurper, or they act now against all the rules of common justice in the world, to set up a sham king, to pull down a true one, only because 'tis their interest to have it so. 'this makes the very name of a solunarian scandalous to all the moon, and mankind look upon them with the utmost prejudice, as if they were a nation who had sold all their honesty to their interest; and who could act this way to day, and that way to morrow, without any regard to truth, or the rule of honour, equity or conscience; this is swearing any thing to save the skip; and never let any man reproach the gallunarian king with breaking the treaty of division, and disregarding the faith and stipulations of leagues; for this is an action so inconsistent with it self, so incongruous to common justice, to the reason and nature of things, that no history of any of these latter times can parallel it, and 'tis past the power of art to make any reasonable defence for it. 'indeed some lame reasons are given for it by our polititians. first, they say the prince with the great lip was extremely prest by the gallunarians at home in his own country, and not without apprehensions of seeing them e'er long, under the walls of his capital city. 'from this circumstance of the man with the lip, 'twas not irrational to expect that he might be induc'd to make a separate peace with the gallunarians, and serve them as he did once the prince of berlindia at the treaty of peace in a former war, where he deserted him after the solemnest engagements never to make peace without him; but his pressing occasions requiring it, concluded a peace without him, and left him to come out of the war, as well as he could, tho' he had come into it only for his assistance. now finding him in danger of being ruin'd by the gallunarian power, and judging from former practice in like cases, that he might be hurry'd into a peace, and leave them in the lurch; they have drawn him into this labrinth, as into a step, which can never be receded from without the utmost affront and disgrace, either to the family of the gallunarian, or of the lip; an action which in its own nature, is a defiance of the whole gallunarian power, and without any other manifesto, may be taken as a declaration from the house of the lip, to the gallunarian, that this war shall never end, till one of those two families are ruin'd and reduc'd. 'what condition the prince with the lip's power is in, to make such a huff at this time, shall come under examination by and by; in the mean time the solunarians have clench'd the nail, and secur'd the war to last as long as they think convenient. 'if the gallunarians should get the better, and reduce the man with the lip to terms never so disadvantageous, he cannot now make a peace without leave from the solunarians and the mogenites, least his son should be ruin'd also.----- or if he should make articles for himself, it must be with ten times the dishonour that he might have done before. 'politicians say, 'tis never good for a prince to put himself into a case of desperation. this is drawing the sword, and throwing away the scabbard; if a disaster should befal him, his retreat is impossible, and this must have been done only to secure the man with the lip from being hufft, or frighted into a separate peace. 'the second reason people here give, why the solunarians are concerning themselves in this matter, is drawn from trade. 'the continuing of ebronia in the hands of the gallunarians, will most certainly be the destruction of the solunarian and mogenites trade, both to that kingdom, and the whole seas on that side of the moon; as this article includes a fifth part of all the trade of the moon, and would in conjunction with the gallunarians at last bring the mastership of the sea, out of the hands of the other, so it would in effect be more detriment to those two nations, than ten kingdoms lost, if they had them to part with. 'this the solunarians foreseeing, and being extremely sensible of the entire ruin of their trade, have left no stone unturn'd to bring this piece of pageantry on the stage, by which they have hook'd in the old black eagle to plunge himself over head and ears in the quarrel, in such a manner, as he can never go back with any tolerable honour; he can never quit his son and the crown of ebronia, without the greatest reproach and disgrace of all the world in the moon. 'now whether one, or both of these reasons are true in this case, as most believe both of them to be true; the policy of my country-men, the solunarians is visible indeed, but as for their honesty, it is past finding out. 'but it is objected here, this son of the lip has an undoubted right to the crown of ebronia. we do not fight now to set up an usurper, but to pull down an usurper, and it has been made plain by the manifesto, that the giving a kingdom by will, is no conveyance of right; the prince of the eagle has an undoubted right, and they fight to maintain it. 'if this be true, then we must ask these high and mighty gentlemen how came they to recognize and acknowledge the present king on the throne? why did they own an usurper if he be such? either one or other must be an act of cowardize and injustice, and all the politicks of the moon cannot clear them of one of these two charges; either they were cowardly knaves before, or else they must be cunning knaves now. 'if the young eagle has an undoubted title now, so he had before, and they knew it as well before, as they do now; what can they say for themselves, why they should own a king, who they knew had no title, or what can they say for going to pull down one that has a title? 'i must be allow'd to distinguish between fighting with a nation, and fighting with the king. for example. our quarrel with the gallunarians is with the whole nation, as they are grown too strong for their neighbours. but our quarrel with ebronia is not with the nation, but with their king, and this quarrel seems to be unjust in this particular, at least in them who own'd him to be king, for that put an end to the controversy. ''tis true, the justice of publick actions, either in princes, or in states, is no such nice thing, that any body should be surpriz'd, to see the government forfeit their faith, and it seems the solunarians are no more careful this way, than their neighbours. but then those people should in especial manner forbear to reproach other nations and princes, with the breaches which they themselves are subject too. 'as to the eagle, we have nothing to say to the honesty of his declaring his son king of ebronia, for as is hinted before, he never acknowledg'd the title of the usurper, but always declar'd, and insisted on his own undoubted right, and that he would recover it if he could. 'without doubt the eagle has a title by proximity of blood, founded on the renunciation of the king of gallunaria formerly mention'd, and if the will of the late king be invalid, or he had no right to give the soveraignty of his kingdoms away, then the eagle is next heir. 'but as we quit his morals, and justify the honesty of his proceedings in the war, against the present king of ebronia, so in this action of declaring his second son. we must begin to question his understanding, and saying a respect of decency, it looks as if his musical head was out of tune, to illus tratellus. i crave leave to tell you a story out of your own country, which we have heard of hither. a french man that could speak but broken english, was at the court of england, when on some occasion he happen'd to hear the title of the king of england read thus, charles the ii. king of england, scotland france and ireland. 'vat is dat you say? says monsieur, being a little affronted, the man reads it again, as before. charles the second, king of england, scotland, france and ireland.------ charles the second, king of france! ma foy, says the french man, you can no read, charles the second, king of france, ha! ha! ha! charles the second, king of france, when he can catch. any one may apply the story, whether it was a true one or no. 'all the lunar world looks on it, therefore, as a most ridiculous, senseless thing, to make a man a king of a country he has not one foot of land in, nor can have a foot there, but what he must fight for. as to the probability of gaining it, i have nothing to say to it, but if we may guess at his success there, by what has been done in other parts of the moon, we find he has fought three campaigns, to lose every foot he had got. 'it had been much more to the honour of the eagle's conduct, and of the young hero himself, first to ha' let him ha' fac'd his enemy in the field, and as soon as he had beaten him, the ebronians would have acknowledg'd him fast enough; or his own victorious troops might have proclaim'd him at the gate of their capital city; and if after all, the success of the war had deny'd him the crown he had fought for, he had the honour to have shown his bravery, and he had been where he was, a prince of the great lip. a son of the eagle is a title much more honourable than a king without a crown, without subjects, without a kingdom, and another man upon his throne; but by this declaring him king, the old eagle has put him under a necessity of gaining the kingdom of ebronia, which at best is a great hazard, or if he fails to be miserably despicable, and to bear all his life the constant chagrin of a great title and no possession. 'how ridiculous will this poor young gentleman look, if at last he should be forc'd to come home again without his kingdom? what a king of clouts will he pass for, and what will this king-making old gentlemen, his father say, when the young hero shall tell him, your majesty has made me mock king for all the world to laugh at. ''twas certainly the weakest thing that could be, for the eagle thus to make him a king of that, which, were the probability greater than it is, he may easily, without the help of a miracle, be disappointed of. ''tis true, the confederates talk big, and have lately had a great victory, and if talk will beat the king of ebronia out of his kingdom, he is certainly undone, but we do not find the gallunarians part with any thing they can keep, nor that they quit any thing without blows; it must cost a great deal of blood and treasure before this war can be ended; if absolute conquest on one side must be the matter, and if the design on ebronia should miscarry, as one voyage thither has done already, where are we then? let any man but look back, and consider what a sorry figure your confederate fleet in your world had made, after their andalusian expedition, if they had not more by fate than conduct, chopt upon a booty at vigo as they came back. 'in the like condition, will this new king come back, if he should go for a kingdom and should not catch, as the french man call'd it. 'tis in the sense of the probability of this miscarriage, that most men wonder at these unaccountable measures, and think the eagles councils look a little wildish, as if some of his great men were grown dilirious and whymsical, that fancy'd crowns and kingdoms were to come and go, just as the great divan at their court should direct. this confusion of circumstances has occasion'd a certain copy of verses to appear about the moon, which in our characters may be read as follows. wondelis idulasin na perixola metartos, strigunia crolias xerin hytale fylos; farnicos galvare orpto sonamel egonsberch, sih lona sipos gullia ropta tylos. 'which may be english'd thus. casar you trifle with the world in vain, think rather now of germany than spain; he's hardly fit to fill th' eagle's throne, who gives new crowns, and can't protect his own. 'but after all to come closer to the point, if i can now make it out that whatever it was before, this very practice of declaring a second son to be king of ebronia, has publickly own'd the proceedings of the king of gallunaria to be just, and the title of his grandson to be much better than the title of the now declar'd king, what shall we call it then? 'in order to this, 'tis first necessary to examine the title of the present king, and to enter into the history of his coming to the crown, in which i shall be very brief. 'the last king of ebronia dying without issue, and a former renunciation taking place, the succession devolves on the house of the eagle as before, of whom the present eagle is the eldest branch. 'but the late king of ebronia, to prevent the succession of the eagle's line, makes a will, and supplies the proviso of renunciation by devising, giving or bequeathing the crown to the grandson of his sister. 'the king of gallunaria insists that this is a lawful title to the crown, and seizes it accordingly, inflating his grandson in the possession. 'the eagle alledges the renunciation to confirm his title as heir; and as to the will of the late king, he says crowns cannot descend by gift, and tho' the late king had an undoubted right to enjoy it himself, he had none to give it away. 'to make the application of this history as short as may be, i demand then what right has the eagle to give it to his second son? if crowns are not to descend by gift, he may have a right to enjoy it, but can have none to give it away, but if he has a right to give it away; so had the former king, and then the present king has a better title to it than the new one, because his gift was prior to this of the eagle. 'i would be glad to see this answer'd; and if it can't, then i query whether the eagle's senses ought not to be question'd, for setting up a title very foundation for which he quarrels at him that is in possession, and so confirm the honesty of the possessor's title by his own practice.? 'from the whole, i make no scruple to say that either the eagle's second son has no title to the kingdom of ebronia, or else giving of crowns is a legal practice; and if crowns may descend by gift, then has the other king a better title than he, because it was given him first, and the eagle has only given away what he had no right to, because 'twas given away before he had any title to it himself. 'further, the posterity of the eagle's eldest son are manifestly injur'd in this action, for kings can no more give away their crowns from their posterity, than from themselves; if the right be in the eagle, 'tis his, as he's the eldest male branch of the house of the great lip, not as he is eagle, and from him the crown of ebronia by the same right of devolution descends to his posterity, and rests on the male line of every eldest branch. if so, no act of renunciation can alter this succession, for that is a gift, and the gift is exploded, or else the whole house of the great lip is excluded; so that let the argument be turn'd and twisted never so many ways, it all centers in this, that the present person can have no title to the crown of ebronia. 'if he has any title, 'tis from the gift of his father and elder brother; if the gift of a crown is no good title, then his title cannot be good; if the gift of a crown is a good title, then the crown was given away before, and so neither he nor his father has any title. 'let him that can answer these paradoxes defend his title if he can; and what shall we now say to the war in ebronia, only this, that they are going to fight for the crown of ebronia? and to take it away from one that has no right to it, to give it to one that has a less right than he, and 'tis to be fear'd that if heaven be righteous, 'twill succeed accordingly. 'the gentlemen of letters who have wrote of this in our lunar world, on the subject of the gallunarians title, have took a great deal of liberty in the eagle's behalf, to banter and ridicule the gallunarian sham of a title, as if it were a pretence too weak for any prince to make use of, to talk of kings giving their crowns by will. kingdoms and governments, says a learned lunar author, are not things of such indifferent value to be given away, like a token left for a legacy. if any prince has ever given or transferr'd his government, it has been done by solemn act, and the people have been call'd to assent and confirm such concessions. 'then the same author goes on, to treat the king of gallunaria with a great deal of severity, and exposes his politicks, that he should think to put upon the moon with so empty, so weak, so ridiculous a pretence, as the will of a weak headed prince, who neither had a right to give his crown, nor a brain to know what he was doing, and he laughs to think what the king of gallunaria would have said to have such a dull trick as that, put upon him in any such case. 'now when we have been so witty upon this very article, of giving away the crown to the king of gallunaria's grandson, as an incongruous and ridiculous thing, shall we come to make the same incongruity be the foundation of a war? 'with what justice can we make a war for a prince who has only a good title, by vertue of the self same action which makes the grandson of his enemy have a bad title. 'i always thought we had a just ground to make war on ebronia, as we were bound by former alliances to assist the eagle in the recovery of it in case of the death of the late king of that country. 'but now the eagle has refus'd the succession, and his eldest son has refus'd it, i would be glad to see it prov'd how the second son can have a title, and yet the other king have no title. 'what a strange sort of a thing is the crown of ebronia, that two of the greatest princes of the lunar world should fight, not who shall have it, for neither of them will accept of it, but who shall have the power of giving it away. 'here are four princes refuse it; the king of gallunaria's sons had a title in right of their mother, and 'twas not the former renunciations that would have barr'd them, if this softer way had not been found out; for time was it has been pleaded on behalf of the eldest son of the gallunarian king, that his mother could not give away his right before he was born. 'then the eagle has a right, and under him his eldest son; and none of all these four will accept of the crown; i believe all the moon can't find four more that would refuse it. 'now, tho' none of these think it worth accepting themselves, yet they fall out about the right of giving it away. the king of gallunaria will not accept of it himself, but he gets a gift from the last incumbent. this, says the eagle, can't be a good title, for the late king had no right to make a deed of gift of the crown, since a king is only tennant for life, and succession of crowns either must descend by a lineal progression in the right of primogeniture, or else they lose the tenure, and devolve on the people. 'now as this argument holds good the eagle has an undoubted title to the crown of ebronia: but then, says his eaglish majesty, i cannot accept of the crown my self for i am the eagle, and my eldest son has two kingdoms already, and is in a fair way to be eagle after me, and 'tis not worth while for him, but i have a second son, and we will give it him. 'now may the king of gallunaria say, if one gift is good, another is good, and ours is the first gift, and therefore we will keep it; and tho' i solemnly declare i should be very sorry to see the crown of ebronia rest in the house of the gallunarian, because our trade will suffer exceedingly; yet if never so much damage were to come of it, we ought to do justice in the world; if neither the eagle nor his eldest son will be king of ebronia, but a deed of gift shall be made, the first gift has the right, for nothing can be given away to two people at once, and 'tis apparent that the late king had as much right to give it away as any body. 'the poor ebronians are in a fine condition all this while, that no body concerns them in the matter; neither party has so much as thought it worth while to ask them who they would have to reign over them, here has been no assembly, no cortez, no meeting of the people of ebronia, neither collectively or representatively, no general convention of the nobility, no house of feathers, but ebronia lies as the spoil of the victor wholly passive, and her people and princes, as if they were wholly unconcern'd, lie by and look on, whoever is like to be king, they are like to suffer deeply by the strife, and yet neither side has thought fit to consult them about it. 'the conclusion of the whole matter is in short this, here is certainly a false step taken, how it shall be rectify'd is not the present business, nor am i wise enough to prescribe. one man may do in a moment what all the lunar world cannot undo in an age. 'tis not be thought the eagle will be prevail'd on to undo it, nay he has sworn not to alter it. 'i am not concern'd to prove the title of the present king of ebronia, no, nor of the eagles neither; but i think i can never be answer'd in this, that this gift of the eagles to his second son is preposterous, inconsistent with all his claim to the crown, and the greatest confirmation of the title of his enemy that it was possible to give, and no doubt the gallunarians will lay hold of the argument. 'if this prince was the eagle's eldest son, he might have a just right from the concession of his father, because the right being inherent, he only receiv'd from him an investiture of time, but as this young gentleman is a second son he has no more right, his elder brother being alive, than your grand seignior, or czar of muscovy in your world. 'let them fight then for such a cause, who valuing only the pay, make war a trade, and fight for any thing they are bid to fight for, and as such value not the justice of the war, nor trouble their heads about causes and consequences, so they have their pay, 'tis well enough for them. 'but were the justice of the war examin'd, i can see none, this declaring a new king who has no right but by a gift, and pulling down one that had it by a gift before, has so much contradiction in it, that i am afraid no wise man, or honest man will embark in it. your humble servant, the man in the moon. i wou'd have no body now pretend to scandalize the writer of this letter, which being for the gallunarians, for no man in the moon had more aversion for them than he, but he would have had the war carry'd on upon a right bottom, justice and honesty regarded in it, and as he said often, they had no need to go out of the road of justice, for had they made war in the great eagle's name all had been well. nor was he a false prophet, for as this was ill grounded, so it was as ill carry'd on, met with shocks, rubs and disappointments every way. the very first voyage the new king made, he had like to ha' been drown'd by a very violent tempest, things not very usual in those countries; and all the progress that had been made in his behalf when i came away from that lunar world, had not brought him so much as to be able to set his foot upon his new kingdom of ebronia, but his adversary by wonderful dexterity, and the assistance of his old grandfather the gallunarian monarch, beat his troops upon all occasions, invaded his ally that pretended to assist him, and kept a quiet possession of all the vast ebronian monarchy; and but at last by the powerful diversion of the solunarian fleet, a shock was given them on another side, which if it had not happen'd, it was thought the new king had been sent home again re infecta. being very much shockt in my judgment of this affair, by these unanswerable reasons; i enquir'd of my author who were the directors of this matter? he told me plainly it was done by those great states men, which the solunarian queen had lately very justly turn'd out, whose politicks were very unaccountable in a great many other things, as well as in that. 'tis true, the war was carry'd on under the new ministry, and no war in the world can be juster, on account of the injustice and encroachment of the gallunarian monarch. the queen therefore and her present ministers, go on with the war on principles of confederacy; 'tis the business of the solunarians to beat the invader out, and then let the people come and make a fair decision who they will have to reign over them. this indeed justifies the war in ebronia to be right, but for the personal proceedure as before, 'tis all contradiction and can never be answer'd. i hope no man will be so malicious, as to say i am hereby reflecting on our war with spain. i am very forward to say, it is a most just and reasonable war, as to paralels between the case of the princes, in defending the matter of personal right, hic labor, hoc opus. thus however you see humanum eft errare, whether in this world or in the moon, 'tis all one, infallibility of councels any more than of doctrine, is not in man. the reader may observe, i have formerly noted there was a new consolidator to be built, and observ'd what struggle there was in the moon about choosing the feathers. i cannot omit some further remarks here, as . it is to be observ'd, that this last consolidator was in a manner quite worn out.----- it had indeed continu'd but year, which was the stated time by law, but it had been so hurry'd, so party rid, so often had been up in the moon, and made so many such extravagant flights, and unnecessary voyages thither, that it began to be exceedingly worn and defective. . this occasion'd that the light fluttering feathers, and the fermented feathers made strange work of it; nay, sometimes they were so hot, they were like to ha' ruin'd the whole fabrick, and had it not been for the great feather in the center, and a few negative feathers who were wiser than the rest, all the machines had been broke to pieces, and the whole nation put into a most strange confusion. sometimes their motion was so violent an precipitant, that there was great apprehensions of its being set on fire by its own velocity, for swiftness of motion is allow'd by the sages and so so's to produce fire as in wheels, mills and several sorts of mechanick engines which are frequently fir'd, and so in thoughts, brains, assemblies, consolidators, and all such combustible things. indeed these things were of great consequence, and therefore require some more nice examination than ordinary, and the following story will in part explain it. among the rest of the broils they had with the grandees, one happen'd on this occasion. one of the tacking feathers being accidentally met by a grandee's footman, whom it seems wanted some manners, the slave began to haloo him in the street, with a tacker, a tacker, a feather-fool, a tacker, &c. and so brought the mob about him, and had not the grandee himself come in the very interim, and rescu'd the feather, the mob had demolisht him, they were so enrag'd. as this gentleman-feather was rescu'd with great courtesie by the grandee, taken into his coach and carry'd home to his house, he desir'd to speak with the footman. the fellow being call'd in, was ask't by him who employ'd him, or set him on to offer him this insult? the footman being a ready bold fellow, told him no body sir, but you are all grown so ridiculous to the whole nation, that if the of you were left but to us footmen, and it was not in more respect to our masters, than you, we should cure you of ever coming into the consolidator again, and all the people in the moon are of our mind. but says the feather, why do you call me fool too? why sir, says he, because no body could ever tell us what it was you drove at, and we ha' been told you never knew your selves; now if one of you tacking feathers would but tell the world what your real design was, they would be satisfy'd, but to be leaders in the consolidator, and to act without meaning, without thought or design, must argue your' fools, or worse, and you will find all the moon of my mind. but what if we had a meaning, says the feather-man? why then, says the footman, we shall leave calling you fools, and call you knaves, for it could never be an honest one, so that you had better stand as you do: and i make it out thus. you knew, that upon your tacking the crolians to the tribute bill, the grandees must reject both, they having declar'd against reading any bills tackt together, as being against their priviledges. now if you had any design, it must be to have the bill of tribute lost, and that must be to disappoint all the publick affairs, expose the queen, break all measures, discourage the confederates, and putting all things backward, bring the gallunarian forces upon them, and put all solunaria into confusion. now sir, says he, we cannot have such course thoughts of you, as to believe you could design such dark, mischievous things as these, and therefore we chose to believe you all fools, and not fit to be put into a consolidator again; than knaves and traytors to your country, and consequently fit for a worse place. the plainness of the footman was such, and so unanswerable, that his master was fain to check him, and so the discourse broke off, and we shall leave it there, and proceed to the story. the men of the feather as i have noted, who are represented here by the consolidator, fell all together by the ears, and all the moon was in a combustion. the case was as follows. they had three times lost their quallifying law, and particularly they observ'd the grandees were the men that threw it out, and notwithstanding the plot of the tackers, as they call'd them, who were as i noted, observ'd to be in conjunction with the crolians, yet the law always past the feathers, but still the grandees quasht it. to show their resentment at the grandees, they had often made attempts to mortify them, sometimes arraigning them in general, sometimes impeaching private members of their house, but still all wou'd not do, the grandees had the better of them, and going on with regularity and temper, the consolidators or feather-men always had the worst, the grandees had the applause of all the moon, had the last blow on every occasion, and the other sunk in their reputation exceedingly. it is necessary to understand here, that the men of the feather serve in several capacities, and under several denominations, and act by themselves, singly consider'd, they are call'd the consolidator, and the feathers we mention'd abstracted from their persons, make the glorious engine we speak of, and in which, when any suddain motion takes them, they can all shut themselves up, and away for the moon. but when these are joyn'd with the grandees, and the queen, so united, they make a great cortez, or general collection of all the governing authority of the nation. when this last fraction happen'd, the men of the feather were under an exceeding ferment, they had in some passion taken into their custody, some good honest lunar country-men, for an offence, which indeed few but themselves ever immagin'd was a crime, for the poor men did nothing but pursue their own right by the law. 'tis thought the men of the feather soon saw they were in the wrong, but acted like some men in our world, that when they make a mistake, being too proud to own themselves in the wrong, run themselves into worse errors to mend it. so these lunar gentlemen disdaining to have it said they could be mistaken, committed two errors to conceal one, 'till at last they came to be laught at by all the moon. these poor men having lain a long while in prison, for little or no crime, at last were advis'd to apply themselves to the law for discharge; the law would fairly have discharg'd them; for in that country, no man may be imprison'd, but he must in a certain time be tryed, or let go upon pledges of his friends, much like our giving bail on a writ of habeas corpus; but the judges, whether over-aw'd by the feathers, or what was the cause, authors have not determin'd, did not care to venture discharging them. the poor men thus remanded, apply'd themselves to the grandees who were then sitting, and who are the soveraign judicature of the country, and before whom appeals lie from all courts of justice. the grandees as in duty bound, appear'd ready to do them justice, but the queen was to be apply'd to, first to grant a writ, or a warrant for a writ, call'd in their country a writ of follies, which is as much as to say mistakes. the consolidators foreseeing the consequence, immediately apply'd themselves to the queen with an address, the terms of which were so undu----l and unman--ly, that had she not been a queen of unusual candor and goodness, she would have treated them as they deserv'd, for they upbraided her with their freedom and readiness in granting her supplies, and therefore as good as told her they expected she should do as they desir'd. these people that knew the supplies given, were from necessity, legal, and for their own defence, while the granting their request, must have been illegal, arbitrary, a dispensing with the laws, and denying justice to her subjects, the very thing they ruin'd her father for, were justly provok'd to see their good queen so barbarously treated. the queen full of goodness and calmness, gave them a gentle kind answer, but told them she must be careful to act with due regard to the laws, and could not interrupt the course of judicial proceedings; and at the same time granted the writ, having first consulted with her council, and receiv'd the opinion of all the judges, that it was not only safe, but just and reasonable, and a right to her people which she could not deny. this proceeding gall'd the feathers to the quick, and finding the grandees resolv'd to proceed judicially upon the said writ of follies, which if they did, the prisoners would be deliver'd and the follies fixt upon the feathers, they sent their poursuivants took them out of the common prison, and convey'd them separately and privately into prisons of their own. this rash and unprecedented proceedings, pusht them farther into a labrinth, from whence it was impossible they could ever find their way out, but with infinite loss to their reputation, like a sheep in a thick wood, that at every briar pulls some of the wool from her back, till she comes out in a most scandalous pickle of nakedness and scratches. the grandees immediately publisht six articles in vindication of the peoples right, against the assum'd priviledges of the feathers, the abstract of which is as follows. . that the feathers had no right to claim, or make any new priviledges for themselves, other than they had before. . that every freeman of the moon had a right to repel injury with law. . that imprisoning the countrymen by the feathers, was assuming a new priviledge they had no right to, and a subjecting the subjects right to their arbitrary votes. . that a writ of deliverance, or removing the body, is the legal right of every subject in the moon, in order to his liberty, in case of imprisonment. . that to punish any person for assisting the subjects, in procuring or prosecuting the said writ of deliverance, is a breach of the laws, and a thing of dangerous consequence. . that a writ of follies is not a grace, but a right, and ought not to be deny'd to the subject. these resolves struck the languishing reputation of the feathers with the dead palsie, and they began to stink in the nostrils of all the nations in the moon. but besides this, they had one strange effect, which was a prodigious disappointment to the men of the feather. i had observ'd before, that there was to be a new set of feathers, provided in order to building another consolidator, according to a late law for a new engine every three years. now several of these men of the feather, who thought their feathers capable of serving again, had made great interest, and been at great cost to have their old feathers chosen again, but the people had entertain'd such scoundrel opinions of these proceedings, such as tacking, consolidating, imprisoning electors, impeaching without tryal, writs of follies and the like, that if any one was known to be concern'd in any of these things, no body would vote for him. the gentlemen were so mortify'd at this, that even the hottest high-church solunarian of them all, if he put in any where to be re-chosen, the first thing he had to do, was to assure the people he was no tacker, none of the , and a vast deal of difficulty they had to purge themselves of this blessed action, which they us'd to value themselves on before, as their glory and merit. thus they grew asham'd of it as a crime, got men to go about to vouch for them to the country people, that they were no tackers, nay, one of them to clear himself loudly forswore it, and taking a glass of wine wisht it might never pass thro' him, if he was a tacker, tho' all men suspected him to be of that number too, he having been one of the forwardest that way on all occasions, of any person among the south folk of the moon. in like manner, one of the feathers for the middle province of the country, who us'd to think it his honour to be for the qualifying law, seeing which way the humour of the country ran, took as much pains now to tell the people he was no tacker, as he did before, to promise them that he would do his utmost to have the crolians reduc'd, and that bill to pass, the reason of which was plain, that he saw if it should be known he was a tacker, he should never have his feather return'd to be put into the consolidator. the heats and feuds that the feathers and the grandees were now run into, began to make the latter very uneasie, and they sent to the grandees to hasten them, and put them in mind of passing some laws they had sent up to them for raising mony, and which lay before them, knowing that as soon as those laws were past, the queen would break 'em up, and they being very willing to be gone, before these things came too far upon the stage, urg'd them to dispatch. but the grandees resolving to go thoro' with the matter, sent to them to come to a treaty on the foot of the six articles, and to bring any reasons they could, to prove the power they had to act as they had done with the country-men, and with the lawyers they had put in prison for assisting them. the feathers were very backward and stiff about this conference, or treaty, 'till at last the grandees having sufficiently expos'd them to all the nation, the bills were past, the grandees caus'd the particulars to be printed, and a representation of their proceedings, and the feathers foul dealings to the queen of the country, and so her majesty sent them home. but if they were asham'd of being call'd tackers before, they were doubly mortify'd at this now, nay the country resented it so exceedingly, that some of them began to consider whether they should venture to go home or no; printed lists of their names were publish'd, tho' we do not say they were true lists, for it was a hard thing to know which were true lists, and which were not, nor indeed could a true list be made, no man being able to retain the exact account of who were the men in his memory. for as there were tackers, so there were of these, who by a name of distinction, were call'd lebusyraneim, in english ailesbury-men. the people were so exasperated against these, that they express'd their resentment upon all occasions, and least the queen should think that the nation approv'd the proceedings, they drew up a representation or complaint, full of most dutiful expressions to their queen, and full of resentment against the feathers, the copy of which being handed about the moon the last time i was there, i shall take the pains to put it into english in the best manner i can, keeping as near the originial as possible. if any man shall now wickedly suggest, that this relation has any retrospect to the affairs of england, the author declares them malitious misconstruers of his honest relation of matters from this remote country, and offers his positive oath for their satisfaction, that the very last journy he made into those lunar regions, this matter was upon the stage, of which, if this treatise was not so near its conclusion, the reader might expect a more particular account. if there is any analogy or similitude between the transactions of either world, he cannot account for that, 'tis application makes the ass. and yet sometimes he has thought, as some people fable of the platonick year, that after such a certain revolution of time, all things are transacted over again, and the same people live again, are the fame fools, knaves, philosophers and mad-men they were before, tho' without any knowledge of, or retrospect to what they acted before; so why should it be impossible, that as the moon and this world are noted before to be twins and sisters, equal in motion and in influence, and perhaps in qualities, the same secret power should so act them, as that like actions and circumstances should happen in all parts of both worlds at the same time. i leave this thought to the improvement of our royal learned societies of the anticacofanums, opposotians, periodicarians, antepredestinarians, universal soulians, and such like unfathomable people, who, without question, upon mature enquiry will find out the truth of this matter. but if any one shall scruple the matter of fact as i have here related it, i freely give him leave to do as i did, and go up to the moon for a demonstration; and if upon his return he does not give ample testimony to the case in every part of it, as here related, i am content to pass for the contriver of it my self, and be punish'd as the law shall say i deserve. nor was this all the publick matters, in which this nation of solunarians took wrong measures, for about this time, the misunderstandings between the southern and northern men began again, and the solunarians made several laws, as they call'd them, to secure themselves against the dangers they pretended might accrue from the new measures the nolunarians had taken; but so unhappily were they blinded by the strife among themselves, and by-set by opinion and interest, that every law they made, or so much as attempted to make, was really to the advantage, and to the interest of the northern-men, and to their own loss; so ignorantly and weak-headed was these high solunarian church-men in the true interest of their country, led by their implacable malice at crolianism, which as is before noted, was the establisht religion of that country. but as this matter was but transacting when i took the other remarks, and that i did not obtain a full understanding of it, 'till my second voyage, i refer it to a more full relation of my farther travels that way, when i shall not fail to give a clear state of the debate of the two kingdoms, in which the southern men had the least reason, and the worst success that ever they had in any affair of that nature for many years before. it was always my opinion in affairs on this side the moon, that tho' sometimes a foolish bolt may hit the point, and a random shot kill the enemy, yet that generally discretion and prudence of mannagement, had the advantage, and met with a proportion'd success, find things were, or were not happy, in their conclusion as they were, more or less wisely contriv'd and directed. and tho' it may not be allow'd to be so here, yet i found it more constantly so there, effects were true to their causes, and confusion of councils never fail'd in the moon to be follow'd by distracted and destructive consequences. this appear'd more eminently in the dispute between these two lunar nations we are speaking of; never were people in the moon, whatever they might be in other places, so divided in their opinions about a matter of such consequence. some were for declaring war immediately upon the northern men, tho' they could show no reason at all why, only because they would not do as they would have 'em; a parcel of poor scoundrel, scabby rogues, they ought to be made submit, what! won't they declare the same king as we do! hang them rogues! a pack of crolian prestarian devils, we must make them do it, down with them the shortest way, declare war immediately, and down with them.------ nay some were for falling on them directly, without the formality of declaring war. others, more afraid than hurt, cry'd out invasions, depredation, fire and sword, the northern men would be upon them immediately, and propos'd to fortify their frontiers, and file off their forces to the borders; nay, so apprehensive did those men of prudence pretend to be, that they order'd towns to be fortify'd mile off of the place, when all this while the poor northern men did nothing but tell them, that unless they would come to terms, they would not have the same king as they, and they took some measures to let them see they did not purpose to be forc'd to it. another sort of wiser men than these, propos'd to unite with them, hear their reasons, and do them right. these indeed were the only men that were in the right method of concluding this unhappy broil, and for that reason, were the most unlikely to succeed. but the wildest notion of all, was, when some of the grandees made a grave address to the queen of the country, to desire the northern men to settle matters first, and to tell them, that when that was done, they should see what these would do for them. this was a home stroke, if it had but hit, and the misfortune only lay in this, that the northern men were not fools enough; the clearness of the air in those cold climates generally clearing the head so early, that those people see much farther into a mill-stone than any blind man in all the southern nations of the moon. there was an another unhappiness in this case, which made the matter yet more confus'd, and that was, that the souldiers had generally no gust to this war.--- this was an odd case; for those sort of gentlemen, especially in the world in the moon, don't use to enquire into the justice of the case they fight for, but they reckon 'tis their business to go where they are sent, and kill any body they are order'd to kill, leaving their governors to answer for the justice of it; but there was another reason to be given why the men of the sword were so averse, and always talk't coldly of the fighting part, and tho' the northern men call'd it fear, yet i cannot joyn with them in that, for to fear requires thinking; and some of our solunarians are absolutely protected from the first, because they never meddle with the last, except when they come to the engine, and therefore 'tis plain it could not proceed from fear. it has puzzl'd the most discerning heads of the age, to give a reason from whence this aversion proceeded, and various judgments have been given of it. the nolunarians jested with them, and when they talk't of fighting, bad them look back into history, and examine what they ever made of a nolunarian war, and whether they had not been often well beaten, and sent short home, bid them have a care of catching a tartar, as we call it, and always made themselves merry with it. they banter'd the solunarians too, about the fears and terrors they were under, from their arming themselves, and putting themselves in a posture of defence,----- when it was easy to see by the nature of the thing, that their design was not a war, but a union upon just conditions, that it was a plain token that they design'd either to put some affront upon the nolunarians, to deny them some just claims, or to impose something very provoking upon them more than they had yet done, that they were so exceeding fearful of an invasion from them. tho' these were sufficient to pass for reasons in other cases, yet it could not be so here, but i saw there must be something else in it. as i was thus wondering at this unusual backwardness of the souldiers, i enquir'd a little farther into the meaning of it, and quickly found the reason was plain, there was nothing to be got by it, that people were brave, desperate and poor, the country barren, mountainous and empty, so that in short there would be nothing but blows, and souldiers fellows to be had, and i always observ'd that souldiers never care to be knockt on the head, and get nothing by the bargain. in short, i saw plainly the reasons that prompted the solunarians to insult their neighbours of the north, were more deriv'd from the regret at their establishing crolianism, than at any real causes they had given, or indeed were in a condition to give them. these, and abundance more particular observations i made, but as i left the thing still in agitation, and undetermin'd, i shall refer it to another voyage which i purpose to make thither, and at my return, may perhaps set that case in a clearer light than our sight can yet bear to look at it in. if in my second vovage i should undeceive people in the notions they entertain'd of those northern people, and convince them that the solunarians were really the aggressors, and had put great hardships upon them, i might possibly do a work, that if it met with encouragement, might bring the solunarians to do them justice, and that would set all to rights, the two nations might easily become one, and unite for ever, or at least become friends, and give mutual assistance to each other; and i cannot but own such an agreement would make them both very formidable, but this i refer to another time.