Part 2

Next he made a thorough survey of the wrecked liner, carrying all usable objects to the forecastle, which swiftly took on the appearance of a storage room. As these articles began to grow in number, satisfaction and pride of ownership gripped him.

It was in the midst of these labors that he was suddenly struck with an idea. Why not construct a space ship from the wrecked parts of the liner? He had six atomic motors, and surely from their wreckage he could salvage enough to build one of half the trajectory power. And with a smaller ship, he might be able to find his way back to Earth.

Standish smoked a pipe over this. When morning came, he began the herculean task of dismantling the motors. Day after day he struggled with the cumbersome machinery. When this stage of the work was finally completed, he was startled to discover that six weeks of Earth time had slipped by.

He then found in the machinists' quarters an electrolic saw. The tool was dull, but he managed to cut free a dozen girders for the framework of his craft. To his dismay he found them too heavy to move even with block and tackle. There was no alternative but to cut them into sections and weld them together, hoping they would stand the strain.

That night the first warning of trouble came. Absently Standish had noticed a chill in the air, a more oblique slant to the twin suns. Suddenly from the jungle beyond the ravine came a low rumbling.

The Earthman switched on a searchlight he had fastened on top of the forecastle. The white glare fastened itself on the wall of trees, revealed five figures advancing directly into the light.

* * * * *

On all fours they came, huge beasts with long tapered bodies covered with heavy white fur. Their heads resembled the saber-toothed tigers of Earth's Upper Miocene.

A dozen appeared before Standish understood. This zone of the planet was advancing into its cold season. The animals were part of a migrating herd, coming down from the warmer districts.

He drew his genithode pistol and fired into their midst. The foremost of the creatures keeled over, and the Earthman advanced boldly, firing as he went. Here was fresh meat, and with winter coming on, he intended to obtain as much of it as possible.

Standish was twenty yards from the hull of the liner when a coughing roar sounded behind him. He wheeled and uttered a cry of horror. If the creatures revealed by the light were giants in size, these others were titans. Nostrils picking up his scent, they came forward slowly, cutting him off from the ship.

He fired twice again, even as two of the monsters hurtled toward him. It was stark struggle then. With only the reflected light of the search lamp and the vague glow of the stars, Standish fought desperately. The pistol barrel became hot; the white-haired things went down in two's and three's.

And then abruptly there came a lull in the attack. The creatures halted listening. And an instant later the sound reached the Earthman's ears like the hum of an angry hornet. From above it came, rapidly drawing nearer. Stunned, he saw the saber-toothed monsters turn and slink quietly back into the jungle.

Up in the sky a light gleamed, and a series of red flashes split the darkness. Then a black ball-shaped shadow swept downward with incredible speed. There was a roar and a series of muffled reports as the thing hurtled over the roof of the jungle and swept to a landing at the far end of the ravine.

The sounds ceased. Standish stood there, frozen to inactivity. Then a hysterical shout and a peal of laughter burst from his lips. A space ship ... a rocket ship, landing here on this planet. It ... it wasn't possible!

V

But it was possible. As Standish ran forward, he saw a hatch open in the metal sphere and a man climb out. And yet it wasn't a man. The face and body were normal, but the arms and legs were vine-like appendages with segmented fronds for hands. When this person saw Standish, it recoiled and whipped a knife out from a scabbard at its waist.

Quickly the Earthman raised one arm above his head in the common symbol of friendliness. A smile of recognition crossed the little man's face. He nodded and raised his frond-like hand in a similar gesture. Then he pointed to himself and said:

"Ga-Marr!"

The rocket ship now came under Standish's gaze. He saw that it was of a design foreign to any craft he had ever seen before. Spherical in shape, with a series of strange-looking fins along the sides, its stern rudders were formed of crude exhaust jettisons, and the several ports were formed of a transparent material that resembled quartz.

Ga-Marr--for it was evident those syllables formed the stranger's name--opened the hatch door and motioned Standish to enter. Without hesitation, the Earthman did so. Inside was a single cabin, with a control panel occupying two of the four walls. Ga-Marr pressed a button, and a panel slid open in the floor, revealing the motor chamber.

The stranger pointed downward, then shook his head violently. Standish nodded.

"Motors went dead on you, eh? Well, my friend, it looks as though you and I were in the same fix. Come along, and I'll show you my diggings."

But when Ga-Marr looked upon the wrecked space liner, he stared incredulously. He walked its entire length as if doubting its proportions.

"Yes, she's big all right," Standish smiled, aware that he was not understood. "But she's no good, the way she is now. Now, how about a little food?"

In his forecastle home, the Earthman set out a bottle of wine and some cakes. He noted that Ga-Marr used his front hands with great dexterity, but that he betrayed no surprise at Standish's own physical appearance.

Once the stranger had eaten, Standish began the necessary task of providing a common means of communication. He used the Corelli sound-system--a shortcut method of acquainting the ear and the eye simultaneously with objects of fundamental importance. Within two hours, he found he could converse with Ga-Marr with a minimum amount of difficulty.

Haltingly then, the stranger began to speak:

"I am from the city, Calthedra, of the planet Lyra, of the system Aritorius. My race was once a great people, but raiders from another planet destroyed our civilization. All we have left is a few rocket ships of the kind in which I came. These were built long ago by our ancestors, and only a few of us know how to operate them."

Standish nodded. "How came you here?"

"I was voyaging to visit my brother on our satellite, Zora, when those same raiders caught sight of me and gave chase. My space compass broke, and I became lost. I found my way here just as my rocket motors consumed the last of their power."

"I see." Standish lit his pipe and began to smoke slowly. "And these raiders--they come from near here?"

"From Sirius," Ga-Marr replied. "They raid us for funds to continue their war with a planet many light years away."

For a full moment Standish sat there rigid. Then the pipe fell from his hands, and he leaped to his feet.

"Sirius!" he cried. "So those butchers are not content to place in bondage all the solar system. They must plague other worlds also!"

He paced the length of the forecastle.

"Tell me," he said, whirling abruptly, "do you know of a Sirian leader called Drum Faggard?"

Ga-Marr's eyes gleamed. "Aye. The crudest and most bloodthirsty of them all. It was he who led the attack against my people in which my brother was killed. It was he who directed the sacking of our city of Calthedra. My one hope is that some day we may meet on common ground."

* * * * *

The next day Standish revealed to the newcomer his plan to build a smaller space ship out of the wreckage of the old.

"Your own craft is useless without power for its rocket motors," he told Ga-Marr. "Yet it contains parts that will be valuable. Have I your consent to dismantle it?"

The stranger nodded.

"To work then. And remember, if we succeed, we may yet be able to strike at Drum Faggard."

It was the desire for revenge that spurred them on. Quickly they set about dismantling Ga-Marr's ship. Rivets were cut, bolts unscrewed, plates ripped off. Using the dismantled parts of the space liner's atomic motors, Standish fashioned a smaller but powerful engine. Gradually out of the mass a crude craft began to take form.

But they were working on counted time. Days were growing shorter; the nights, longer. Icy winds began to sweep across the ravine, bringing sleet and flurries of snow.

With the change in seasons came new dangers. Strange animal life, following the perverse migrational instinct of the planet, swept out of the jungle.

First came the lizard-birds, similar to, but larger than, the one which had attacked Standish. They came over the cliff in squadron formation, a dense cloud that blotted out the sky.

For two days the men were kept prisoners, while the flock stalked back and forth about the ravine like a vast Roman encampment.

A week later the thrads came. It was Ga-Marr who called them thrads. They were a tiny species of anthropoid, no larger than a squirrel, with bright red bodies. Inquisitive and bold, they hampered the two men as they gathered close to watch the work.

The ship was nearing completion. While Standish labored at the control adjustments, Ga-Marr carried in a supply of food concentrates from the wrecked liner. Along the length of the ravine an inclined runway was built for a take-off. At the end of this, Standish constructed a rifle-like catapult, using the parts of Ga-Marr's rocket motor and a quantity of trinitrate cellulose he found in the liner. If the device worked, it would multiply their initial trajectory power and quicken their passage through the planet's gravitational field.