----- at the same time i cannot leave it without a remark that this jealousy between the two nations, may perhaps in future ages be necessary to be maintain'd, in order to find some better reasons for fortifications, standing armies, guards and garisons than could be given in the reign of the great prince i speak of, the queen's predecessor, tho' his was against forreign insulting enemy. but the temper of the solunarian high party was always such, that they would with much more case give thanks for a standing army against the nolunarians and crolians, than agree to one legion against the abrogratzians and gallunarians. but of these things i am also promis'd a more particular account upon my journy into that country. i cannot however conclude this matter, without giving some account of my private observations, upon what was farther to be seen in this country. and had not my remarks on their state matters taken up more of my thoughts than i expected, i might have entred a little upon their other affairs, such as their companies, their commerce, their publick offices, their stock-jobbers, their temper, their conversation, their women, their stages, universities, their courtiers, their clergy, and the characters of the severals under all these denominations, but these must be referr'd to time, and my more perfect observations. but i cannot omit, that tho' i have very little knowledge of books, and had obtain'd less upon their language, yet i could not but be very inquisitive after their libraries and men of letters. among their libraries i found not abundance of their own books, their learning having so much of demonstration, and being very hieroglyphical, but i found to my great admiration vast quantities of translated books out of all languages of our world. as i thought my self one of the first, at least of our nation, that ever came thus far; it was, you may be sure no small surprize to me to find all the most valluable parts of modern learning, especially of politicks, translated from our tongue, into the lunar dialect, and stor'd up in their libraries with the remarks, notes and observations of the learned men of that climate upon the subject. here, among a vast croud of french authors condemn'd in this polite world for trifling, came a huge volume containing, les oevres de scavans, which has small bells painted upon the book of several disproportion'd sizes. i enquir'd the meaning of that hieroglyphick, which the master of the books told me, was to signify that the substance was all jingle and noise, and that of volumes which that one book contains, of them have neither substance, musick, harmony nor value in them. the history of the fulsoms, or a collection of fine speeches made in the french accademy at paris, and gay flourishes out of monsieur boileau, all in praise of the invincible monarch of france. the duke of bavaria's manifesto, shewing the right of making war against our sovereigns, from whence the people of that lunar world have noted that the same reasons which made it lawful to him to attempt the imperial power, entitle him to lose his own, viz. conquest, and the longest sword. jack a both sides, or a dialogue between pasquin and marforio, upon the subject matter of the pope's sincerity in case of the war in italy. written by a citizen of ferrara. one side arguing upon the occasion of the pope's general wheedling the imperialists to quit that country. the other bantering imperial policy, or the germains pretending they were trickt out of italy, when they could stay there no longer. lewis the invincible, by monsieur boileau. a poem, on the glory of his most christian majesties arms at hochstedt, and verue. all these translations have innumerable hyerogliphical notes, and emblems painted on them, which pass as comments, and are readily understood in that climate. for example, on the vol. of dialogues are two cardinals washing the pope's hands under a cloud that often bespatters them with blood, signifying that in spight of all his pretensions he has a hand in the broils of italy. and before him the sun setting in a cloud, and a blind ballad-singer making sonnets upon the brightness of its lustre. the three kings of brentford, being some historical observations on three mighty monarchs in our world, whose heroick actions may be the subject of future ages, being like to do little in this, the king of england, king of poland, and king of spain. these are describ'd by a figure, representing a castle in the air, and three knights pointing at it, but they could not catch. i omit abundance of very excellent pieces, because remote, as three great volumes of european misteries, among the vast varieties of which, and very entertaining, i observ'd but a few, such as these: . why prince ragotski will make no peace with the emperor.--- but more particularly why the emperor won't make peace with him. . where the policy of the king of sweden lies, to persue the king of poland, and let the muscovites ravage and destroy his own subjects. . what the duke of bavaria propos'd to himself in declaring for france. . why the protestants of the confederacy never reliev'd the camisars. . why there are no cowards found in the english service, but among their sea captains. . why the king of portugal did not take madrid, why the english did not take cadiz, and why the spaniards did not take gibraltar, viz. because the first were fools, the second knaves, and the last spaniards. . what became of all the silver taken at vigo. . who will be the next king of scotland. . if england should ever want a king, who would think it worth while to accept of it. . what specifick difference can be produc'd between a knave, a coward, and a traytor. abundance of these mysteries are hieroglyphically describ'd in this ample collection, and without doubt our great collection of annals, and historical observations, particularly the learned mr. walker, would make great improvements there. but to come nearer home, there, to my great amasement, i found several new tracts out of our own language, which i could hardly have imagin'd it possible should have reacht so far. as first, sundry transactions of our royal society about winds, and a valuable desertation of dr. b.....'s about wind in the brain. a discourse of poisons, by the learned dr. m..... with lunar notes upon it, wherein it appears that dr. c....d had more poison in his tongue, than all the adders the moon have in their teeth. nec non, or lawyers latin turn'd into lunar burlesque. the hyerogliphick was the queens mony tost in a blanket, dedicated to the attorney general, and five false latin councellors. mandamus, as it was acted at abb...ton assizes, by mr. so....r general, where the qu..n had her own so...r against her for a bad cause, and never a counsel for her in a good one. lunar reflections, being a list of about ridiculous errors in history, palpable falsities, and scandalous omissions in mr. collier's geographical dictionary; with a subsequent enquiry by way of appendix, into which are his own, and which he has ignorantly deduc'd from ancient authors. assassination and killing of kings, prov'd to be a church of england doctrin; humbly dedicated to the prince of wales, by mr. collier and mr. snat; wherein their absolving sir john friend and sir william parkins without repentance, and while they both own'd and justify'd the fact, is vindicated and defended. les bagatelles, or brom..ys travels into italy, a choice book, and by great accident preserv'd from the malitious design of the author, who diligently bought up the whole impression, for fear they should be seen, as a thing of which this ungrateful age was not worthy. killing no murther, being an account of the severe justice design'd to be inflicted on the barbarous murtherers of the honest constable at bow, but unhappily prevented by my lord n.....m being turn'd out of his office. de modo belli, or an account of the best method of making conquests and invasion a la mode de port st. mary, volumes in . dedicated to sir hen. bell...s. king charles the first prov'd a t...t. by edward earl of clarendon, vol. in fol. dedicated to the university of oxford. the bawdy poets, or new and accurate editions of catullus, propertius, and tibullus, being the maiden-head of the new printing press at cambridge, dedicated by the editor mr. ann...y to the university, and in consideration of which, and some disorders near casterton, the university thought him fit to represent them in p......t. alms no charity, or the skeleton of sir humphry mackworth's bill for relief of the poor: being an excellent new contrivance to find employment for all the poor in the nation, viz. by setting them at work, to make all the rest of the people as poor as themselves. synodicum superlativum, being sixteen large volumes of the vigorous proceedings of the english convocation, digested into years, one volume to every year. -- wherein are several large lists of the heretical, atheistical, deistical and other pernitious errors which have been condemn'd in that venerable assembly, the various services done, and weighty matters dispatcht, for the honour of the english church, for sixteen years last past, with their formal proceedings against asgil, coward, toland and others, for reviving old antiquated errors in doctrine, and publishing them to the world as their own. new worlds in trade, being a vast collection out of the journals of the proceedings of the right honourable the commissioners of trade, with several eminent improvements in general negoce, vast schemes of business, and new discoveries of settlements and correspondences in forreign parts, for the honour and advantage of the english merchants, being volumes in fol. and very scarce and valluable books. legal rebellion, or an argument proving that all sorts of insurrections of subjects against their princes, are lawful, and to be supported whenever they suit with our occasions, made good from the practice of france with the hungarians, the english with the camisars, the swede with the poles, the emperor with the subjects of naples, and all the princes of the world as they find occasion, a large volume in folio, with a poem upon the sacred right of kingly power. ignis fatuus or the occasional bill in minature, a farce, as it was acted by his excellency the lord gr...il's servants in carolina. running away the shortest way to victory, being a large dissertation, shewing to save the queens ships, is the best way to beat the french. the tookites, a poem upon the . a new tract upon trade, being a demonstration that to be always putting the people upon customary mourning, and wearing black upon every state occasion, is an excellent encouragement to trade, and a means to employ the poor. city gratitude, being a poem on the statue erected by the court of aldermen at the upper end of cheapside, to the immortal memory of king william. there were many more tracts to be found in this place; but these may suffice for a specimen, and to excite all men that would encrease their understandings in humane mysteries, to take a voyage to this enlightned country. where their memories, thinking faculties and penetration, will no question be so tackt and consolidated, that when they return, they all write memoirs of the place, and communicate to their country the advantages they have reapt by their voyage, according to the laudable example of their most humble servant, the man in the moon. the impossible voyage home by f. l. wallace illustrated by dick francis [transcriber note: this etext was produced from galaxy science fiction august . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [illustration] [sidenote: _the right question kept getting the wrong answer--but old ethan and amantha got the right answer by asking the wrong question!_] "space life expectancy has been increased to twenty-five months and six days," said marlowe, the training director. "that's a gain of a full month." _millions of miles from earth, ethan also looked discontentedly proud. "a mighty healthy-looking boy," he declared._ demarest bent a paperweight ship until it snapped. "it's something. you're gaining on the heredity block. what's the chief factor?" "anti-radiation clothing. we just can't make them effective enough." _across space, on distant mars, amantha reached for the picture. "how can you tell he ain't sickly? you can't see without glasses."_ _ethan reared up. "jimmy's boy, ain't he? our kids were always healthy, 'specially the youngest. stands to reason their kids will be better."_ _"now you're thinking with your forgettery. they were all sick, one time or another. it was me who took care of them, though. you always could find ways of getting out of it." amantha touched the chair switch._ the planets whirled around the sun. earth crept ahead of mars, venus gained on earth. the flow of ships slackened or spurted forth anew, according to what destination could be reached at the moment: "a month helps," said demarest. "but where does it end? you can't enclose a man completely, and even if you do, there still is the air he breathes and food he eats. radiation in space contaminates everything the body needs. and part of the radioactivity finds its way to the reproductive system." * * * * * marlowe didn't need to glance at the charts; the curve _was_ beginning to flatten. mathematically, it was determinable when it wouldn't rise at all. according to analysis, man someday might be able to endure the radiation encountered in space as long as three years, if exposure times were spaced at intervals. but that was in the future. "there's a lot you could do," he told demarest. "shield the atomics." "working on it," commented demarest. "but every ounce we add cuts down on the payload. the best way is to get the ship from one place to another faster. it's time in space that hurts. less exposure time, more trips before the crew has to retire. it adds up to the same thing." _on mars, amantha fondled the picture. "pretty. but it ain't real." she laid it aside._ _ethan squinted at it. "i could make you think it was. get it enlarged, solidified. have them make it soft, big as a baby. you could hold it in your lap."_ _"outgrew playthings years ago." amantha adjusted the chair switch, but the rocking motion was no comfort._ _ethan turned the picture over, face down. "nope. hate to back you up, 'mantha, but it ain't the same. there's nothing like a baby, wettin' and squallin' and smilin', stubborn when it oughtn't to be and sweet and gentle when you don't expect it. robo-dolls don't fool anybody who's ever held the real thing."_ in the interval, earth had drawn ahead. the gap between the two planets was widening. "that's another fallacy," objected the training director. "the body can stand just so much acceleration. we're near the limit. what good are faster ships?" "that's your problem," said demarest. "get me tougher crewmen. young, afraid of nothing, able to take it." it always ended here--younger, tougher, the finest the race produced--and still not good enough. and after years of training, they had twenty-five months to function as spacemen. it was a precious thing, flight time, and each trip was as short as science could make it. conjunction was the magic moment for those who went between the planets. it was the heredity block that kept man squeezed, confined to earth, mars and venus, preventing him from ranging farther. the heredity block was a racial quantity, the germ plasm, but not just that. crew and passengers were protected as much as possible from radiation encountered in space and that which originated in the ship's drive. the protection wasn't good enough. prolonged exposure had the usual effects, sterilization or the production of deformed mutations. man was the product of evolution on a planet. he didn't step out into space without payment. * * * * * the radiation that damaged genes and chromosomes and tinier divisions also struck nerve cells. any atom might be hit, blazing, into fission and decaying into other elements. the process was complicated. the results were not: the nerve was directly stimulated, producing aural and visual hallucinations. normally, the hallucination was blanked out. but as the level of body radioactivity increased, so did the strength of the vision. it dominated consciousness. the outside world ceased to have meaning. the hallucination took only one form, a beautiful woman outside the ship, unclad and beckoning. it was the image of vanished fertility that appeared once the person was incapable of reproducing _as a human_. why this was so hadn't been determined. psychologists had investigated and learned only that it invariably occurred after too great exposure. there was another thing they learned. no, that had come first. this was the reason they had investigated. in the solar system, the greatest single source of radiation, including the hard rays, was the sun. it was natural that the siren image should seem stronger in that direction, that it should fade or retreat toward its origin. no one had ever returned from compulsive pursuit of the illusionary woman, though in early days radio contact had been made with ships racing toward the sun. the heredity block was self-enforcing. deviously, the race protected itself, or something higher watched over it to assure _human_ continuity. marlowe wasn't sure which, but it was there. "i think you're on the wrong track," he said. "shield the ship completely and it won't matter how long the trip takes. the crew can work in safety." demarest grunted. "some day we'll have an inertia-free drive and it won't matter how much mass we use. it does now. our designs are a compromise. both of us have to work with what's possible, not what we dream of. i'll build my ship; you find the right crew to man it." marlowe went back to his graphs. machines could be changed, but the human body clung stubbornly to the old patterns. he couldn't select his crews any younger--but was there perhaps a racial type more resistant to radiation? where? no place that he knew of. maybe the biologists could produce one, he thought hopefully, and knew he was fooling himself. human beings weren't fruit flies; by the time enough generations rolled around for the resistant strain to breed true--and leave a surplus to man the ships--he would be long dead and the problem solved. the best of humanity would be dead, too, wiped out by sterilization. or the solar system would be peopled by mutant monstrosities. * * * * * far away, and not concerned with the problem, ethan shrugged resignedly. "guess we'll have to get used to the idea--we just won't see him till he grows up--if we'll still be around." "you've got years and years ahead of you, and not worth a thing the whole time!" amantha snapped. "damnation," said ethan wistfully, "i'd like to dandle him." "won't be the same when he grows up and comes here," amantha conceded. "there i go agreein' with you! what's got into me?" "maybe we can get on the next slow ship. they run them once in a while for people with weak hearts." he considered. "don't know whether retired citizens' home will let us go, though." "retired citizens!" she blew her nose scornfully. "they think we don't know it's just a home for the aged!" she threw away the tissue. "think they'll let us?" "it won't be them so much that'll stop us. our hearts ain't too good and we haven't got much space time to use. we shouldn't have gone to venus." "we had to see edith and ed and their kids and we had to come back to mars so we could be near john and pearl and ray. let's not regret what we've done." she picked at the chair arm. "we've been here a long time, ain't we?" ethan nodded. "maybe they've forgotten we've only got a month left," she said eagerly. "you sure it's a month?" "figure it out. it took longer when we went." "then it's no use. a slow ship is all we'd be allowed to take--and we wouldn't be allowed because it'd be more than a month." "they won't remember every last minute we spent in space." "they will, too," he stated. "they've got records." "maybe they lost them." "look, we've got kids and grandchildren here. they come around and see us. do we have to go to earth, 'specially when it'd be against the law?" "that's just it," she argued. "we've seen all our other kids' kids. ain't we going to see the youngest? how do we know his wife can take care of a baby? i can't sleep nights, thinking of it." "try catnaps during the day, like i do." amantha touched the button and the automatic chair stopped abruptly. "are you going to try to get tickets or aren't you?" "i'll think about it. go ahead and rock." "i won't," she said obstinately, "not even if it was the kind of chair you can rock yourself. i thought i married a man who'd make me happy." "i've always done my best. go ahead and rock." "but will you try to get the tickets?" ethan nodded resignedly and felt better when the chair began to swing back and forth. there was no living with a woman when she didn't have peace of mind. * * * * * amantha lay in bed, listening. sometimes her hearing was very good, the way it used to be. other times, it wasn't worth a thing. the way it came and went reminded her of when she was young and used to wonder why old folks couldn't hear. now she could often lie next to ethan and not even notice whether he was snoring. tonight her hearing was good. footsteps came from the hall, creaky noises of someone trying not to make a sound. she'd lain awake many nights, hearing him come home. she knew who it was and for once she didn't mind. the home for retired citizens had rules. careful, she thought. there's the bad spot where the floor's thin and bends when you step on it. then when your foot comes off it, it goes ploinnnnng. they don't build right any more. skimping and trying to save. but there wasn't a sound. ethan avoided it. when she thought of it, she realized he had a suspicious amount of skill--the skill of practice. ethan was fumbling at the door and she forgot her irritation. she slipped out of bed and swung the door open. he stumbled in against her. "'mantha, they laughed--" "did you have anything to eat?" she broke in. "cup of that mars coffee. but--" "don't talk till you get something hot inside. empty belly, empty head." "can't eat stuff that comes out of the wall. i'll wait till breakfast." she flicked the light on low and punched the selector. she took the glow-plate from under the bed and set it on the table. as the food arrived, she heated it and began adding spices. "there--it ain't real food, but you can pretend." ethan pretended and, when the food was gone, wiped his lips and looked at her. she nodded. "now you can tell me--but keep your voice low. don't wake anyone up." ethan stretched and creaked. "went down to the interplanet office and they wouldn't talk to me. said there wasn't any ship leaving for the next ten months and they didn't sell tickets in advance. i kept pestering them and they got mad. they looked up our records and said we couldn't go anytime, except on a fast ship, and, considering our age, it was doubtful they'd let us. didn't give up, though, and finally they said we might get a release from the man who'd take us. maybe they wanted to get rid of me. anyway, they sent me down to talk with one of the pilots." * * * * * amantha approved. go straight to the man responsible. persistence could get you there. "he talked real nice for a while," ethan continued. "he explained he didn't own the ship and didn't have the say-so who he took. i knew you wanted to go real bad. i offered him the money we'd saved." "_all_ of it, ethan?" "don't get mad. figured it was worth it to you." "don't believe in paying extra," she mused, "but did you tell him we could borrow some if it wasn't enough?" "didn't get a chance. he started laughing, saying didn't i understand he got paid not just for each trip, but for all the years after that, when he was finished and had used up his time and couldn't work at the only thing he knew? saying that he wouldn't risk that kind of security for any money and i was an idiot for believing he might." ethan trembled. "never mind. he's an old fool." "he's younger than jimmy." "some people get wisdom when they're young." ethan sat morosely in the chair. "if jimmy hadn't made that last trip, he'd be here and he'd have married a girl here and his kids would be here. we wouldn't have to worry about them." "i guess so, but he was lucky anyway. they found out he wasn't as strong as he was supposed to be and wouldn't let him come back." she began clearing the dishes. "how'd they know he couldn't come back?" "they got tests. they give them each trip." she should have thought of it. they had tests. because of tests, jimmy was safe but distant. she sat down. "tired." ethan yawned. "let's go to bed." "you go. i'm thinking." amantha went on thinking while he undressed and lay down. sometimes it was difficult--things weren't as clear as they used to be. tonight, though, she had no trouble managing her mind. a woman who had kids had to know her way around things. presently, she said, "tomorrow i'm going to bake." ethan stirred. "won't do no good. didn't say so, but there was a girl talking to the pilot when i got there. she was crying and begging him to take her to earth next trip. said she'd do anything if he would." "shame on her!" exclaimed amantha. "but did it work?" "she was young and pretty and still he wouldn't pay attention to her," said ethan. "what chance would you have?" "i'm going to bake tomorrow. in the morning, we're supposed to go for a walk. we'll take a big basket. do you remember the old canal nobody goes near any more?" there was no answer. ethan was asleep. now that she'd decided what to do, she lay down beside him. * * * * * the sentry huddled in his post. it was insulated and supplied with oxygen, very much like a spacesuit. though big for a spacesuit, it was a small place to spend hours in without relief. but there were compensations: never anything to do--except as now. he went to the mike. "get back," he shouted. they paid no attention. swearing, he shouted again, turning up the volume. even in the thin air, he had enough sound to blast them off their feet. but they kept on going. he poked the snout of his weapon through the porthole and then withdrew it. who'd given him those orders anyway? he didn't have to obey them. he clamped on his oxygen helmet and slipped into electric mitts and hurried outside. [illustration] "where do you think you're going?" he demanded, standing in front of them. "hello," said amantha. "didn't see anyone around." damn senior citizens--they never used hearing aids. "you've got to turn around and go back," he said. "why?" he was shivering and didn't see how they could stand it. thin clothing and obsolete oxygen equipment. oddly, they could take more than you'd think, though. used to it, he supposed. "come on in," he commanded gruffly. he wasn't going to freeze. they followed him into the post. "didn't you see the signs to keep out?" "but the ships aren't using the field. what harm are we doing?" "orders," he said. there were still a few pilots checking over their ships, making sure everything was in working condition before they were locked up. in a week, all flight personnel would be gone to the settlements, there to await the next round of voyages when earth came near. they had it soft, while he, the guard, had to stay in cold discomfort. "we're going to visit a friend of my son," said amantha. "they were pilots together. do you object?" he didn't, but there were some who would. the order made sense with respect to little boys who would otherwise swarm over the field, falling off ships or getting stuck in rocket tubes. "what have you got?" he asked, eying amantha's parcel dubiously. "i baked something." she opened a corner of the package and the smell drifted out. "made it with martian fruit. not much of it around these days." he sniffed and became hungry. that was queer--he'd eaten before coming on duty. "okay," he said. "you can go. don't get caught or it's my neck." he stood closer to the old man and woman, and the package, too, and pointed out the window. "act like you're leaving in case anyone's checking up. when you get near the line of ships, duck behind them and walk along until you find the right one. no one will see you except me." amantha pinched the package together. "i'd give you some, but i can't cut it before the pilot sees it." "i guess you can't," said the sentry wistfully. "maybe he won't eat all of it." "may he won't. i'll bring you back what's left--if there _is_ any left." long after they were gone, the sentry stood there, trying to analyze the indefinable odor. he was still standing there when the checkup squad marched in and arrested him for gross dereliction of duty. * * * * * "go away," said the pilot, disappearing from the viewport. ethan pounded on the hull with a rock. the pilot came back, twisting his face. "stop it. i'll angle the rocket tubes around and squirt you with them." ethan raised the rock. "okay," said the pilot. "i'll talk to you, though i know what you want." sullenly, he made the hatch swing open. he looked down at them. "all right, let's hear it." "got a present for you," said ethan. "not allowed to take bribes unless it's money." "young man, where are your manners?" snapped amantha. "haven't got any. it's the first thing they train out of you." the pilot started to jerk his head back, saw the rock and decided not to close the hatch. he glanced at the narrow ladder to the ground. "i'll take your present. bring it up." he stopped smirking as amantha hitched up her skirts and, holding the package in one hand, swung up the ladder. agile as goats and probably as sensible, he thought. he took hold of her as she neared the top. "grandma, you're too old to climb around. you'll break every brittle bone in your body if you fall." "ain't so brittle," said amantha, making way for ethan who had followed her. "my, it's cold!" she began shivering. "invite us in to get warm." "you can't go in. i'm busy. hey, wait!" the pilot hurried after her into the control compartment. amantha was looking around when he arrived. "cozy but kind of bare," she said. "why don't you hang up pictures?" "most fabulous pictures you'll ever see are right there." amantha followed his glance. "nothing but mars. i can see that every day." she puzzled over it. "oh, you're teasing an old woman. i didn't mean what you see out of the port, stars and planets and such. i'd want a picture of an indian settin' on a horse." "i'll bet!" muttered the pilot. "get warm in a hurry. i've got work to do." "you just go ahead," she said. "we'll set here and toast our toes. we don't aim to interfere." "i'll stay," said the pilot hastily. "let's have the present." he'd made a tactical error--he should have ignored the noise that went shimmering through the hull when the old man had pounded with a rock. no, it was nice to think he could have, but impossible. patience was one of the things the aged did have and the young didn't. amantha set the package down. the pilot scrambled ahead of her and got the navigator's instruments off the desk and into the drawer. she opened and displayed the contents. "i baked it for you," she said. "it's a cake." * * * * * he could see what it was. "hate cake," he said. "can't eat it." "you'll eat this. canalberry shortcake." "canalberry?" he asked, wrinkling his face. he smelled it and changed expressions in the middle of a wrinkle. resolutely, he turned away from it and saw ethan clearly, perhaps for the first time. it was the old man who had tried to bribe him a few days ago. they weren't as innocent as they seemed. what were they trying to do? "ain't you even going to taste it?" she urged. he shuddered suspiciously. it smelled good, though he had told the truth about hating the stuff. under other circumstances, he might have nibbled at a piece for politeness' sake. "can't. doctor's orders." "diabetic? didn't think they let them in space-service," said amantha. "funny, it's the same with ethan. he can't eat sweets, either." she looked at her creation. "seems a shame to bring it so far to somebody who can't touch it. do you mind if i cut myself a slice?" "go ahead, grandma." "amantha," she corrected him and brought out a knife and two small plates. he wondered if there was any significance. _two_ plates. she laid a slice on the plate and poked at it with a fork that was also in the package. she put the fork down and picked up the cake. "it don't taste right unless you eat it the way it was meant to be," she said. he watched her in anguish. his nose quivered and his stomach rumbled. he shouldn't have let them in. a crumb fell to the floor and amantha reached for it. she straightened up, a berry in her hand. "canalberries," she said. "they're nearly all gone. used to be you could hardly go anywhere without stepping in them." she crushed the berry and the rich aroma swept devastatingly through the air. "sure you won't have some?" she asked, slicing the cake and placing it in front of him. when he finished that, he cut another, and another, until the cake was gone. the pilot settled logily in a chair and dozed off. amantha and ethan watched him in silence. the pilot got up and began to stretch lazily without seeming to notice them. the laziness disappeared and the stretch changed into a jerk that seemed to elongate his body. he sprang out of the compartment and went leaping down the corridor. when he came to the hatch, he didn't hesitate. the ladder was too slow. he jumped. he landed on the sand, sinking in to his knees. he extricated himself and went bounding over the field. "never saw canalberries take so long," muttered amantha. "don't know what's wrong. nothing's as good as it used to be." she shook off her hat and closed the airlock. "you don't need those nose plugs any more, ethan. come on, let's see if you remember." * * * * * several hours later, she twirled unfamiliar knobs and, by persistence and beginner's luck, managed to get the person she wanted. "you the commander?" since he had a harassed look, she assumed he was. "thought you might be worried about that poor boy." "madam, what do you want?" he scowled at the offscreen miscreant who had mistakenly summoned him. "i'm chasing criminals. i haven't got time to chat about old times." "don't sass me. i thought you might want to know how to stop that poor boy from running around." the commander sat down. "what young man?" he asked calculatingly. "don't know his name," said amantha. "he ran out of the ship before we could ask him." "so _you're_ the poisoner," said the commander coldly. "if he dies, neither your age nor your sex will make any difference." "just canalberries," amantha assured him. "reckon you wouldn't know about them." "what are you talking about?" "canalberries. used to be lots of them. males, men and animals, just can't help eating them. don't bother women or any other kind of females. biologists used to tell us it was a seed-scattering device. guess so. won't hurt him none. try bicarb and vinegar. it'll fix him up." "for your sake, i hope it will!" said the commander. "he's in a bad way." he stabbed a pencil at her and his voice became stern. "if you follow directions, i'm sure i can get you off lightly." "think we will?" said amantha. the commander hurried on. "it's hard to find a ship in space. stay where you are or, if you can, turn around and come back--_slowly_. we'll send a ship up and transfer a competent pilot to bring you down. do you hear?" "real plain. you got good radios on these ships." he smothered a growl. "your lives are in danger. we're not going to chase out and rescue you unless you cooperate." it was an understatement. if they observed radio silence, search ships would never find them. they might not think of it, but he wouldn't bet. they were smart enough to steal the ship. there was another thing. from what he'd learned from records, they were close to the exposure limit. any moment now, they might go berserk, turning their course fatally toward the sun. he had to be careful what he said. "we'll get you out of this, but only if you help. i refuse to sacrifice men and waste their flight time, which is more precious than any ship, merely to save two senile incompetents. is this clear?" "i suppose," said amantha. "we've got to go home." the commander rubbed his hands. they weren't as stubborn as he feared. he'd rescue them. "good. i'll have men aloft in a few minutes." "guess it was you who didn't hear," she said. "our home is on earth." ii "there's no one here," said the robot blocking the door. "we'll wait." amantha tried to go inside. the robot wouldn't move. it was dark and windy and, from the steps, they could see lights of houses glowing around them. not many--it was near the edge of the little town. farther away, over the hill, the ship nestled safely in a valley. no one had seen them land. they were sure of it. ethan removed his hat and his bent shoulders straightened. he seemed to grow taller. "rain," he said in awe. "thirty years and yet i haven't forgotten what it's like." "it's wet, that's what it's like," said amantha. "robot, let us in or i'll have ethan take a wrench to you. he loves to tinker." "i can't be threatened. my sole concern is the welfare of my charge. also, i'm too large for any human to hurt me." "damnation, i'm soppin'!" complained ethan. "it's better to remember the rain than to be in it." "wait till my son jimmy gets back. he'll be ravin'. makin' us stay out here and get soaked." "son? is the jimmy you refer to pilot james huntley?" "ex-pilot." "correct. but he's not at home. he took his wife to the hospital half an hour ago." "so soon?" gasped amantha. "thought i taught him better than that. women have got to rest between kids." "it's not another child," said the robot with disinterest. "it has to do with one of the ills flesh is heir to and machines are not. nothing serious." ethan fidgeted, turning up his collar. water began flowing from the eaves. "stop arguin' and let us in. jimmy will turn off your juice when he finds you've kept his folks outside." "folks? he has none here. a mother and father living happily on mars. they died quite recently, lost in space and plunging into the sun." "make up your mind," amantha said peevishly. "we ain't on mars, we weren't happy and we didn't get lost and plunge into the sun." "i merely repeat--in sequence--the information i'm given or overhear. if it's inconsistent, so are humans. i'm used to it." "'mantha, they think we're dead," said ethan. he wiped a raindrop away. "poor jimmy!" a thin wail came from a crack in the door. the robot's eyes shone briefly, then dimmed. "what's that?" asked amantha. "sounds like a baby. thought you said no one was home." "no responsible adult. only a child. because of that, i can admit no one except the parents--or a doctor if i decide one is needed." the robot whirred and drew itself up. "he's absolutely safe. i'm a sitta." "you sure are. now get out of my way before i jab you. the kid's crying." "he is, but it's no concern of yours. i'm better acquainted with infant behavior than any human can be. the pathetic sob merely means that the child wants attention. i was given no instructions to hold him." * * * * * again the child cried. "who needs to be told?" demanded amantha. "nobody gives grandmothers instructions." "he's got a grandfather to cuddle him," added ethan. "how far do you think we came to do it?" "and he's not cryin' because he wants attention. something's stickin' him and he's hungry. don't you think a grandmother would know?" "there's nothing that can stick him, but if, by accident, something sharp had gotten in his bed and if he were also hungry, he would sound like this." the sitta hunched down and swiveled its head, giving an imitation. "you see? i do nothing but watch babies. it's built into me." inside the house, the child's tone changed, became querulous, listening. interrogatively, it offered a single yowl. "my analysis was correct. it wanted attention. the parents left so hurriedly, they forgot to give me permission. when i didn't come to investigate, the child stop--" the wail burst forth with renewed vigor. the robot rotated its head and the alert look flashed on and off. it stuttered, "i know w-what i'm doing. but i--i can tell only what has happened to my charge, n-never what _will_!" the sitta rumbled bewilderedly. "anticipation is beyond my capacity. the child _is_ hurt and hungry. please come in and help me." triumphantly, amantha followed the robot into the house toward the nursery. she whispered to ethan, "sittas ain't smart. i reckon he never heard a bunch of babies together. if one cries, they all do." the sitta barred the path. "you seem sincere and are obviously an expert. but before you go in, understand this--attempt no harm to the being in there. i'm linked." "you'll be unlinked if you don't stop acting balky," warned amantha. she ducked under his arm and darted toward the crib. "by linked, i mean that if anything happens that i require aid to handle, an alarm rings in sittas circle and help is on the way. meanwhile, i can put out fires or carry him unharmed through concrete walls." "go ahead, run through a wall," invited amantha abstractly, snatching up the child. "the darling's wet, too. fetch me a diaper." the robot fetched at her command. and when the child was quiet, even cooing, but with a sharp undertone of protest, amantha settled back. "now we've got to feed him." "they didn't give me special instructions and i can't originate. if you hadn't come, i'd have had to contact a doctor." amantha handed the child to ethan. "you hold him." she went into the kitchen. ethan tossed the child up. "here we go," he bellowed. "free fall. got to start early to make a spaceman out of you." the sitta stared at them, puzzled, as the infant shrieked with fear or joy. "now if only jimmy was here to see us," said ethan, grinning proudly. jimmy didn't come back soon enough. the police arrived first. * * * * * ethan wandered to the window. the ground was far below. he didn't want to think of what was outside the door. "don't mind jail myself--been in a few." he looked at amantha. "just for raising hell. never thought i'd be responsible for putting _you_ behind bars." [illustration] "it wasn't you," said amantha, her back straightening. "curious about it myself." wisps of hair straggled over her face. "i mean why didn't we think of it on mars? didn't we know what they'd do?" "i guess we didn't." ethan cracked his knuckles contemplatively. "did it occur to you?" "no. i can't understand." she frowned, but it didn't help clarify what she was thinking about. "we're criminals," said ethan soberly. "thieves." "i don't mind for us. jail's not much worse than the home for retired citizens. it's our grandson i'm thinking of." "don't worry. they won't do a thing to him." his eyes widened and he wiped off the sweat. "oh. i see what you mean." "jailbirds," said amantha. "we'll still be in here when he grows up. it's a fine way to help your kin. they'll never trust him with us in his family." "jailbirds," repeated ethan mournfully. by some magic, his face cracked along the wrinkles and broke into a smile. "but once we flew," he whispered to himself. the door opened and an official of some sort came in. outside, ethan caught a brief glimpse of guards. marlowe, chief training director of space pilots for interplanet transport, inc., walked in silence across the room and eased tiredly into a chair behind the desk. he'd gotten the news late at night, having been the first one contacted. the ship that had been lost had showed up in the atmosphere. there couldn't be a mistake. no other flight was scheduled for months. "follow it," he had ordered and the trackers had kept it on the screen, flashing a message to the police as soon as they located where it landed. it was logical that it should go where it did, but he didn't think that anything about this flight was susceptible to a rational approach. marlowe's eyelids felt lined with sand, but that was as nothing compared to his mental irritation. the two oldsters were dead and the ship was vaporized in the sun. but, of course, it wasn't true and he had to figure out why. others would be here to help him unravel the mystery, from demarest on down. meanwhile, he was first. there was a lesson to learn if he could figure out what it was. damn these senile incompetents. "ethan and amantha huntley?" he asked. they didn't fit in with his preconceived picture. "you the judge?" said ethan. "i demand to see a lawyer. we've got our rights." "why don't you let our son in?" amantha protested. "i know he's been dying to see us. you can't keep us locked up like this." "please! i've just come from a consultation with your son. you'll see him soon. as for being detained, you've been well treated. most of the time, doctors have been examining you. isn't that true?" "what's that got to do with it?" challenged ethan. "never been sick a day in my life. sure, my back hurts, and now and then my knees swell up. but it's nothing. we didn't ask for a doctor. got our own on mars. young fellow, fifty or sixty." * * * * * facts contradicted each other. they were what marlowe expected and yet they weren't. it was hard to determine. records showed that if the old couple were not actually senile incompetents, they were close to it. now that they'd returned the ship in good condition, legal action against them would be dangerous. everyone had grandparents and knew that they were sometimes foolish. it was a spot to get out of as gracefully as the company could. it was as training director for interplanet transport, however, that he was interested in them. "you were in space for nearly four months," he said. "few people take that much exposure to radiation at one time. we had to determine the state of your health. the evaluation isn't complete, but i think we can say you're in no immediate danger." did they understand? it was doubtful. no one else would have stolen the ship and attempted to bring it to earth. but, damn it, they had done so, landing the ship on the outskirts of the little town, unobserved in the gathering storm. the facts were painfully fresh in his mind. "i'd like to know something of your background," said marlowe. "what's your experience with spaceships?" "went to venus in one," ethan answered. "also took a trip to mars. stayed there." the old man had haunted the control compartment, watching how it was done. some people did. but that was not a substitute for experience. "that was long ago and you were a passenger. anything more recent?" "nope. except for this last trip." that was what didn't make sense. "are you sure? be honest. check your memory." the old man had once piloted jets. but it was not the same. "no other experience," said ethan. "had training, though." marlowe knew it. without training, no one could manage takeoff and landing. somehow, the official search had failed to uncover this vital information. "where did you take it?" "forget the name. remember every word of it, though." marlowe nodded. it was often the case. early memories were fresh and clear while later events blew over the enfeebled mind and left no trace. "but you didn't tell me where." "don't remember that part of it. it was a mighty good course. wasn't accepted, even though i passed, after paying for my lessons in advance. they said i was too old." air lodged in his throat--marlowe doubled over. if he'd heard rightly.... good god, there were angels and correspondence courses that watched over the aged! no--give the credit to angels. "i realized i wasn't as spry as i used to be," continued ethan seriously. "can't shoot off a planet or slam down on one the way your pilots do. we were at the far end of the field, quite a ways off. everybody was busy with the pilot who was running around. they were trying to help him. "guess they didn't see us. they'd have laughed if they did. we went up slow, kind of wobbly. but we got off." * * * * * the old man was beaming, proud of it. he didn't know it wasn't skill but the built-in safety factor, all the stabilizing mechanisms coming into play at once. demarest, the chief of construction, had seen to it that the ships were well designed. marlowe would have to commend him when he got here. a thought occurred to the training director. if the stabilizing mechanisms were there, why not use them always? of course, it wasn't that simple. interplanetary ship stabilizers weren't effective at high speed. another thought crowded in. why such high speed? that was something over which there was no choice. the protective atmosphere had to be left swiftly. the speed was added to at every opportunity. it was possible to slow down only at the last moment. otherwise.... otherwise what? there was no escape from the conclusion--otherwise heredity was altered and mutations would result. marlowe sat back. this was true without exception. it was the biggest factor that controlled the conditions of interplanetary flight. but-- _they'd had their children!_ marlowe's pulse increased. as training director, he'd learned not to leap at things that merely looked good. he had to examine them carefully. but--well, it was a new approach, though he couldn't really expect anything from it. there was more to a crew than a pilot, more to space flight than one incredible lucky voyage, for angels took vacations, too. "you weren't on duty at all times," marlowe pointed out. "then there's navigation." "don't sleep much," said ethan. "catnap once in a while." he thought it over. "when i did sleep, 'mantha helped out." he looked at her. "i'm not the expert on navigation. you'd better ask her." "_no!_" cried marlowe. "why not? just because i'm a woman?" her eyes were bright. "but who taught you navigation?" amantha sniffed. "look here, young man, don't tell me what i can learn." she closed her eyes and imagination carried her back to the ship. "lots of dials and gadgets--but i used to have near as many in my kitchen before they said i was too old to cook. anyway, you don't have to figure it out on paper. if you look at things just right, you sort of know where you are." * * * * * amantha folded her hands. "first, you take a big handful of the sun's attraction and mix it with a bigger scoop of the gravitation of the planet you happen to be on. for us, that was mars. then you add a pinch of acceleration. that's what makes you rise. when you get out a ways, you decrease mars and add more earth and another pinch of sun, stirring it around in your mind each day until it feels just right." she smiled. "i never did hold with too much measuring." the muscles in marlowe's chest felt cramped from holding his breath in. while she spoke, he could almost believe she knew what she was doing, that she had a knack for it. perhaps she did--brief flashes of clarity swept over her senile, beclouded mind. and the same with the old man. these instances of sanity--and luck--had pulled them through. the ship was back, unharmed. he shouldn't ask for more. and yet--they had made it to earth. the chute in the desk clattered noisily and ejected a packet. marlowe looked at it--it was for him. the full medical report; it had been slow in coming. but this was a small town. the doctor who had looked them over was good, though. marlowe made certain of that. he opened the report and read. when he finished, he knew that though luck and angels had been with them on takeoff and part of the passage--along with dimly remembered fragments of unrelated skills that had somehow coalesced into a working knowledge of how to run a ship--it wasn't the whole story. when they landed on earth, it was no miracle. they had known what they were doing. "what is it?" asked ethan. "habeas corpus?" "no," said marlowe. but in one sense it was, though of a kind that no mere judge could return a verdict on. he read the report again. "no evidence of mental senility," it said in part. "micro-samples of brain cells seem to be taken from someone about forty or fifty. physical reactions are slow but firm and consistent. there are puzzling aspects. certain obscure functions apparently are those of septuagenarians. others are in keeping with the mental age. the weakest organs govern, of course; they should live another thirty years, as if they really were in their seventies. however, locomotion and judgment should not be impaired until the very end. query: are you sure these are the people i was supposed to examine? i couldn't find that deep, inoperable, though non-malignant tumor the man was supposed to have." marlowe folded and refolded the report. radiation could kill. but it could also cure. it was a standard treatment. but never so drastic and not on the aged for this purpose. he had come at once on two monumental discoveries, both by accident. how many discoveries _were_ accidental? these two wouldn't live longer, but they would have a better life and in full possession of their senses. "sure, we borrowed--stole the ship," said ethan abruptly, interrupting marlowe's thoughts. "you got it back, but that don't change things. we've got money. we might have enough to pay for most of the fuel." "it's not necessary. we'll charge it off as an experiment." marlowe tried to frown. perhaps he succeeded. "in return for not prosecuting, i want you to abandon your pension and go to work for interplanet transport." ethan's joints creaked as he sat up eagerly. "work it off? sounds fair." there were wrinkles on his face and there never would be any less, but they weren't as deep as they had been, not when they formed the network of a smile. "i can sweep out a ship. maybe you'd even let me go on a trip once in a while. i could be a cabin boy." they had been considered useless and incapable for so long that they still didn't realize what he was saying. they weren't childish, but they thought they were. re-education would have to proceed slowly. "i had a trip in mind for you," said marlowe. "and amantha will have to go to work, too." "young man, it's been a long time since i cooked anything but one canalberry shortcake, but you just watch what i can stir up." "i've got just the place for you," marlowe answered. "one more stipulation--don't talk about your experiences. if reporters come around, and i think they will, say merely that we traced the ship and, after conferring with you, decided to drop all charges. understand?" amantha nodded. "look bad for you, wouldn't it? not guarding the ships any better than that, i mean." he was thankful their minds had merely been resharpened, that they would never regain their original edge. she was right--it _would_ look bad. also, the company had competitors. and by the time _they_ got wind of it, he wanted to have a head-start. only a few of the aged would fit in with his plans, though the rest would benefit, and by more than a change of status. marlowe nodded. "that's it. report tomorrow and we'll go over your assignments." "guess you don't know what we're like," said ethan. "we've hardly seen our littlest grandson yet. what do you suppose we stole--experimented with the ship for?" marlowe watched them go and, as the door closed, began to write hurriedly. the others would be here soon. he wanted to have it summarized by the time they arrived. half an hour later, he looked at what he'd put down. it was on the back of the medical report. "memo: change the design of our lastest ship. instead of a heavy-hulled, superfast rocket, requiring the utmost in bodily coordination and stamina, reverse every specification. permeability to radiation no objection." he chuckled. demarest would threaten to resign. it violated every precept he had ever learned. but the engineer would change his mind when he saw the rest of it. * * * * * marlowe read on: "top speed need not be high. emphasis should be placed on safety. must be maneuverable by operators whose reactive time is not fast, but whose judgment and foresight are trustworthy. stress simplicity. "memo no. : inaugurate another class of service. in addition to fast speedy passages when planets are close, a freight system that can operate continuously is now possible. the planets will open up faster if a steady supply route can be maintained. older passengers will be a mainstay, especially since therapeutic value is sure to be disclosed. estimated time to prepare for first run--one year minimum. "memo no. : recruiting. do not overlook the most unlikely skill. it may indicate undisclosed ability of high order. "training: blank. improvise as you go along!" marlowe got up. he thought he heard planes overhead. if so, he had something for them. he'd have to argue, but he felt up to it. the sand had disappeared from his eyes. his step was lighter, too. and that was because of another item he hadn't written down. he wouldn't forget. he was in the mid-forties and would have to begin learning. it was the awkward age--too old--too young. he couldn't hope to pilot the murderously fast ships currently in use. and he couldn't take his place in the clumsy tubs that would soon be swinging between the planets, opening up space to commerce. he would have to wait, but what he learned now would be useful some day. it would be better integrated for having been long buried in his memory. a vintage aspiration. when he was immune to the mutating effects of radiation, old and nearly sleepless, he could retire from this career--into a better one. recruit for andromeda by milton lesser ace books, inc. west th street, new york , n. y. recruit for andromeda copyright , by ace books, inc. all rights reserved printed in u.s.a. [transcriber's note: extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] tournament under nightmare skies when kit temple was drafted for the nowhere journey, he figured that he'd left his home, his girl, and the earth for good. for though those called were always promised "rotation," not a man had ever returned from that mysterious flight into the unknown. kit's fellow-draftee arkalion, the young man with the strange, old-man eyes, seemed to know more than he should. so when kit twisted the tail of fate and followed arkalion to the ends of space and time, he found the secret behind "nowhere" and a personal challenge upon which the entire future of earth depended. chapter i when the first strong sunlight of may covered the tree-arched avenues of center city with green, the riots started. the people gathered in angry knots outside the city hall, met in the park and littered its walks with newspapers and magazines as they gobbled up editorial comment at a furious rate, slipped with dark of night through back alleys and planned things with furious futility. center city's finest knew when to make themselves scarce: their uniforms stood for everything objectionable at this time and they might be subjected to clubs, stones, taunts, threats, leers--and knives. but center city, like most communities in united north america, had survived the riots before and would survive them again. on past performances, the damage could be estimated, too. two-hundred fifty-seven plate glass windows would be broken, three-hundred twelve limbs fractured. several thousand people would be treated for minor bruises and abrasions, center city would receive half that many damage suits. the list had been drawn clearly and accurately; it hardly ever deviated. and center city would meet its quota. with a demonstration of reluctance, of course. the healthy approved way to get over social trauma once every seven-hundred eighty days. * * * * * "shut it off, kit. kit, please." the telio blared in a cheaply feminine voice, "oh, it's a long way to nowhere, forever. and your honey's not coming back, never, never, never...." a wailing trumpet represented flight. "they'll exploit anything, kit." "it's just a song." "turn it off, please." christopher temple turned off the telio, smiling. "they'll announce the names in ten minutes," he said, and felt the corners of his mouth draw taut. "tell me again, kit," stephanie pleaded. "how old are you?" "you know i'm twenty-six." "twenty-six. yes, twenty-six, so if they don't call you this time, you'll be safe. safe, i can hardly believe it." "nine minutes," said temple in the darkness. stephanie had drawn the blinds earlier, had dialed for sound-proofing. the screaming in the streets came to them as not the faintest whisper. but the song which became briefly, masochistically popular every two years and two months had spoiled their feeling of seclusion. "tell me again, kit." "what." "you know what." he let her come to him, let her hug him fiercely and whimper against his chest. he remained passive although it hurt, occasionally stroking her hair. he could not assert himself for another--he looked at his strap chrono--for another eight minutes. he might regret it, if he did, for a lifetime. "tell me, kit." "i'll marry you, steffy. in eight minutes, less than eight minutes, i'll go down and get the license. we'll marry as soon as it's legal." "this is the last time they have a chance for you. i mean, they won't change the law?" temple shook his head. "they don't have to. they meet their quota this way." "i'm scared." "you and everyone else in north america, steffy." she was trembling against him. "it's cold for june." "it's warm in here." he kissed her moist eyes, her nose, her lips. "oh god, kit. five minutes." "five minutes to freedom," he said jauntily. he did not feel that way at all. apprehension clutched at his chest with tight, painful fingers, almost making it difficult for him to breathe. "turn it on, kit." he dialed the telio in time to see the announcer's insincere smile. smile seventeen, kit thought wryly. patriotic sacrifice. "every seven-hundred eighty days," said the announcer, "two-hundred of center city's young men are selected to serve their country for an indeterminate period regulated rigidly by a rotation system." "liar!" stephanie cried. "no one ever comes back. it's been thirty years since the first group and not one of them...." "shh," temple raised a finger to his lips. "this is the thirteenth call since the inception of what is popularly referred to as the nowhere journey," said the announcer. "obviously, the two hundred young men from center city and the thousands from all over this hemisphere do not in reality embark on a journey to nowhere. that is quite meaningless." "hooray for him," temple laughed. "i wish he'd get on with it." "no, ladies and gentlemen, we use the word nowhere merely because we are not aware of the ultimate destination. security reasons make it impossible to...." "yes, yes," said stephanie impatiently. "go on." "... therefore, the nowhere journey. with a maximum security lid on the whole project, we don't even know why our men are sent, or by what means. we know only that they go somewhere and not nowhere, bravely and not fearfully, for a purpose vital to the security of this nation and not to slake the thirst of a chessman of regiments and divisions. "if center city's contribution helps keep our country strong, center city is naturally obligated...." "no one ever said it isn't our duty," stephanie argued, as if the announcer could indeed hear her. "we only wish we knew something about it--and we wish it weren't forever." "it isn't forever," temple reminded her. "not officially." "officially, my foot. if they never return, they never return. if there's a rotation system on paper, but it's never used, that's not a rotation system at all. kit, it's forever." "... to thank the following sponsors for relinquishing their time...." "no one would want to sponsor _that_," temple whispered cheerfully. "kit," said stephanie, "i--i suddenly have a hunch we have nothing to worry about. they missed you all along and they'll miss you this time, too. the last time, and then you'll be too old. that's funny, too old at twenty-six. but we'll be free, kit. free." "he's starting," temple told her. a large drum filled the entire telio screen. it rotated slowly from bottom to top. in twenty seconds, the letter a appeared, followed by about a dozen names. abercrombie, harold. abner, eugene. adams, gerald. sorrow in the abercrombie household. despair for the abners. black horror for adams. the drum rotated. "they're up to f, kit." fabian, gregory g.... names circled the drum slowly, live viscous alphabet soup. meaningless, unless you happened to know them. "kit, i knew thomas mulvany." n, o, p.... "it's hot in here." "i thought you were cold." "i'm suffocating now." r, s.... "t!" stephanie shrieked as the names began to float slowly up from the bottom of the drum. tabor, tebbets, teddley.... temple's mouth felt dry as a ball of cotton. stephanie laughed nervously. now--or never. never? now. stephanie whimpered despairingly. temple, christopher. * * * * * "sorry i'm late, mr. jones." "hardly, mr. smith. hardly. three minutes late." "i've come in response to your ad." "i know. you look old." "i am over twenty-six. do you mind?" "not if you don't, mr. smith. let me look at you. umm, you seem the right height, the right build." "i meet the specifications exactly." "good, mr. smith. and your price." "no haggling," said smith. "i have a price which must be met." "your price, mr. smith?" "ten million dollars." the man called jones coughed nervously. "that's high." "very. take it or leave it." "in cash?" "definitely. small unmarked bills." "you'd need a moving van!" "then i'll get one." "ten million dollars," said jones, "is quite a price. admittedly, i haven't dealt in this sort of traffic before, but--" "but nothing. were your name jones, really and truly jones, i might ask less." "sir?" "you are jones exactly as much as i am smith." "sir?" jones gasped again. smith coughed discreetly. "but i have one advantage. i know you. you don't know me, mr. arkalion." "eh? eh?" "arkalion. the north american carpet king. right?" "how did you know?" the man whose name was not jones but arkalion asked the man whose name was not smith but might as well have been. "when i saw your ad," said not-smith, "i said to myself, 'now here must be a very rich, influential man.' it only remained for me to study a series of photographs readily obtainable--i have a fine memory for that, mr. arkalion--and here you are; here is arkalion the carpet king." "what will you do with the ten million dollars?" demanded arkalion, not minding the loss nearly so much as the ultimate disposition of his fortune. "why, what does anyone do with ten million dollars? treasure it. invest it. spend it." "i mean, what will you do with it if you are going in place of my--" arkalion bit his tongue. "your son, were you saying, mr. arkalion? alaric arkalion the third. did you know that i was able to boil my list of men down to thirty when i studied their family ties?" "brilliant, mr. smith. alaric is so young--" "aren't they all? twenty-one to twenty-six. who was it who once said something about the flower of our young manhood?" "shakespeare?" said mr. arkalion realizing that most quotes of lasting importance came from the bard. "sophocles," said smith. "but no matter. i will take young alaric's place for ten million dollars." motives always troubled mr. arkalion, and thus he pursued what might have been a dangerous conversation. "you'll never get a chance to spend it on the nowhere journey." "let me worry about that." "no one ever returns." "my worry, not yours." "it is forever--as if you dropped out of existence. alaric is so young." "i have always gambled, mr. arkalion. if i do not return in five years, you are to put the money in a trust fund for certain designated individuals, said fund to be terminated the moment i return. if i come back within the five years, you are merely to give the money over to me. is that clear?" "yes." "i'll want it in writing, of course." "of course. a plastic surgeon is due here in about ten minutes, mr. smith, and we can get on with.... but if i don't know your name, how can i put it in writing?" smith smiled. "i changed my name to smith for the occasion. perfectly legal. my name is john x. smith--now!" "that's where you're wrong," said mr. arkalion as the plastic surgeon entered. "your name is alaric arkalion iii--_now_." the plastic surgeon skittered around smith, examining him minutely with the casual expertness that comes with experience. "have to shorten the cheek bones." "for ten million dollars," said smith, "you can take the damned things out altogether and hang them on your wall." * * * * * sophia androvna petrovitch made her way downtown through the bustle of tired workers and the occasional sprinkling of comrades. she crushed her _ersatz_ cigarette underfoot at number stalin avenue, paused for the space of five heartbeats at the door, went inside. "what do you want?" the man at the desk was myopic but bull-necked. sophia showed her party card. "oh, comrade. still, you are a woman." "you're terribly observant, comrade," said sophia coldly. "i am here to volunteer." "but a woman." "there is nothing in the law which says a woman cannot volunteer." "we don't make women volunteer." "i mean really volunteer, of her own free will." "her--own--free will?" the bull-necked man removed his spectacles, scratched his balding head with the ear-pieces. "you mean volunteer without--" "without coercion. i want to volunteer. i am here to volunteer. i want to sign on for the next stalintrek." "stalintrek, a woman?" "that is what i said." "we don't force women to volunteer." the man scratched some more. "oh, really," said sophia. "this is , not mid-century, comrade. did not stalin say, 'woman was created to share the glorious destiny of mother russia with her mate?'" sophia created the quote randomly. "yes, if stalin said--" "he did." "still, i do not recall--" "what?" sophia cried. "stalin dead these thirty-nine years and you don't recall his speeches? what is your name, comrade?" "please, comrade. now that you remind me, i remember." "what is your name." "here, i will give you the volunteer papers to sign. if you pass the exams, you will embark on the next stalintrek, though why a beautiful young woman like you--" "shut your mouth and hand me those papers." there, sitting behind that desk, was precisely why. why should she, sophia androvna petrovitch, wish to volunteer for the stalintrek? better to ask why a bird flies south in the winter, one day ahead of the first icy gale. or why a lemming plunges recklessly into the sea with his multitudes of fellows, if, indeed, the venture were to turn out grimly. but there, behind that desk, was part of the reason. the comrade. the bright sharp comrade, with his depth of reasoning, his fountain of gushing emotions, his worldliness. _pfooey!_ it was as if she had been in a cocoon all her life, stifled, starved, the cottony inner lining choking her whenever she opened her mouth, the leathery outer covering restricting her when she tried to move. no one had ever returned from the stalintrek. she then had to assume no one would. including sophia androvna petrovitch. but then, there was nothing she would miss, nothing to which she particularly wanted to return. not the stark, foul streets of stalingrad, not the workers with their vapid faces or the comrades with their cautious, sweating, trembling, fearful non-decisions, not the higher echelon of comrades, more frightened but showing it less, who would love the beauty of her breasts and loins but not herself for you never love anything but the stalinimage and mother russia herself, not those terrified martinet-marionettes who would love the parts of her if she permitted but not her or any other person for that matter. wrong with the stalintrek was its name alone, a name one associated with everything else in russia for an obvious, post-stalin reason. but everything else about the stalintrek shrieked mystery and adventure. where did you go? how did you get there? what did you do? why? a million questions which had kept her awake at night and, if she thought about them hard enough, satisfied her deep longing for something different. and then one day when stolid mrs. ivanovna-rasnikov had said, "it is a joke, a terrible, terrible joke they are taking my husband fyodor on the stalintrek when he lacks sufficient imagination to go from here to leningrad or even tula. can you picture fyodor on the stalintrek? better they should have taken me. better they should have taken his wife." that day sophia could hardly contain herself. as a party member she had access to the law and she read it three times from start to finish (in her dingy flat by the light of a smoking, foul-smelling, soft-wax candle) but could find nothing barring women from the stalintrek. had fyodor rasnikov volunteered? naturally. everyone volunteered, although when your name was called you had no choice. there had been no draft in russia since the days of the second war of the people's liberation. volunteer? what, precisely, did the word mean? she, sophia androvna petrovitch would volunteer, without being told. thus it was she found herself at stalin avenue, and thus the balding, myopic, bull-necked comrade thrust the papers across his desk at her. she signed her name with such vehemence and ferocity that she almost tore through the paper. chapter ii _three-score men sit in the crowded, smoke-filled room. some drink beer, some squat in moody silence, some talk in an animated fashion about nothing very urgent. at the one small door, two guards pace back and forth slowly, creating a gentle swaying of smoke-patterns in the hazy room. the guards, in simple military uniform, carry small, deadly looking weapons._ first man: fight city hall? are you kidding? they took you, bud. don't try to fight it, i know. i know. second man: i'm telling you, there was a mistake in the records. i'm over twenty-six. two weeks and two days. already i wrote to my congressman. hell, that's why i voted for him, he better go to bat for me. third man: you think that's something? i wouldn't be here only those doctors are crazy. i mean, crazy. me, with a cyst big as a golf ball on the base of my spine. first man: you too. don't try to fight it. fourth man: (newly named alaric arkalion iii) i look forward to this as a stimulating adventure. does the fact that they select men for the nowhere journey once every seven hundred and eighty days strike anyone as significant? second man: i got my own problems. alaric arkalion: this is not a thalamic problem, young man. not thalamic at all. third man: young man? who are you kidding? alaric arkalion: (who realizes, thanks to the plastic surgeon, he is the youngest looking of all, with red cheeks and peachfuzz whiskers) it is a problem of the intellect. why seven hundred and eighty days? first man: i read the magazine, too, chief. you think we're all going to the planet mars. how original. alaric arkalion: as a matter of fact, that is exactly what i think. second man: mars? first man: (laughing) it's a long way from mars to city hall, doc. second man: you mean, through space to mars? alaric arkalion: exactly, exactly. quite a coincidence, otherwise. first man: you're telling me. alaric arkalion: (coldly) would you care to explain it? first man: why, sure. you see, mars is--uh, i don't want to steal your thunder, chief. go ahead. alaric arkalion: once every seven hundred and eighty days mars and the earth find themselves in the same orbital position with respect to the sun. in other words, mars and earth are closest then. were there such a thing as space travel, new, costly, not thoroughly tested, they would want to make each journey as brief as possible. hence the seven hundred and eighty days. first man: not bad, chief. you got most of it. third man: no one ever said anything about space travel. first man: you think we'd broadcast it or something, stupid? it's part of a big, important scientific experiment, only we're the hamsters. alaric arkalion: ridiculous. you're forgetting all about the cold war. first man: he thinks we're fighting a war with the martians. (laughs) orson wells stuff, huh? alaric arkalion: with the russians. the russians. we developed a bombs. they developed a bombs. we came up with the h bomb. so did they. we placed a station up in space, a fifth of the way to the moon. so did they. then--nothing more about scientific developments. for over twenty years. i ask you, doesn't it seem peculiar? first man: peculiar, he says. alaric arkalion: peculiar. second man: i wish my congressman.... first man: you and your congressman. the way you talk, it was your vote got him in office. second man: if only i could get out and talk to him. alaric arkalion: no one is permitted to leave. first man: punishable by a prison term, the law says. second man: oh yeah? prison, shmision. or else go on the nowhere journey. well, i don't see the difference. first man: so, go ahead. try to escape. second man: (looking at the guards) they got them all over. all over. i think our mail is censored. alaric arkalion: it is. second man: they better watch out. i'm losing my temper. i get violent when i lose my temper. first man: see? see how the guards are trembling. second man: very funny. maybe you didn't have a good job or something? maybe you don't care. i care. i had a job with a future. didn't pay much, but a real blue chip future. so they send me to nowhere. first man: you're not there yet. second man: yeah, but i'm going. third man: if only they let you know when. my back is killing me. i'm waiting to pull a sick act. just waiting, that's all. first man: go ahead and wait, a lot of good it will do you. third man: you mind your own business. first man: i am, doc. you brought the whole thing up. second man: he's looking for trouble. third man: he'll get it. alaric arkalion: we're going to be together a long time. a long time. why don't you all relax? second man: you mind your own business. first man: nuts, aren't they. they're nuts. a sick act, yet. second man: look how it doesn't bother him. a failure, he was. i can just see it. what does he care if he goes away forever and doesn't come back? one bread line is as good as another. first man: ha-ha. second man: yeah, well i mean it. forever. we're going away, someplace--forever. we're not coming back, ever. no one comes back. it's for good, for keeps. first man: tell it to your congressman. or maybe you want to pull a sick act, too? third man: (hits first man, who, surprised, crashes back against a table and falls down) it isn't an act, damn you! guard: all right, break it up. come on, break it up.... alaric arkalion: (to himself) i wish i saw that ten million dollars already--_if_ i ever get to see it. * * * * * they drove for hours through the fresh country air, feeling the wind against their faces, listening to the roar their ground-jet made, all alone on the rimrock highway. "where are we going, kit?" "search me. just driving." "i'm glad they let you come out this once. i don't know what they would have done to me if they didn't. i had to see you this once. i--" temple smiled. he had absented himself without leave. it had been difficult enough and he might yet be in a lot of hot water, but it would be senseless to worry stephanie. "it's just for a few hours," he said. "hours. when we want a whole lifetime. kit. oh, kit--why don't we run away? just the two of us, someplace where they'll never find you. i could be packed and ready and--" "don't talk like that. we can't." "you want to go where they're sending you. you want to go." "for god's sake, how can you talk like that? i don't want to go anyplace, except with you. but we can't run away, steffy. i've got to face it, whatever it is." "no you don't. it's noble to be patriotic, sure. it always was. but this is different, kit. they don't ask for part of your life. not for two years, or three, or a gamble because maybe you won't ever come back. they ask for all of you, for the rest of your life, forever, and they don't even tell you why. kit, don't go! we'll hide someplace and get married and--" "and nothing." temple stopped the ground-jet, climbed out, opened the door for stephanie. "don't you see? there's no place to hide. wherever you go, they'd look. you wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life running, steffy. not with me or anyone else." "i would. i would!" "know what would happen after a few years? we'd hate each other. you'd look at me and say 'i wouldn't be hiding like this, except for you. i'm young and--'" "kit, that's cruel! i would not." "yes, you would. steffy, i--" a lump rose in his throat. he'd tell her goodbye, permanently. he had to do it that way, did not want her to wait endlessly and hopelessly for a return that would not materialize. "i didn't get permission to leave, steffy." he hadn't meant to tell her that, but suddenly it seemed an easy way to break into goodbye. "what do you mean? no--you didn't...." "i had to see you. what can they do, send me for longer than forever?" "then you do want to run away with me!" "steffy, no. when i leave you tonight, steffy, it's for good. that's it. the last of kit temple. stop thinking about me. i don't exist. i--never was." it sounded ridiculous, even to him. "kit, i love you. i love you. how can i forget you?" "it's happened before. it will happen again." that hurt, too. he was talking about a couple of statistics, not about himself and stephanie. "we're different, kit. i'll love you forever. and--kit ... i know you'll come back to me. i'll wait, kit. we're different. you'll come back." "how many people do you think said _that_ before?" "you don't want to come back, even if you could. you're not thinking of us at all. you're thinking of your brother." "you know that isn't true. sometimes i wonder about jase, sure. but if i thought there was a chance to return--i'm a selfish cuss, steffy. if i thought there was a chance, you know i'd want you all for myself. i'd brand you, and that's the truth." "you do love me!" "i loved you, steffy. kit temple loved you." "loved?" "loved. past tense. when i leave tonight, it's as if i don't exist anymore. as if i never existed. it's got to be that way, steffy. in thirty years, no one ever returned." "including your brother, jase. so now you want to find him. what do i count for? what...." "this going wasn't my idea. i wanted to stay with you. i wanted to marry you. i can't now. none of it. forget me, steffy. forget you ever knew me. jase said that to our folks before he was taken." almost five years before jason temple had been selected for the nowhere journey. he'd been young, though older than his brother kit. young, unattached, almost cheerful he was. naturally, they never saw him again. "hold me, kit. i'm sorry ... carrying on like this." they had walked some distance from the ground-jet, through scrub oak and bramble bushes. they found a clearing, fragrant-scented, soft-floored still from last autumn, melodic with the chirping of nameless birds. they sat, not talking. stephanie wore a gay summer dress, full-skirted, cut deep beneath the throat. she swayed toward him from the waist, nestled her head on his shoulder. he could smell the soft, sweet fragrance of her hair, of the skin at the nape of her neck. "if you want to say goodbye ..." she said. "stop it," he told her. "if you want to say goodbye...." her head rolled against his chest. she turned, cradled herself in his arms, smiled up at him, squirmed some more and had her head pillowed on his lap. she smiled tremulously, misty-eyed. her lips parted. he bent and kissed her, knowing it was all wrong. this was not goodbye, not the way he wanted it. quickly, definitely, for once and all. with a tear, perhaps, a lot of tears. but permanent goodbye. this was all wrong. the whole idea was to be business-like, objective. it had to be done that way, or no way at all. briefly, he regretted leaving the encampment. this wasn't goodbye the way he wanted it. the way it had to be. this was _auf weidersen_. and then he forgot everything but stephanie.... * * * * * "i am alaric arkalion iii," said the extremely young-looking man with the old, wise eyes. how incongruous, temple thought. the eyes look almost middle-aged. the rest of him--a boy. "something tells me we'll be seeing a lot of each other," arkalion went on. the voice was that of an older man, too, belying the youthful complexion, the almost childish features, the soft fuzz of a beard. "i'm kit temple," said temple, extending his hand. "arkalion, a strange name. i know it from somewhere.... say! aren't you--don't you have something to do with carpets or something?" "here and now, no. i am a number. a- - . but my father is--perhaps i had better say was--my father is alaric arkalion ii. yes, that is right, the carpet king." "i'll be darned," said temple. "why?" "well," temple laughed. "i never met a billionaire before." "here i am not a billionaire, nor will i ever be one again. a- - , a number. on his way to mars with a bunch of other numbers." "mars? you sound sure of yourself." "reasonably. ah, it is a pleasure to talk with a gentleman. i am reasonably certain it will be mars." temple nodded in agreement. "that's what the sunday supplements say, all right." "and doubtless you have observed no one denies it." "but what on earth do we want on mars?" "that in itself is a contradiction," laughed arkalion. "we'll find out, though, temple." they had reached the head of the line, found themselves entering a huge, double-decker jet-transport. they found two seats together, followed the instructions printed at the head of the aisle by strapping themselves in and not smoking. talking all around them was subdued. "contrariness has given way to fear," arkalion observed. "you should have seen them the last few days, waiting around the induction center, a two-ton chip on each shoulder. say, where _were_ you?" "i--what do you mean?" "i didn't see you until last evening. suddenly, you were here." "did anyone else miss me?" "but i remember you the first day." "did anyone else miss me? any of the officials?" "no. not that i know of." "then i was here," temple said, very seriously. arkalion smiled. "by george, of course. then you were here. temple, we'll get along fine." temple said that was swell. "anyway, we'd better. forever is a long time." three minutes later, the jet took off and soared on eager wings toward the setting sun. * * * * * "men, since we are leaving here in a few hours and since there is no way to get out of the encampment and no place to go over the desert even if you could," the microphone in the great, empty hall boomed as the two files of men marched in, "there is no harm in telling you where you are. from this point, in a limited sense, you shall be kept abreast of your progress. "we are in white sands, new mexico." "the garden spot of the universe!" someone shouted derisively, remembering the bleak hot desert and jagged mountain peaks as they came down. "white sands," muttered arkalion. "it looks like space travel now, doesn't it, kit." temple shrugged. "why?" "white sands was the center of experiments in rocketry decades ago, when people still talked about those things. then, for a long time, no one heard anything about white sands. the rockets grew here, kit." "i can readily see why. you could look all your life without finding a barren spot like this." "precisely. someone once called this place--or was it some other place like it?--someone once called it a good place to throw old razor blades. if people still used razor blades." the microphone blared again, after the several hundred men had entered the great hall and milled about among the echoes. temple could picture other halls like this, other briefings. "men, whenever you are given instructions, in here or elsewhere, obey them instantly. our job is a big one, complicated and exacting. attention to detail will save us trouble." someone said, "my old man served a hitch in the army, back in the sixties. that's what he always said, attention to details. the army is crazy about things like that. are we in the army or something?" "this is not the army, but the function is similar," barked the microphone. "do as you are told and you will get along." stirrings in the crowd. mutterings. temple gaped. microphone, yes--but receivers also, placed strategically, all around the hall, to pick up sound. telio receivers too, perhaps? it made him feel something like a goldfish. apparently someone liked the idea of the two-way microphones. "i got a question. when are we coming back?" laughter. hooting. catcalls. blared the microphone: "there is a rotation system in operation, men. when it is feasible, men will be rotated." "yeah, in thirty years it ain't been whatsiz--feasible--once!" "that, unfortunately, is correct. when the situation permits, we will rotate you home." "from where? where are we going?" "at least tell us that." "where?" "how about that?" there was a pause, then the microphone barked: "i don't know the answer to that question. you won't believe me, but it is the truth. no one knows where you are going. no one. except the people who are already there." more catcalls. "that doesn't make sense," arkalion whispered. "if it's space travel, the pilots would know, wouldn't they?" "automatic?" temple suggested. "i doubt it. space travel must still be new, even if it has thirty years under its belt. if that man speaks the truth--if no one knows ... just where in the universe _are_ we going?" chapter iii "hey, looka me. i'm flying!" "will you get your big fat feet out of my face?" "sure. show me how to swim away through air, i'll be glad to." "leggo that spoon!" "i ain't got your spoon." "will you look at it float away. hey spoon, hey!" "watch this, charlie. this will get you. i mean, get you." "what are you gonna do?" "relax, chum." "leggo my leg. help! i'm up in the air. stop that." "i said relax. there. ha-ha, lookit him spin, just like a top. all you got to do is get him started and he spins like a top with arms and legs. top of the morning to you, charlie. ha-ha. i said, top of the...." "someone stop me, i'm getting dizzy." they floated, tumbled, spun around the spaceship's lounge room in simple, childish glee. they cavorted in festive weightlessness. "they're happy now," arkalion observed. "the novelty of free fall, of weighing exactly nothing, strikes them as amusing." "i think i'm getting the hang of it," said temple. clumsily, he made a few tentative swimming motions in the air, propelling himself forward a few yards before he lost his balance and tumbled head over heels against the wall. arkalion came to him quickly, in a combination of swimming and pushing with hands and feet against the wall. arkalion righted him expertly, sat down gingerly beside him. "if you keep sudden motions to a minimum, you'll get along fine. more than anything else, that's the secret of it." temple nodded. "it's sort of like the first time you're on ice skates. say, how come you're so good at it?" "i used to read the old, theoretical books on space-travel." the words poured out effortlessly, smoothly. "i'm merely applying the theories put forward as early as the 's." "oh." but it left temple with some food for thought. alaric arkalion was a queer duck, anyway, and of all the men gathered in the spaceship's lounge, he alone had mastered weightlessness with hardly any trouble. "take your ice skates," arkalion went on. "some people put them on and use them like natural extensions of their feet the first time. others fall all over themselves. i suppose i am lucky." "sure," said temple. actually, the only thing odd about arkalion was his old-young face and--perhaps--his propensity for coming up with the right answers at the right times. arkalion had seemed so certain of space-travel. he'd hardly batted an eyelash when they boarded a long, tapering bullet-shaped ship at white sands and thundered off into the sky. he took for granted the change-over to a huge round ship at the wheel-shaped station in space. moments after leaving the space station--with a minimum of stress and strain, thanks to the almost-nil gravity--it was arkalion who first swam through air to the viewport and pointed out the huge crescent earth, green and gray and brown, sparkling with patches of dazzling silver-white. "you will observe it is a crescent," arkalion had said. "it is closer to the sun than we are, and off at an angle. as i suspected, our destination is mars." * * * * * then everyone was saying goodbye to earth. fantastic, it seemed. there were tears, there was laughter, cursing, promises of return, awkward verbal comparisons with the crescent moon, vows of faithfulness to lovers and sweethearts. and there was arkalion, with an avid expression in the old eyes, arkalion with his boyish face, not saying goodbye so much as he was calling hello to something temple could not fathom. now, as he struggled awkwardly with weightlessness, temple called it his imagination. his thought-patterns shifted vaguely, without motivation, from the gleaming, polished interior of the ship with its smell of antiseptic and metal polish to the clear spring air of earth, blue of sky and bright of sun. the unique blue sky of earth which he somehow knew could not be duplicated elsewhere. elsewhere--the word itself bordered on the meaningless. and stephanie. the brief warm ecstasy of her--once, forever. he wondered with surprising objectivity if a hundred other names, a hundred other women were not in a hundred other minds while everyone stared at the crescent earth hanging serenely in space--with each name and each woman as dear as stephanie, with the same combination of fire and gentle femininity stirring the blood but saddening the heart. would stephanie really forget him? did he want her to? that part of him burned by the fire of her said no--no, she must not forget him. she was his, his alone, roped and branded though a universe separated them. but someplace in his heart was the thought, the understanding, the realization that although stephanie might keep a small place for him tucked someplace deep in her emotions, she must forget. he was gone--permanently. for stephanie, he was dead. it was as he had told her that last stolen day. it was ... _stephanie, stephanie, how much i love you_.... struggling with weightlessness, he made his way back to the small room he shared with arkalion. hardly more than a cubicle, it was, with sufficient room for two beds, a sink, a small chest. he lay down and slept, murmuring stephanie's name in his sleep. * * * * * he awoke to the faint hum of the air-pumps, got up feeling rested, forgot his weightlessness and floated to the ceiling where only an outthrust arm prevented a nasty bump on his head. he used hand grips on the wall to let himself down. he washed, aware of no way to prevent the water he splashed on his face from forming fine droplets and spraying the entire room. when he crossed back to the foot of his bed to get his towel he thrust one foot out too rapidly, lost his balance, half-rose, stumbled and fell against the other bed which, like all other items of furniture, was fastened to the floor. but his elbow struck sleeping arkalion's jaw sharply, hard enough to jar the man's teeth. "i'm sorry," said temple. "didn't mean to do that," he apologized again, feeling embarrassed. arkalion merely lay there. "i said i'm sorry." arkalion still slept. it seemed inconceivable, for temple's elbow pained him considerably. he bent down, examined his inert companion. arkalion stirred not a muscle. vaguely alarmed, temple thrust a hand to arkalion's chest, felt nothing. he crouched, rested the side of his head over arkalion's heart. he listened, heard--nothing. what was going on here? "hey, arkalion!" temple shook him, gently at first, then with savage force. weightless, arkalion's body floated up off the bed, taking the covers with it. his own heart pounding furiously, temple got it down again, fingered the left wrist and swallowed nervously. temple had never seen a dead man before. arkalion's heart did not beat. arkalion had no pulse. arkalion was dead. yelling hoarsely, temple plunged from the room, soaring off the floor in his haste and striking his head against the ceiling hard enough to make him see stars. "this guy is dead!" he cried. "arkalion is dead." men stirred in the companionway. someone called for one of the armed guards who were constantly on patrol. "if he's dead, you're yelling loud enough to get him out of his grave." the voice was quiet, amused. arkalion. "what?" temple blurted, whirling around and striking his head again. a little wild-eyed, he re-entered the room. "now, who is dead, kit?" demanded arkalion, sitting up and stretching comfortably. "who--is dead? who--?" open-mouthed, temple stared. a guard, completely at home with weightlessness, entered the cubicle briskly. "what's the trouble in here? something about a dead man, they said." "a dead man?" demanded arkalion. "indeed." "dead?" muttered temple, lamely and foolishly. "dead...." arkalion smiled deprecatingly. "my friend must have been talking in his sleep. the only thing dead in here is my appetite. weightlessness doesn't let you become very hungry." "you'll grow used to it," the guard promised. he patted his paunch happily. "i am. well, don't raise the alarm unless there's some trouble. remember about the boy who cried wolf." "of course," said temple. "sure. sorry." he watched the guard depart. "bad dream?" arkalion wanted to know. "bad dream, my foot. i accidentally hit you. hard enough to hurt. you didn't move." "i'm a sound sleeper." "i felt for your heart. it wasn't beating. it wasn't!" "oh, come, come." "your heart was not beating, i said." "and i suppose i was cold as a slab of ice?" "umm, no. i don't remember. maybe you were. you had no pulse, either." arkalion laughed easily. "and am i still dead?" "well--" "clearly a case of overwrought nerves and a highly keyed imagination. what you need is some more sleep." "i'm not sleepy, thanks." "well, i think i'll get up and go down for breakfast." arkalion climbed out of bed gingerly, made his way to the sink and was soon gargling with a bottle of prepared mouthwash, occasionally spraying weightless droplets of the pink liquid up at the ceiling. temple lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, made his way to arkalion's bed while the man hummed tunelessly at the sink. temple let his hands fall on the sheet. it was not cold, but comfortably cool. hardly as warm as it should have been, with a man sleeping on it all night. was he still imagining things? "i'm glad you didn't call for a burial detail and have me expelled into space with yesterday's garbage," arkalion called over his shoulder jauntily as he went outside for some breakfast. temple cursed softly and lit another cigarette, dropping the first one into a disposal chute on the wall. * * * * * every night thereafter, temple made it a point to remain awake after arkalion apparently had fallen asleep. but if he were seeking repetition of the peculiar occurrence, he was disappointed. not only did arkalion sleep soundly and through the night, but he snored. loudly and clearly, a wheezing snore. arkalion's strange feat--or his own overwrought imagination, temple thought wryly--was good for one thing: it took his mind off stephanie. the days wore on in endless, monotonous routine. he took some books from the ship's library and browsed through them, even managing to find one concerned with traumatic catalepsy, which stated that a severe emotional shock might render one into a deep enough trance to have a layman mistakenly pronounce him dead. but what had been the severe emotional disturbance for arkalion? could the effects of weightlessness manifest themselves in that way in rare instances? temple naturally did not know, but he resolved to find out if he could after reaching their destination. one day--it was three weeks after they left the space station, temple realized--they were all called to assembly in the ship's large main lounge. as the men drifted in, temple was amazed to see the progress they had made with weightlessness. he himself had advanced to handy facility in locomotion, but it struck him all the more pointedly when he saw two hundred men swim and float through air, pushing themselves along by means of the hand-holds strategically placed along the walls. the ever-present microphone greeted them all. "good afternoon, men." "good afternoon, mac!" "hey, is this the way to ebbetts' field?" "get on with it!" "sounds like the same man who addressed us in white sands," temple told arkalion. "he sure does get around." "a recording, probably. listen." "our destination, as you've probably read in newspapers and magazines, is the planet mars." mutterings in the assembly, not many of surprise. "their suppositions, based both on the seven hundred eighty day lapse between nowhere journeys and the romantic position in which the planet mars has always been held, are correct. we are going to mars. "for most of you, mars will be a permanent home for many years to come--" "most of us?" temple wondered out loud. arkalion raised a finger to his lips for silence. "--until such time as you are rotated according to the policy of rotation set up by the government." temple had grown accustomed to the familiar hoots and catcalls. he almost had an urge to join in himself. "interesting," arkalion pointed out. "back at white sands they claimed not to know our destination. they knew it all right--up to a point. the planet mars. but now they say that all of us will not remain on mars. most interesting." "--further indoctrination in our mission soon after our arrival on the red planet. landing will be performed under somewhat less strain than the initial takeoff in the earth-to-station ferry, since mars exerts less of a gravity pull than earth. on the other hand, you have been weightless for three weeks and the change-over is liable to make some of you sick. it will pass harmlessly enough. "we realize it is difficult, being taken from your homes without knowing the nature of your urgent mission. all i can tell you now--and, as a matter of fact, all i know--" "here we go again," said temple. "more riddles." "--is that everything _is_ of the utmost urgency. our entire way of life is at stake. our job will be to safeguard it. in the months which follow, few of you will have any big, significant role to play, but all of you, working together, will provide the strength we need. when the _cadre_--" "so they call their guards teachers," arkalion commented dryly. "--come around, they will see that each man is strapped properly into his bunk for deceleration. deceleration begins in twenty-seven minutes." _mars_, thought temple, back in his room with arkalion. _mars._ he did not think of stephanie, except as a man who knows he must spend the rest of his life in prison might think of a lush green field, or the cool swish of skis over fresh, powdery snow, or the sound of yardarms creaking against the wind on a small sailing schooner, or the tang of wieners roasting over an open fire with the crisp air of fall against your back, or the scent of good french brandy, or a woman. deceleration began promptly. before his face was distorted and his eyes forced shut by a pressure of four gravities, temple had time to see the look of complete unconcern on arkalion's face. arkalion, in fact, was sleeping. he seemed as completely relaxed as he did that morning temple thought he was dead. chapter iv "petrovitch, s. a.!" called the comrade standing abreast of the head of the line, a thin, nervous man half a head shorter than the girl herself. sophia androvna petrovitch strode forward, took a pair of trim white shorts from the neat stack at his left. "is that all?" she said, looking at him. "yes, comrade. well, a woman. well." without embarrassment, sophia had seen the men ahead of her in line strip and climb into the white shorts before they disappeared through a portal ahead of the line, depositing their clothing in a growing pile on the floor. but now it was sophia's turn, after almost a two hour wait. not that it was chilly, but.... "is that all?" she repeated. "certainly. strip and move along, comrade." the nervous little man appraised her lecherously, she thought. "then i must keep some of my own clothing," she told him. "impossible. i have my orders." "i am a woman." "you are a volunteer for the stalintrek. you will take no personal property--no clothing--with you. strip and advance, please." sophia flushed slightly, while the men behind her began to call and taunt. "i like this stalintrek." "oh, yes." "we are waiting, comrade." quickly and with an objective detachment which surprised her, sophia unbuttoned her shirt, removed it. her one wish--and an odd one, she thought, smiling--was for wax for her ears. she loosened the three snaps of her skirt, watched it fall to the floor. she stood there briefly, lithe-limbed, a tall, slim girl, then had the white shorts over her nakedness in one quick motion. she still wore a coarse halter. "all personal effects, comrade," said the nervous little man. "no," sophia