At length Standish fastened the last bolt of the crude new ship in its place. Nervously, he pressed the starting button. The single motor began with a smooth powerful hum. The ship strained at its moorings.

"Ready, Ga-Marr? We'll give her a trial flight and see how she handles."

The little man grinned, shouted. "Cast off!" he cried. "Cast off!"

Standish severed the mooring cable of the ship with one shot from his genithode pistol. The two men yanked shut the hatch, screwed down the air lock. With a yank, the Earthman threw over the control lever.

Up from the ground the ship shot. Through the floor panel, Standish saw the ground receding.

"Take the controls," he told Ga-Marr. "I'm going to try and chart a course for your planet."

* * * * *

The planet rose up before them like a great ripened peach. It had taken Standish long hours to calculate with his elementary astrophysics the location of their destination. Ga-Marr had supplied what information he could; but he knew only that the planet, Lyra, was bordered by a spiral nebulae on one side, and that it revolved about a sun some hundred million miles distant.

As they approached now, Ga-Marr betrayed no emotion. "The city of Calthedra is on the other hemisphere," he said. "I'll direct you to the landing."

They crept slowly along the surface, and the Earthman found himself looking upon a land similar in many respects to his own. Nostalgia seized him. Here were lakes and woods and broad fields in the state of cultivation. Here were lanes, roads and hedges, a tracery of browns and greens that was good to see.

But when a moment later Ga-Marr pointed out the port and said, "Calthedra," Standish's jaw set hard. The city had been devastated. Buildings stood in ruins. Towers were crumbling masses of masonry. Only one structure seemed to have escaped the fearful onslaught, a globe-shaped building, fashioned of some kind of black metal.

The Earthman saw the landing place and guided the ship downward. Below he could see people milling about excitedly, groups of them pointing upward.

The moment the ship came to a rest, Ga-Marr threw open the hatch and climbed out. Standish followed, to find an assemblage drawn up suspiciously in battle array, their weapons ready for any hostile move of the newcomers.

In the foreground stood a taller man of Lyra, wearing a suit of copper-colored chain mail and a helmet studded with gleaming chips of yellow metal. At his sides were two men in white flowing robes. All had high brows, penetrating eyes and frond-like appendages in lieu of arms and legs.

Ga-Marr ran forward and embraced the man in the helmet.

"My father," he said, "this man is Mason Standish, a great warrior from the planet Earth. He has rescued me from certain death, and has brought me back to your empire at the risk of his life."

The Emperor paced forward, a benevolent smile playing across his lips.

"He who befriends my son has my gratitude," he said softly.

* * * * *

Standish was bewildered. Ga-Marr had made no mention of the fact that he was of royal birth. It was a long time before the Earthman found his tongue.

"Your son tells me that your people and my people are at war with a common enemy. May I ask how long since the Sirians made their last attack upon you?"

"Within the risings of twelve suns," the Emperor replied. "But come. Let us go to the palace where we may speak alone."

* * * * *

Standish missed no detail of his passage through the city. Calthedra, besides being hard hit by the invaders, was quite evidentally in the process of decay. Streets were racked and unrepaired. House windows were broken and open to the elements. And on all sides the Earthman saw faces devoid of intelligence staring at him.

But when he climbed the steps and followed Ga-Marr and the Emperor into the black metal globe, he entered a different world.

A vast pillared hall stretched before him. On one side a balustrated ramp led to the upper levels. Opposite were a series of high triangular doorways, each opening into separate chambers. The air was cool and exhilarating and seemed to have a different chemical content than that of the street.

"This is our palace," Ga-Marr said, "built thousands of years before when our people were a great civilization. It alone has withstood all the attacks our planet has been exposed to."

"Why?" demanded Standish. "I should think this would be the enemy's first striking place."