told him. "but yes. definitely, yes. you hold up the line, and we have a schedule to maintain. the stalintrek demands quick, prompt obedience." "then you will give me one additional item of clothing." the man looked at sophia's halter, at the fine way she filled it. he shrugged. "we don't have it," he said, clearly enjoying himself. in volunteering for the stalintrek, sophia had invaded man's domain. she had watched not with embarrassment but with scorn while the men in front of her got out of their clothing. she had invaded man's domain, and as she watched them, the short flabby ones, the bony ones with protruding ribs and collar-bones, those of milky white skin and soft hands, she knew most of them would bite off more than they could chew if ever they tried what was the most natural thing for men to try with a lone woman in an isolated environment. but she _was_ in a man's world now, and if that was the way they wanted it, she would ask no quarter. she reached up quickly with one hand and unfastened the halter, catching it with her free hand and holding it in front of her breasts while the nervous little man licked his lips and gaped. sophia grabbed another pair of the white shorts, tore it quickly with her strong fingers, fashioning a crude covering for herself. this she pulled around her, fastening it securely with a knot in back. "you'll have to give that back to me," declared the nervous little comrade. "i'll bet you a samovar on that," sophia said quietly, so only the man heard her. he reached out, as if to rip the crude halter from her body, but sophia met him halfway with her strong, slim fingers, wrapping them around his biceps and squeezing. the man's face turned quickly to white as he tried unsuccessfully to free his arm. "please, that hurts." "i keep what i am wearing." she tightened her grip, but gazed serenely into space as the man stifled a whimper. "well--" the man whispered indecisively as he gritted his teeth. "fool!" said sophia. "your arm will be black and blue for a week. while you men grow soft and lazy, many of the women take their gymnastics seriously, especially if they want to keep their figures with the work they must do and the food they must eat. i am stronger than you and i will hurt you unless--" and her hand tightened around his scrawny arm until her knuckles showed white. "wear what you have and go," the man pleaded, and moaned softly when sophia released his numb arm and strode through the portal, still drawing whistles and leers from the other men, who missed the by-play completely. * * * * * "so we're on mars!" "it ain't nowhere after all, it's mars." "wait and see, buster. wait and see." "kind of cold, isn't it? well, if this was venus and some of them beautiful one-armed dames was waiting for us--" "that's just a statue, stupid." "lookit all them people down there, will you?" "you think they're martians?" "stupid! we ain't the first ones went on the nowhere journey." "what are we waiting for? it sure will feel good to stretch your legs." "let's go!" "look out, mars, here i come!" it would have been just right for a hollywood epic, temple thought. the rusty ochre emptiness spreading out toward the horizon in all directions, spotted occasionally with pale green and frosty white, the sky gray with but a shade of blue in it, distant gusts of martian wind swirling ochre clouds across the desert, the spaceship poised on its ungainly bottom, a great silver bowling ball with rocket tubes for finger holes, and the martians from earth who had been here on this alien world for seven-hundred-eighty days or twice seven-eighty or three times, and who fought in frenzied eagerness, like savages, to reach the descending gangplank first. earth chorus: hey, martians, any of you guys speak english? hah-ha, i said, any of you guys.... where are all them canals i heard so much about? you think maybe they're dangerous? (laughter) no dames. hey, no dames.... who were you expecting, donna daunley? what kind of place is mars with no women? what do they do here, anyway, just sit around and wait for the next rocket? i'm cold. get used to it, brother, get used to it. look out, mars, here i come! martian chorus: who won the series last year, detroit? hey, bud, tell me, are dames still wearing those one piece things, all colors, so you see their legs up to about here and their chests down to about here? (gestures lewdly) which one of you guys can tell me what it's like to take a bath? i mean a real bath in a real bath tub. hey, we licked russia yet? we heard they were gonna send some dames! dames--ha-ha, you're breaking my heart. tell me what a steak tastes like. so thick. me? gimme a bowl of steamed oysters. and a dame. dames. girls. women. females. chicks. tomatoes. frails. dames. dames. dames.... they did not seem to mind the cold, these earth-martians. temple guessed they never spent much time out of doors (above ground, for there were no buildings?) because all seemed pale and white. while the sun was weaker, so was the protection offered by a thinner atmosphere. the sun's actinic rays could burn, and so could the sand-driving wind. but pale skins could not be the result of staying indoors, for temple noted the lack of man-made structures at once. underground, then. the earth-martians lived underground like moles. doing what? and for what reason? with what ultimate goal, if any? and where did those men who did not remain on mars go? temple's head whirled with countless questions--and no answers. shoulder to shoulder with arkalion, he made his way down the gangplank, turning up the collar of his jumper against the stinging wind. "you got any newspapers, pal?" "magazines?" "phonograph records?" "gossip?" "newsfilm?" "who's the heavyweight champ?" "we lick those commies in burma yet?" "step back! watch that man. maybe he's your replacement." "replacement. ha-ha. that's good." all types of men. all ages. in torn, tattered clothing, mostly. in rags. even if a man seemed more well-groomed than the rest, on closer examination temple could see the careful stitching, the patches, the fades and stains. no one seemed to mind. "hey, bud. what do you hear about rotation? they passed any laws yet?" "i been here ten years. when do _i_ get rotated?" "ain't that something? dad jenks came here with the first ship. don't you talk about rotation. ask dad." "better not mention that word to dad jenks. he sees red." "this whole damn planet is red." "want a guided tour of nowhere, men? step right up." arkalion grinned. "they seem so well-adjusted," he said, then shuddered against the cold and followed temple, with the others, through the crowd. they were inoculated against nameless diseases. (watch for the needle with the hook) they were told again they had arrived on the planet mars. (no kidding?) led to a drab underground city, dimly lit, dank, noisome with mold and mildew. (quick, the chlorophyll) assigned bunks in a dormitory, with four men to a room. (be it ever so humble--bah!) told to keep things clean and assigned temporarily to a garbage pickup detail. (for this i left sheboygan?) read to from the declaration of independence, the constitution and public law (concerned with the nowhere journey, it told them nothing they did not already know). given as complete a battery of tests, mental, emotional and physical, as temple ever knew existed. (cripes, man! how the hell should i know what the cube root of - is? i never finished high school!) subjected to an exhaustive, overlong, and at times meaningless personal interview. (no doc, honest. i never knew i had a--uh--anxiety neurosis. is it dangerous?) "how do you do, temple? sit down." "thank you." "thought you'd like to know that while your overall test score is not uncanny, it's decidedly high." "so what?" "so nothing--not necessarily. except that with it you have a very well balanced personality. we can use you, temple." "that's why i'm here." "i mean--elsewhere. mars is only a way station, a training center for a select few. it takes an awful lot of administrative work to keep this place going, which explains the need for all the station personnel." "listen. the last few weeks i had everything thrown at me. everything, the works. mind answering one question?" "shoot." "what's this all about?" "temple, i don't know!" "you what?" "i know you find it hard to believe, but i don't. there isn't a man here on mars who knows the whole story, either--and certainly not on earth. we know enough to keep everything in operation. and we know it's important, all of it, everything we do." "you mentioned a need for some men elsewhere. where?" the psychiatrist shrugged. "i don't know. somewhere. anywhere." he spread his hands out eloquently. "that's where the nowhere journey comes in." "surely you can tell me something more than--" "absolutely not. it isn't that i don't want to. i can't. i don't know." "well, one more question i'd like you to answer." the psychiatrist lit a cigarette, grinned. "say, who is interviewing whom?" "this one i think you can tackle. i have a brother, jason temple. embarked on the nowhere journey five years ago. i wonder--" "so that's the one factor in your psychograph we couldn't figure out--anxiety over your brother." "i doubt it," shrugged temple. "more likely my fiancee." "umm, common enough. you were to be married?" "yes." _stephanie, what are you doing now? right now?_ "that's what hurts the most.... well, yes, i can find out about your brother." the psychiatrist flicked a toggle on his desk. "jamison, find what you can on temple, jason, year of--" " ," temple supplied. " . we'll wait." after a moment or two, the voice came through, faintly metallic: "temple, jason. arrival: . psychograph, -bl . mental aggregate, . physcom, good to excellent. training: two years, space perception concentrate, others. shipped out: ." so jase had shipped out for--nowhere. "someday you'll follow in your brother's footsteps, temple. now, though, i have a few hundred questions i'd like you to answer." the psychiatrist hadn't exaggerated. several hours of questioning followed. once reminded of her, temple found it hard to keep his thought off stephanie. he left the psychiatrist's office more confused than ever. * * * * * "good morning, child. you are stephanie andrews?" stephanie hadn't felt up to working that first morning after kit's final goodbye. she answered the door in her bathrobe, saw a small, middle-aged woman with graying hair and a kind face. "that's right. won't you come in?" "thank you. i represent the complete emancipation league, miss andrews." "complete emancipation league? oh, something to do with politics. really, i'm not much interested in--" "that's entirely the trouble," declared the older woman. "too many of us are not interested in politics. i'd like to discuss the c.e.l. with you, my dear, if you will bear with me a few minutes." "all right," said stephanie. "would you like a glass of sherry?" "in the morning?" the older woman smiled. "i'm sorry. don't mind me. my fiance left yesterday, took his final goodbye. he--he embarked on the nowhere journey." "i realize that. it is precisely why i am here. my dear, the c.e.l. does not want to fight the government. if the government decides that the nowhere journey is vital for the welfare of the country--even if the government won't or can't explain what the nowhere journey is--that's all right with us. but if the government says there is a rotation system but does absolutely nothing about it, we're interested in that. do you follow me?" "yes!" cried stephanie. "oh, yes. go on." "the c.e.l. has sixty-eight people in congress for the current term. we hope to raise that number to seventy-five for next election. it's a long fight, a slow uphill fight, and frankly, my dear, we need all the help we can get. people--young women like yourself, my dear--are entirely too lethargic, if you'll forgive me." "you ought to forgive _me_," said stephanie, "if you will. you know, it's funny. i had vague ideas about helping kit, about finding some way to get him back. only to tackle something like that alone.... i'm only twenty-one, just a girl, and i don't know anyone important. no one ever comes back, that's what you hear. but there's a rotation system, you also hear that. if i can be of any help...." "you certainly can, my dear. we'd be delighted to have you." "then, eventually, maybe, just maybe, we'll start getting them rotated home?" "we can't promise a thing. we can only try. and i never did say we'd try to get the boys rotated, my dear. there is a rotation system in the law, right there in public law . but if no men have ever been rotated, there must be a reason for it." "yes, but--" "but we'll see. if for some reason rotation simply is not practicable, we'll find another way. which is why we call ourselves the c.e.l.--complete emancipation league--for women. if men must embark on the nowhere journey--the least they can do is let their women volunteer to go along with them if they want to--since it may be forever. let a bunch of women get to this nowhere place and you'll never know what might happen, that's what i say." something about the gray haired woman's earthly confidence imbued stephanie with an optimism she never expected. "well," she said, smiling, "if we can't bring ourselves to mohammed.... no, that's all wrong!... to the mountain...?" "yes, there's an old saying. but it isn't important. you get the idea. my dear, how would you like to go to nowhere?" "i--to kit, anywhere, anywhere!" _i'll never forget yesterday, kit darling. never!_ "i make no promises, stephanie, but it may be sooner than you think. morning be hanged, perhaps i will have some sherry after all. umm, you wouldn't by any chance have some canadian instead?" humming, stephanie dashed into the kitchen for some glasses. * * * * * there were times when the real alaric arkalion iii wished his father would mind his own business. like that thing about the nowhere journey, for instance. maybe alaric sr. didn't realize it, but being the spoiled son of a billionaire wasn't all fun. "i'm a dilettante," alaric would tell himself often, gazing in the mirror, "a bored dilettante at the age of twenty-one." which in itself, he had to admit, wasn't too bad. but having reneged on the nowhere journey in favor of a stranger twice his age who now carried his, alaric's face, had engendered some annoying complications. "you'll either have to hide or change your own appearance and identity, alaric." "hide? for how long, father?" "i can't be sure. years, probably." "that's crazy. i'm not going to hide for years." "then change your appearance. your way of life. your occupation." "i have no occupation." "get one. change your face, too. your fingerprints. it can be done. become a new man, live a new life." in hiding there was boredom, impossible boredom. in the other alternative there was adventure, intrigue--but uncertainty. one part of young alaric craved that uncertainty, the rest of him shunned it. in a way it was like the nowhere journey all over again. "maybe nowhere wouldn't have been so bad," said alaric to his father, choosing as a temporary alternative and retreat what he knew couldn't possibly happen. couldn't it? "if i choose another identity, i'd be eligible again for the nowhere journey." "by george, i hadn't considered that. no, wait. you could be older than twenty-six." "i like it the way i am," alaric said, pouting. "then you'll have to hide. i spent ten million dollars to secure your future, alaric. i don't want you to throw it away." alaric pouted some more. "let me think about it." "fair enough, but i'll want your answer tomorrow. meanwhile, you are not to leave the house." alaric agreed verbally, but took the first opportunity which presented itself--that very night--to sneak out the servants' door, go downtown, and get stewed to the gills. at two in the morning he was picked up by the police for disorderly conduct (it had happened before) after losing a fistfight to a much poorer, much meaner drunk in a downtown bar. they questioned alaric at the police station, examined his belongings, went through his wallet, notified his home. fuming, alaric sr. rushed to the police station to get his son. he was met by the desk sergeant, a fat, balding man who wore his uniform in a slovenly fashion. "mr. arkalion?" demanded the sergeant, picking at his teeth with a toothpick. "yes. i have come for alaric, my son." "sure. sure. but your son's in trouble, mr. arkalion. serious trouble." "what are you talking about? if there are any damages, i'll pay. he didn't--hurt, anyone, did he?" the sergeant broke the toothpick between his teeth, laughed. "him? naw. he got the hell beat out of him by a drunk half his size. it ain't that kind of trouble, mr. arkalion. you know what an card is, mister?" arkalion's face drained white. "why--yes." "alaric's got one." "naturally." "according to the card, he should have shipped out on the nowhere journey, mister. he didn't. he's in serious trouble." "i'll see the district attorney." "more'n likely, you'll see the attorney general. serious trouble." chapter v the trouble with the stalintrek, sophia thought, was that it took months to get absolutely nowhere. there had been the painful pressure, the loss of consciousness, the confinement in this tight little world of dormitories and gleaming metal walls, the uncanny feeling of no weight, the ability--boring after a while, but interesting at first--to float about in air almost at will. then, how many months of sameness? sophia had lost all track of time through _ennui_. but for the first brief period of adjustment on the part of her fellows to the fact that although she was a woman and shared their man's life she was still to be inviolate, the routine had been anything but exciting. the period of adjustment had had its adventures, its uncertainties, its challenge, and to sophia it had been stimulating. why was it, she wondered, that the men who carried their sex with strength and dignity, the hard-muscled men who could have their way with her if they resorted to force were the men who did not violate her privacy, while the weaklings, the softer, smaller men, or the average men whom sophia considered her physical equals were the ones who gave her trouble? she had always accepted her beauty, the obvious attraction men found in her, with an objective unconcern. she had been endowed with sex appeal; there was not much room in her life to exploit it, even had she wanted to. now, now when she wanted anything but that, it gave her trouble. her room was shared, of necessity, with three men. tall, gangling boris gave her no trouble, turned his back when she undressed for the evening, even though she was careful to slip under the covers first. ivan, the second man, was short, thin, stooped. often she found him looking at her with what might have been more than a healthy interest, but aside from that he kept his peace. besides, ivan had spent two years in secondary school (as much as sophia) and she enjoyed conversing with him. the third man, georgi, was the troublemaker. georgi was one of those plump young men with red cheeks, big, eager eyes, a voice somewhat too high. he was an avid talker, a boaster and a bore. in the beginning he showered attentions on sophia. he insisted on drawing her wash-basin at night, escorted her to breakfast every morning, told her in confidence of the conquests he had made over beautiful women (but not as beautiful as you, sophia). he soon began to take liberties. he would sit--timorously at first, but with growing boldness--on the corner of her bed, talking with her at night after the others had retired, ivan with his snores, boris with his strong, deep breathing. and night after night, plump georgi grew bolder. he would reach out and touch sophia, he would insist on tucking her in at night (let me be your big brother), he would awaken her in the morning with his hand heavy on her shoulder. finally, one night at bedtime, she heard him conversing in low whispers with ivan and boris. she could not hear the words, but boris looked at her with what she thought was surprise, ivan nodded in an understanding way, and both of them left the room. sophia frowned. "what did you tell them, georgi?" "that we wanted to be alone one evening, of course." "i never gave you any indication--" "i could see it in your eyes, in the way you looked at me." "well, you had better call them back inside and go to bed." georgi shook his head, approached her. "georgi! call them back or i will." "no, you won't." georgi followed her as she retreated into a corner of the room. when she reached the wall and could retreat no further, he placed his thick hands on her shoulders, drew her to him slowly. "you will call no one," he rasped. she ducked under his arms, eluded him, was on the point of running to the door, throwing it open and shouting, when she considered. if she did, she would be asking for quarter, gaining a temporary reprieve, inviting the same sort of thing all over again. she crossed to the bed and sat down. "come here, georgi." "ah." he came to her. she watched him warily, a soft flabby man not quite so tall as she was, but who nevertheless outweighed her by thirty or forty pounds. in his eagerness, he walked too fast, lost his footing and floated gently to the ceiling. smiling as demurely as she could, sophia reached up, circled his ankle with her hand. "i never could get used to this weightlessness," georgi admitted. "be nice and pull me down." "i will be nice. i will teach you a lesson." he weighed exactly nothing. it was as simple as stretching. sophia merely extended her arm upwards and georgi's head hit the ceiling with a loud _thunk_. georgi groaned. sophia repeated the procedure, lowering her arm a foot--and georgi with it--then raising it and bouncing his head off the ceiling. "i don't understand," georgi whined, trying to break free but only succeeding in thrashing his chubby arms foolishly. "you haven't mastered weightlessness," sophia smiled up at him. "i have. i said i would teach you a lesson. first make sure you have the strength of a man if you would play a man's game." still smiling, sophia commenced spinning the hand which held georgi's ankle. arms and free leg flailing air helplessly, georgi began to spin. "put me down!" he whined, a boy now, not even pretending to be a man. when sophia shoved out gently and let his ankle go he did a neat flip in air and hung suspended, upside down, his feet near the ceiling, his head on a level with sophia's shoulders. he cried. she slapped his upside down face, carefully and without excitement, reddening the cheeks. "i was--only joking," he slobbered. "call back our friends." sophia found one of the hard, air-tight metal flasks they used for drinking in weightlessness. with one hand she opened the lid, with the other she grasped georgi's shoulder and spun him in air, still upside down. she squirted the water in his face, and because he was upside down and yelling it made him choke and cough. when the container was empty she lowered georgi gently to the floor. minutes later, she opened the door, summoned boris and ivan, who came into the room self-consciously. what they found was a thoroughly beaten georgi sobbing on the floor. after that, sophia had no trouble. week after week of boredom followed and she almost wished georgi or someone else would _look_ for trouble ... even if it were something she could not handle, for although she was stronger than average and more beautiful, she was still a woman first, and she knew if the right man.... * * * * * "did you know that radio communication is maintained between earth and mars?" the alaric arkalion on mars asked temple. "why, no. i never thought about it." "it is, and i am in some difficulty." "what's the matter?" temple had grown to like arkalion, despite the man's peculiarities. he had given up trying to figure him out, feeling that the only way he'd get anywhere was with arkalion's cooperation. "it's a long story which i'm afraid you would not altogether understand. the authorities on earth don't think i belong here on the nowhere journey." "is that so? a mistake, huh? i sure am glad for you, alaric." "that's not the difficulty. it seems that there is the matter of impersonation, of violating some of the clauses in public law . you're glad for me. i'm likely to go to prison." "if it's that serious, how come they told you?" "they didn't. but i--managed to find out. i won't go into details, kit, but obviously, if i managed to embark for nowhere when i didn't have to, then i wanted to go. right?" "i--uh, guess so. but why--?" "that isn't the point. i _still_ want to go. not to mars, but to nowhere. i still can, despite what has happened, but i need help." temple said, "anything i can do, i'll be glad to," and meant it. for one thing, he liked arkalion. for another, arkalion seemed to know more, much more than he would ever say--unless temple could win his confidence. for a third, temple was growing sick and tired of mars with its drab ochre sameness (when he got to the surface, which was rarely), with its dank underground city, with its meaningless attention to meaningless detail. either way, he figured there was no returning to earth. if nowhere meant adventure, as he suspected it might, it would be preferable. mars might have been the other end of the galaxy for all its nearness to earth, anyway. "there is a great deal you can do. but you'll have to come with me." "where?" temple demanded. "where you will go eventually. to nowhere." "fine." and temple smiled. "why not now as well as later?" "i'll be frank with you. if you go now, you go untrained. you may need your training. undoubtedly, you will." "you know a lot more than you want to talk about, don't you?" "frankly, yes.... i am sorry, kit." "that's all right. you have your reasons. i guess if i go with you i'll find out soon enough, anyway." arkalion grinned. "you have guessed correctly. i am going to nowhere, before they return me to earth for prosecution under public law . i cannot go alone, for it takes at least two to operate ... well, you'll see." "count me in," said temple. "remember, you may one day wish you had remained on mars for your training." "i'll take my chances. mars is driving me crazy. all i do is think of earth and stephanie." "then come." "where are we going?" "a long, long way off. it is unthinkably remote, this place called nowhere." temple felt suddenly like a kid playing hookey from school. "lead on," he said, almost jauntily. he knew he was leaving stephanie still further behind, but had he been in prison on the next street to hers, he might as well have been a million miles away. as for arkalion--the thought suddenly struck temple--arkalion wasn't necessarily leaving his world further behind. perhaps arkalion was going home.... * * * * * stephanie picked up the phone eagerly. in the weeks since her first meeting with mrs. draper of the c.e.l., the older woman had been a fountain of information and of hope for her. stephanie for her part had taken over mrs. draper's job in her own section of center city: she was busy contacting the two hundred mothers and fifty sweethearts of the nowhere journey which had taken kit from her. and now mrs. draper had called with information. "we've successfully combined forces with some of the less militant elements in both houses of congress," mrs. draper told her over the phone. "do you realize, my dear, this marks the first time the c.e.l. has managed to put something constructive through congress? until now we've been content merely to block legislation, such as an increase in the nowhere contingent from...." "yes, mrs. draper. i know all that. but what about this constructive thing you've done." "well, my dear, don't count your chickens. but we _have_ passed the bill, and we expect the president won't veto it. you see, the president has two nephews who...." "i know. i know. what bill did you pass?" "unfortunately, it's somewhat vague. ultimately, the nowhere commission must do the deciding, but it does pave the way." "for what, mrs. draper?" "hold onto your hat, my dear. the bill authorizes the nowhere commission to make as much of a study as it can of conditions--wherever our boys are sent." "oh." stephanie was disappointed. "that won't get them back to us." "no. you're right, it won't get them back to us. that isn't the idea at all, for there is more than one way to skin a cat, my dear. the nowhere commission will be studying conditions--" "how can they? i thought everything was so hush-hush, not even congress knew anything about it." "that was the first big hurdle we have apparently overcome. anyway, they will be studying conditions with a view of determining if one girl--just one, mind you--can embark on the nowhere journey as a pilot study and--" "but i thought they could make the journey only once every seven-hundred-eighty days." "get congress aroused and you can move mountains. it seems the expense entailed in a trip at any but those times is generally prohibitive, but when something special comes up--" "it can be done! mrs. draper, how i love to talk with you!" "see? there you go, my dear, counting your chickens. one girl will be sent, if the study indicates she can take it. one girl, stephanie, and only after a study. she'd merely be a pilot case. but afterwards.... ah, afterwards.... perhaps someday soon qualified women will be able to join their men in nowhere." "mrs. draper, i love you." "naturally, you will tell all this to prospective c.e.l. members. now we have something concrete to work with." "i know. and i will, i will, mrs. draper. by the way, how are they going to pick the girl, the one girl?" "don't count your chickens, for heaven's sake! they haven't even studied the situation yet. well, i'll call you, my dear." stephanie hung up, dressed, went about her canvassing. she thought happy thoughts all week. * * * * * "shh! quiet," cautioned arkalion, leading the way down a flight of heavy-duty plastic stairs. "how do you know your way around here so well?" "i said quiet." it was not so much, temple realized, that arkalion was really afraid of making noise. rather, he did not want to answer questions. temple smiled in the semi-darkness, heard the steady drip-drip-drip of water off somewhere to his left. eons before the coming of man on this stopover point to nowhere, the martian waters had retreated from the planet's ancient surface and seeped underground to carve, slow drop by drop, the caverns which honey-combed the planet. "you know your way around so well, i'd swear you were a martian." arkalion's soft laugh carried far. "i said there was to be no noise. please! as for the martians, the only martians are here all around you, the men of earth. ahh, here we are." at the bottom of the flight of stairs temple could see a door, metallic, giving the impression of strength without great weight. arkalion paused a moment, did something with a series of levers, shook his head impatiently, started all over again. "what's that for?" temple wanted to know. "what do you think? it is a combination lock, with five million possible combinations. do you want to be here for all of eternity?" "no." "then quiet." vaguely, temple wondered why the door wasn't guarded. "with a lock like this," arkalion explained, as if he had read temple's thought, "they need no other precaution. it is assumed that only authorized personnel know the combination." then had arkalion come this way before? it seemed the only possible assumption. but when? and how? "here we are," said arkalion. the door swung in toward them. temple strode forward, found himself in a great bare hall, surprisingly well-lighted. after the dimness of the caverns, he hardly could see. "don't stand there scowling and fussing with your eyes. there is one additional precaution--an alarm at central headquarters. we have about five minutes, no more." at one end of the bare hall stood what to temple looked for all the world like an old-fashioned telephone booth, except that its walls were completely opaque. on the wall adjacent to it was a single lever with two positions marked "hold" and "transport". the lever stood firmly in the "hold" position. "you sure you want to come?" arkalion demanded. "yes, i told you that." "good. i have no time to explain. i will enter the conveyor." "conveyor?" "this booth. you will wait until the door is shut, then pull the lever down. that is all there is to it, but, as you can see, it is a two-man operation." "but how do i--" "haste, haste! there are similar controls at the other end. you pull the lever, wait two minutes, enter the conveyor yourself. i will fetch you--if you are sure." "i'm sure, dammit!" "remember, you go without training, without the opportunity everyone else has." "you already told me that. mars is halfway to eternity. mars is limbo. if i can't go back to earth i want to go--well, to nowhere. there are too many ghosts here, too many memories with nothing to do." arkalion shrugged, entered the booth. "pull the lever," he said, and shut the door. temple reached up, grasped the lever firmly in his hand, yanked it. it slid smoothly to the position marked "transport." temple heard nothing, saw nothing, began to think the device, whatever it was, did not work. did arkalion somehow get _moved_ inside the booth? temple thought he heard footfalls on the stairs outside. soon, faintly, he could hear voices. someone banged on the door to the hall. licking dry lips, temple opened the booth, peered inside. empty. the voices clamored, fists pounded on the door. something clicked. tumblers fell. the door to the great, bright hall sprung outward. someone rushed in at temple, who met him savagely with a short, chopping blow to his jaw. the man, temporarily blinded by the dazzling light, stumbled back in the path of his fellows. temple darted into the booth, the conveyor, and slammed it shut. fingers clawed on the outside. a sound almost too intense to be heard rang in temple's ears. he lost consciousness instantly. chapter vi "what a cockeyed world," said alaric arkalion sr. to his son. "you certainly can't plan on anything, even if you do have more money than you'll ever possibly need in a lifetime." "don't feel like that," said young alaric. "i'm not in prison any longer, am i?" "no. but you're not free of the nowhere journey, either. there is an unheralded special trip to nowhere, two weeks from today, i have been informed." "oh?" "yes, oh. i have also been informed that you will be on it. you didn't escape after all, alaric." "oh. oh!" "what bothers me most is that scoundrel smith somehow managed to escape. they haven't found him yet, i have also been informed. and since my contract with him calls for ten million dollars 'for services rendered,' i'll have to pay." "but he didn't prevent me from--" "i can't air this thing, alaric! but listen, son: when you go where you are going, you're liable to find another alaric arkalion, your double. of course, that would be smith. if you can get him to cut his price in half because of what has happened, i would be delighted. if you could somehow manage to wring his neck, i would be even more delighted. ten million dollars--for nothing." "i'm so excited," murmured mrs. draper. stephanie watched her on one of the new televiewers, recently installed in place of the telephone. "what is it?" "our bill has been passed by a landslide majority in both houses of congress!" "ooo!" cried stephanie. "not very coherent, my dear, but those are my sentiments exactly. in two weeks there will be a journey to nowhere, a special one which will include, among its passengers, a woman." "but the study which had to be made--?" "it's already been made. from what i gather, they can't take it very far. most of their conclusions had to be based on supposition. the important thing, though, is this: a woman _will_ be sent. the way the c.e.l. figures it, my dear, is that a woman falling in the twenty-one to twenty-six age group should be chosen, a woman who meets all the requirements placed upon the young men." "yes," said stephanie. "of course. and i was just thinking that i would be--" "remember those chickens!" cautioned mrs. draper. "we already have one hundred seventy-seven volunteers who'd claw each other to pieces for a chance to go." "wrong," stephanie said, smiling. "you now have one hundred seventy-eight." "room for only one, my dear. only one, you know." "then cross the others off your list. i'm already packing my bag." * * * * * when temple regained consciousness, it was with the feeling that no more than a split second of time had elapsed. so much had happened so rapidly that, until now, he hadn't had time to consider it. arkalion had vanished. vanished--he could use no other word. he was there, standing in the booth--and then he wasn't. simple as that. now you see it, now you don't. and goodbye, arkalion. but goodbye temple, too. for hadn't temple entered the same booth, waiting but a second until arkalion activated the mechanism at the other end? and certainly temple wasn't in the booth now. he smiled at the ridiculously simple logic of his thoughts. he stood in an open field, the blades of grass rising to his knees, as much brilliant purple as they were green. waves of the grass, stirred like tide by the gentle wind, and hills rolling off toward the horizon in whichever direction he turned. far away, the undulating hills lifted to a half soft mauve sky. a somber red sun with twice sol's apparent disc but half its brightness hung mid-way between zenith and horizon completing the picture of peaceful other-worldliness. wherever this was, it wasn't earth--or mars. nowhere? temple shrugged, started walking. he chose his direction at random, crushing an easily discernible path behind him in the surprisingly brittle grass. the warm sun baked his back comfortably, the soft-stirring wind caressed his cheeks. of arkalion he found not a trace. two hours later temple reached the hills and started climbing their gentle slopes. it was then that he saw the figure approaching on the run. it took him fully half a minute to realize that the runner was not human. * * * * * after months of weightless inactivity, things started to happen for sophia. the feeling of weight returned, but weight as she never had felt it before. it was as if someone was sitting on every inch of her body, crushing her down. it made her gasp, forced her eyes shut and, although she could not see it, contorted her face horribly. she lost consciousness, coming to some time later with a dreadful feeling of loginess. someone swam into her vision dimly, stung her arm briefly with a needle. she slept. she was on a table, stretched out, with lights glaring down at her. she heard voices. "the new system is far better than testing, comrade." "far more efficient, far more objective. yes." "the brain emits electromagnetic vibration. strange, is it not, that no one before ever imagined it could tell a story. a completely accurate story two years of testing could not give us." "in russia we have gone far with the biological, psychological sciences. the west flies high with physics. give them mars; bah, they can have mars." "true, comrade. the journey to jupiter is greater, the time consumed is longer, the cost, more expensive. but here on jupiter we can do something they cannot do on mars." "i know." "we can make supermen. supermen, comrade. a wedding of nietzsche and marx." "careful. those are dangerous thoughts." "merely an allusion, comrade. merely a harmless allusion. but you take an ordinary human being and train him on jupiter, speeding his time-sense and metabolic rate tremendously with certain endocrine secretions so that one day is as a month to him. you take him and subject him to big jupiter's pull of gravity, more than twice earth's--and in three weeks you have, yes--you have a superman." "the woman wakes." "shh. do not frighten her." sophia stretched, every muscle in her body aching. slowly, as in a dream, she sat up. it required strength, the mere act of pulling her torso upright! "what have you done to me?" she cried, focusing her still-dim vision on the two men. "nothing, comrade. relax." sophia turned slowly on the table, got one long shapely leg draped over its edge. "careful, comrade." what were they warning her about? she merely wanted to get up and stretch; perhaps then she would feel better. her toe touched the floor, she swung her other leg over, aware of but ignoring her nakedness. "a good specimen." "oh, yes, comrade. so this time they send a woman among the others. well, we shall do our work. look--see the way she is formed, so lithe, loose-limbed, agile. see the toning of the muscles? her beauty will remain, comrade, but jupiter shall make an amazon of her." sophia had both feet on the floor now. she was breathing hard, felt suddenly sick to her stomach. placing both her hands on the table edge, she pushed off and staggered for two or three paces. she crumpled, buckling first at the knees then the waist and fell in a writhing heap. "pick her up." hands under her arms, tugging. she came off the floor easily, dimly aware that someone carried her hundred and thirty pounds effortlessly. "put me down!" she cried. "i want to try again. i am crippled, crippled! you have crippled me...." "nothing of the sort, comrade. you are tired, weak, and jupiter's gravity field is still too strong for you. little by little, though, your muscles will strengthen to jupiter's demands. gravity will keep them from bulging, expanding; but every muscle fibre in you will have twice, three times its original strength. are you excited?" "i am tired and sick. i want to sleep. what is jupiter?" "jupiter is a planet circling the sun at--never mind, comrade. you have much to learn, but you can assimilate it with much less trouble in your sleep. go ahead, sleep." sophia retched, was sick. it had been years since she cried. but naked, afraid, bewildered, she cried herself to sleep. things happened while she slept, many things. certain endocrine extracts accelerated her metabolism astonishingly. within half an hour her heart was pumping blood through her body two hundred beats per minute. an hour later it reached its full rate, almost one thousand contractions every sixty seconds. all her other metabolic functions increased accordingly, and sophia slept deeply for a week of subjective time--in hours. the same machine which had gleaned everything from her mind far more accurately than a battery of tests, a refinement of the electro-encephalogram, was now played in reverse, giving back to sophia everything it had taken plus electrospool after electrospool of science, mathematics, logic, economics, history (marxian, these last two), languages (including english), semantics and certain specialized knowledge she would need later on the stalintrek. still sleeping, sophia was bathed in a warm whirlpool of soothing liquid; rubbed, massaged, her muscle-toning begun while she rested and regained her strength. three hours later, objective time, she awoke with a headache and with more thoughts spinning around madly inside her brain than she ever knew existed. gingerly, she tried standing again, lifting herself nude and dripping wet from a tub of steaming amber stuff. she stood, stretched, permitted her fright to vanish with a quick wave of vertigo which engulfed her. she had been fed intravenously, but a tremendous hunger possessed her. before eating, however, she was to find herself in a gymnasium, the air close and stifling. she was massaged again, told to do certain exercises which seemed simple but which she found extremely difficult, forced to run until she thought she would collapse, with her legs, dragging like lead. she understood, now. somehow she knew she was on jupiter, the fifth and largest planet, where the force of gravity is so much greater than on earth that it is an effort even to walk. she also knew that her metabolic rate had been accelerated beyond all comprehension and that in a comparatively short time--objective time--she would have thrice her original strength. all this she knew without knowing how she knew, and that was the most staggering fact of all. she did what her curt instructors bid, then dragged her aching muscles and her headache into a dining room where tired, forlorn-looking men sat around eating. well the food at least was good. sophia attacked it ravenously. * * * * * it did not take temple long to realize that the creature running downhill at him, leaving a crushed and broken wake in the purple and green grass, was not human. at first temple toyed with the idea of a man on horseback, for the creature ran on four limbs and had two left over as arms. temple gaped. the whole thing was one piece! centaur? hardly. too small, for one thing. no bigger than a man, despite the three pairs of limbs. and then temple had time to gape no longer, for the creature, whatever it was, flashed past him at what he now had to consider a gallop. more followed. different. temple stared and stared. one could have been a great, sentient hoop, rolling downhill and gathering momentum. if he carried the wheel analogy further, a huge eye stared at him from where the hub would have been. something else followed with kangaroo leaps. one thick-thewed leg propelled it in tremendous, fifteen-foot strides while its small, flapper-like arms beat the air prodigiously. legions of creatures. all fantastically different. _i'm going crazy_, temple thought, then said it aloud. "i'm going crazy." theorizing thus, he heard a whir overhead, whirled, looked up. something was poised a dozen feet off the ground, a large, box-like object seven or eight feet across, rotors spinning above it. that, at least, he could understand. a helicopter. "i'm lowering a ladder, kit. swing aboard." arkalion's voice. stunned enough to accept anything he saw, temple waited for the rope ladder to drop, grasped its end, climbed. he swung his legs over a sill, found himself in a neat little cabin with arkalion, who hauled the ladder in and did something to the controls. they sped away. temple had one quick moment of lucid thought before everything which had happened in the last few moments shoved logic aside. what he had observed looked for all the world like a foot-race. "where the hell _are_ we?" temple demanded breathlessly. arkalion smiled. "where do you think? journey's end. welcome to nowhere, kit. welcome to the place where all your questions can be answered because there's no going back. sorry i set you down in that field by mistake, incidentally. those things sometimes happen." "can i just throw the questions at you?" "if you wish. it isn't really necessary, for you will be indoctrinated when we get you over to earth city where you belong." "what do you mean, there's no going back? i thought they had a rotation system which for one reason or another wasn't practical at the moment. that doesn't sound like no going back, ever." arkalion grunted, shrugged. "have it your way. i _know_." "sorry. shoot." "just how far do you think you have come?" "search me. some other star system, maybe?" "maybe. clean across the galaxy, kit." temple whistled softly. "it isn't something you can grasp just by hearing it. across the galaxy...." "that isn't too important just now. how long did you think the journey took?" temple nodded eagerly. "that's what gets me. it was amazing, alaric. really amazing. the whole trip couldn't have taken more than a moment or two. i don't get it. did we slip out of normal space into some other--uh, continuum, and speed across the length of the galaxy like that?" "the answer to your questions is yes. but your statement is way off. the journey did not take seconds, kit." "no? instantaneous?" "far more than seconds. to reach here from earth you traveled five thousand years." "what?" "more correctly, it was five thousand years ago that you left mars. you would need a time machine to return, and there is no such thing. the earth you know is the length of the galaxy and five thousand years behind you." chapter vii it could have been a city in new england, or maybe wisconsin. main street stretched for half a mile from town hall to the small department store. neon tubing brightened every store front, busy proprietors could be seen at work through the large plate glass windows. there was the bustle you might expect on any main street in new england or wisconsin, but you could not draw the parallel indefinitely. there were only men. no women. the hills in which the town nestled were too purple--not purple with distance but the natural color of the grass. a somber red sun hung in the pale mauve sky. this was earth city, nowhere. arkalion had deposited temple in the nearby hills, promised they would see one another again. "it may not be so soon," arkalion had said, "but what's the difference? you'll spend the rest of your life here. you realize you are lucky, kit. if you hadn't come, you would have been dead these five thousand years. well, good luck." dead--five thousand years. the earth as he knew it, dust. stephanie, a fifty generation corpse. nowhere was right. end of the universe. temple shuffled his feet, trudged on into town. a man passed him on the street, stooped, gray-haired. the man nodded, did a mild double-take. _i'm an unfamiliar face_, temple thought. "howdy," he said. "i'm new here." "that's what i thought, stranger. know just about everyone in these here parts, i do, and i said to myself, now there's a newcomer. funny you didn't come in the regular way." "i'm here," said temple. "yeah. funny thing, you get to know everyone. eh, what you say your name was?" "christopher temple." "make it my business to know everyone. the neighborly way, i always say. temple, eh? we have one here." "one what?" "another fellow name of temple. jase temple, son." "i'll be damned!" temple cried, smiling suddenly. "i will be damned. tell me, old timer, where can i find him?" "might be anyplace. town's bigger'n it looks. i tell you, though, jase temple's our co-ordinator. you'll find him there, the co-ordinator's office. town hall, down the end of the street." "i already passed it," temple told the man. "and thanks." temple's legs carried him at a brisk pace, past the row of store fronts and down to the town hall. he read a directory, climbed a flight of stairs, found a door marked: jason temple earth city co-ordinator. heart pounding, temple knocked, heard someone call, "come in." he pushed the door in and stared at his brother, just rising to face him. "kit! kit! what are you doing ... so you took the journey too!" jason ran to him, clasped his shoulders, pounded them. "you sure are looking fit. kit, you could have knocked me over with half a feather, coming in like that." "you're looking great too, jase," temple lied. he hadn't seen his brother in five years, had never expected to see him again. but he remembered a full-faced, smiling man somewhat taller than himself, somewhat broader across the shoulders. the jason he saw looked forty-five or fifty but was hardly out of his twenties. he had fierce, smouldering eyes, gaunt cheeks, graying hair. he seemed a bundle of restless, nervous energy. "sit down, kit. start talking, kid brother. start talking and don't stop till next week. tell me everything. everything! tell me about the blue sky and the moon at night and the way the ocean looks on a windy day and...." "five years," said temple. "five years." "five thousand, you mean," jason reminded him. "it hardly seems possible. how are the folks, kit?" "mom's fine. pop too. he's sporting a new chambers converto. you should see him, jase. sharp." "and ann?" jason looked at him hopefully. ann had been jason's stephanie--but for the nowhere journey they would have married. "ann's married," temple said. "oh. oh. that's swell, kit. really swell. i mean, what the hell, a girl shouldn't wait forever. i told her not to, anyway." "she waited four years, then met a guy and--" "a nice guy?" "the best," said temple. "you'd like him." temple saw the vague hurt come to jason's smouldering eyes. then it was the same. one part of jason wanted her to remain his over an unthinkable gap, another part wanted her to live a good, full life. "i'm glad," said jason. "can't expect a girl to wait without hope...." "then there's no hope we'll ever get back?" jason laughed harshly. "you tell me. earth isn't merely sixty thousand light years away. kit, do you know what a light year is?" temple said he thought he did. "sixty thousand of them. a dozen eternities. but the earth we know is also dead. dead five thousand years. the folks, center city, ann, her husband--all dust. five thousand years old.... don't mind me, kit." "sure. sure, i understand." but temple didn't, not really. you couldn't take five thousand years and chuck them out the window in what seemed the space of a heart beat and then realize they were gone permanently, forever. not a period of time as long as all of recorded civilization--you couldn't take it, tack it on after and accept it. somehow, temple realized, the five thousand years were harder to swallow than the sixty thousand light years. "well," with a visible effort, jason snapped out of his reverie. temple accepted a cigarette gratefully, his first in a long time. _in fifty centuries_, he thought bitterly, burrowing deeper into a funk. "well," said jason, "i'm acting like a prize boob. how selfish can i get? there must be an awful lot you'd like to know, kit." "that's all right. i was told i'd be indoctrinated." "ordinarily, you would. but there's no shipment now, none for another three months. say, how the devil _did_ you get here?" "that's a long story. nowhere journey, same as you, with a little assist to speed things up on mars. jase, tell me this: what are we doing here? what is everyone doing here? what's the nowhere journey all about? what kind of a glorified foot-race did i see a while ago, with a bunch of creatures out of the telio science-fiction shows?" jason put his own cigarette out, changed his mind, lit another one. "sort of like the old joke, where does an alien go to register?" "sort of." "it's a big universe," said jason, evidently starting at the beginning of something. "i'm just beginning to learn _how_ big!" "it would be pretty unimaginative of mankind to consider itself the only sentient form of life, earth the only home of intelligence, both from a scientific and a religious point of view. we kind of expected to find--neighbors out in space. kit, the sky is full of stars, most stars have planets. the universe crawls with life, all sorts of life, all sorts of intelligent life. in short, we are not alone. it would be sort of like taking the jet-shuttle from washington to new york during the evening rush and expecting to be the only one aboard. in reality, you're lucky to get breathing space. "there are biped intelligences, like humans. there are radial intelligences, one-legged species, tall, gangling creatures, squat ones, pancake ones, giants, dwarfs. there are green skins and pink skins and coal black--and yes, no skins. there are ... but you get the idea." "uh-huh." "strangely enough, most of these intelligences are on about the same developmental level. it's as if the creator turned everything on at once, like a race, and said 'okay, guys get started.' maybe it's because, as scientists figure, the whole universe got wound up and started working as a unit. i don't know. anyway, that's the way it is. all the intelligences worth talking about are on about the same cultural level. atomics, crude spaceflight, wars they can't handle. "and this is interesting, kit. most of 'em are bipedal. not really human, not fully human. you can see the difference. but seventy-five percent of the races i've encountered have had basic similarities. a case of the creator trying to figure out the best of all possible life-patterns and coming up with this one. offers a wide range for action, for adaptation, stuff like that. anyway, i'm losing track of things." "take it easy. from what you tell me i have all the time in the world." "well, i said all the races are developmentally parallel. that's almost true. one of them is not. one of them is so far ahead that the rest of us have hardly reached the crawling stage by comparison. one of them is the super race, kit. "their culture is old, incredibly old. so old, in fact, that some of us figure it's been hanging around since before the universe took shape. maybe that's why all the others are on one level, a few thousand million years behind the super race. "so, take this super race. for some reason we can't understand, it seems to be on the skids. that's just figurative. maybe it's dying out, maybe it wants to pack up and leave the galaxy altogether, maybe it's got other undreamed of business other undreamed of places. anyway, it wants out. but it's got an eon-old storehouse of culture and maybe it figures someone ought to have access to that and keep the galaxy in running order. but who? that's the problem. who gets all this information, a million million generations of scientific problems, all carefully worked out? who, among all the parallel races on all the worlds of the universe? that's quite a problem, even for our super race boys. "you'd think they'd have ways to solve it, though. with calculating machines or whatever will follow calculating machines after earthmen and all the others find the next faltering step after a few thousand years. or with plain horse sense and logic, developed to a point--after millions of years at it--where it never fails. or solve the problem with something we've never heard of, but solve it anyway." "what's all this got to do with--? i mean, it's an interesting story and when i get a chance to digest it i'll probably start gasping, but what about nowhere and...." "i'm coming to that. kit, what would you say if i told you that the most intelligent race the universe has ever produced solves the biggest problem ever handed anyone--by playing games?" "i'd say you better continue." "that's the purpose of nowhere, kit. every planet, every race has its nowhere. we all come here and we play games. planet with the highest score at the end of god knows how long wins the universe, with all the science and the wisdom needed to fashion that universe into a dozen different kinds of heaven. and to decide all this, we play games. "don't get the wrong idea. i'm not complaining. if the superboys say we play, then we play. i'd take their word for it if they told me i had fifteen heads. but it's the sort of thing which doesn't let you get much sleep. oh, earth has a right to be proud of its record. united north america is in second place on a competition that's as wide as the universe. but we're not first. second. and i have a hunch from what's been going on around here that the games are drawing to a close. "fantastic, isn't it? out of thousands of entrants, we're good enough to place second. but some planet out near the star deneb has us hopelessly outclassed. we might as well get the booby prize. they'll win and own the universe--us included." jason had leaned forward as he spoke, and was sitting on the edge of his chair now. the room was comfortably cool, but sweat beaded his forehead, dripped from his chin. temple lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply. "you said the united states--north america--was second. i thought this was a planet-wide competition, planet against planet." "earth is the one exception i've been able to find. the deneb planet heads the list, then comes north america. after that, the planet of a star i never heard of. in fourth place is the soviet union." "i'll be damned," said temple. "well, okay. mind if i store that away for future reference? i've got another question. what kind of--uh, games do we play?" "you name it. mental contests. scientific problems to be worked out with laboratories built to our specifications. emotional problems with scores of men driven neurotic or worse every year. problems of adaptability. responses to environmental challenge. stamina contests. tests of strength, of endurance. tests to determine depths of emotion. tests to determine objectivity in what should be an objective situation. but the way everything is organized it's almost like a giant-sized, never ending olympic games, complete with some cockeyed sports events too, by the way." "with all the pageantry, too?" "no. but that's another story." "anyway, what i saw _was_ a foot-race! and sorry, jase, but i have another question." jason shrugged, spread his hands wide. "how come all this talk about rotation? it isn't possible, not with a fifty century gap." "i know. they just let us in on that little deal a couple of years ago. till then, we didn't know. we thought it was distance only. in time, after all this was over, we could go home. that's what we thought," jason said bitterly. "actually, it's twice five thousand years. five to come here, five to return. ten thousand years separate us from the earth we know, and even if we could go home, that wouldn't be going home at all--to earth ten thousand years in the future. "oh, they had us hoodwinked. afraid we might say no or something. they never mentioned the length or duration of the trip. i don't understand it, none of us do and we have some top scientists here. something to do with suspended animation, with contra-terrene matter, with teleportation, something about latent extra-sensory powers in everyone, about the ability to break down an object--or a creature or a man--to its component atoms, to reverse--that's the word, reverse--those atoms and send them spinning off into space as contra-terrene matter. "it all boils down to putting a man in a machine on mars, pulling a lever, materializing him here five thousand years later." jason smiled with only a trace of humor. "any questions?" "about a thousand," said temple. "i--" something buzzed on jason's desk and temple watched him pick up a microphone, say: "co-ordinator speaking. what's up?" the voice which answered, clear enough to be in the room with them and without the faintest trace of mechanical or electrical transfer, spoke in a strange, liquid-syllabled language temple had never heard. jason responded in the same language, with an apparent ease which surprised temple--until he remembered that his brother had always had a knack of picking up foreign languages. maybe that was why he held the co-ordinator's job--whatever it was he co-ordinated. there was fluency in the way jason spoke, and alarm. the trouble-lines etched deeply on his face stood out sharply, his eyes, if possible, grew more intense. "well," he said, putting the mike down and staring at temple without seeing him, "i'm afraid that does it." "what's the trouble?" "everything." "anything i can do?" "item. the superboys have discovered that earth has two contingents here--us and the soviets. they're mad. item. something will be done about it. item. soviet russia has made a suggestion, or that is, its people here. they will put forth a champion to match one of our own choosing in the toughest grind of all, something to do with responding to environmental challenge, which doesn't mean a hell of a lot unless you happen to know something about it. shall i go on?" and, when temple nodded avidly. "we automatically lose by default. one of the rules of that particular game is that the contestant must be a newcomer. it's the sort of game you have to know nothing about, and incidentally, it's also the sort of game a man can get killed at. well, the soviets have a whole contingent of newcomers to pick from. we don't have any. as the superboys see it, that's our own tough luck. we lose by default." "it seems to me--" "how can anything 'seem to you?' you're new here.... i'm sorry kit. what were you saying?" "no. go ahead." "that's only the half of it. right after russia takes our place and we're scratched off the list, the games go into their final phase. that was the rumor all along, and it's just been confirmed. interesting to see what they do with all the contestants _after_ the games are over, after there's no more nowhere journey." "we could go back where we came from." "ten thousand years in the future?" "i'm not afraid." "well, anyway, the soviets put up a man, we can't match him. so it looks like the u.s.s.r. represents earth officially. not that it matters. we hardly have the chance of a very slushy snowball in a very hot hell. but still--" "our contestant, this guy who meets the russians' challenge, has to be a newcomer?" "that's what i said. well, we can close up shop, i guess." "you made a mistake. you said no newcomers have arrived. i'm here, jase. i'm your man. bring on your russian bear." temple smiled grimly. chapter viii "you got to hand it to temple's kid brother." "yeah. cool as ice cubes." "are you guys kidding? he doesn't know what's in store for him, that's all." "do _you_?" "now that you mention it, no. isn't a man here who can say for sure what kind of environmental challenges he'll have to respond to. hypno-surgery sees to it the guys who went through the thing won't talk about it. as if that isn't security enough, the subject's got to be a brand new arrival!" "shh! here he comes." the brothers temple entered earth city's one tavern quietly, but on their arrival all the speculative talk subsided. the long bar, built to accommodate half a hundred pairs of elbows comfortably, gleamed with a luster unfamiliar to temple. it might have been marble, but marble translucent rather than opaque, giving a beautiful three-dimensional effect to the surface patterns. "what will it be?" jason demanded. "whatever you're drinking is fine." jason ordered two scotches, neat, and the brothers drank. when jason got a refill he started talking. "does t.a.t. mean anything to you, kit?" "tat? umm--no. wait a minute! t.a.t. isn't that some kind of protective psychological test?" "that's it. you're shown a couple of dozen pictures, more or less ambiguous, never cut and dry. each one comes from a different stratum of the social environment, and you're told to create a dramatic situation, a story, for each picture. from your stories, for which you draw on your whole background as a human being, the psychometrician should be able to build a picture of your personality and maybe find out what, if anything, is bothering you." "what's that to do with this response to environmental challenge thing?" "well," said jason, drinking a third scotch, "the super boys have evolved t.a.t. to its ultimate. t.a.t.--that stands for thematic apperception test. but in e.c.r.--environmental challenge and response, you don't see a picture and create a dramatic story around it. instead, you get thrust into the picture, the situation, and you have to work out the solution--or suffer whatever consequences the particular environmental challenge has in store for you." "i think i get you. but it's all make believe, huh?" "that's the hell of it," jason told him. "no, it's not. it is and it isn't. i don't know." "you make it perfectly clear," temple smiled. "the red-headed boy combed his brown hair, wishing it weren't blond." jason shrugged. "i'm sorry. for reasons you already know, the e.c.r. isn't very clear to me--or to anyone. you're not actually in the situation in a physical sense, but it can affect you physically. you _feel_ you're there, you actually live everything that happens to you, getting injured if an injury occurs ... and dying if you get killed. it's permanent, although you might actually be sleeping at the time. so whether it's real or not is a question for philosophy. from your point of view, from the point of view of someone going through it, it's real." "so i become part of this--uh, game in about an hour." "right. you and whoever the russians offer as your competition. no one will blame you if you want to back out, kit; from what you tell me, you haven't even been adequately trained on mars." "if you draw on the entire background of your life for this e.c.r., then you don't need training. shut up and stop worrying. i'm not backing out of anything." "i didn't think you would, not if you're still as much like your old man as you used to be. kit ... good luck." * * * * * the fact that the technicians working around him were earthmen permitted temple to relax a little. probably, it was planned that way, for entering the huge white cube of a building and ascending to the twelfth level on a moving ramp temple had spotted many figures, not all of them human. if he had been strapped to the table by unfamiliar aliens, if the scent of alien flesh--or non-flesh--had been strong in the room, if the fingers--or appendages--which greased his temples and clamped an electrode to each one had not felt like human fingers, if the men talking to him had spoken in voices too harsh or too sibilant for human vocal chords--if all that had been the case whatever composure still remained his would have vanished. "i'm dr. olson," said one white-gowned figure. "if any injuries occur while you lie here, i'm permitted to render first aid." "the same for limited psychotherapy," said a shorter, heavier man. "though a fat lot of good it does when we never know what's bothering you, and don't have the time to work on it even if we did know." "in short," said a third man who failed to identify himself, "you may consider yourself as the driver of one of those midget rocket racers. do they still have them on earth? good. you are the driver, and we here in this room are the mechanics waiting in your pit. if anything goes wrong, you can pull out of the race temporarily and have it repaired. but in this particular race there is no pulling out: all repairs are strictly of a first-aid nature and must be done while you continue whatever you are doing. if you break your finger and find a splint appearing on it miraculously, don't say you weren't warned." "best of luck to you, young man," said the psychotherapist. "here we go," said the doctor, finding the large vein on the inside of temple's forearm and plunging a needle into it. temple's senses whirled instantly, but as his vision clouded he thought he saw a large, complex device swing down from the ceiling and bathe his head in warming radiation. he blinked, squinted, could see nothing but a swirling, cloudy opacity. * * * * * approximately two seconds later, sophia androvna petrovitch watched as the white-gowned comrade tied a rubber strap around her arm, waited for the vein to swell with blood, then forced a needle in through its thick outer layer. was that a nozzle overhead? no, rather a lens, for from it came amber warmth ... which soon faded, with everything else, into thick, churning fog.... temple was abruptly aware of running, plunging headlong and blindly through the fiercest storm he had ever seen. gusts of wind whipped at him furiously. rain cascaded down in drenching torrents. foliage, brambles, branches struck against his face; mud sucked at his feet. big animal shapes lumbered by in the green gloom, as frightened by the storm as was temple. his head darted this way and that, his eyes could see the gnarled tree trunks, the dense greenery, the lianas, creepers and vines of a tropical rain forest--but dimly. green murk swirled in like thick smoke with every gust of wind, with the rain obscuring vision almost completely. temple ran until his lungs burned and he thought he must exhale fire. his leaden feet fought the mud with growing difficulty for every stride he took. he ran wildly and in no set direction, convinced only that he must find shelter or perish. twice he crashed bodily into trees, twice stumbled to his knees only to pull himself upright again, sucking air painfully into his lungs and cutting out in a fresh direction. he ran until his legs balked. he fell, collapsing first at the knees, then the waist, then flopping face down in the mud. something prodded his back as he fell and reaching behind him weakly temple was aware for the first time that a bow and a quiver of arrows hung suspended from his shoulders by a strong leather thong. he wore nothing but a loin cloth of some nameless animal skin and he wondered idly if he had slain the animal with the weapon he carried. yet when he tried to recollect he found he could not. he remembered nothing but his frantic flight through the rain forest, as if all his life he had run in a futile attempt to leave the rain behind him. now as he lay there, the mud sucking at his legs, his chest, his armpits, he could not even remember his name. did he have one? did he have a life before the rain forest? then why did he forget? a sense not fully developed in man and called intuition by those who fail to understand it made him prop his head up on his hands and squint through the downpour. there was something off there in the foliage ... someone.... a woman. temple's breath caught in his throat sharply. the woman stood half a dozen paces off, observing him coolly with hands on flanks. she stood tall and straight despite the storm and from trim ankles to long, lithe legs to flaring loin-clothed hips, to supple waist and tawny skin of fine bare breasts and shoulders, to proud, haughty face and long dark hair loose in the storm and glistening with rain, she was magnificent. her long, bronzed body gleamed with wetness and temple realized she was tall as he, a wild beautiful goddess of the jungle. she was part of the storm and he accepted her--but strangely, with the same fear the storm evoked. she would make a lover the whole world might relish (what world, temple thought in confusion?) but she would make a terrible foe. and foe she was.... "i want your bow and arrows," she told him. temple wanted to suggest they share the weapon, but somehow he knew in this world which was like a dream and could tell him things the way a dream would and yet was vividly real, that the woman would share nothing with anybody. "they are mine," temple said, climbing to his knees. he remembered the animal-shapes lumbering by in the storm and he knew that he and the animals would both stalk prey when the storm subsided and he would need the bow and arrows. the woman moved toward him with a liquid motion beautiful to behold, and for the space of a heartbeat temple watched her come. "i will take them," she said. temple wasn't sure if she could or not, and although she was a woman he feared her strangely. again, it was as if something in this dream-world real-world could tell him more than he should know. making up his mind, temple sprang to his feet, whirled about and ran. he was plunging through the wild storm once more, blinded by the occasional flashes of jagged green lightning, deafened by the peals of thunder which followed. and he was being pursued. minutes, hours, more than hours--for an eternity temple ran. a reservoir of strength he never knew he possessed provided the energy for each painful step and running through the storm seemed the most natural thing in the world to him. but there came a time when his strength failed, not slowly, but with shocking suddenness. temple fell, crawled a ways, was still. it took him minutes to realize the storm no longer buffeted him, more minutes to learn he had managed to crawl into a cave. he had no time to congratulate himself on his good fortune, for something stirred outside. "i am coming in," the woman called to him from the green murk. temple strung an arrow to his bow, pulled the string back and faced the cave's entrance squatting on his heels. "then your first step shall be your last. i'll shoot to kill." and he meant it. silence from outside. deafening. temple felt sweat streaming under his armpits; his hands were clammy, his hands trembled. "you haven't seen the last of me," the woman promised. after that, temple knew she was gone. he slept as one dead. when temple awoke, bright sunlight filtered in through the foliage outside his cave. although the ground was a muddy ruin, the storm had stopped. edging to the mouth of the cave, temple spread the foliage with his hands, peered cautiously outside. satisfied, he took his bow and arrows and left the cave, pangs of hunger knotting his stomach painfully. the cave had been weathered in the side of a short, steep abutment a dozen paces from a gushing, swollen stream. temple followed the course of the stream as it twisted through the jungle, ranging half a mile from his cave until the water course widened to form a water-hole. all morning temple waited there, crouching in the grass, until one by one, the forest animals came to drink. he selected a small hare-like thing, notched an arrow to his bow, let it fly. the animal jumped, collapsed, began to slink away into the undergrowth, dragging the arrow from its hindquarters. temple darted after it, caught it in his hands and bashed its life out against the bole of a tree. returning to his cave he found two flinty stones, shredded a fallen branch and nursed the shards dry in the strong sunlight. soon he made a fire and ate. * * * * * in the days which followed, temple returned to the water-hole and bagged a new catch every time he ventured forth. things went so well that he began to range further and further from his cave exploring. once however, he returned early to the water-hole and found footprints in the soft mud of its banks. the woman. that she had been observing him while he had hunted had never occurred to temple, but now that the proof lay clearly before his eyes, the old feeling of uncertainty came back. and the next day, when he crept stealthily to the water-hole and saw the woman squatting there in the brush, waiting for him, he fled back to his cave. the thought hit him suddenly. if she were stalking him, why must he flee as from his own shadow? there would be no security for either of them until either one or the other were gone--and gone meant dead. then temple would do his own stalking. for several nights temple hardly slept. he could have found the water-hole blindfolded merely by following the stream. each night he would reach the hole and work, digging with a sharp stone, until he had fashioned a pit fully ten feet deep and six feet across. this he covered with branches, twigs, leaves and finally dirt. when he returned in the morning he was satisfied with his work. unless the woman made a careful study of the area, she would never see the pit. all that day temple waited with his back to the water-hole, facing the camouflaged pit, the trap he had set, but the woman failed to appear. when she also did not come on the second day, he began to think his plan would not work. the third day, temple arrived with the sun, sat as before in the tall grass between the pit and the water-hole and waited. several paces beyond his hidden trap he could see the tall trees of the jungle with vines and creepers hanging from their branches. at his back, a man's length behind him was the water-hole, its deepest waters no more than waist-high. temple waited until the sun stood high in the sky, then was fascinated as a small antelope minced down to the water-hole for a drink. _you'll make a fine breakfast tomorrow, he thought, smiling._ something, that strange sixth sense again, made temple turn around and stand up. he had time for a brief look, a hoarse cry. the woman had been the cleverer. she had set the final trap. she stood high up on a branch of one of the trees beyond the hidden pit and for an instant temple saw her fine figure clearly, naked but for the loincloth. then the soft curves became spring-steel. the woman arched her body there on the high branch, grasping a stout vine and rocking back with it. temple raised his bow, set an arrow to let it fly. but by then, the woman was in motion. long and lithe and graceful, she swung down on her vine, gathering momentum as she came. her feet almost brushed the lip of temple's pit at the lowest arc of her flight, but she clung to the vine and it began to swing up again like a pendulum--toward temple. at the last moment he hunched his shoulder and tried to raise his arms for protection. the woman was quicker. she gathered her legs up under her, still clutching the vine with her slim, strong hands. the vine's arc carried her up at him; her knees were at a level with his head and she brought them up savagely, close together striking temple brutally at the base of his jaw. temple screamed as his head was jerked back with terrible force. the bow flew from his fingers and he fell into the water-hole, flat on his back. sophia let the vine carry her out over the water, then dropped from it. waist deep, she waded to where the man lay, unconscious on his back, half in, half out of the shallowest part of the water. she reached him, prodded his chest with her foot. when he did not stir, she rocked her weight down gracefully on her long leg, forcing his head under water. with a haughty smile, she watched the bubbles rise.... * * * * * in the small room where temple's body lay in repose on a table the white-smocked doctor looked at the psychotherapist questioningly. "what's happening?" "can't tell, doctor. but--" suddenly temple's still body rocked convulsively, his neck stretched, his head shot up and back. blood trickled from his mouth. the doctor thrust out expert hands, examined temple's jaw dexterously. "broken?" the psychotherapist demanded in a worried voice. "no. dislocated. he looks like he's been hit by a sledge hammer, wherever he is now, whatever's happening. this e.c.r. is the damndest thing." temple's still form shuddered convulsively. he began to gasp and cough, obviously fighting for breath. an ugly blue swelling had by now lumped the base of his jaw. "what's happening?" demanded the psychotherapist. "i can't be sure," said the doctor, shaking his head. "he seems to have difficulty in breathing ... it's as if he were--drowning." "bad. anything we can do?" "no. we wait until this particular sequence ends." the doctor examined temple again. "if it doesn't end soon, this man will die of asphyxiation." "call it off," the psychotherapist pleaded. "if he dies now earth will be represented by russia. call it off!" someone entered the room. "_i_ have the authority," he said, selecting a hypodermic from the doctor's rack and piercing the skin of temple's forearm with it. "this first test has gone far enough. the russian entry is clearly the winner, but temple must live if he is to compete in another." the racking convulsions which shook temple's body subsided. he ceased his choking, began to breathe regularly. with grim swiftness, the doctor went to work on temple's dislocated jaw while the man who had stopped the contest rendered artificial respiration. the man was alaric arkalion. * * * * * the comrade doctor was exultant. "jupiter training, comrade, has given us a victory." "how can you be sure?" "our entrant is unharmed, the contest has been called. wait ... she is coming to." sophia stretched, rubbed her bruised knees, sat up. "what happened, comrade?" the doctor demanded. "my knees ache," said sophia, rubbing them some more. "i--i killed him, i think. strange, i never dreamed it would be that real." "in a sense, it _was_ real. if you killed the american, he will stay dead." "nothing mattered but that world we were in, a fantastic place. now i remember everything, all the things i couldn't remember then." "but your--ah, dream--what happened?" sophia rubbed her bruised knees a third time, ruefully. "i knocked him unconscious with these. i forced his head under water and drowned him. but--before i could be sure i finished the job--i came back.... funny that i should want to kill him without compunction, without reason." sophia frowned, sat up. "i don't think i want anymore of this." the doctor surveyed her coldly. "this is your task on the stalintrek. this you will do." "i killed him without a thought." "enough. you will rest and get ready for the second contest." "but if he's dead--" "apparently he's not, or we would have been informed, comrade petrovitch." "that is true," agreed the second man, who had remained silent until now. "prepare for another test, comrade." sophia was on the point of arguing again. after all it wasn't fair. if in the dream-worlds which were not dream worlds she was motivated by but one factor and that to destroy the american and if she faced him with the strength of her jupiter training it would hardly be a contest. and now that she could think of the american without the all-consuming hatred the dream world had fostered in her, she realized he had been a pleasant-looking young man, quite personable, in fact. _i could like him_, sophia thought and hoped fervently she had not drowned him. still, if she had volunteered for the stalintrek and this was the job they assigned her.... "i need no rest," she told the doctor, hardly trusting herself, for she realized she might change her mind. "i am ready any time you are." chapter ix his name was temple and it was the year . christopher temple had problems. he had his own life, too, which had nothing to do with the life of the real christopher temple, departed thirty-odd years later on the nowhere journey. or rather, this _was_ christopher temple, living his second e.c.r.... temple who had lost once, and who, if he lost again, would take the dreams and hopes of the western world down into the dust of defeat with him. but as the fictional (although in a certain sense, real) christopher temple of , he knew nothing of this. the world could go to pot. the world was going to pot, anyway. temple shuddered as he poured a fourth canadian, downing it in a tasteless, burning gulp. temple was a thermo-nuclear engineer with government subsidized degrees from three universities including the fine new one at desert rock. temple was a thermo-nuclear engineer with top-secret government clearance. temple was a thermo-nuclear engineer with more military secrets buzzing around inside his head than in a warehouse of burned pentagon files. temple was also a thermo-nuclear engineer whose wife spied for the russians. he'd found out quite by accident, not meaning to eavesdrop at all. returning home early one afternoon because the production engineer called a halt while further research was done on certain unstable isotopes, temple was surprised to find his wife had a gentleman caller. he heard their voices clearly from where he stood out in the sun-parlor, and for a ridiculous instant he was torn between slinking upstairs and ignoring them altogether or barging into the living room like a high school boy flushed with jealousy. the mature thing to do, of course, was neither, and temple was on the point of walking politely into the living room, saying hello and waiting for an introduction, when snatches of the conversation stopped him cold. "silly charles! kit doesn't suspect a thing. i would _know_." "how can you be sure?" "intuition." "on a framework of intuition you would place the fate of red empire?" "empire, charles?" temple could picture lucy's raised eyebrow. he listened now, hardly breathing. for one wild moment he thought he would retreat upstairs and forget the whole thing. life would be much simpler that way. a meaningless surrender to unreality, however, and it couldn't be done. "yes, empire. oh, not the land-grabbing, slave-dominating sort of things the imperialists used to attempt, but a more subtle and hence more enduring empire. let the world call us liberator, we shall have empire." lucy laughed, a sound which temple loved. "you may keep your ideology, charles. play with it, bathe in it, get drunk on it or drown yourself in it. i want my money." "you are frank." temple could picture lucy's shrug. "i am a paid, professional spy. by now you have most of the information you need. i shall have the rest tonight." "i'll see you in hell first!" temple cried in rage, stalking into the room and almost smiling in spite of the situation when he realized how melodramatic his words must sound. "kit! kit...." lucy raised hand to mouth, then backed away flinching as if she had been struck. "yeah, kit. a political cuckold, or does charles get other services from you as well?" "kit, you don't...." the man named charles motioned for silence. dapper, clean-cut, good-looking except for a surly, pouting mouth, he was a head shorter than either temple or lucy. "don't waste your words, sophia. temple overheard us." _sophia?_ thought temple. "sophia?" he said. charles nodded coolly. "the real mrs. temple was observed, studied, her every habit and whim catalogued by experts. a plastic surgeon, a psychologist, a sociologist, a linguist, a whole battery of experts molded sophia here into a new mrs. temple. i must congratulate them, for you never suspected." "lucy?" temple demanded dully. reason stood suspended in a limbo of objective acceptance and subjective disbelief. "mrs. temple was eliminated. regrettable because we don't deal in senseless mayhem, but necessary." temple was not aware of leaving limbo until he felt the bruising contact of his knuckles with charles' jaw. the short man toppled, fell at his feet. "get up!" temple cried, then changed his mind and tensed himself to leap upon the prone figure. "hold it," charles told him quietly, wiping blood from his lips with one hand, drawing an automatic from his pocket with the other. "you'd better freeze, temple. you die if you don't." temple froze, watched charles slither away across the high-piled green carpet until, safely away across the room, he came upright groggily. he turned to the dead lucy's double. "what do you think, sophia?" "i don't know. we could get out of here, probably get along without the final information." "that isn't what i mean. naturally, we'll never receive the final facts. i mean, what do you think about temple?" sophia said she didn't know. "left alone, he would go to the police. kidnapped, he would be worse than useless. harmful, actually, for the authorities would suspect something. even worse if we killed him. the point is, we don't want the authorities to think temple gave information to anybody." "gave is hardly the word," said sophia. "i was a good wife, but also a good gleaner. one hundred thousand dollars, charles." "you bitch," temple said. "later," charles told the woman. "the solution is this, sophia: we must kill temple, but it must look like suicide." sophia frowned in pretty concern. "do we have to ... kill him?" "what's the matter, my dear? have you been playing the wifely role too long? if temple stands in the way of red empire, temple must die." temple edged forward. "uh-uh," said charles, "mustn't." he waved the automatic and temple subsided. "is that right?" sophia demanded. "well, you listen to me. i have nothing to do with your red empire. i fled the iron curtain, came here to live voluntarily--" "do you really think it was on a voluntary basis that you went? we allowed you to go, sophia. we encouraged it. that way, the job of our technicians was all the simpler. whether you like it or not, you have been a cog in the machine of red empire." "i still don't see why he has to die." "leave thinking to those who can. you have a smile, a body, a certain way with men. i will think. i think that temple should die." "i don't," sophia said. "we're delaying needlessly. the man dies." and charles raised his automatic, sufficiently irked to forget his suicide plan. a gap of eight or nine feet separated the two men. it might as well have been infinity--and it would be soon, for temple. he saw charles' small hand tighten about the automatic, saw the trigger finger grow white. the weapon pointed at a spot just above his navel and briefly he found himself wondering what it would feel like for a slug to rip into his stomach, burning a path back to his spine. he decided to make the gesture at least, if he could do no more. he would jump for charles. sophia beat him to it--and because lucy was dead and sophia looked exactly like her and temple could not quite accept the fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. cat-quick, sophia leaped upon charles' back and they went down together in a twisting, thrashing tangle of arms and legs. temple did not wait for an invitation. he launched himself down after them, and then things began to happen ... fast. sophia rolled clear, rose to her hands and knees, panting. charles sat up cursing, nursing a badly scratched face. temple hurtled at him, stretched him on his back again, began to pound hard fists into his face. charles did not have the automatic. neither did temple. something exploded against the back of temple's head violently, throwing him off charles and tumbling him over. dimly he saw sophia following through, the automatic in her hand, butt foremost. temple's senses reeled. he tried to rise, succeeded only in a kind of shuddering slither before he subsided. he wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness, heard as in a dream snatches of conversation. "shoot him ... shoot him!" "shut up ... i have ... gun ... go to hell." "... kill ... only way." "my way is different ... out of here ... discuss later." "... feel ..." "i said ... out of here...." the voices became a meaningless liquid torrent cascading into a black pit. * * * * * now temple sat with a water-glass a third full of canadian in his hand, every once in a while reaching up gingerly to explore the bruised swelling on his head, the blood-matted hair which covered it. to be a cuckold was one thing, but to be the naive, political pawn sort of cuckold who is not a cuckold at all, he told himself, is far worse. to live with his woman, eat the meals she cooked for him, talk to her, think she understood him, sympathize with him, to make love to her with passion while she responds with play-acting for a hundred thousand dollar salary was suddenly the most emasculating thing in the world for temple. he had not thought to ask how long it had been going on. better, perhaps, if he never knew. and somewhere lost in the maze of his thoughts was the grimmest, bleakest reality of them all: lucy was dead. lucy--dead. but where did lucy leave off, where did sophia begin? was lucy dead that night they returned more than a little drunk from the chamber's party, that night they danced in the living room until dawn obscured the stars and he carried lucy upstairs. lucy or sophia? and the day they motored to the lake, their secret lake, hardly more than a dammed, widened stream and dreamed of the things they could do when the cold war ended? lucy--or sophia? had he ever noticed a difference in the way lucy-sophia cooked, in the way she spoke, the way she let him make love to her? he thought himself into a man-sized headache and found no answers. this way at least the loss of his wife was not as traumatic as it might have been. he knew not when she died or how and, in fact, lucy-sophia seemed so much like the real thing that he did not know where he could stop loving and start hating. and the girl, the russian girl, had saved his life. why? he couldn't answer that one either, unless if it were as charles suggested: sophia had studied lucy so carefully, had learned her likes and dislikes, her wants and desires, had memorized and practised every quirk of her character to such an extent that sophia was lucy in essence. which, temple thought, would make it all the harder to seek out sophia and kill her. that was the answer, the only answer. temple felt a dull ache where his heart should have been, a pressure, a pounding, an unpleasant, unfamiliar lack of feeling. if he took his story to the f.b.i. he had no doubt that charles, sophia and whoever else worked this thing with them would be caught, but he, temple, would find himself with a lifelong, unslakable emotional thirst. he had to quench it now and then feel sorry so that he might heal. he had to quench it with sophia's blood ... alone. * * * * * he found her a week later at their lake. he had looked everywhere and had about given up, almost, in fact, ready to turn his story over to the police. but he had to think and their lake was the place for that. apparently sophia had the same idea. temple parked on the highway half a mile from their lake, made his way slowly through the woods, golden dappled with sunlight. he heard the waters gushing merrily, heard the sounds of some small animal rushing off through the woods. he saw sophia. she lay on their sunning rock in shorts and halter, completely relaxed, an opened magazine face down on the rock beside her, a pair of sunglasses next to it. she had one knee up, one leg stretched out, one forearm shielding her eyes from the sun, one arm down at her side. seeing her thus, temple felt the pressure of his automatic in its holster under his arm. he could draw it out, kill her before she was aware of his presence. would that make him feel better? five minutes ago, he would have said yes. now he hesitated. kill her, who seemed as completely lucy as he was temple? send a bullet ripping through the body which he had known and loved, or the body that had seemed so much like it he had failed to tell the difference? murder--lucy? "no," he said aloud. "her name is sophia." the girl sat up, startled. "kit," she said. "lucy." "you can't make up your mind, either." she smiled just like lucy. dumbly, he sat down next to her on the rock. strong sunlight had brought a fine dew of perspiration to the bronzed skin of her face. she got a pack of cigarettes out from under the magazine, lit one, offered it to temple, lit another and smoked it. "where do we go from here?" she wanted to know. "i--" "you came to kill me, didn't you? is that the only way you can ever feel better, kit?" "i--" he was going to deny it, then think. "don't deny it. please." she reached in under his jacket, withdrawing her hand with the snub-nosed automatic in it. "here," she said, giving it to him. he took the gun, hefted it, let it fall, clattering, on the rock. "listen," she said. "i could have told you i was lucy. if i said now that i am lucy and if i kept on saying it, you'd believe me. you'd believe me because you'd want to." "well," said temple. "i am not lucy. lucy is dead. but ... but i was lucy in everything but being lucy. i thought her thoughts, dreamed her dreams, loved her loves." "you killed her." "no. i had nothing to do with that. she was killed, yes. not by me. kit, if i asked you when lucy stopped, and ... when i began, could you tell me?" he had often thought about that. "no," he said truthfully. "you're as much my wife as--she was." she clutched at his hand impulsively. then, when he failed to respond, she withdrew her own hand. "then--then i _am_ lucy. if i am lucy in every way, lucy never died." "you betrayed me. you stood by while murder was committed. you are guilty of espionage." "lucy loved you. i am lucy...." "... betrayed me...." "for a hundred thousand dollars. for the chance to live a normal life, for the chance to forget leningrad in the wintertime, watery potato soup, rags for clothing, swaggering commissars, poverty, disease. do you think i realized i could fall in love with you so completely? if i did, don't you think that would have changed things? i am not sophia, kit. i was, but i am not. they made me lucy. lucy can't be dead, not if i am she in every way." "what can we do?" "i don't know. i only want to be your wife...." "well, then tell me," he said bitterly. "shall i go back to the plant and continue working, knowing all the time that our most closely guarded secret is in russian hands and that my wife is responsible?" he laughed. "shall i do that?" "your secrets never went anywhere." "shall i ... _what?