Ga-Marr stook his head. "I do not understand the science of it myself. It is something in the black metal. It is an electon-stripped element, I believe, tremendously heavy and impregnable to any weapon of cosmic warfare."

They reached the last doorway and entered the royal quarters. The Emperor and his son sat down before a circular table and motioned Standish to a chair opposite. The older man removed his helmet and closed his eyes as if in weariness.

"Earthman," he said at length, "you come at a time when my planet is sorely in need of help. I don't know how much my son has told you, but if you will listen I will tell you the history of Lyra. But first I have something to show you."

He touched a button on the table, and a chime sounded melodiously in the outer corridor. A servant appeared in the doorway.

"Tell Thalia I would see her at once," the Emperor said.

A moment later light steps sounded and Standish looked up curiously. What he saw brought him out of his chair with a cry of pleasure and amazement.

The figure of a girl--an Earth girl of his own race stood there on the threshold.

VI

For a full moment as their eyes met, man and girl stared speechless. To Standish, who a few short weeks ago had thought himself cut off forever from his people, she was a vision of loveliness. Her hair was dark, and her face was a delicate one of natural beauty.

"This is Thalia," the Emperor said, "born on your planet, but brought here as a child. Perhaps you recall a liner, the Colossus, which was lost and never reached port some twenty years ago?"

"Glory, yes!" exclaimed Standish.

"The Colossus was destroyed by the Sirians. It was their first attack on an Earth craft, and I believe the initial act which led them on. Thalia was the only survivor when we came upon the ship, drifting, a derelict."

The girl stepped forward now shyly. "My greetings," she said.

Standish took her hand, and a strange thrill shot through him. Then the Emperor leaned back in his chair, lit a short metal pipe and began his story....

Thousands of years before, the Sirians had come to raid this planet, Lyra, attracted by the wealth of minerals: coronium, thanium, margon, gold and silver. They had destroyed the libraries, the laboratories, the schools. They had killed the scientists and all men suspected of higher intelligence. For generations, the people of Lyra had been held in bondage.

Then an Emperor had come into power, gifted with a scientific reasoning far in advance of his time. He had constructed a warp in space on three sides of the planet. This alteration of the space-time coordinates served as an impregnable defense.

Until Drum Faggard had come upon the scene. With but one desire--to continue his war on Earth and the solar system, Faggard had broken through the space warp and destroyed the time machine that operated it.

"And so," concluded the Emperor, "we of Lyra today are but ghosts of our past. Our heritage has been stolen from us. We are far removed in space, so have been unable to obtain allies. Even your planet, Earth, does not know of our presence. The Sirians have told us that your observers believe Lyra unfit to support life. And the few rocket ships we have left are not capable of crossing that immense distance."

Standish sat in thoughtful silence. Abruptly the girl, Thalia, moved to his side.

"Will you help us?" she said. "You have knowledge, and knowledge is power. Will you aid Lyra in its fight for freedom?"

Standish stood up slowly, face a grim line of determination. "Yes," he said. "I'll do all I can."

* * * * *

He began with a survey of the city of Calthedra. With Ga-Marr answering his many questions, Standish passed from street to street, building to building, no detail missing his sharp eyes. He saw the wreckage of the space warp machine, broken ray cannon, the debris-choked lower levels where once light-hearted Lyrians had their libraries and laboratories.

Then Standish spent two days devising an intelligence test as he remembered them from his Earth studies. The test, he instructed Ga-Marr, was to be given to every able-bodied man in Calthedra.

He spent a week more checking the results. But at length from the mass of papers he selected twenty-four Lyrians whose IQ rating and general scientific aptitude seemed in advance of their fellows. The Earthman then revealed his plan to Ga-Marr.

"We're going to build a space ship," he said, "a super destroyer with the most powerful atomic motors I've ever designed. We're going to take this war into our own hands--attack, rather than wait to be attacked."

A call for workmen was broadcast. The response was overwhelming. All Calthedra, all Lyra wanted to help the man from Earth in the struggle to free them from bondage.