_" "your secrets never went anywhere. charles is dead. i have destroyed all that we took. i am not russian any longer. american. they made me american. they made me lucy. i want to go right on being lucy, your wife." temple said nothing for a long time. he realized now he could not kill her. but everything else she suggested.... "tell me," he said. "tell me, how long have you been lucy? you've got to tell me that." "how long have we been married?" "you know how long. three years." sophia crushed her cigarette out on the rock, wiped perspiration (tears?) from her cheek with the back of her hand. "you have never known anyone but me in your marriage bed, kit." "you--you're lying." "no. they did what they did on the eve of your marriage. i have been your wife for as long as you have had one." temple's head whirled. it had been a quick courtship. he had known lucy only two weeks in those hectic post-graduate days of . but for fourteen brief days, it was sophia he had known all along. "sophia, i--" "there is no sophia, not any more." he had hardly known lucy, the real lucy. this girl here was his wife, always had been. had the first fourteen days with lucy been anything but a dream? he was sorry lucy had died--but the lucy he had thought dead was sophia, very much alive. he took her in his arms, almost crushing her. he held her that way, kissed her savagely, letting passion of a different sort take the place of murder. _this is my woman_, he thought, and awoke on his white pallet in nowhere. * * * * * "i am awake," said temple. "we see that. you shouldn't be." "no?" "no. there is one more dream." temple dozed restfully but was soon aware of a commotion. strangely, he did not care. he was too tired to open his eyes, anyway. let whatever was going to happen, happen. he wanted his sleep. but the voice persisted. "this is highly irregular. you came in here once and--" "i did you a favor, didn't i?" (that voice is familiar, temple thought.) "well, yes. but what now?" "temple's record is now one and one. in the second sequence he was the victor. the soviet entry had to extract certain information from him and turn it over to her people. she extracted the information well enough but somehow temple made her change her mind. the information never went anyplace. how temple managed to play counterspy i don't know, but he played it and won." "that's fine. but what do you want?" "the final e.c.r. is critical." (the voice was arkalion's!) "how critical, i can't tell you. sufficient though, if you know that you lose no matter how temple fares. if the russian woman defeats temple, you lose." "naturally." "let me finish. if temple defeats the russian woman, you also lose. either way, earth is the loser. i haven't time to explain what you wouldn't understand anyway. will you cooperate?" "umm-mm. you did save temple's life. umm-mm, yes. all right." "the third dream sequence is the wrong dream, the wrong contest with the wrong antagonist at the wrong time, when a far more important contest is brewing ... with the fate of earth as a reward for the victor." "what do you propose?" "i will arrange temple's final dream. but if he disappears from this room, don't be alarmed. it's a dream of a different sort. temple won't know it until the dream progresses, you won't know it until everything is concluded, but temple will fight for a slave or a free earth." "can't you tell us more?" "there is no time, except to say that along with the rest of the galaxy, you've been duped. the nowhere journey is a grim, tragic farce. "awaken, kit!" temple awoke into what he thought was the third and final dream. strange, because this time he knew where he was and why, knew also that he was dreaming, even remembered vividly the other two dreams. * * * * * "stealth," said arkalion, and led temple through long, white-walled corridors. they finally came to a partially open door and paused there. peering within, temple saw a room much like the one he had left, with two white-gowned figures standing anxiously over a table. and prone on the table was sophia, whom temple had loved short moments before, in his second dream. moments? years. (never, except in a dream.) "she's lovely," arkalion whispered. "i know." like himself, sophia was garbed in a loose jumper and slacks. "stealth," said arkalion again. "haste." arkalion disappeared. "well," temple told himself. "what now? at least in the other dreams i was thrust so completely into things, i knew what to do." he rubbed his jaw grimly. "not that it did much good the first time." temple poked the partially-ajar door with his foot, pushing it open. the two white-smocked figures had their backs to him, leaned intently over the table and sophia. without knowing what motivated him, temple leaped into the room, grasped the nearer figure's arm, whirled him around. startled confusion began to alter the man's coarse features, but his face went slack when temple's fist struck his jaw with terrible strength. the man collapsed. the second man turned, mouthing a stream of what must have been russian invective. he parried temple's quick blow with his left hand, crossing his own right fist to temple's face and almost ending the fight as quickly as it had started. temple went down in a heap and was vaguely aware of the russian's booted foot hovering over his face. he reached out, grabbed the boot with both hands, twisted. the man screamed and fell and then they were rolling over and over, striking each other with fists, knees, elbows, gouging, butting, cursing. temple found the russian's throat, closed his hands around it, applied pressure. fists pounded his face, nails raked him, but slowly he succeeded in throttling the russian. when temple got to his feet, trembling, the russian stared blankly at the ceiling. he would go on staring that way until someone shut his eyes. not questioning the incomprehensible, temple knew he had done what he must. hardly seeking for the motive he could not find he lifted the unconscious sophia off the table, slung her long form across his shoulder, plodded with her from the room. arkalion had said haste. he would hurry. he next was aware of a spaceship. remembering no time lag, he simply stood in the ship with arkalion. and sophia. he knew it was a spaceship because he had been in one before and although the sensation of weightlessness was not present, they were in deep space. stars you never see through an obscuring atmosphere hung suspended in the viewports. cold-bright, not flickering against the plush blackness of deep space, phalanxes and legions of stars without numbers, in such wild profusion that space actually seemed three dimensional. "this is a different sort of dream," said sophia in english. "i remember. i remember everything. kit--" "hello." he felt strangely shy, became mildly angry when arkalion hardly tried to suppress a slight snicker. "well, that second dream wasn't our idea," temple protested. "once there, we acted ... and--" "and...." said sophia. "and nothing," arkalion told them. "you haven't time. this is a spaceship, not like the slow, bumbling craft your people use to reach mars or jupiter." "our people?" temple demanded. "not yours?" "will you let me finish? light is a laggard crawler by comparison with the drive propelling this ship. temple, sophia, we are leaving your galaxy altogether." "is that a fact," said sophia, her jupiter-found knowledge telling her they were traveling an unthinkable distance. "for some final contest between us, no doubt, to decide whether the u.s.s.r. or the u.s. represents earth? kit, i l--love you, but...." "but russia is more important, huh?" "no. i didn't say that. all my training has been along those lines, though, and even if i'm aware it is indoctrination, the fact still remains. if your country is truly better, but if i have seen your country only through the eyes of pravda, how can i ... i don't know, kit. let me think." "you needn't," said arkalion, smiling. "if the two of you would let me get on with it you'd see this particular train of thought is meaningless, quite meaningless." arkalion cleared his throat. "strange, but i have much the same problem as sophia has. my indoctrination was far more subtle though. far more convincing, based upon eons of propaganda methods. temple, sophia, those who initiated the nowhere journey for hundreds of worlds of your galaxy did so with a purpose." "i know. to decide who gets their vast knowledge." "wrong. to find suitable hosts in a one-way relationship which is hardly symbiosis, really out and out parasitism." "what?" and sophia: "what are you talking about?" "the sick, decadent, tired old creatures you consider your superiors. parasites. they need hosts in order to survive. their old hosts have been milked dry, have become too highly specialized, are now incapable physically or emotionally of meeting a wide variety of environmental challenges. the nowhere journey is to find a suitable new host. they have found one. you of earth." "i don't understand," temple said, remembering the glowing accounts of the 'superboys' he had been given by his brother jason. "i just don't get it. how can we be duped like that? wouldn't someone have figured it out? and if they have all the power everyone says, there isn't much we can do about it, anyway." arkalion scowled darkly. "then write earth's obituary. you'll need one." "go ahead," sophia told arkalion. "there's more you want to say." "all right. temple's thought is correct. they have tremendous power. that is why you could be duped so readily. but their power is not concentrated here. these much-faster-than-light ships are an extreme rarity, for the power-drive no longer exists. five ships in all, i believe. hardly enough to invade a planet, even for them. it takes them thousands of years to get here otherwise. thousands. just as it took me, when i came to mars and earth in the first place." "what?" cried temple. "you...." "i am one of them. correct. i suppose you would call me a subversive, but i have made up my mind. parasitism is unsatisfactory, when the maker got us started on symbiosis. somewhere along the line, evolution took a wrong turn. we are--monsters." "what do you look like?" sophia demanded while temple stood there shaking his head and muttering to himself. "you couldn't see me, i am afraid. i was the representative here to see how things were going, and when my people found you of the earth divided yourselves into two camps they realized they had been considering your abilities in halves. put together, you are probably the top culture of your galaxy." "so, we win," said temple. "right and wrong. you lose. earthmen will become hosts. know what a back-seat driver is, temple? you would be a back seat driver in your own body. thinking, feeling, wanting to make decisions, but unable to. eating when the parasite wants to, sleeping at his command, fighting, loving, living as he wills it. and perishing when he wants a new garment. oh, they offer something in return. their culture, their way of life, their scientific, economic, social system. it's good, too. but not worth it. did you know that their economic struggle between democratic capitalism and totalitarian communism ended almost half a million years ago? what they have now is a system you couldn't even understand." "well," temple mused, "even if everything you said were true--" "don't tell me you don't believe me?" "if it were true and we wanted to do something about it, what could we do?" "now, nothing. nothing but delay things by striking swiftly and letting fifty centuries of time perform your rearguard action. destroy the one means your enemy has of reaching earth within foreseeable time and you have destroyed his power to invade for a hundred centuries. he can still reach earth, but the same way you journeyed to nowhere. ten thousand years of space travel in suspended animation. you saw me that way once, temple, and wondered. you thought i was dead, but that is another story. "anyway, let my people invade your planet, ten thousand years hence. if earth takes the right direction, if democracy and free thought and individual enterprise win over totalitarian standardization as i think they will, your people will be more than a match for the decadent parasites who may or may not have sufficient initiative to cross space the slow way and attempt invasion in ten thousand years." "ten thousand?" said temple. "five from earth to nowhere. the distance to my home is far greater, but the rate of travel can be increased. ten thousand years." "tell me," temple demanded abruptly, "is this a dream?" arkalion smiled. "yes and no. it is not a dream like the others because i assure you your bodies are not now resting on a pair of identical white tables. still in the other dreams physical things could happen to you, while now you'll find you can do things as in a dream. for example, neither one of you knows the intricacies of a spaceship, yet if you are to save your planet, you must know the operation of the most intricate of all space ships, a giant space station." "then we're not dreaming?" asked temple. "i never said that. consider this sequence of events about half way between the dream stage you have already seen and reality itself. remember this: you'll have to work together; you'll have to function like machines. you will be handling totally alien equipment with only the sort of knowledge which can be played into your brains to guide you." sophia sighed. "being an american, kit is too much of an individual to help in such a situation." temple snorted. "being a cog in a simple, state-wide machine is one thing--orienting yourself in a totally new situation is another." "yes, well--" "see?" arkalion cautioned. "see? already you are arguing, but you must work together completely, with not the slightest conflict between you. as it is, you hardly have a chance." "what about you?" said sophia practically. "can't you help?" arkalion shook his head. "no. while i'd like to see you come out of this thing on top, i would not like to sacrifice my life for it--which is exactly what i'd do if i remained with you and you lost. "so, let's get down to detail. imagine space being folded, imagine your time sense slowing, imagine a new dimension which negates the need for extensive linear travel, imagine anything you want--but we are in the process of moving nine hundred thousand light years through deep space. there is a great galaxy at that distance, almost a twin of your milky way: you call it the andromeda nebula. closer to your own system are the two magellanic clouds, so called, something else which you table ngc , and finally the triangulum galaxy. all have billions of stars, but none of the stars have life. to find life outside your galaxy you must seek it across almost a million light years. my people live in andromeda. "guarding the flank of their galaxy and speeding through inter-galactic space at many light years per minute is what you might call a space station--but on a scale you've never dreamed of. five of your miles in diameter, it is a fortress of terrible strength, a storehouse of half a million years of weapon development. it has been arranged that the one man running this station--" "just one?" temple asked. "yes. you will see why when you get there. it has been arranged that he will leave, ostensibly on a scouting expedition. you see, i am not alone in this venture. at any rate, he will report that the space station has been taken--as, indeed, it will be, by the two of you. the only ships capable of overtaking your station in its flight will be the only ships capable of reaching your galaxy before cultural development gives you a chance to survive. they will attack you. you will destroy them--or be destroyed yourselves. any questions?" the whole thing sounded fantastic to temple. could the fate of all earth rest on their shoulders in a totally alien environment? could they be expected to win? temple had no reason to doubt the former, as wild as it sounded. as for the latter, all he could do was hope. "tell me," he said, "how will we learn the use of all the weapons you claim are at our disposal?" "can you answer that for him, sophia?" arkalion wanted to know. "umm, i think so. the same way i had all sorts of culture crammed into me on jupiter." "precisely. only take it from me our refinement is far better, and the amount you have to learn actually is less." "what i'd like to know--" sophia began. "forget it. i want some sleep and you'll learn everything that's necessary at the space station." and after that, ply arkalion as they would with questions, he slumped down in his chair and rested. temple could suddenly understand and appreciate. he felt like curling up into a tight little ball himself and sleeping until everything was over, one way or the other. chapter x "it's all so big! so incredible! we'll never understand it! never...." "relax, sophia. arkalion said--" "i know what arkalion said, but we haven't learned anything yet." hours before, arkalion had landed them on the space station, a gleaming, five-mile in diameter globe, and had quickly departed. soon after that they had found themselves in a veritable labyrinth of tunnels, passageways, vaults. occasionally they passed a great glowing screen, and always the view of space was the same. like a magnificent, elongated shield, sparkling with a million million points of light, pale gold, burnished copper, blue of glacial ice and silver white, the andromeda galaxy spanned space from upper right to lower left. off at the lower right hand corner they could see their space station; apparently the viewer itself stood far removed in space, projecting its images here at the globe. awed the first time they had seen one of the screens, temple said, "all the poets who ever wrote a line would have given half their lives to see this as we see it now." "and all the writers, musicians, artists...." "anyone who ever thought creatively, sophia. how can you say it's breathtaking or anything like that when words weren't ever spoken which can...." "let's not go poetic just yet," sophia admonished him with a smile. "we'd better get squared away here, as the expression goes, before it's too late." "yes.... hello, what's this?" a door irised open for them in a solid wall of metal. irised was the only word temple could think of, for a tiny round hole appeared in the wall spreading evenly in all directions with a slow, uniform, almost liquid motion. when it was large enough to walk through, they entered a completely bare room and temple whirled in time to see the entrance irising shut. "something smells," said sophia, sniffing at the air. sweet and cloying, the odor grew stronger. temple may have heard a faint hissing sound. "i'm getting sleepy," he said. nodding, sophia ran, banged on the wall where the door had opened so suddenly, then closed. no response. "is it a trap?" "by whom? for what?" temple found it difficult to keep his eyes from closing. "fight it if you want, sophia. i'm going to sleep." and he squatted in the center of the floor, staring vacantly at the bare wall. just as temple was drifting off into a dream about complex machinery he did not yet understand but realized he soon would, sophia joined him the hard way, collapsing alongside of him, unconscious and sprawling gracelessly on the floor. temple slept. * * * * * "sleepy-head, get up." sophia stirred as he spoke and shook her. she yawned, stretched, smiled up at him lazily. "how do you feel now?" "hungry, kit." "that's a point. it's all right now, though. i know exactly where the food concentrates are kept. three levels below us, second segment of the wall. you can make those queer doors iris by pressing the wall twice, with about a one second interval." they found the food compartment, discovered row on row of cans, boxes, jars. temple opened one of the cans, gazed in disappointment on a sorry looking thing the size of his thumb. brown, shriveled, dry and almost flaky, it might have been a bird. sophia turned up her nose. "if that's the best this place has to offer, i'm not so hungry anymore." suddenly, she gaped. so did temple. a savory odor attracted their attention, steam rising from the small can added to their interest. amazing things happened to the withered scrap of food on exposure to the air. temple barely had time to extract it from the can, burning his fingers in the process, when it became twice the can's size. it grew and by the time it finished, it was as savory looking a five pound fowl as temple had ever seen. roasted, steaming hot, ready to eat. they tore into it with savage gusto. "stephanie should see me now," temple found himself saying and regretted it. "stephanie? who's that?" "a girl." "your girl?" "what's the difference. she's a million light years and fifty centuries away." "answer me." "yes," said temple, wishing he could change the subject. "my girl." he hadn't thought of stephanie in a long time, perhaps because it was meaningless to think of someone dead fifty centuries. now that the thoughts had been stirred within him, though, he found them poignantly pleasant. "your girl ... and you would marry her if you could?" he had grown attached to sophia, not in reality, but in the second of their dream worlds. he wished the memory of the dream had not lingered for it disturbed him. in it he had loved sophia as much as he now loved stephanie although the one was obtainable and the other was a five-thousand year pinch of dust. and how much of the dream lingered with him, in his head and his heart? "let's forget about it," temple suggested. "no. if she were here today and if everything were normal, would you marry her?" "why talk about what can't be?" "i want to know, that's why." "all right. yes, i would. i would marry stephanie." "oh," said sophia. "then what happened in the dream meant ... nothing." "we were two different people," temple said coolly, then wished he hadn't for it was only half-true. he remembered everything about the dream-which-was-more-than-a-dream vividly. he had been far more intimate with sophia, and over a longer period of time, than he had ever been with stephanie. and even if stephanie appeared impossibly on the spot and he spent the rest of his life as her husband, still he would never forget his dream-life with sophia. in time he could let himself tell her that. but not now; now the best thing he could do would be to change the subject. "i see," sophia answered him coldly. "no, you don't. maybe some day you will." "there's nothing but what you told me. i see." "no ... forget it," he told her wearily. "of course. it was only a dream anyway. the dream before that i almost killed you out of hatred anyway. love and hate, i guess they neutralize. we're just a couple of people who have to do a job together, that's all." "for gosh sakes, sophia! that isn't true. i loved stephanie. i still would, were stephanie alive. but she's--she's about as accessible as the queen of sheba." "so? there's an american expression--you're carrying a torch." probably, temple realized, it was true. but what did all of that have to do with sophia? if he and sophia ... if they ... would it be fair to sophia? it would be exactly as if a widower remarried, with the memory of his first wife set aside in his heart ... no, different, for he had never wed stephanie, and always in him would be the desire for what had never been. "let's talk about it some other time," temple almost pleaded, wanting the respite for himself as much as for sophia. "no. we don't have to talk about it ever. i won't be second best, kit. let's forget all about it and do our job. i--i'm sorry i brought the whole thing up." temple felt like an unspeakable heel. and, anyway, the whole thing wasn't resolved in his mind. but they couldn't just let it go at that, not in case something happened when the ships came and one or both of them perished. awkwardly, for now he felt self-conscious about everything, he got his arms about sophia, drew her to him, placed his lips to hers. that was as far as he got. she wrenched free, shoved clear of him. "if you try that again, you will have another dislocated jaw." temple shrugged wearily. if anything were to be resolved between them, it would be later. when the ships came moments afterwards--seven, not the five arkalion predicted--they were completely unprepared. temple spotted them first on one of the viewing screens, half way between the receiver and the space station itself, silhouetted against the elongated shield of andromeda. they soared out of the picture, appeared again minutes later, zooming in from the other direction in two flights of four ships and three. "come on!" sophia cried over her shoulder, irising the door and plunging from the room. temple followed at her heels but her jupiter trained muscles pushed her lithe legs in long, powerful strides and soon she outdistanced him. by the time he reached the armaments vault, breathless, she was seated at the single gun-emplacement, her fingers on the controls. "watch the viewing screen and tell me how we're doing," sophia told him, not taking her eyes from the dials and levers. temple watched, fascinated, saw a thin pencil of radiant energy leap out into space, missing one of the ships by what looked like a scant few miles. he called the corrective azimuth to her, hardly surprised by the way his mind had absorbed and now could use its new-found knowledge. temple understood and yet did not understand. for example, he knew the station had but one gun and sophia sat at it now, yet in certain ways it didn't make sense. could it cover all sectors of space? his mind supplied the answer although he had not been aware of the knowledge an instant before: yes. the space station did not merely rotate. its surface was a spherical projection of a moving moebius strip and although he tried to envision the concept, he failed. the weapon could be fired at any given point in space at twenty second intervals, covering every other conceivable point in the ensuing time. sophia was firing again and temple watched the thin beam leap across space. "hit!" he roared. "hit!" something flashed at the front end of the lead ship. the light blinded him, but when he could see again only six ships remained in space--casting perfect shadows on the andromeda galaxy! the source of light, temple realized triumphantly, was out of range, but he could picture it--a glowing derelict of a ship, spewing heat, light and radioactivity into the void. "one down," sophia called. "six to go. i like your american expressions. like sitting ducks--" she did not finish. abruptly, light flared all around them. something shrieked in temple's ears. the vault shuddered, shook. girders clattered to the floor, stove it in, revealing black rock. sophia was thrown back from the single gun, crashing against the wall, flipping in air and landing on her stomach. temple ran to her, turned her over. blood smeared her face, trickled from her lips. although she did not move, she wasn't dead. temple half dragged, half carried her from the vault into an adjoining room. he stretched her out comfortably as he could on the floor, ran back into the vault. molten metal had collected in one corner of the room, crept sluggishly toward him across the floor, heating it white-hot. he skirted it, climbed over a twisted girder, pushed his way past other debris, found himself at the gun emplacement. "how dumb can i get?" temple said aloud. "sophia ran to the gun, must have assumed i set up the shields." again, it was an item of information stored in his mind by the wisdom of the space station. protective shields made it impossible for anything but a direct hit on the emplacement to do them any harm, only temple had never set the shields in place. he did so now, merely by tripping a series of levers, but glancing at a dial to his left he realized with alarm that the damage possibly had already been done. the needle, which measured lethal radiation, hovered half way between negative and the critical area marked in red and, even as temple watched it, crept closer to the red. * * * * * how much time did he have? temple could not be sure, bent grimly over the weapon. it was completely unfamiliar to his mind, completely unfamiliar to his fingers. he toyed with it, released a blast of radiant energy, whirled to face the viewing screen. the beam streaked out into the void, clearly hundreds of miles from its objective. cursing, temple tried again, scoring a near miss. the ships were trading a steady stream of fire with him now, but with the shielding up it was harmless, striking and then bouncing back into space. temple scored his first hit five minutes after sitting down at the gun, whooped triumphantly and fired again. five ships left. but the dial indicated an increase in radioactivity as newly created neutrons spread their poison like a cancer. behind temple, the vault was a shambles. the pool of molten metal had increased in size, almost cutting off any possibility of escape. he could jump it now, temple realized, but it might grow larger. consolidating its gains now, it had sheared a pit in the floor, had commenced vaporizing the rock below it, hissing and lapping with white-hot insistence. something boomed, grated, boomed again and temple watched another girder bounce off the floor, dip one end into the molten pool and clatter out a stub. apparently the damage was extensive; a structural weakness threatened to make the entire ceiling go. temple fired again, got another ship. he could almost feel death breathing on his shoulder, in no great hurry but sure of its prize. he fired the weapon. if one ship remained when they could no longer use the gun, they would have failed. one ship might make the difference for earth. one.... three left. two. they raked the space station with blast after blast--futilely. they spun and twisted and streaked by, offering poor targets. temple waited his chance ... and glanced at the dial which measured radioactivity. he yelped, stood up. the needle had encroached upon the red area. death to remain where he was more than a moment or two. not quick death, but rather slow and lingering. he could do what he had to, then perish hours later. his life--for earth? if arkalion had known all the answers, and if he could get both ships and if there weren't another alternative for the aliens, the parasites.... temple stabbed out with his pencil beam, caught the sixth ship, then saw the needle dip completely into the red. he got up trembling, stepped back, half tripped on the stump of a girder as his eyes strayed in fascination to the viewing screen. the seventh ship was out of range, hovering off in the void somewhere, awaiting its chance. if temple left the gun the ship would come in close enough to hit the emplacement despite its protective shielding. well, it was suicide to remain there--especially when the ship wasn't even in view. temple leaped over the molten pool and left the vault. * * * * * he found sophia stirring, sitting up. "what hit me?" she said, and laughed. "something seems to have gone wrong, kit ... what...?" "it's all right now," he told her, lying. "you look pale." "you got one. i got five. one ship to go." "what are you waiting for?" and sophia sprang to her feet, heading for the vault. "hold it!" temple snapped. "don't go in there." "why not. i'll get the last ship and--" "_don't go in there!_" temple tugged at her arm, pulled her away from the vault and its broken door which would not iris closed any more. "what's the matter, kit?" "i--i want to finish the last one myself, that's all." sophia got herself loose, reached the circular doorway, peered inside. "like dante's inferno," she said. "you told me nothing was the matter. well, we can get through to the emplacement, kit." "no." and again he stopped her. at least he had lived in freedom all his life and although he was still young and did not want to die, sophia had never known freedom until now and it wouldn't be right if she perished without savoring its fruits. he had a love, dust fifty centuries, he had his past and his memories. sophia had only the future. clearly, if someone had to yield life, temple would do it. "it's worse than it looks," he told her quietly, drawing her back from the door again. he explained what had happened, told her the radioactivity had not quite reached critical point--which was a lie. "so," he concluded, "we're wasting time. if i rush in there, fire, and rush right out everything will be fine." "then let me. i'm quicker than you." "no. i--i'm more familiar with the gun." dying would not be too bad, if he went with reasonable certainty he had saved the earth. no man ever died so importantly, temple thought briefly, then felt cold fear when he realized it would be dying just the same. he fought it down, said: "i'll be right back." sophia looked at him, smiling vaguely. "then you insist on doing it?" when he nodded she told him, "then,--kiss me. kiss me now, kit--in case something...." fiercely, he swept her to him, bruising her lips with his. "sophia, sophia...." at last, she drew back. "kit," she said, smiling demurely. she took his right hand in her left, held it, squeezed it. her own right hand she suddenly brought up from her waist, fist clenched, driving it against his jaw. temple fell, half stunned by the blow, at her feet. for the space of a single heartbeat he watched her move slowly toward the round doorway, then he had clambered to his feet, running after her. he got his arms on her shoulders, yanked at her. when she turned he saw she was crying. "i--i'm sorry, kit. you couldn't fool me about ... stephanie. you can't fool me about this." she had more leverage this time. she stepped back, bringing her small, hard fist up from her knees. it struck temple squarely at the point of the jaw, with the strength of jovian-trained muscle behind it. temple's feet left the floor and he landed with a thud on his back. his last thought of sophia--or of anything, for a while--made him smile faintly as he lost consciousness. for a kiss she had promised him another dislocated jaw, and she had kept her promise.... * * * * * later, how much later he did not know, something soft cushioned his head. he opened his eyes, stared through swirling, spinning murk. he focused, saw arkalion. no--two arkalions standing off at a distance, watching him. he squirmed, knew his head was cushioned in a woman's lap. he sighed, tried to sit up and failed. soft hands caressed his forehead, his cheeks. a face swam into vision, but mistily. "sophia," he murmured. his vision cleared. it was stephanie. * * * * * "it's over," said arkalion. "we're on our way back to earth, kit." "but the ships--" "all destroyed. if my people want to come here in ten thousand years, let them try. i have a hunch you of earth will be ready for them." "it took us five thousand to reach nowhere," temple mused. "it will take us five thousand to return. we'll come barely in time to warn earth--" "wrong," said arkalion. "i still have my ship. we're in it now, so you'll reach earth with almost fifty centuries to spare. why don't you forget about it, though? if human progress for the next five thousand years matches what has been happening for the last five, the parasites won't stand a chance." "earth--five thousand years in the future," stephanie said dreamily. "i wonder what it will be like.... don't be so startled, kit. i was a pilot study on the nowhere journey. if i made it successfully, other women would have been sent. but now there won't be any need." "i wouldn't be too sure of that," said the real alaric arkalion iii. "i suspect a lot of people are going to feel just like me. why not go out and colonize space. we can do it. wonderful to have a frontier again.... why, a dozen billionaires will appear for every one like my father. good for the economy." "so, if we don't like earth," said stephanie, "we can always go out." "i have a strong suspicion you will like it," said arkalion's double. alaric iii grinned. "what about you, bud? i don't want a twin brother hanging around all the time." arkalion grinned back at him. "what do you want me to do, young man? i've forsaken my people. this is now my body. tell you what, i promise to be always on a different continent. earth isn't so small that i'll get in your hair." temple sat up, felt the bandages on his jaw. he smiled at stephanie, told her he loved her and meant it. it was exactly as if she had returned from the grave and in his first exultation he hadn't even thought of sophia, who had perished all alone in the depths of space that a world might live.... he turned to arkalion. "sophia?" "we found her dead, kit. but smiling, as if everything was worth it." "it should have been me." "whoever sophia was," said stephanie, "she must have been a wonderful woman, because when you got up, when you came to, her name was...." "forget it," said temple. "sophia and i have a very strange relationship and...." "all right, you said forget it. forget it." stephanie smiled down at him. "i love you so much there isn't even room for jealousy.... ummm ... kit...." "break up that clinch," ordered arkalion. "we're making one more stop at nowhere to pick up anyone who wants to return to earth. some of 'em probably won't but those who do are welcome...." "jason will stay," temple predicted. "he'll be a leader out among the stars." "then he'll have to climb over my back," alaric iii predicted happily, his eyes on the viewport hungrily. temple's jaw throbbed. he was tired and sleepy. but satisfied. sophia had died and for that he was sad, but there would always be a place deep in his heart for the memory of her: delicious, somehow exotic, not a love the way stephanie was, not as tender, not as sure ... but a feeling for sophia that was completely unique. and whenever the strangeness of the far-future earth frightened temple, whenever he felt a situation might get the better of him, whenever doubt clouded judgment, he would remember the tall lithe girl who had walked to her death that a world might have the freedom she barely had tasted. and together with stephanie he would be able to do anything. unless, he thought dreamily as he drifted off to sleep, his head pillowed again on stephanie's lap, he'd wind up with a bum jaw the rest of his life. * * * * * milton lesser started reading science-fiction in , and began writing it in . since then he has had a myriad stories and novels published under many pen-names. of this novel, he writes: "along with a lot of other people, i like to write about the first interstellar voyage. the reason is simple. once mankind gets out to the stars and begins to spread out across the galaxy, he'll be immortal despite his best--make that _worst_--efforts to destroy himself. you can destroy a world, maybe a dozen worlds, but spread humanity out thin among the stars, colonies here, there, and all over, and he's immortal. he'll live as long as there's a universe to hold him. "i know interstellar travel is a long way off, but science has a way of leaping ahead in geometric, not arithmetic progression. a hundred years? perhaps we'll have our first starship then. let's hope so. for if man can survive the next hundred years--the hardest hundred, i believe--he'll reach the stars and go on forever." swenson, dispatcher by r. dewitt miller illustrated by francis [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from galaxy science fiction april . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] there were no vacuums in space regulations, so swenson--well, you might say he knew how to plot courses through sub-ether legality! it was on october , , that swenson staggered into the offices of acme interplanetary express and demanded a job as dispatcher. they threw him out. they forgot to lock the door. the next time they threw him out, they remembered to lock the door but forgot the window. the dingy office was on the ground floor and swenson was a tall man. when he came in the window, the distraught acme board of directors realized that they had something unusual in the way of determined drunks to deal with. acme was one of the small hermaphroditic companies--hauling mainly freight, but shipping a few passengers--which were an outgrowth of the most recent war to create peace. during that violent conflict, america had established bases throughout the solar system. these required an endless stream of items necessary for human existence. while the hostilities lasted, the small outfits were vital and for that reason prospered. they hauled oxygen, food, spare parts, whisky, atomic slugs, professional women, uniforms, paper for quadruplicate reports, cigarettes, and all the other impedimenta of war-time life. with the outbreak of peace, such companies faced a precarious, devil-take-the-hindmost type of existence. * * * * * the day that swenson arrived had been grim even for acme. dovorkin, the regular dispatcher, had been fired that morning. he had succeeded in leaving the schedule in a nightmarish muddle. and on dovorkin's vacant desk lay the last straw--a special message. _acme interplanetary express_ _ z street_ _new york_ _your atomic-converted ship number is hereby grounded at luna city, moon, until demurrage bill paid. your previous violations of space regulations make our action mandatory._ _planetary commerce commission_ the acme board of directors was inured to accepting the inevitable. they had heard rumors along blaster's alley of swenson's reputation, which ranged from brilliance, through competence, to insanity. so they shrugged and hired him. his first act was to order a case of beer. his second was to look at what dovorkin had left of a dispatch sheet. "number is still blasting through the astraloids. it should be free-falling. why the hell isn't it?" old mister cerobie, chairman of the board, said quietly: "before you begin your work, we would like a bit of information. what is your full name?" "patrick m. swenson." "what does the m stand for?" "i don't know." "why not?" "my mother never told me. i don't think she knows. in the name of god, why don't you send number ...." "what's your nationality?" "i'm supposed to be a swede." "what do you mean, 'supposed'?" "will you open one of those beers?" "i asked you...." swenson made a notation on the dispatch sheet and spun around in the swivel chair. "i was born on a _swallow class_ ship in space between the moon and earth. my mother said my father was a swede. she was irish. i was delivered and circumcised by a rabbi who happened to be on board. the ship was of venutian registry, but was owned by a czechoslovakian company. now you figure it out." "how did you happen to come here?" "i met dovorkin in a bar. he told me that you were in trouble. you are. is one of the moulton trust's ships at luna city?" "yes." "then that's why you're grounded. they've got an in with the planetary commerce commission. what's the demurrage?" "seventy-six thousand dollars." "can you raise it?" "no." * * * * * swenson glanced at the sheet. "how come number is in new york?" "we're waiting for additional cargo. we have half a load of snuff for mars. and we've been promised half a load of canned goods for luna city. it's reduced rate freight that another company can't handle." "dovorkin told me about the snuff. that's a starter, anyway." swenson turned back to the dispatch sheet and muttered to himself: "always a good thing to have snuff for mars." mister cerobie became strangely interested. "why?" swenson paid no attention. "what are you taking a split load for?" "we had no choice." "you know damn well that the broken-down old stovepipes you buy from war surplus are too slow to handle split loads. who promised you the canned goods?" "lesquallan, ltd." "oh, lord!" said swenson. "an outfit that expects lions to lie down with lambs!" the red _ship-calling_ light flashed on. "number to dispatcher. this is captain elsing. dovorkin...." "dispatcher to number . dovorkin, hell. this is swenson. what blasts?" "b jet just went out. atomic slug clogged." "how radioactive is the spout?" asked swenson. "heavy." "have somebody who's already had a family put on armor and clean up the mess," swenson said, "and alter course for luna city. i'll send you the exact course in a few minutes. when you get to luna, land beside the moulton trust's ship. now stand by to record code." swenson reached back to mister cerobie. "acme private code book." silently, the chairman of the board handed it to him. when swenson had finished coding, he handed the original message to mister cerobie. the message read: "captain elsing, have crew start fight with moulton's crew. not much incentive will be necessary. see that no real damage is done. urgent. will take all responsibility. explain later. cerobie." "swenson," mister cerobie said quietly, "you _are_ insane. tear that up." with slow dignity, swenson put on his coat. he stood there, smiling, and looking at mister cerobie. the memory of dovorkin stalked unpleasantly through the chairman's mind. everything was hopeless, anyway. better go out with a bang than a whimper. "all right, send it," he said. "there is plenty of time to countermand--after i talk to you." * * * * * when swenson had finished sending the coded message, he turned back to mister cerobie. "what's this i hear from dovorkin about a senator being aboard number at luna?" a member of the board began: "after all...." mister cerobie cut him off: "your information is correct, swenson. a senator has shipped with us. however, i would prefer to discuss the matter in my private office." swenson crossed the room to the astrographer in the calculating booth and said: "plot the free-falling curve for number to mars." then he followed mister cerobie into the chairman's office. half an hour later, they came out and swenson went back to his desk. first he glanced at the free-falling plot. then he snorted, called the astrographer and fired him. next he said to mister cerobie: "is that half load of snuff...." "yes, it is. you know martians as well as i do. with their type of nose, they must get quite a sensation. i understand they go a bit berserk. that's why their government outlaws snuff as an earth vice. however, our cargo release states that it is being sent for 'medicinal purposes.' it's no consequence to us what they use the snuff for. we're just hauling it. and i don't have to tell you how fantastic a rate we're getting." "to hell with the canned goods part of the load," swenson said. "can you get a full haul of snuff?" "possibly. but it would cost." "even this outfit can afford to grease palms." "i'll see what i can do." "what's the senator on the moon for?" "he's supposed to make a speech on conquest day." mister cerobie lit a cigar. "that's day after tomorrow," he added. "exactly where is this eloquence to be expounded?" * * * * * "the senator is speaking at the dedication of the new underground recreation dome. it's just outside luna city. they've bored a tunnel from the main dome cluster. this dedication is considered very important. everybody in luna will be there. it's been declared an official holiday, with all crews released. even the maintenance and public service personnel have been cut to skeleton staffs." "with that fiesta scheduled on our beloved satellite," said swenson, "we won't have to worry about getting the senator off for some time. his name's higby, isn't it?" mister cerobie nodded. "then he'll whoop it up long enough for you to get that demurrage mess straightened out." "unfortunately, it isn't that simple. the senator is due for another speech on mars. the timing is close--he only has a minimum of leeway. as you mentioned, number is grounded for demurrage. and we can't ship the senator out on number because of the bad jet." swenson was silent for a long time. the beer gurgled pleasantly as he drank it. then a bright smile--which could have been due either to inspiration or beer--spread across his face. "if that idiot dovorkin can be trusted," he said, "the senator is speaking in the early afternoon, our time. do you happen to know just when he starts yapping? and the scheduled length of the spiel?" "i'll check it." mister cerobie turned to one of his assistants. swenson took down the _luna data handbook_ and thumbed through it. a moment later, the assistant handed a slip of paper to the board chairman. "the senator," mister cerobie said, "will speak from hours to hours." swenson smiled and stuck a marker in the _luna data handbook_. "now," he said, "about this snuff. can you have it loaded by tomorrow night?" "i don't see how." "remember our agreement in the office. if we don't do something, we're through, so all we can do is lose. leave me be and don't ask questions. i want to blast number into low earth-orbital tomorrow night." mister cerobie looked off into that nowhere which was the daily destiny of acme. "all right," he said, "i was born a damn fool. i'll do my best to have a full load of snuff aboard--somehow--tomorrow night." swenson went back to his dispatch sheet. during the next five hours, he looked up only long enough to order another case of beer and a new astrographer. finally, he called heilberg, the assistant dispatcher who was on the night shift, gave him a lecture concerning dispatching in general and the present situation in particular, promoted a date with one of the stenographers, and departed. * * * * * when swenson came back the next morning, he was sober, ornery and disinclined to do any work. he cornered o'toole, the labor relations man, and began talking women. o'toole was intrigued but evasive. "your trouble," swenson said, "is not with women. it's with evolution. i don't blame evolution for creating women. i blame it for abandoning the egg. just when it had invented a reasonable method of reproduction which didn't make the female silly-looking and tie her down needlessly for nine months...." "i don't think they're silly-looking." "maybe you don't, o'toole, but i do. and you must admit that nine months is a hell of a long time to fool around with something that could be hatched in an incubator under automatic controls. look at the time saving. if evolution hadn't abandoned the egg idea, half the human race wouldn't waste time being damned incubators." o'toole backed away. he had never heard the legend of swenson's egg speech. "don't tell me," swenson went on, "that evolution is efficient. are you married, o'toole?" "yes, i--" "wouldn't you rather your wife laid an egg than--" "i don't know," o'toole interrupted, "but i do know that i'd like to find out what the dispatch situation is at the moment." swenson grabbed a piece of paper and drew a diagram. while o'toole was studying the diagram, someone laid a special message on swenson's desk. swenson glanced at it: _acme interplanetary express_ _ z street_ _new york_ _your ship number is hereby grounded at luna city, pending an investigation of a riot involving your men, and for non-payment of bill for atomic slug purification. your number is also charged with unpaid demurrage bill._ _planetary commerce commission_ * * * * * swenson muttered: "good!" and threw the special message in the wastebasket. mister cerobie, who had just entered the office, fished the form out and read it. "it never rains, but it pours," he said. "you can't stand long on one foot," swenson answered without looking up. "put all your troubles in one basket and then lose the basket. _morituri te salutamus._ have you heard my theory about the advantage of reproduction via the egg? and get me a beer." "i will get you a beer, but if you say a word about that egg theory, i will fire you. i heard you talking to o'toole." "okay. we'll forget the egg for the nonce. did you pilfer that snuff?" "it's being loaded. and it cost acme--" "did you expect it would fall like manna from heaven?" swenson flipped the switch of the intercom to acme's launching area. "give me number . captain wilkins." "what are you going to do?" mister cerobie asked. "don't you remember what i told you yesterday? where's that beer?" mister cerobie smiled, a weary, dogged smile, the smile of a man who had bet on drawing to a belly straight. "captain wilkins," came over the intercom, "calling swenson, dispatcher, for orders." "blast as soon as loaded for low altitude earth-orbital." swenson was silent a moment, then: "hell, don't you know the plot? all right, i'll give it to you. full jets, two minutes, azimuth...." mister cerobie interrupted quietly: "swenson, don't you think you'd better check with the astrographer?" turning off the intercom, swenson spun in his chair. "any decent dispatcher knows that one by heart. so maybe i'm wrong. then number will pile up on either the moon or the earth. if that happens, you can collect the insurance and get out of this mess." he flipped on the intercom switch. "sorry, captain wilkins, brass interference. as i was saying, azimuth...." * * * * * mister cerobie made no effort to continue the conversation. he was reading an astrogram, which had just been handed to him. acme interplanetary express z street new york earth hear persistent rumor your ship on which i am a passenger held here for non-payment of demurrage. must make world crisis speech on mars as scheduled. astrogram truth of situation at once. investigation of such matters now pending before subcommittee. do not astrogram collect. sen. hiram c. higby swenson snapped off the intercom, glanced at his dispatch sheet, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. he was silent for the next half hour and drank three beers, looking either thoughtful or asleep. mister cerobie smoked a cigar until it burned his mustache. when the third beer was finished, swenson reached for an astrogram blank and wrote: hon. senator hiram c. higby esq. acme interplanetary express luna city rumor re unpaid demurrage utterly un-founded. information here that rumor started by your opposition. have vital new data for your luna city speech. will send speech insert at once. james cerobie mister cerobie, who had been reading over swenson's shoulder, said: "you know that demurrage rumor is true." "if things don't work out and we have any trouble, you can say you hadn't heard about the demurrage. by the way, can you write an insert to a political speech?" "i suppose so. i've lied before." "make sure it will take ten minutes to deliver--even talking fast--which senators don't usually do." "what," inquired mister cerobie, "shall i write about?" "you know that scandal senator higby's opposition just got involved in. that business about slave labor exploitation on venus. the story broke this morning. get in touch with my friend max zempky on _telenews_ and have him give you some inside details. it doesn't matter if they're important or not. the senator will grab anything that might pep up his speech. besides, he's probably been having a large time in luna city and hasn't heard about this morning's story." mister cerobie executed a sweeping bow. "yes, sir. and if this thing doesn't work, i told you yesterday in my office what would happen." swenson shrugged. "kismet." * * * * * as mister cerobie opened the door to his private office, swenson called after him: "where's this outfit's attorney?" "in the board room." "find him and send him in here." mister cerobie nodded. "and," swenson added, "be damned sure that speech insert will run at least ten minutes. more, if possible." mister cerobie slammed the door. five minutes later, slim, soft-spoken van euing, acme's attorney, coughed behind the dispatcher's chair. swenson swiveled from coding the astrogram and dropped his cigarette. "what the hell--oh, you. lawyers are like policemen--they sneak up on people." "how did you know i was the firm's attorney?" "i watched you try that unfair-trade-practice suit against lesquallan ltd. two years ago. it was snowing outside. i was broke and the courtroom was warm. you should have won the case. some of their evidence looked phony to me. anyway, you did a good job." "thank you." "did you ever stop to think about the advantage of the egg--" "mister cerobie said you wished to speak to me." "that's right. i want you to draw up a something-or-other--you know what i mean--grounding moulton trust's ship on the moon until this fight hassle is settled." "you mean you wish me to prepare a restraining order?" "restrain, yeah! and restrain them as long as you can. i wish you could restrain them forever. this solar system would be a better place." "on what grounds am i to base my order?" "claim they started the fight and our crew's so bashed up that we haven't enough able men to blast off." "but i'm afraid we can't prove that." "and what's it going to cost us to try? you're on retainer. the total bill for said restraining order will be only the price of some legal paper and the services of a notary. the steno's hired by the month, like you." van euing looked puzzled. "what good will it do?" "you know how long it takes courts to do anything. before your order is tossed out, moulton will have been grounded for a week." van euing lit his pipe. "in legal parlance, it is something irregular, which, being translated, means it's a slick trick." "all it's going to cost _you_ is being half an hour late to lunch." van euing puffed a moment on his pipe and said: "because of your audacity, swenson, and furthermore, because you'll be fired tomorrow, i'll prepare the restraining order." swenson put out his hand and his blunt fingers closed around van euing's delicate ones. when van euing had gone, swenson returned to coding the astrogram. he checked the form twice and sent it. then he turned over his desk to an apprentice dispatcher, left orders to be called if anything broke down, and went out to lunch. * * * * * it was : p.m. when news of the restraining order arrived in the quiet, streamlined offices of the moulton trust. two minutes later, the offices were still streamlined, but not quiet. the three major stockholders of the great organization, n. rovance, f. k. esrov, and cecil neinfort-whritings, formed a tiny huddle at one end of the long conference table. esrov was waving a copy of the order. "gentlemen, we can consider this nothing but an outrage!" "blackmail, really!" it was neinfort-whritings's lisping voice. "whatever it is, this sort of nonsense must be stopped at the beginning. it might set a precedent." "may i suggest," rovance broke in, "that, as the matter of precedent is sure to arise, we take no action without first consulting lesquallan ltd." "an excellent idea," esrov nodded. he switched on the intercom to his first secretary. "connect me with lesquallan ltd. i want to speak with novell lesquallan. inform him that it is urgent." "he just entered our office." the voice that came from the intercom carried the slightest trace of surprise. "he said he desired to discuss something about canned goods and snuff. i shall send him in at once." rovance turned to neinfort-whritings. "i fear that old cerobie is becoming senile. apparently he has lost his mind." "but really, did he ever have one?" nobody laughed. esrov slammed the restraining order on the conference table and stood up. "gentlemen, what shall we do concerning--" "yes, gentlemen, that is just what i want to know." three heads pivoted. novell lesquallan, sole owner of lesquallan ltd., stood in the doorway. he was a broad, ruddy-faced man with a voice trained to basso interruptions. "i understand, mr. lesquallan," esrov said, "that you have a matter to discuss with us." "yes! sit down, f.k. we have some talking to do--about that bankrupt, dishonest acme interplanetary express." "quite a coincidence," neinfort-whritings murmured. "you got trouble with that outfit, too? that settles it. they've cluttered up the orderly progress of free enterprise long enough. out they go." novell lesquallan swiftly read the document and bellowed an unintelligible remark. "something, quite," neinfort-whritings agreed. * * * * * lesquallan got his voice under control. "what action do you intend to take?" "we hadn't decided," rovance answered. "we received the order only a few minutes ago." "before we form our plans," esrov said, "we would like some information about your problems with acme. we understand it involves canned goods and snuff." "yes, those damned.... at the last minute, they turned down a small load of canned goods for luna that we'd been decent enough to give them at reduced rates. they can't get away with that kind of thing long. but that's just the beginning. they got hold of the contract and permit to haul a consignment of medicinal snuff to mars. we had already arranged for that cargo. you know that snuff situation. through certain contacts, we have been able--perfectly legally--to have permits issued. that customs man must have taken a double--" "we understand," rovance broke in. "we have had occasion to make similar arrangements. the rates--and other inducements--are extremely satisfactory." "well, gentlemen," lesquallan demanded, "what are we going to do about this unprecedented situation?" "i suggest," neinfort-whritings said, "that we have our legal staffs meet in joint session. we should impress on them that the quashing of this restraining order is urgent. perhaps we should consider debts owed us by the judiciary we helped elect." "an excellent idea," lesquallan declared. "i will take care of that part of it myself, personally." "as to the snuff matter," esrov said, "i think we should emphasize to our mutual contact that he should be more discriminating in issuing permits." "that's all right for now," lesquallan snapped. "but he's done with, too. i'll see to it that he's replaced." "as to the canned goods situation," rovance said, "it seems to me that we should have a subsidiary company to handle our excess cargoes--at reduced rates, of course. it shouldn't cost too much to pick up one of the less financially secure companies--such as acme." esrov nodded. "an excellent idea." "i agree," lesquallan said and sat down. "but first we must dispose of today's damned annoyances. i suggest that we outline a plan for immediate action." "to begin with," esrov reminded him, "we must deal with the restraining order." * * * * * when swenson came back from lunch, he was not as sober and thus in a better mood. mister cerobie's insert to the senator's speech was on his desk. swenson read the first few lines: as a further indication of the methods, devices, malfeasances, and corrupt practices employed, used, and sustained by those with whom you have called upon me to negotiate in the highest tribunal in washington, let me cite the following information which i have just received. although this information is top-drawer, restricted and highly secret, i was able to obtain it through certain channels which, as a man of honor, i must leave undisclosed. the right of all creatures to be free is a fundamental, an inviolable, right and yet on venus.... swenson said to himself: "mister cerobie is in the wrong business," and started coding the insert. he had almost finished when the ship-calling light flashed red. "number to dispatcher. captain verbold speaking." "dispatcher to number . this is swenson. go ahead." "i'm afraid you can't help me. may i speak to mister cerobie?" "he's out to lunch." "this matter is serious. i am faced with what amounts to mutiny." "sorry, but i got troubles, too. maybe i can find mister cerobie, maybe i can't. why don't you tell me your grief?" captain verbold hesitated. "it's something i've been expecting. the crew has stated that they will leave the ship at mars." captain verbold's next sentence was pronounced word by word in code. "i even have private information that there is a plot to take over the ship and blast directly to earth, where the crew feel their case can be more justly presented." "what are they squawking about?" "everything. wages have not been paid for six months. poor radiation shielding. food not up to standard. you know the story." "it's not the first time i've heard it." "what am i to do?" * * * * * "first, read them section in your copy of _space regulations_," said swenson. "if they divert ship from mars without your permission, it's mutiny. that means the neutron death chamber or, if they are very lucky, life sentences to the luna penal colony. get them all together and read it to them. you're free-falling now, so even the jetters won't have to be on duty." "but if i could talk to mister cerobie--" "i've already told you i don't know where the hell he is. he couldn't do you any good, anyway. didn't you ever read _space regulations_? section : 'the captain of a ship in flight is _solely responsible_ for the maintenance of discipline and his orders cannot be changed or overruled'." "swenson, you said a moment ago that this was your first suggestion. i presume, therefore, that you have others." "i have two others." swenson paused long enough for a brief study of his master ship location chart, which he had just brought up to date. the chart showed the position of all ships at the moment in space. "there's a patrol cruiser loaded with gendarmes three million miles behind you on a course paralleling yours. it's one of the new arrow class and if they blast full, they can catch you in ten hours. mention to the crew that you could notify the police boys and have them pick you up and escort you to mars." "what is the patrol ship's number and call letters?" "arrow--british--earth--number . call letters mmxah." "thanks. if things get too bad, i might take advantage of our valiant guarders of the spaceways. all right, you said you had three suggestions. what's the third?" "some goons on a moulton trust ship, parked beside our number on the moon, started a fight and beat up our boys. we're about to sue moulton for plenty. tell your crew about it and suggest that if they behave, we'll cut them in on the proceeds from the suit, in addition to paying their wages as soon as a snuff cargo that i had to send into orbital gets to mars." "on whose authority am i to make such a statement?" "swenson's. you don't need any other, do you? i know most of the boys on your mobile junkyard. they trust me, so they'll trust you. you have my word that cerobie will go for the idea." "you talk to cerobie and let me know what happens. meanwhile, i'll think over your suggestions." * * * * * the ship-calling light blinked off and swenson went back to coding the speech insert. as he was finishing, o'toole came in. swenson looked up. "o'toole, sure and it's one hell of a job you're doing. you've got me in a fight with myself. my swedish half wants to ignore you and my irish half wants to punch you in the nose. you're supposed to handle labor relations. and i just received a message from captain verbold of number that his crew is about to mutiny." "mother of god, what can i do?" cried o'toole. "this outfit's so broke, it doesn't have enough money to pay the filing fee for bankruptcy." "in the face of adversity, you should spit." "who are you quoting?" "me." "look, swenson, i'm supposed to supervise labor relations, sure. labor is something you hire. that's done by paying wages--on time." "at least you should have brains enough to understand the advantage of the egg." "what?" asked o'toole blankly. "i've already explained it to you. apparently it didn't get past your hair. i shall therefore make a second attempt. do you understand the principle of the egg?" "i don't--" "of course not. you never stopped to analyze it. you just assumed that because human beings are born the way they are, it is the best method. how much pain and trouble does a hen have laying an egg? does she--" "getting back to number ," o'toole said firmly, "what did captain verbold--" "consider the advantage of the egg from another angle, o'toole. let's say your wife lays an egg and, at the moment, you don't have money enough to support another child. all you would have to do is put the egg in cold storage until your ship comes in. then you can take the egg out and incubate it. instead of being--" the click of the latch as o'toole closed the door caused swenson to spin in his chair. tossing his pencil on the dispatch sheet, he put on his coat and went home. * * * * * when the dispatcher for acme interplanetary express arrived at the office the following morning, a special message lay in sublime isolation on his desk. swenson opened a beer and read the message. _board of directors_ _acme interplanetary express_ _gentlemen_: _your restraining order concerning our ship at luna city can only be considered as representing a warped and intolerable concept of justice. we will take every legal action available to us._ _moreover, your action in refusing, without notice, a load which we were so kind as to offer you and your immoral dealings in contraband snuff force us to sever all commercial relations with your organization._ _we are taking appropriate action with the planetary commerce commission._ _yours sincerely_, _moulton trust_ _lesquallan ltd._ swenson was smiling cherubically and bringing his master chart up to date when o'toole came in. "swenson, did you have eggs for breakfast? and how goes with the dispatch?" carefully noting the last change of ship position on the master chart, swenson turned to o'toole. "things are like so," he said, and drew a diagram. while o'toole was studying the diagram, swenson placed a call to moulton trust. "give me esrov. yes, esrov himself. this is swenson, acme interplanetary. if esrov doesn't want to talk to me, jets to him, but i think i have some information he can use." "will you please hold on, mr. swenson? i will convey your message." swenson looked at o'toole for a moment in silence. "no, i don't like eggs for eating. my theory concerns another aspect--" "i know," said o'toole resignedly. * * * * * esrov's urbane voice came from the desk speaker. "mr. swenson, you have some information for us?" "yes, esrov. i've just seen your message to our board and i want you to know that i can certainly understand your position. i could not prevent the restraining order. however, i have a suggestion as to what you can do about it." "we are doing everything we can." "didn't you support senator higby for re-election last year? well, he has shipped with us on an inspection tour of planetary outposts. right now, he's on the moon and will speak at : this afternoon at the official opening of the new recreation center. it occurred to me that it might be worthwhile for you to send him a message suggesting that he incorporate in his speech something about the laxity of the planetary commerce commission that allowed you to get into this mess." "an excellent idea, mr. swenson. we shall give it immediate consideration. and, by the way, if for any reason your employment with acme should terminate, we should be able to find a suitable position for you with our company." "thanks, esrov." swenson switched off the set. "you dirty, stinking," o'toole blared, "doublecrossing--" "calm down, o'toole. don't get off the rocket until she's on the ground. i've got reasons." "reasons? you haven't even got _reason_! and you're a crook!" "now don't let my irish half get on top. i want that senator to talk as long as possible. let's go back to the egg." "you've laid it." "for the last time, let me explain. if evolution had followed my theory, i, being a man, would not lay eggs. women would and therefore they would escape--" "swenson," mister cerobie called from the door of the board room, "you are hired--tentatively--as a dispatcher, not an egg-evolution theorist. now come in here. the board wants to talk to you." swenson jerked the diagram out of o'toole's hand and followed cerobie. ten minutes later, he came out of the board room, saying: "gentlemen, the senator speaks at : this afternoon. at : either fire me, crucify me and make me drink boiled beer alone, or give me a raise." * * * * * the clock on the wall over the dispatcher's desk showed : when swenson called acme's luna city terminal. "dispatcher to numbers and , have crew stand by to blast off in exactly minutes. i don't give a damn about regulations or the p.c.c. this is an order from your company. it must be obeyed. number will follow course as originally planned--destination mars. number will blast for earth, curve to be given in space." fifteen minutes later, the dispatcher's office at acme interplanetary express was quieter than an abandoned and forgotten tomb. the board of directors stood silently in a semi-circle behind swenson. every employee, even the stenographers, were jammed into the frowsy room. as the hand of the clock sliced off the last second of the minutes, swenson looked over his shoulder--and laughed, a great, resounding laugh. then he flicked the switch and picked up the microphone. "swenson dispatcher to and . blast! over. swenson dispatcher to and . blast!" suddenly the silent room was filled with the roar of the jets as they thundered in the imaginations of the men and women crowded around the dispatcher's desk. the tension broke as almost a sob of gladness. what if it proved a hopeless dream, a mere stalling of inevitable ruin? they were no longer grounded. they were in space. to those in the room, it seemed only an instant until the ship-calling light flashed on. "number to dispatcher. in space. all clear." "dispatcher to number , steady as she goes." the red light was off for a moment. then: "number to dispatcher. in space. all clear." "dispatcher to number . temporary curve a . will send exact curve plot in half an hour." swenson turned to the astrographer. "give me a plot for chicago. i don't want to land her in this state. just a matter of prudence. she's registered in this state." the astrographer shouldered his way through the crowd. when he reached the calculators, his swift fingers began pushing buttons. swenson leaned back. "mischief, thou art a'space," he said. "now take whatever course thou wilt." * * * * * at : , swenson reached again for the microphone. "dispatcher to number . you are circling earth at low orbital. decelerate and drop to stratosphere. maintain position over new york. curve and blasting data...." at : , he called max zempky at _telenews_. "anything frying at luna?" "my god, yes! senator higby yapped sixteen minutes overtime and the shadow knife-edge caught everybody with their air tanks down. the control crews were listening to the speech and there wasn't anybody left to switch over the heating-cooling system. you've been to the moon, so you know what happens. when day changes to night and you haven't got any atmosphere, the temperature drops from boiling to practically absolute zero. sure, the automatic controls worked, but there wasn't any crew to adjust and service the heaters and coolers. it's a mess. say, haven't you got a ship or two up there?" "i got 'em out in time." "well, moulton didn't. their ship's been considerably damaged." "thanks, max. let me know if anything else breaks." while swenson had been talking, two special messages and an astrogram had been laid on his desk. he first read one of the special messages. _acme interplanetary express_ _ z street_ _new york_ _gentlemen_: _we are holding you responsible for the damage to our ship number , now on the moon. the captain of your ship should have known the potential danger and warned senator higby of the time factor._ _we will contact the pcc at once._ _f. k. esrov_ _moulton trust_ swenson scribbled an answer and handed it to an assistant. _moulton trust_ _nuts, esrov. you've got to think up something better than that. we have no control over public officials, except during flight. bellyache all you want to the pcc._ _sedately_, _swenson_ the astrogram was from senator hiram c. higby: my being stranded on moon unmitigated and unparalleled outrage. must speak as scheduled on mars. find me transportation. will deal later with your company concerning infamous treatment. sen. hiram c. higby swenson replied: unfortunate circumstance unavoidable. your speech magnificent. will make every effort to secure immediate transportation to mars. swenson * * * * * the second special message was from the pcc and asked with crisp and blunt formality why two acme ships, which had been officially grounded by the commission, had blasted off the moon. in answer, swenson was mild and apologetic. what else could he have done? surely the commission must understand that his first duty was to save his ships from damage. he had been informed by his captains that the shadow knife-edge was almost due, and there was no possibility of the control crews servicing the temperature-change compensators in time. it was an emergency. the matter of the grounding could be settled later. when his answer was finished, he coded it, along with the special message from moulton trust, the astrogram from senator higby, and his replies. finally, he coded the special message from pcc. then he called number . "number to dispatcher. this is verbold. what goes on now?" "you tell me. dwelleth thy household in peace?" "for the moment." "have you followed my instructions?" "in general, yes." "did your crew hear senator higby's speech?" "most of them. what else is there to do in this rat-trap?" "i could think of a lot of things. but as long as the crew heard the honorable's spiel, that's all that matters. do you know about the little affair half an hour ago at luna city?" "no." "check your news recorder. have the item broadcast to the crew. then decode the sequence of messages i'm about to send and read them--at your discretion--to the men. stand by to record code." when he had finished, swenson leaned back and opened a beer. "all we can do now is wait. but i'd give my grandmother's immortal soul, if the old shrew had one, to be in the sacred sanctum of moulton trust." * * * * * lesquallan sat on the edge of the long table in moulton's board room. he spoke slowly and for once his voice was low: "esrov, did you or did you not suggest to our senator higby that he lengthen his speech on the moon to include certain new information? and did that information involve my company along with yours?" "mr. lesquallan, the matter concerns only a minor aspect of policy," said esrov placatingly. "minor aspect of policy, hell! it concerns business. look what happened at luna. and you let us get publicly involved in it. such matters must never be handled openly." esrov did not answer. "did you send such a message, rovance?" rovance shook his head. lesquallan turned to neinfort-whritings. "did you?" "no, lesquallan." neinfort-whritings gently pulled a special message form from beneath esrov's folded hands as they lay on the gleaming conference table. lesquallan swung back to esrov. "did _you_ send it?" esrov looked down at his folded hands. at last he said quietly: "yes, i sent a message to the senator--in our mutual interests." "was it your own idea? or did someone else suggest it?" "the basic thought came from a most unexpected source. it was, we might say, one of those happy breaks of industry. the dispatcher at acme had the sense to cooperate with us. he gave me certain otherwise unavailable information, and--" "what was his name?" "i don't--oh, yes, it was swenson." "you ... you fool ... _idiot_!" neinfort-whritings handed lesquallan the special message he had taken from esrov. it was the one from swenson, which began: "nuts, esrov." lesquallan read the message. then he said slowly: "i've dealt with that clown swenson before--over minor matters. i never thought he had that much brains." he looked at esrov. "or insight. swenson's a smart man. therefore, he must be eliminated." "i still maintain," rovance said, "that the basis of the matter is the strangling of free enterprise." "i agree," said lesquallan. "what right has acme to interfere with free enterprise? they haven't a dollar to our million." "what shall we do?" neinfort-whritings murmured. "follow swenson's suggestion. we're going to the pcc--and we're going to our top contacts. they owe us plenty." "shall we dictate a memo?" esrov put in. "call the pcc," lesquallan ordered. "we're not dictating anything. and we're not sending any messages to anybody. let the pcc send them!" * * * * * no employee of acme interplanetary express had left the smoke-dense office when the ship-calling light went on: "number to swenson. verbold speaking." "dispatcher to number . go ahead." "uproar under control. i followed your instructions. a crew that's laughing won't mutiny. the crew sends thanks and their most pious wishes for the distress of moulton. the men expect shares of the proceeds, if any, in the lawsuit. but they insist on being paid on mars." "they will be, captain verbold. now i've got to keep this beam clear. good luck." swenson turned to mister cerobie. "i presume you can at least find enough cash for the back pay?" mister cerobie did not answer. he was staring at a special message which had just been handed to him. he dropped it on swenson's desk. _acme interplanetary express_ _ z street_ _new york_ _because of your violation of space regulations and unprecedented effrontery, your ships numbers and are hereby ordered to return to the moon. there they will be impounded. a police patrol escort has been dispatched to insure your compliance with our order._ _planetary commerce commission_ swenson read the message and looked up. "well?" asked mister cerobie. the murmur of voices died. the dispatcher's office of acme interplanetary express was a silent, isolated world. swenson wrote an astrogram and handed it to the chairman of the board. "shall i code it?" mister cerobie read the astrogram. he read it a second time and his perplexity vanished. "but will it work?" he asked. swenson shrugged. "it ought to. remember what happened when solar system freight lost that chemical load? we're stratosphering over new york. anyway, he wouldn't dare take the chance. shall i code it, mister cerobie?" "absolutely!" * * * * * the men and women of acme crowded and squirmed for a look at the astrogram on swenson's desk. o'toole realized first and yelled. slowly, as understanding came, other voices took it up, until the office was a chaos of sound. bottles appeared from nowhere. o'toole raised one of them: "sure and st. patrick would have loved it!" calmly, swenson coded: senator hiram c. higby acme interplanetary express luna city only transportation available our ship now in earth stratosphere above new york with cargo snuff. will dispatch this ship special to moon for your disposal. however must jettison cargo to lighten ship. will notify air pollution and pcc. only alternative complete clearance by pcc our ships numbers and . will then dispatch one of them to pick you up. order to jettison will be given in half an hour unless we receive word from you. have you any influence with the pcc? send reaction at once. urgency obvious. swenson the dispatcher for acme said to himself: "i doubt very seriously if any sane senator up for re-election would want the official records to show that, because he talked too long on the moon, a cargo of snuff was dumped over new york. sneezing voters cannot see candidate's name on ballot." twenty minutes later, the replying astrogram was in swenson's hand. acme interplanetary express z street new york earth order clearing your ships and approved by pcc. have ship immediately reverse course and pick me up. under no circumstances jettison snuff. send further information concerning slave labor exploitation venus for inclusion in my forthcoming mars speech. have speech insert in same form as before. senator hiram c. higby * * * * * "and that, mister cerobie," said swenson, "is how you slide out of a jam. you'll get enough cash for that snuff haul to mars to pay the crew of number when she lands there. and you'll have enough left over to pay the demurrage and repair charges at luna. now open me a beer." mister cerobie opened the beer wearily. "you're fired, swenson," he said. "i'll be damned if i'll write another speech or be your bartender." swenson drank and smiled. the ship-calling light flashed red. "number to dispatcher. this is captain marwovan. compartment holed by meteorite. cannot land on ganymede until we make repairs. send me the orbital curve so we can circle until the hole is patched. and tell mister cerobie that the crew is complaining about back pay." transferring the beer to his other hand, swenson grabbed the microphone. "dispatcher to number ...." prison planet by bob tucker to remain on mars meant death from agonizing space-sickness, but earth-surgery lay days of flight away. and there was only a surface rocket in which to escape--with a traitorous ganymedean for its pilot. [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from planet stories fall . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "listen, rat!" roberds said, "what _i_ say goes around here. it doesn't happen to be any of your business. i'm still in possession of my wits, and i know peterson can't handle that ship. furthermore gladney will be in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! and rat, get this: _i'm_ going to pilot that ship. understand? consulate or no consulate, job or no job, i'm wheeling that crate to earth because this is an emergency. and the emergency happens to be bigger than my position, to me at any rate." his tone dropped to a deadly softness. "now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?" unheeding, rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered the woman, a nurse in uniform. he blinked at her and she returned the look, wavering. she bit her lip and determination flowed back. she met the stare of his boring, off-colored eyes. rat grinned suddenly. nurse gray almost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it. "won't go!" the centaurian resumed his fight. "you not go, lose job, black-listed. never get another. look at me. i know." he retreated a precious step to escape a rolled up fist. "little ship carry four nice. rip out lockers and bunks. swing hammocks. put fuel in water tanks. live on concentrates. earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards, allright. i pilot ship. yes?" "no!" roberds screamed. almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. the men in the office froze as nurse gray ran across the room. she disappeared through the narrow door. "peterson," the field manager ordered, "come over here and help me throw this rat out...." he went for rat. peterson swung up out of his chair with balled fist. the outlander backed rapidly. "no need, no need, no need!" he said quickly. "i go." still backing, he blindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night. * * * * * when the door slammed shut roberds locked it. peterson slumped in the chair. "do you mean that, chief? about taking the ship yourself?" "true enough." roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closed door, lowered his voice. "it'll cost me my job, but that girl in there has to be taken to a hospital quickly! and it's her luck to be landed on a planet that doesn't boast even one! so it's earth ... or she dies. i'd feel a lot better too if we could get gladney to a hospital, i'm not too confident of that patching job." he pulled a pipe from a jacket pocket. "so, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... and that wasn't meant to be funny!" peterson said nothing, sat watching the door. "rat has the right idea," roberds continued, "but i had already thought of it. about the bunks and lockers. greaseball has been out there all night tearing them out. we just _might_ be able to hop by dawn ... and hell of a long, grinding hop it will be!" the nurse came out of the door. "how is she?" roberds asked. "sleeping," gray whispered. "but sinking...." "we can take off at dawn, i think." he filled the pipe and didn't look at her. "you'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "i can take it." suddenly she smiled, wanly. "i was with the fleet. how long will it take?" "eight days, in _that_ ship." roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. he knew peterson was harboring the same thoughts. eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and gladney. "who was that ... man? the one you put out?" gray asked. "we call him rat," roberds said. she didn't ask why. she said: "why couldn't he pilot the ship, i mean? what is his record?" peterson opened his mouth. "shut up, peterson!" the chief snapped. "we don't talk about his record around here, miss gray. it's not a pretty thing to tell." "stow it, chief," said peterson. "miss gray is no pantywaist." he turned to the nurse. "ever hear of the sansan massacre?" patti gray paled. "yes," she whispered. "was rat in that?" roberds shook his head. "he didn't take part in it. but rat was attached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch. and when mad barry sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on the ganymedean colony, there was no warning. our friend rat was awol. "as to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up around centauria somewhere. he's been hanging around all the fields and dumps on mars a long time, finally landed up here." "but," protested miss gray, "i don't understand? i always thought that leaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution." the chief consul nodded. "it does, usually. but this was a freak case. it would take hours to explain. however, i'll just sum it up in one word: politics. politics, with which rat had no connection saved him." the girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation. "are you expecting the others in soon?" she asked. "it wouldn't be right to leave peterson." "they will be in, in a day or two. peterson will beat it over to base station for repairs, and to notify earth we're coming. he'll be all right." abruptly she stood up. "goodnight gentlemen. call me if i'm needed." roberds nodded acknowledgement. the door to the side room closed behind her. peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. he sniffed the air. "damned rat!" he whispered harshly. "they ought to make a law forcing him to wear dark glasses!" roberds smiled wearily. "his eyes do get a man, don't they?" "i'd like to burn 'em out!" peterson snarled. * * * * * rat helped greaseball fill the water tanks to capacity with fuel, checked the concentrated rations and grunted. greaseball looked over the interior and chuckled. "the boss said strip her, and strip her i did. all right, rat, outside." he followed the centaurian out, and pulled the ladder away from the lip of the lock. the two walked across the strip of sandy soil to the office building. on tiptoes, greaseball poked his head through the door panel. "all set." roberds nodded at him. "stick with it!" and jerked a thumb at rat outside. grease nodded understanding. "okay, rat, you can go to bed now." he dropped the ladder against the wall and sat on it. "good night." he watched rat walk slowly away. swinging down the path towards his own rambling shack, rat caught a sibilant whisper. pausing, undecided, he heard it again. "here ... can you see me?" a white clad arm waved in the gloom. rat regarded the arm in the window. another impatient gesture, and he stepped to the sill. "yes?"--in the softest of whispers. the voices of the men in droning conversation drifted in. "what you want?" nothing but silence for a few hanging seconds, and then: "can you pilot that ship?" her voice was shaky. he didn't answer, stared at her confused. he felt her fear as clearly as he detected it in her words. "well, _can_ you?" she demanded. "damn yes!" he stated simply. "it now necessary?" "very! she is becoming worse. i'm afraid to wait until daylight. and ... well, we want _you_ to pilot it! she refuses to risk mr. roberds' job. she favors you." rat stepped back, astonished. "she?" nurse gray moved from the window and rat saw the second form in the room, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. "my patient," nurse gray explained. "she overheard our conversation awhile ago. quick, please, can you?" rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. he vanished from the window. almost immediately, he was back again. "when?" he whispered. "as soon as possible. yes. do you know...?" but he had gone again. nurse gray found herself addressing blackness. on the point of turning, she saw him back again. "blankets," he instructed. "wrap in blankets. cold--hot too. wrap good!" and he was gone again. gray blinked away the illusion he disappeared upwards. she ran over to the girl. "judith, if you want to back down, now is the time. he'll be back in a moment." "no!" judith moaned. "no!" gray smiled in the darkness and began wrapping the blankets around her. a light tapping at the window announced the return of rat. the nurse pushed open the window wide, saw him out there with arms upstretched. "grit your teeth and hold on! here we go." she picked up the blanketed girl in both arms and walked to the window. rat took the girl easily as she was swung out, the blackness hid them both. but he appeared again instantly. "better lock window," he cautioned. "stall, if boss call. back soon...." and he was gone. to nurse gray the fifteen minute wait seemed like hours, impatient agonizing hours of tight-lipped anxiety. * * * * * feet first, she swung through the window, clutching a small bag in her hands. she never touched ground. rat whispered "hold tight!" in her ear and the wind was abruptly yanked from her! the ground fell away in a dizzy rush, unseen but felt, in the night! her feet scraped on some projection, and she felt herself being lifted still higher. wind returned to her throat, and she breathed again. "i'm sorry," she managed to get out, gaspingly. "i wasn't expecting that. i had forgotten you--" "--had wings," he finished and chuckled. "so likewise greaseball." the pale office lights dropped away as they sped over the field. on the far horizon, a tinge of dawn crept along the uneven terrain. "oh, the bag!" she gasped. "i've dropped it." he chuckled again. "have got. you scare, i catch." she didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "inside. no noise, no light. easy." but in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. he helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks. "judith?" she asked. "here. beside you, trussed up so tight i can hardly breathe." "no talk!" rat insisted. "much hush-hush needed. other girl shipshape. you make likewise." forcibly he shoved her into a hammock. "wrap up tight. straps tight. when we go, we go fast. bang!" and he left her. "hey! where are you going now?" "to get gladney. he sick too. hush hush!" his voice floated back. "where has he gone?" judith called. "back for another man. remember the two miners who found us when we crashed? the burly one fell off a rock-bank as they were bringing us in. stove in his ribs pretty badly. the other has a broken arm ... happened once while you were out. they wouldn't let me say anything for fear of worrying you." * * * * * the girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over the ship. somewhere aft a small motor was running. wind whistled past the open lock. "i've caused plenty of trouble haven't i?" she asked aloud, finally. "this was certainly a fool stunt, and i'm guilty of a lot of fool stunts! i just didn't realize until now the _why_ of that law." "don't talk so much," the nurse admonished. "a lot of people have found out the _why_ of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, and lived to remember it. until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home." "how about these men that live and work here?" "they never get here until they've been through the mill first. adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without." "well," judith said. "i've certainly learned my lesson!" gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort. "gray?" judith asked fearfully. "yes?" "hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?" rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. he was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. the burden groaned. "gladney!" nurse gray exclaimed. "i got." rat confirmed. "yes, gladney. damn heavy, gladney." "but how?" she demanded. "what of roberds and peterson?" "trick," he sniggered. "i burn down my shack. boss run out. i run in. very simple." he packed gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles. "and peterson?" she prompted. "oh yes. peterson. so sorry about peterson. had to fan him." "_fan_ him? i don't understand." "fan. with chair. everything all right. i apologized." rat finished up and was walking back to the lock. they heard a slight rustling of wings as he padded away. he was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago. cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang of bullets bounced on the hull! some entered the lock. the centaurian snapped it shut. chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. rat leaped for the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping. "you've been hurt!" gray cried. a small panel light outlined his features. she tried to struggle up. "lie still! we go. boss get wise." with lightning fingers he flicked several switches on the panel, turned to her. "hold belly. zoom!" gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes. rat unlocked the master level and shoved! * * * * * "whew!" nurse gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all too familiar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force its crowded way into her boots plaguing her. rockets roared in the rear. she loosened a few straps and twisted over. judith was still out, her face tensed in pain. gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. the centaurian was grinning at her. "do you always leave in a hurry?" she demanded, and instantly wished she hadn't said it. he gave no outward sign. "long-time sleep," he announced. "four, five hours maybe." the chest strap was lying loose at his side. "that long!" she was incredulous. "i'm never out more than three hours!" unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the control panel. "not taking time," he stated simply and pointed to a dial. gray shook her head and looked at the others. "that isn't doing either of them any good!" rat nodded unhappily. "what's her matter--?" pointing. "appendix. something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. the thing itself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. patient dies in a week unless it is taken out." "don't know it," he said briefly. "do you mean to say you don't have an appendix?" she demanded. rat folded his arms and considered this. "don't know. maybe yes, maybe no. where's it hurt?" gray pointed out the location. the centaurian considered this further and drifted into long contemplation. watching him, gray remembered his eyes that night ... only _last_ night ... in the office. peterson had refused to meet them. after awhile rat came out of it. "no," he waved. "no appendix. never nowhere appendix." "then mother nature has finally woke up!" she exclaimed. "but why do centaurians rate it exclusively?" rat ignored this and asked one of her. "what you and her doing up there?" he pointed back and up, to where mars obliterated the stars. "you might call it a pleasure jaunt. she's only seventeen. we came over in a cruiser belonging to her father; it was rather large and easy to handle. but the cruise ended when she lost control of the ship because of an attack of space-appendicitis. the rest you know." "so you?" "so i'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. or will be until we get back. after this, i'll probably be looking for work." she shivered. "cold?" he inquired concernedly. "on the contrary, i'm too warm." she started to remove the blanket. rat threw up a hand to stop her. "leave on! hot out here." "but i'm too hot now. i want to take it off!" "no. leave on. wool blanket. keep in body heat, yes. keep out cold, yes. keep in, keep out, likewise. see?" gray stared at him. "i never thought of it that way before. why of course! if it protects from one temperature, it will protect from another. isn't it silly of me not to know that?" heat pressing on her face accented the fact. "what is your name?" she asked. "your real one i mean." he grinned. "big. you couldn't say it. sound like christmas and bottlenose together real fast. just say rat. everybody does." his eyes swept the panel and flashed back to her. "your name gray. have a front name?" "patti." "pretty, patti." "no, just patti. say, what's the matter with the cooling system?" "damn punk," he said. "this crate for surface work. no space. cooling system groan, damn punk. won't keep cool here." "and ..." she followed up, "it will get warmer as we go out?" rat turned back to his board in a brown study and carefully ignored her. gray grasped an inkling of what the coming week could bring. "but how about water?" she demanded next. "is there enough?" he faced about. "for her--" nodding to judith, "and him--" to gladney, "yes. sparingly. four hours every time, maybe." back to gray. "you, me ... twice a day. too bad." his eyes drifted aft to the tank of water. she followed. "one tank water. all the rest fuel. too bad, too bad. we get thirsty i think." * * * * * they did get thirsty, soon. a damnable hot thirst accented by the knowledge that water was precious, a thirst increased by a dried-up-in-the-mouth sensation. their first drink was strangely bitter; tragically disappointing. patti gray suddenly swung upright in the hammock and kicked her legs. she massaged her throat with a nervous hand, wiped damp hair from about her face. "i have to have a drink." rat stared at her without answer. "i said, i have to have a drink!" "heard you." "well...?" "well, nothing. stall. keep water longer." she swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. rat grinned, and made his way aft, hand over hand. he treaded cautiously along the deck. "do like this," he called over his shoulder. "gravity punk too. back and under, gravity." he waited until she joined him at the water tap. they stood there glaring idiotically at each other. she burst out laughing. "they even threw the drinking cups out!" rat inched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet. "faugh!" gray sprang back, forgot herself and lost her balance, sat down on the deck and spat out the water. "it's hot! it tastes like hell and it's hot! it must be fuel!" rat applied his lips to the tap and sampled. coming up with a mouthful he swished it around on his tongue like mouthwash. abruptly he contrived a facial contortion between a grin and a grimace, and let some of the water trickle from the edges of his mouth. he swallowed and it cost him something. "no. i mean yes, i think. water, no doubt. yes. fuel out, water in. swish-swush. dammit, greaseball forget to wash tank!" "but what makes it so hot?" she worked her mouth to dry-rinse the taste of the fuel. "ship get hot. water on sun side. h-m-m-m-m-m-m." "h-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?" "flip-flop." he could talk with his hands as well. "hot side over like pancake." rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. an experimental flick on a lever produced nothing. another flick, this time followed by a quivering jar. he contemplated the panel board while fastening his belt. "h-m-m-m-m-m-m," the lower lip protruded. gray protested. "oh, stop humming and do something! that wa--" the word was queerly torn from her throat, and a scream magically filled the vacancy. nurse gray sat up and rubbed a painful spot that had suddenly appeared on her arm. she found her nose bleeding and another new, swelling bruise on the side of her head. around her the place was empty. bare. no, not quite. a wispy something was hanging just out of sight in the corner of the eye; the water tap was now moulded _upward_, beads glistening on its handle. the wispy thing caught her attention again and she looked up. two people, tightly wrapped and bound in hammocks, were staring down at her, amazed, swinging on their stomachs. craning further, she saw rat. he was hanging upside down in the chair, grinning at her in reverse. "flip-flop," he laconically explained. "for cripes sakes, jehosaphat!" gladney groaned. "turn me over on my back! do something!" gray stood on tiptoes and just could pivot the hammocks on their rope-axis. "and now, please, just _how_ do i get into mine?" she bit at rat. * * * * * existence dragged. paradoxically, time dropped away like a cloak as the sense of individual hours and minutes vanished, and into its place crept a slow-torturing substitute. as the ship revolved, monotonously, first the ceiling and then the floor took on dullish, maddening aspects, eyes ached continuously from staring at them time and again without surcease. the steady, drumming rockets crashed into the mind and the walls shrieked malevolently on the eyeballs. dull, throbbing sameness of the poorly filtered air, a growing taint in the nostrils. damp warm skin, reeking blankets. the taste of fuel in the mouth for refreshment. slowly mounting mental duress. and above all the drumming of the rockets. once, a sudden, frightening change of pitch in the rockets and a wild, sickening lurch. meteor rain. maddening, plunging swings to the far right and left, made without warning. a torn lip as a sudden lurch tears the faucet from her mouth. a shattered tooth. "sorry!" rat whispered. "shut up and drive!" she cried. "patti ..." judith called out, in pain. peace of mind followed peace of body into a forgotten limbo of lost things, a slyly climbing madness directed at one another. waspish words uttered in pain, fatigue and temper. fractiousness. a hot, confined, stale hell. sleep became a hollow mockery, as bad water and concentrated tablets brought on stomach pains to plague them. consciousness punctured only by spasms of lethargy, shared to some extent by the invalids. above all, crawling lassitude and incalescent tempers. rat watched the white, drawn face swing in the hammock beside him. and his hands never faltered on the controls. never a slackening of the terrific pace; abnormal speed, gruelling drive ... drive ... drive. fear. tantalizing fear made worse because rat couldn't understand. smothered moaning that ate at his nerves. grim-faced, sleep-wracked, belted to the chair, driving! "how many days? how many days!" gray begged of him thousands of times until the very repetition grated on her eardrums. "how many days?" his only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. she fell face first to the floor. "i can't keep it up!" she cried. the sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "i cant! i cant!" a double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "get up!" rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "get up!" she stared at him, dazed. he kicked her. "get up!" the tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard judith calling.... she forced herself up. rat was back in the chair. * * * * * gladney unexpectedly exploded. he had been awake for a long time, watching rat at the board. wrenching loose a chest strap he attempted to sit up. "rat! damn you rat, listen to me! _when're you going to start braking_, rat?" "i hear you." he turned on gladney with dulled eyes. "lie down. you sick." "i'll be damned if i'm going to lie here and let you drive us to orion! we must be near the half-way line! when are you going to start braking?" "not brake," rat answered sullenly. "no, not brake." "_not brake?