With the twenty-four picked men as overseers, the work began. A flat space was selected beyond the outskirts of the city. Food depots were thrown up, together with temporary housing quarters. Like a colony of ants, the workmen labored in three shifts. At night, the work went on by the light of solar-condensor lamps mounted on towers at every point of vantage.

The ship began to take form. A long cigar-shaped blue-black hull was fashioned out of "_feloranium_", a metal peculiar to Lyra which Standish toughened by the addition of five alloys. At intermittent spaces along that hull, disappearing ray guns were swivel-mounted, operated and loaded by remote control.

The Earthman personally supervised the installation of the atomic motors. Each he had given the most strenuous block tests. Switched on, they purred like six gargantuan cats, alive with effortless strength.

Finally Ga-Marr climbed out of the huge cabin and smiled.

"It is completed," he said. "Only the heat units remain to be tested. What now?"

"Now," said Standish.... But his words were never finished. From the roof of the palace the warning siren burst into a wailing clamor. Ga-Marr's face blanched.

"The Sirians!" he cried. "They'll destroy all we've done."

With a single leap Standish was across to the microphone of the field amplifying system.

"Wait!" his voice boomed out. "If you run, all your work will be for nothing. We still have a chance, but we must hide this ship. I want each of you to bring here every movable object you can find. Do you understand? Every movable object!"

The field saw strange activity then. While the siren continued to scream out its warning, an endless procession of Lyrians raced in and out of Calthedra, carrying stone blocks, furniture, doors, articles of every description.

"Looks like moving day back on Earth," Standish said to Ga-Marr with a lightness he didn't feel. His fists clenched. "We'll beat them yet."

He ran for the palace. Even as he raced up the inclined ramp of the rear entrance, he saw five Sirian battle cruisers land with a roar in the central square. Inside, Standish moved swiftly to the quarters of the Emperor. The old man was leaning weakly against a chair, eyes smoldering.

Without preamble the Earthman explained what he had done. Then he had barely time to leap through the doorway into the adjoining room.

* * * * *

Heavy steps sounded in the hall. A moment later six men entered the chamber and strode belligerently to the Emperor. Five of them were Sirians. The sixth was a man of Earth--a tall broad shouldered man with a bullet head and a cruel predatory face. This was Drum Faggard.

He wore the Sirian uniform and a flowing scarlet cloak hung from his shoulders. At his waist were holstered two long barreled genithode pistols.

"Your mines are lying idle," Faggard snarled. "Why?"

Through the crevice between the partially closed door Standish saw the Emperor shrug eloquently. "We have had troubles."

"What troubles?"

The Emperor hesitated. "Labor," he said. "My workers refuse to toil further when the results of their work are stolen from them. They see no reason to struggle for the benefit of murdering raiders."

Blunt anger crimsoned Faggard's face. He struck the Emperor hard across the face. "Watch your tongue, fool!"

Standish made fists of his hands. He had an overpowering desire to leap into the room and seize the renegade. To do that, however, he knew, would mean failure for his plans.

Drum Faggard paced to a window.

"What is the meaning of all that material piled outside the city?"

Quietly the Emperor continued to play his part. "We are moving to new grounds," he explained, "moving higher into the hills. The weather on Lyra is changing, growing warmer due to the planet's gradual approach to our sun. Surely your observers must have noticed it."

For a long moment the renegade stood there motionless, digesting this information. Then he crossed back to the table, slammed a mailed fist down upon it.

"Old man, I give you one more chance. Either those mines are worked and a double amount of ore made ready for us, or we level Calthedra to the ground. Do you understand? We will return later."

He turned on his heel, and the five Sirians followed puppet-like into the corridor. Darting across to the window, Standish saw them march pompously across the square and enter the space cruisers. A moment later, with a roar of rocket exhaust, the six armored vessels shot upward.

Standish turned and ran out the door, heading for the landing field. Half way he met Ga-Marr.

"The ruse worked," the Emperor's son exulted. "They've gone."

"Order the ship cleared!" Standish commanded. "We take off at once."