_" gladney screamed and sat bolt upright. nurse gray jumped for him. "are you crazy, you skinny rat?" gray secured a hold on his shoulders and forced him down. "you gotta brake! don't you understand that? you have to, you vacuum-skull!" gray was pleading with him to shut-up like a good fellow. he appealed to her. "he's gotta brake! make him!" "he has a good point there, rat," she spoke up. "what about this half-way line?" he turned to her with a weary ghost of the old smile on his face. "we passed line. three days ago, maybe." a shrug of shoulders. "passed!" gray and gladney exclaimed in unison. "you catch on quick," rat nodded. "this six day, don't you know?" gladney sank back, exhausted. the nurse crept over to the pilot. "getting your figures mixed, aren't you?" rat shook his head and said nothing. "but roberds said eight days, and he--" "--he on mars. i here. boss nuts, too sad. he drive, it be eight days. now only six." he cast a glance at judith and found her eyes closed. "six days, no brake. no." "i see your point, and appreciate it," gray cut in. "but now what? this deceleration business ... there is a whole lot i don't know, but some things i do!" rat refused the expected answer. "land tonight, i think. never been to earth before. somebody meet us, i think." "you can bet your leather boots somebody will meet us!" gladney cried. gray turned to him. "the chief'll have the whole planet waiting for _you_!" he laughed with real satisfaction. "oh yes, rat, they'll be somebody waiting for us all right." and then he added: "if we land." "oh, we land." rat confided, glad to share a secret. "yeah," gladney grated. "but in how many little pieces?" "i've never been to earth before. nice, i think." patti gray caught something new in the tone and stared at him. gladney must have noticed it, too. the centaurian moved sideways and pointed. gray placed her eyes in the vacated position. "earth!" she shouted. "quite. nice. do me a favor?" "just name it!" "not drink long time. some water?" gray nodded and went to the faucet. the drumming seemed remote, the tension vanished. she was an uncommonly long time in returning, at last she appeared beside him, outstretched hands dry. "there isn't any left, rat." rat batted his tired eyes expressively. "tasted punk," he grinned at her. she sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face. "rat," she said presently, "i want to ask you something, rather personal? your ... name. 'rat'? roberds told me something about your record. but ... please tell me, rat. you didn't know the attack was coming, did you?" he grinned again and waggled his head at her. "no. who tell rat?" suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. "rat a.w.o.l., go out to help sick man alone in desert. rat leave post. not time send call through. come back with man, find horrible thing happen." "but why didn't you explain?" he grinned again. "who believe? sick man die soon after." gladney sat up. he had heard the conversation between the two. "you're right, rat. no one would have believed you then, and no one will now. you've been safe enough on mars, but the police will nab you as soon as you get out of the ship." "they can't!" cried patti gray. "they can't hurt him after what he's done now." the centaurian grinned in a cynical way. "police not get me, gladney. gladney's memory damn punk, i think. earth pretty nice place, maybe. but not for rat." gladney stared at him for minutes. then: "say, i get it ... you're--" "shut up!" rat cut him off sharply. "you talk too much." he cast a glance at nurse gray and then threw a meaning look at gladney. * * * * * gladney subsided. patti gray noted with dawning wonder that his face had lost the loathing and anger he had previously held toward the outlaw pilot. "look. sea!" rat said a few moments later. gray was in her hammock. she twisted over as he moved bony shoulders aside to let her see through the vision port. a startlingly brief glimpse of glistening waters shot past, reflecting a dancing moonpath. a continent whirled into place on the plate. the skies were clear of other craft. "travelling fast!" she warned. "i hope you know what you're doing." another body of water shot past them beneath. "that must be the pacific. where are you going to set down?" "the ocean." rat didn't turn his attention away from the plate. "gladney you got bad memory too much. that's why we passed half-way line full speed! sea water good brake, stop us hundred miles!" gladney flopped back. "may i be kicked to death! of course! i've heard of it being done by stunt pilots. but rat, are you sure you can do it? i mean, can you land us without killing us all?" "oh yes," but rat was grimly serious. "i can all right, but...." "... but what?" "ever see little boy skipping stones across water?" his hand shot out and described a series of violent ricocheting motions. "like that? we land that way, i think. _splat-splat!_ first splat knock us all ... all ... what you say?" "knock us out?" gladney supplied. rat shrugged. gray caught his eyes. "goodnight, rat," she smiled at him. "when i wake up, i want to see you again. you won't be in jail for awhile, not until the hospital releases you, and perhaps by that time...." "all no bother, please. i liked you patti gray. but your memory pretty punk too. forget your fleet training, i think. yes! but patti ..." he stopped, helpless. "yes?" "i'm sorry about something. i kicked you." "rat, please forget it. i won't forgive you for there is nothing to forgive you for!" she smiled at him, winked once and closed her eyes. "goodnight everyone." [illustration: _the ocean rushed up with incredible speed._] they felt the nose dip as rat dropped toward the moonlit sea. the ocean rushed up. the ship struck with titanic force, blasting through the white-caps, metal crumpling from the monstrous dive. and then all consciousness blacked out for those on board. * * * * * patti gray awoke, pressed the button under her pillow for a nurse, smiled about the clean hospital room. gladney was waiting to see her. he wheeled himself in and stopped the chair beside her bed. "hello. feel human again?" "do i?" she laughed. "gladney, i'm going to stay right here the rest of my life!" "yeah ... that's what i said yesterday. but today i'm itching to get back up yonder." he dug a thumb at the sky. "is judith all right?" "sure. she wants to see you. frankly, miss gray," he lowered his voice, "i expected that first 'splat' of rat's would kill her." gray shivered. "i have a hazy memory of that landing. how did we do it?" "easy. a coast-guard cutter saw us and picked us up about ten miles out." "gladney," she said quickly, "you've got to help me clear rat. we've got to ... why gladney, you don't mean they got him...?" "_they_ didn't get him. _earth_ did. don't you remember what he said about earth being a nice place for us? centaurians can't endure earth's gravity and atmosphere; the centaurian embassy is very specially built, and all centaurians come to earth in what are virtually fish bowls. "rat was beginning to die even as we dove for the water." patti gray stared at him a moment in frozen horror, then buried her face in the pillow. "some day, he will be remembered, miss gray," gladney whispered. "some day, after all the bitterness over ganymede is forgotten, they'll remember _why_ rat left his post, and they'll remember how he drove." venus is a man's world by william tenn illustrated by gene fawcette [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from galaxy science fiction july . extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] actually, there wouldn't be too much difference if women took over the earth altogether. but not for some men and most boys! i've always said that even if sis is seven years older than me--and a girl besides--she don't always know what's best. put me on a spaceship jam-packed with three hundred females just aching to get themselves husbands in the one place they're still to be had--the planet venus--and you know i'll be in trouble. bad trouble. with the law, which is the worst a boy can get into. twenty minutes after we lifted from the sahara spaceport, i wriggled out of my acceleration hammock and started for the door of our cabin. "now you be careful, ferdinand," sis called after me as she opened a book called _family problems of the frontier woman_. "remember you're a nice boy. don't make me ashamed of you." i tore down the corridor. most of the cabins had purple lights on in front of the doors, showing that the girls were still inside their hammocks. that meant only the ship's crew was up and about. ship's crews are men; women are too busy with important things like government to run ships. i felt free all over--and happy. now was my chance to really see the _eleanor roosevelt_! * * * * * it was hard to believe i was traveling in space at last. ahead and behind me, all the way up to where the companionway curved in out of sight, there was nothing but smooth black wall and smooth white doors--on and on and on. _gee_, i thought excitedly, this is _one big ship_! of course, every once in a while i would run across a big scene of stars in the void set in the wall; but they were only pictures. nothing that gave the feel of great empty space like i'd read about in _the boy rocketeers_, no portholes, no visiplates, nothing. so when i came to the crossway, i stopped for a second, then turned left. to the right, see, there was deck four, then deck three, leading inward past the engine fo'c'sle to the main jets and the grav helix going _purr-purr-purrty-purr_ in the comforting way big machinery has when it's happy and oiled. but to the left, the crossway led all the way to the outside level which ran just under the hull. there were portholes on the hull. i'd studied all that out in our cabin, long before we'd lifted, on the transparent model of the ship hanging like a big cigar from the ceiling. sis had studied it too, but she was looking for places like the dining salon and the library and lifeboat where we should go in case of emergency. i looked for the _important_ things. as i trotted along the crossway, i sort of wished that sis hadn't decided to go after a husband on a luxury liner. on a cargo ship, now, i'd be climbing from deck to deck on a ladder instead of having gravity underfoot all the time just like i was home on the bottom of the gulf of mexico. but women always know what's right, and a boy can only make faces and do what they say, same as the men have to do. still, it was pretty exciting to press my nose against the slots in the wall and see the sliding panels that could come charging out and block the crossway into an airtight fit in case a meteor or something smashed into the ship. and all along there were glass cases with spacesuits standing in them, like those knights they used to have back in the middle ages. "in the event of disaster affecting the oxygen content of companionway," they had the words etched into the glass, "break glass with hammer upon wall, remove spacesuit and proceed to don it in the following fashion." i read the "following fashion" until i knew it by heart. _boy_, i said to myself, _i hope we have that kind of disaster. i'd sure like to get into one of those! bet it would be more fun than those diving suits back in undersea!_ and all the time i was alone. that was the best part. * * * * * then i passed deck twelve and there was a big sign. "notice! passengers not permitted past this point!" a big sign in red. i peeked around the corner. i knew it--the next deck was the hull. i could see the portholes. every twelve feet, they were, filled with the velvet of space and the dancing of more stars than i'd ever dreamed existed in the universe. there wasn't anyone on the deck, as far as i could see. and this distance from the grav helix, the ship seemed mighty quiet and lonely. if i just took one quick look.... but i thought of what sis would say and i turned around obediently. then i saw the big red sign again. "passengers not permitted--" well! didn't i know from my civics class that only women could be earth citizens these days? sure, ever since the male desuffrage act. and didn't i know that you had to be a citizen of a planet in order to get an interplanetary passport? sis had explained it all to me in the careful, patient way she always talks politics and things like that to men. "technically, ferdinand, i'm the only passenger in our family. you can't be one, because, not being a citizen, you can't acquire an earth passport. however, you'll be going to venus on the strength of this clause--'miss evelyn sparling and all dependent male members of family, this number not to exceed the registered quota of sub-regulations pertaining'--and so on. i want you to understand these matters, so that you will grow into a man who takes an active interest in world affairs. no matter what you hear, women really like and appreciate such men." of course, i never pay much attention to sis when she says such dumb things. i'm old enough, i guess, to know that it isn't what _women_ like and appreciate that counts when it comes to people getting married. if it were, sis and three hundred other pretty girls like her wouldn't be on their way to venus to hook husbands. still, if i wasn't a passenger, the sign didn't have anything to do with me. i knew what sis could say to _that_, but at least it was an argument i could use if it ever came up. so i broke the law. i was glad i did. the stars were exciting enough, but away off to the left, about five times as big as i'd ever seen it, except in the movies, was the moon, a great blob of gray and white pockmarks holding off the black of space. i was hoping to see the earth, but i figured it must be on the other side of the ship or behind us. i pressed my nose against the port and saw the tiny flicker of a spaceliner taking off, marsbound. i wished i was on that one! then i noticed, a little farther down the companionway, a stretch of blank wall where there should have been portholes. high up on the wall in glowing red letters were the words, "lifeboat . passengers: thirty-two. crew: eleven. unauthorized personnel keep away!" another one of those signs. * * * * * i crept up to the porthole nearest it and could just barely make out the stern jets where it was plastered against the hull. then i walked under the sign and tried to figure the way you were supposed to get into it. there was a very thin line going around in a big circle that i knew must be the door. but i couldn't see any knobs or switches to open it with. not even a button you could press. that meant it was a sonic lock like the kind we had on the outer keeps back home in undersea. but knock or voice? i tried the two knock combinations i knew, and nothing happened. i only remembered one voice key--might as well see if that's it, i figured. "twenty, twenty-three. open sesame." for a second, i thought i'd hit it just right out of all the million possible combinations--the door clicked inward toward a black hole, and a hairy hand as broad as my shoulders shot out of the hole. it closed around my throat and plucked me inside as if i'd been a baby sardine. i bounced once on the hard lifeboat floor. before i got my breath and sat up, the door had been shut again. when the light came on, i found myself staring up the muzzle of a highly polished blaster and into the cold blue eyes of the biggest man i'd ever seen. he was wearing a one-piece suit made of some scaly green stuff that looked hard and soft at the same time. his boots were made of it too, and so was the hood hanging down his back. and his face was brown. not just ordinary tan, you understand, but the deep, dark, burned-all-the-way-in brown i'd seen on the lifeguards in new orleans whenever we took a surface vacation--the kind of tan that comes from day after broiling day under a really hot sun. his hair looked as if it had once been blond, but now there were just long combed-out waves with a yellowish tinge that boiled all the way down to his shoulders. i hadn't seen hair like that on a man except maybe in history books; every man i'd ever known had his hair cropped in the fashionable soup-bowl style. i was staring at his hair, almost forgetting about the blaster which i knew it was against the law for him to have at all, when i suddenly got scared right through. his eyes. they didn't blink and there seemed to be no expression around them. just coldness. maybe it was the kind of clothes he was wearing that did it, but all of a sudden i was reminded of a crocodile i'd seen in a surface zoo that had stared quietly at me for twenty minutes until it opened two long tooth-studded jaws. "green shatas!" he said suddenly. "only a tadpole. i must be getting jumpy enough to splash." then he shoved the blaster away in a holster made of the same scaly leather, crossed his arms on his chest and began to study me. i grunted to my feet, feeling a lot better. the coldness had gone out of his eyes. i held out my hand the way sis had taught me. "my name is ferdinand sparling. i'm very pleased to meet you, mr.--mr.--" "hope for your sake," he said to me, "that you aren't what you seem--tadpole brother to one of them husbandless anura." "_what?_" "a 'nuran is a female looking to nest. anura is a herd of same. come from flatfolk ways." "flatfolk are the venusian natives, aren't they? are you a venusian? what part of venus do you come from? why did you say you hope--" he chuckled and swung me up into one of the bunks that lined the lifeboat. "questions you ask," he said in his soft voice. "venus is a sharp enough place for a dryhorn, let alone a tadpole dryhorn with a boss-minded sister." "i'm not a dryleg," i told him proudly. "_we're_ from undersea." "_dryhorn_, i said, not dryleg. and what's undersea?" "well, in undersea we called foreigners and newcomers drylegs. just like on venus, i guess, you call them dryhorns." and then i told him how undersea had been built on the bottom of the gulf of mexico, when the mineral resources of the land began to give out and engineers figured that a lot could still be reached from the sea bottoms. * * * * * he nodded. he'd heard about the sea-bottom mining cities that were bubbling under protective domes in every one of the earth's oceans just about the same time settlements were springing up on the planets. he looked impressed when i told him about mom and pop being one of the first couples to get married in undersea. he looked thoughtful when i told him how sis and i had been born there and spent half our childhood listening to the pressure pumps. he raised his eyebrows and looked disgusted when i told how mom, as undersea representative on the world council, had been one of the framers of the male desuffrage act after the third atomic war had resulted in the maternal revolution. * * * * * he almost squeezed my arm when i got to the time mom and pop were blown up in a surfacing boat. "well, after the funeral, there was a little money, so sis decided we might as well use it to migrate. there was no future for her on earth, she figured. you know, the three-out-of-four." "how's that?" "the three-out-of-four. no more than three women out of every four on earth can expect to find husbands. not enough men to go around. way back in the twentieth century, it began to be felt, sis says, what with the wars and all. then the wars went on and a lot more men began to die or get no good from the radioactivity. then the best men went to the planets, sis says, until by now even if a woman can scrounge a personal husband, he's not much to boast about." the stranger nodded violently. "not on earth, he isn't. those busybody anura make sure of that. what a place! suffering gridniks, i had a bellyful!" he told me about it. women were scarce on venus, and he hadn't been able to find any who were willing to come out to his lonely little islands; he had decided to go to earth where there was supposed to be a surplus. naturally, having been born and brought up on a very primitive planet, he didn't know "it's a woman's world," like the older boys in school used to say. the moment he landed on earth he was in trouble. he didn't know he had to register at a government-operated hotel for transient males; he threw a bartender through a thick plastic window for saying something nasty about the length of his hair; and _imagine_!--he not only resisted arrest, resulting in three hospitalized policemen, but he sassed the judge in open court! "told me a man wasn't supposed to say anything except through female attorneys. told _her_ that where _i_ came from, a man spoke his piece when he'd a mind to, and his woman walked by his side." "what happened?" i asked breathlessly. "oh, guilty of this and contempt of that. that blown-up brinosaur took my last munit for fines, then explained that she was remitting the rest because i was a foreigner and uneducated." his eyes grew dark for a moment. he chuckled again. "but i wasn't going to serve all those fancy little prison sentences. forcible citizenship indoctrination, they call it? shook the dead-dry dust of the misbegotten, god forsaken mother world from my feet forever. the women on it deserve their men. my pockets were folded from the fines, and the paddlefeet were looking for me so close i didn't dare radio for more munit. so i stowed away." * * * * * for a moment, i didn't understand him. when i did, i was almost ill. "y-you mean," i choked, "th-that you're b-breaking the law right now? and i'm with you while you're doing it?" he leaned over the edge of the bunk and stared at me very seriously. "what breed of tadpole are they turning out these days? besides, what business do _you_ have this close to the hull?" after a moment of sober reflection, i nodded. "you're right. i've also become a male outside the law. we're in this together." he guffawed. then he sat up and began cleaning his blaster. i found myself drawn to the bright killer-tube with exactly the fascination sis insists such things have always had for men. "ferdinand your label? that's not right for a sprouting tadpole. i'll call you ford. my name's butt. butt lee brown." i liked the sound of ford. "is butt a nickname, too?" "yeah. short for alberta, but i haven't found a man who can draw a blaster fast enough to call me that. you see, pop came over in the eighties--the big wave of immigrants when they evacuated ontario. named all us boys after canadian provinces. i was the youngest, so i got the name they were saving for a girl." "you had a lot of brothers, mr. butt?" he grinned with a mighty set of teeth. "oh, a nestful. of course, they were all killed in the blue chicago rising by the macgregor boys--all except me and saskatchewan. then sas and me hunted the macgregors down. took a heap of time; we didn't float jock macgregor's ugly face down the tuscany till both of us were pretty near grown up." i walked up close to where i could see the tiny bright copper coils of the blaster above the firing button. "have you killed a lot of men with that, mr. butt?" "butt. just plain butt to you, ford." he frowned and sighted at the light globe. "no more'n twelve--not counting five government paddlefeet, of course. i'm a peaceable planter. way i figure it, violence never accomplishes much that's important. my brother sas, now--" * * * * * he had just begun to work into a wonderful anecdote about his brother when the dinner gong rang. butt told me to scat. he said i was a growing tadpole and needed my vitamins. and he mentioned, very off-hand, that he wouldn't at all object if i brought him some fresh fruit. it seemed there was nothing but processed foods in the lifeboat and butt was used to a farmer's diet. trouble was, he was a special kind of farmer. ordinary fruit would have been pretty easy to sneak into my pockets at meals. i even found a way to handle the kelp and giant watercress mr. brown liked, but things like seaweed salt and venusian mud-grapes just had too strong a smell. twice, the mechanical hamper refused to accept my jacket for laundering and i had to wash it myself. but i learned so many wonderful things about venus every time i visited that stowaway.... i learned three wild-wave songs of the flatfolk and what it is that the native venusians hate so much; i learned how you tell the difference between a lousy government paddlefoot from new kalamazoo and the slaptoe slinker who is the planter's friend. after a lot of begging, butt lee brown explained the workings of his blaster, explained it so carefully that i could name every part and tell what it did from the tiny round electrodes to the long spirals of transformer. but no matter what, he would never let me hold it. "sorry, ford, old tad," he would drawl, spinning around and around in the control swivel-chair at the nose of the lifeboat. "but way i look at it, a man who lets somebody else handle his blaster is like the giant whose heart was in an egg that an enemy found. when you've grown enough so's your pop feels you ought to have a weapon, why, then's the time to learn it and you might's well learn fast. before then, you're plain too young to be even near it." "i don't have a father to give me one when i come of age. i don't even have an older brother as head of my family like your brother labrador. all i have is sis. and _she_--" "she'll marry some fancy dryhorn who's never been farther south than the polar coast. and she'll stay head of the family, if i know her breed of green shata. _bossy, opinionated._ by the way, fordie," he said, rising and stretching so the fish-leather bounced and rippled off his biceps, "that sister. she ever...." and he'd be off again, cross-examining me about evelyn. i sat in the swivel chair he'd vacated and tried to answer his questions. but there was a lot of stuff i didn't know. evelyn was a healthy girl, for instance; how healthy, exactly, i had no way of finding out. yes, i'd tell him, my aunts on both sides of my family each had had more than the average number of children. no, we'd never done any farming to speak of, back in undersea, but--yes, i'd guess evelyn knew about as much as any girl there when it came to diving equipment and pressure pump regulation. how would i know that stuff would lead to trouble for me? * * * * * sis had insisted i come along to the geography lecture. most of the other girls who were going to venus for husbands talked to each other during the lecture, but not _my_ sister! she hung on every word, took notes even, and asked enough questions to make the perspiring purser really work in those orientation periods. "i am very sorry, miss sparling," he said with pretty heavy sarcasm, "but i cannot remember any of the agricultural products of the macro continent. since the human population is well below one per thousand square miles, it can readily be understood that the quantity of tilled soil, land or sub-surface, is so small that--wait, i remember something. the macro continent exports a fruit though not exactly an edible one. the wild _dunging_ drug is harvested there by criminal speculators. contrary to belief on earth, the traffic has been growing in recent years. in fact--" "pardon me, sir," i broke in, "but doesn't _dunging_ come only from leif erickson island off the moscow peninsula of the macro continent? you remember, purser--wang li's third exploration, where he proved the island and the peninsula didn't meet for most of the year?" the purser nodded slowly. "i forgot," he admitted. "sorry, ladies, but the boy's right. please make the correction in your notes." but sis was the only one who took notes, and she didn't take that one. she stared at me for a moment, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, while i got sicker and sicker. then she shut her pad with the final gesture of the right hand that mom used to use just before challenging the opposition to come right down on the council floor and debate it out with her. "ferdinand," sis said, "let's go back to our cabin." the moment she sat me down and walked slowly around me, i knew i was in for it. "i've been reading up on venusian geography in the ship's library," i told her in a hurry. "no doubt," she said drily. she shook her night-black hair out. "but you aren't going to tell me that you read about _dunging_ in the ship's library. the books there have been censored by a government agent of earth against the possibility that they might be read by susceptible young male minds like yours. she would not have allowed--this terran agent--" "paddlefoot," i sneered. sis sat down hard in our zoom-air chair. "now that's a term," she said carefully, "that is used only by venusian riffraff." "they're not!" "not what?" "riffraff," i had to answer, knowing i was getting in deeper all the time and not being able to help it. i mustn't give mr. brown away! "they're trappers and farmers, pioneers and explorers, who're building venus. and it takes a real man to build on a hot, hungry hell like venus." "does it, now?" she said, looking at me as if i were beginning to grow a second pair of ears. "tell me more." "you can't have meek, law-abiding, women-ruled men when you start civilization on a new planet. you've got to have men who aren't afraid to make their own law if necessary--with their own guns. that's where law begins; the books get written up later." "you're going to _tell_, ferdinand, what evil, criminal male is speaking through your mouth!" "nobody!" i insisted. "they're my own ideas!" "they are remarkably well-organized for a young boy's ideas. a boy who, i might add, has previously shown a ridiculous but nonetheless entirely masculine boredom with political philosophy. i plan to have a government career on that new planet you talk about, ferdinand--after i have found a good, steady husband, of course--and i don't look forward to a masculinist radical in the family. now, who has been filling your head with all this nonsense?" * * * * * i was sweating. sis has that deadly bulldog approach when she feels someone is lying. i pulled my pulpast handkerchief from my pocket to wipe my face. something rattled to the floor. "what is this picture of me doing in your pocket, ferdinand?" a trap seemed to be hinging noisily into place. "one of the passengers wanted to see how you looked in a bathing suit." "the passengers on this ship are all female. i can't imagine any of them that curious about my appearance. ferdinand, it's a man who has been giving you these anti-social ideas, isn't it? a war-mongering masculinist like all the frustrated men who want to engage in government and don't have the vaguest idea how to. except, of course, in their ancient, bloody ways. ferdinand, who has been perverting that sunny and carefree soul of yours?" "nobody! _nobody!_" "ferdinand, there's no point in lying! i demand--" "i told you, sis. i told you! and don't call me ferdinand. call me ford." "ford? _ford?_ now, you listen to me, ferdinand...." after that it was all over but the confession. that came in a few moments. i couldn't fool sis. she just knew me too well, i decided miserably. besides, she was a girl. all the same, i wouldn't get mr. butt lee brown into trouble if i could help it. i made sis promise she wouldn't turn him in if i took her to him. and the quick, nodding way she said she would made me feel just a little better. the door opened on the signal, "sesame." when butt saw somebody was with me, he jumped and the ten-inch blaster barrel grew out of his fingers. then he recognized sis from the pictures. he stepped to one side and, with the same sweeping gesture, holstered his blaster and pushed his green hood off. it was sis's turn to jump when she saw the wild mass of hair rolling down his back. "an honor, miss sparling," he said in that rumbly voice. "please come right in. there's a hurry-up draft." so sis went in and i followed right after her. mr. brown closed the door. i tried to catch his eye so i could give him some kind of hint or explanation, but he had taken a couple of his big strides and was in the control section with sis. she didn't give ground, though; i'll say that for her. she only came to his chest, but she had her arms crossed sternly. "first, mr. brown," she began, like talking to a cluck of a kid in class, "you realize that you are not only committing the political crime of traveling without a visa, and the criminal one of stowing away without paying your fare, but the moral delinquency of consuming stores intended for the personnel of this ship solely in emergency?" * * * * * he opened his mouth to its maximum width and raised an enormous hand. then he let the air out and dropped his arm. "i take it you either have no defense or care to make none," sis added caustically. butt laughed slowly and carefully as if he were going over each word. "wonder if all the anura talk like that. and _you_ want to foul up venus." "we haven't done so badly on earth, after the mess you men made of politics. it needed a revolution of the mothers before--" "needed nothing. everyone wanted peace. earth is a weary old world." "it's a world of strong moral fiber compared to yours, mr. alberta lee brown." hearing his rightful name made him move suddenly and tower over her. sis said with a certain amount of hurry and change of tone, "what _do_ you have to say about stowing away and using up lifeboat stores?" * * * * * he cocked his head and considered a moment. "look," he said finally, "i have more than enough munit to pay for round trip tickets, but i couldn't get a return visa because of that brinosaur judge and all the charges she hung on me. had to stow away. picked the _eleanor roosevelt_ because a couple of the boys in the crew are friends of mine and they were willing to help. but this lifeboat--don't you know that every passenger ship carries four times as many lifeboats as it needs? not to mention the food i didn't eat because it stuck in my throat?" "yes," she said bitterly. "you had this boy steal fresh fruit for you. i suppose you didn't know that under space regulations that makes him equally guilty?" "no, sis, he didn't," i was beginning to argue. "all he wanted--" "sure i knew. also know that if i'm picked up as a stowaway, i'll be sent back to earth to serve out those fancy little sentences." "well, you're guilty of them, aren't you?" he waved his hands at her impatiently. "i'm not talking law, female; i'm talking sense. listen! i'm in trouble because i went to earth to look for a wife. you're standing here right now because you're on your way to venus for a husband. so let's." sis actually staggered back. "let's? let's _what_? are--are you daring to suggest that--that--" "now, miss sparling, no hoopla. i'm saying let's get married, and you know it. you figured out from what the boy told you that i was chewing on you for a wife. you're healthy and strong, got good heredity, you know how to operate sub-surface machinery, you've lived underwater, and your disposition's no worse than most of the anura i've seen. prolific stock, too." i was so excited i just had to yell: "gee, sis, say _yes_!" * * * * * my sister's voice was steaming with scorn. "and what makes you think that i'd consider you a desirable husband?" he spread his hands genially. "figure if you wanted a poodle, you're pretty enough to pick one up on earth. figure if you charge off to venus, you don't want a poodle, you want a man. i'm one. i own three islands in the galertan archipelago that'll be good oozing mudgrape land when they're cleared. not to mention the rich berzeliot beds offshore. i got no bad habits outside of having my own way. i'm also passable good-looking for a slaptoe planter. besides, if you marry me you'll be the first mated on this ship--and that's a splash most nesting females like to make." there was a longish stretch of quiet. sis stepped back and measured him slowly with her eyes; there was a lot to look at. he waited patiently while she covered the distance from his peculiar green boots to that head of hair. i was so excited i was gulping instead of breathing. imagine having butt for a brother-in-law and living on a wet-plantation in flatfolk country! but then i remembered sis's level head and i didn't have much hope any more. "you know," she began, "there's more to marriage than just--" "so there is," he cut in. "well, we can try each other for taste." and he pulled her in, both of his great hands practically covering her slim, straight back. neither of them said anything for a bit after he let go. butt spoke up first. "now, me," he said, "i'd vote yes." sis ran the tip of her tongue kind of delicately from side to side of her mouth. then she stepped back slowly and looked at him as if she were figuring out how many feet high he was. she kept on moving backward, tapping her chin, while butt and i got more and more impatient. when she touched the lifeboat door, she pushed it open and jumped out. * * * * * butt ran over and looked down the crossway. after a while, he shut the door and came back beside me. "well," he said, swinging to a bunk, "that's sort of it." "you're better off, butt," i burst out. "you shouldn't have a woman like sis for a wife. she looks small and helpless, but don't forget she was trained to run an underwater city!" "wasn't worrying about that," he grinned. "_i_ grew up in the fifteen long years of the blue chicago rising. nope." he turned over on his back and clicked his teeth at the ceiling. "think we'd have nested out nicely." i hitched myself up to him and we sat on the bunk, glooming away at each other. then we heard the tramp of feet in the crossway. butt swung down and headed for the control compartment in the nose of the lifeboat. he had his blaster out and was cursing very interestingly. i started after him, but he picked me up by the seat of my jumper and tossed me toward the door. the captain came in and tripped over me. i got all tangled up in his gold braid and million-mile space buttons. when we finally got to our feet and sorted out right, he was breathing very hard. the captain was a round little man with a plump, golden face and a very scared look on it. he _humphed_ at me, just the way sis does, and lifted me by the scruff of my neck. the chief mate picked me up and passed me to the second assistant engineer. sis was there, being held by the purser on one side and the chief computer's mate on the other. behind them, i could see a flock of wide-eyed female passengers. "you cowards!" sis was raging. "letting your captain face a dangerous outlaw all by himself!" "i dunno, miss sparling," the computer's mate said, scratching the miniature slide-rule insignia on his visor with his free hand. "the old man would've been willing to let it go with a log entry, figuring the spaceport paddlefeet could pry out the stowaway when we landed. but you had to quote the mother anita law at him, and he's in there doing his duty. he figures the rest of us are family men, too, and there's no sense making orphans." "you promised, sis," i told her through my teeth. "you promised you wouldn't get butt into trouble!" she tossed her spiral curls at me and ground a heel into the purser's instep. he screwed up his face and howled, but he didn't let go of her arm. "_shush_, ferdinand, this is serious!" it was. i heard the captain say, "i'm not carrying a weapon, brown." "then _get_ one," butt's low, lazy voice floated out. "no, thanks. you're as handy with that thing as i am with a rocketboard." the captain's words got a little fainter as he walked forward. butt growled like a gusher about to blow. "i'm counting on your being a good guy, brown." the captain's voice quavered just a bit. "i'm banking on what i heard about the blast-happy browns every time i lifted gravs in new kalamazoo; they have a code, they don't burn unarmed men." * * * * * just about this time, events in the lifeboat went down to a mumble. the top of my head got wet and i looked up. there was sweat rolling down the second assistant's forehead; it converged at his nose and bounced off the tip in a sizable stream. i twisted out of the way. "what's happening?" sis gritted, straining toward the lock. "butt's trying to decide whether he wants him fried or scrambled," the computer's mate said, pulling her back. "hey, purse, remember when the whole family with their pop at the head went into heatwave to argue with colonel leclerc?" "eleven dead, sixty-four injured," the purser answered mechanically. "and no more army stationed south of icebox." his right ear twitched irritably. "but what're they saying?" suddenly we heard. "by authority vested in me under the pomona college treaty," the captain was saying very loudly, "i arrest you for violation of articles sixteen to twenty-one inclusive of the space transport code, and order your person and belongings impounded for the duration of this voyage as set forth in sections forty-one and forty-five--" "forty-three and forty-five," sis groaned. "sections forty-three and forty-five, i told him. i even made him repeat it after me!" "--of the mother anita law, sc , emergency interplanetary directives." * * * * * we all waited breathlessly for butt's reply. the seconds ambled on and there was no clatter of electrostatic discharge, no smell of burning flesh. then we heard some feet walking. a big man in a green suit swung out into the crossway. that was butt. behind him came the captain, holding the blaster gingerly with both hands. butt had a funny, thoughtful look on his face. the girls surged forward when they saw him, scattering the crew to one side. they were like a school of sharks that had just caught sight of a dying whale. "m-m-m-m! are all venusians built like that?" "men like that are worth the mileage!" "_i want him!" "i want him!" "i want him!_" sis had been let go. she grabbed my free hand and pulled me away. she was trying to look only annoyed, but her eyes had bright little bubbles of fury popping in them. "the cheap extroverts! and they call themselves responsible women!" i was angry, too. and i let her know, once we were in our cabin. "what about that promise, sis? you said you wouldn't turn him in. you _promised_!" she stopped walking around the room as if she had been expecting to get to venus on foot. "i know i did, ferdinand, but he forced me." "my name is ford and i don't understand." "your name is ferdinand and stop trying to act forcefully like a girl. it doesn't become you. in just a few days, you'll forget all this and be your simple, carefree self again. i really truly meant to keep my word. from what you'd told me, mr. brown seemed to be a fundamentally decent chap despite his barbaric notions on equality between the sexes--or worse. i was positive i could shame him into a more rational social behavior and make him give himself up. then he--he--" she pressed her fingernails into her palms and let out a long, glaring sigh at the door. "then he kissed me! oh, it was a good enough kiss--mr. brown has evidently had a varied and colorful background--but the galling idiocy of the man, trying that! i was just getting over the colossal impudence involved in _his_ proposing marriage--as if _he_ had to bear the children!--and was considering the offer seriously, on its merits, as one should consider _all_ suggestions, when he deliberately dropped the pretense of reason. he appealed to me as most of the savage ancients appealed to their women, as an emotional machine. throw the correct sexual switches, says this theory, and the female surrenders herself ecstatically to the doubtful and bloody murk of masculine plans." * * * * * there was a double knock on the door and the captain walked in without waiting for an invitation. he was still holding butt's blaster. he pointed it at me. "get your hands up, ferdinand sparling," he said. i did. "i hereby order your detention for the duration of this voyage, for aiding and abetting a stowaway, as set forth in sections forty-one and forty-five--" "forty-three and forty-five," sis interrupted him, her eyes getting larger and rounder. "but you gave me your word of honor that no charges would be lodged against the boy!" "forty-one and forty-five," he corrected her courteously, still staring fiercely at me. "i looked it up. of the anita mason law, emergency interplanetary directives. that was the usual promise one makes to an informer, but i made it before i knew it was butt lee brown you were talking about. i didn't want to arrest butt lee brown. you forced me. so i'm breaking my promise to you, just as, i understand, you broke your promise to your brother. they'll both be picked up at new kalamazoo spaceport and sent terraward for trial." "but i used all of our money to buy passage," sis wailed. "and now you'll have to return with the boy. i'm sorry, miss sparling. but as you explained to me, a man who has been honored with an important official position should stay close to the letter of the law for the sake of other men who are trying to break down terrestrial anti-male prejudice. of course, there's a way out." "there is? tell me, please!" "can i lower my hands a minute?" i asked. "no, you can't, son--not according to the armed surveillance provisions of the mother anita law. miss sparling, if you'd marry brown--now, now, don't look at me like that!--we could let the whole matter drop. a shipboard wedding and he goes on your passport as a 'dependent male member of family,' which means, so far as the law is concerned, that he had a regulation passport from the beginning of this voyage. and once we touch venusian soil he can contact his bank and pay for passage. on the record, no crime was ever committed. he's free, the boy's free, and you--" "--are married to an uncombed desperado who doesn't know enough to sit back and let a woman run things. oh, you should be ashamed!" * * * * * the captain shrugged and spread his arms wide. "perhaps i should be, but that's what comes of putting men into responsible positions, as you would say. see here, miss sparling, _i_ didn't want to arrest brown, and, if it's at all possible, i'd still prefer not to. the crew, officers and men, all go along with me. we may be legal residents of earth, but our work requires us to be on venus several times a year. we don't want to be disliked by any members of the highly irritable brown clan or its collateral branches. butt lee brown himself, for all of his savage appearance in your civilized eyes, is a man of much influence on the polar continent. in his own bailiwick, the galertan archipelago, he makes, breaks and occasionally readjusts officials. then there's his brother saskatchewan who considers butt a helpless, put-upon youngster--" "much influence, you say? mr. brown has?" sis was suddenly thoughtful. "_power_, actually. the kind a strong man usually wields in a newly settled community. besides, miss sparling, you're going to venus for a husband because the male-female ratio on earth is reversed. well, not only is butt lee brown a first class catch, but you can't afford to be too particular in any case. while you're fairly pretty, you won't bring any wealth into a marriage and your high degree of opinionation is not likely to be well-received on a backward, masculinist world. then, too, the woman-hunger is not so great any more, what with the _marie curie_ and the _fatima_ having already deposited their cargoes, the _mme. sun yat sen_ due to arrive next month...." * * * * * sis nodded to herself, waved the door open, and walked out. "let's hope," the captain said. "like any father used to say, a man who knows how to handle women, how to get around them without their knowing it, doesn't need to know anything else in this life. i'm plain wasted in space. you can lower your hands now, son." we sat down and i explained the blaster to him. he was very interested. he said all butt had told him--in the lifeboat when they decided to use my arrest as a club over sis--was to keep the safety catch all the way up against his thumb. i could see he really had been excited about carrying a lethal weapon around. he told me that back in the old days, captains--sea captains, that is--actually had the right to keep guns in their cabins all the time to put down mutinies and other things our ancestors did. the telewall flickered, and we turned it on. sis smiled down. "everything's all right, captain. come up and marry us, please." "what did you stick him for?" he asked. "what was the price?" sis's full lips went thin and hard, the way mom's used to. then she thought better of it and laughed. "mr. brown is going to see that i'm elected sheriff of the galertan archipelago." "and i thought she'd settle for a county clerkship!" the captain muttered as we spun up to the brig. the doors were open and girls were chattering in every corner. sis came up to the captain to discuss arrangements. i slipped away and found butt sitting with folded arms in a corner of the brig. he grinned at me. "hi, tadpole. like the splash?" i shook my head unhappily. "butt, why did you do it? i'd sure love to be your brother-in-law, but, gosh, you didn't have to marry sis." i pointed at some of the bustling females. sis was going to have three hundred bridesmaids. "any one of them would have jumped at the chance to be your wife. and once on any woman's passport, you'd be free. why sis?" "that's what the captain said in the lifeboat. told him same thing i'm telling you. i'm stubborn. what i like at first, i keep on liking. what i want at first, i keep on wanting until i get." "yes, but making sis sheriff! and you'll have to back her up with your blaster. what'll happen to that man's world?" "wait'll after we nest and go out to my islands." he produced a hard-lipped, smug grin, sighting it at sis's slender back. "she'll find herself sheriff over a bunch of natives and exactly two earth males--you and me. i got a hunch that'll keep her pretty busy, though."