Part 3

After an interminable search, he was rewarded. He began to notice peculiarities of the gully in which he trod. It seemed to level out, and the walls seemed smoother and higher. He scraped away layers of sand, saw ancient stone.

By this time the sun had dropped below his vision. He knew that any minute the Martian night would come with awful suddenness. And with it, would come ... other things.

But Ketrik was unprepared for what came in that moment. He heard a sudden sharp _whirr_ of blades, and a 'copter appeared above him! It swept so low he could almost see the pilot. There was no doubt the pilot had seen him, for a heat-beam sliced downward, swept along the Canal floor. Ketrik leaped aside, hugged the sandy wall.

Then the 'copter was gone, but Ketrik knew it would circle and return. That could only mean one thing. The caravan had reached the Station, and one of those Martians had spoken of him to the Specials.

Ahead, through the gloom, the Canal seemed to dip into a sort of culvert. He raced for it as he heard the whirring blades again, entered the dark tunnel just as the heat-beam sprayed downward, sending the sand into molten froth. Ketrik groped forward in darkness. The tunnel leveled and continued. Ketrik's heart leaped as he realized where he was. This was one of the abandoned Canals which had been filled with slag from the Martian mines. But years ago pirates had conceived the unique idea of burrowing through it, making a perfect retreat from Turibek to the mountains!

* * * * *

Suddenly he started. Far behind he heard a scuffle of steps. That could only be the Martian Special! There was no doubt, now, that word had gone to Dar Vaajo; they really wanted to stop him! Ketrik grinned and went on, hurrying his steps a little. Rajecs could see in the dark, but Martians couldn't. If it came to a showdown....

His grin soon vanished. All about him now he heard vicious little animal squeals, the scuffing of tiny feet. Scavengers! There must be thousands of them. He saw their baleful red eyes. They gradually grew bolder, began nipping at him. Soon his trousers were in shreds from the knees down, and he felt the flow of blood.

There was one satisfaction. The Martian coming behind must be suffering the same treatment! But the man kept coming. The footsteps were dogged and Ketrik knew he had a real antagonist here.

Now the scavengers were becoming more than annoying. He knew that before he ever reached the city, he would weaken from loss of blood and they'd pull him down. He could use the electro to clear a path through the vicious beasts--but he knew the one coming behind was waiting for that, waiting for any sign of light that would give him a clear target. Ketrik gritted his teeth and went on, occasionally kicking out at the beasts in the dark. It didn't do much good.

Then, far ahead, he saw the faintest glow of light. It seemed to come from around a bend in the tunnel. If he could only get up there in time--and beyond that light, before his pursuer came into view....

He sprinted ahead now, noiselessly. The scavengers squealed in renewed fury, racing along beside him. Once he stumbled, felt a horrid mass of the things swarming. But he fought his way up. By the time he reached the light, he was sure he had gained a considerable distance on his pursuer.

He hurried around the bend, saw that the faint light came from a radium lamp in the ceiling. It had probably been there for years. But what held his attention, and brought him to a standstill, was the figure huddling against the wall.

It was an Earthman and he was still alive. His clothes were in shreds and the rats had been at him--before he reached this light where the rats did not come. He struggled up weakly, gazed at Ketrik out of idiotic eyes. Ketrik hurried forward, pulled the man erect.

One look into his gibbering face, and Ketrik felt his stomach turn over in a prodigious yawn.

_It had taken more than the rats and darkness to do this! The Earthman's mind had been literally and deliberately blasted!_

Ketrik suddenly remembered what Mark had said of Dr. Ransome, whom they'd found drifting near the moon ... his mind that of a week-old infant....

He hurriedly searched the man's clothes, but found nothing. He knew this must be one of the operatives whom Mark had sent a month before--E-39 or EV-5. The other must be dead, somewhere in this tunnel or back at their communications base in the mountains.

He spoke softly to the man, but the other only cringed in terror. Then, with unexpected strength, he tore himself from Ketrik's grasp and was scuttling away, back around the bend of the corridor. Ketrik followed, called a warning. He reached the bend too late. He heard the hiss of a heat-gun and saw the vivid blue streak of it from out of the darkness--a streak that touched the Earthman's chest and sent him crumpling.

Ketrik fired at the spot where the ray had appeared, fired instinctively but unerringly. He heard a soft moan that ended abruptly, then a clatter of sound.

He moved slowly forward, hugging the wall. He feared a trick. Past the little radius of light where the Earthman's body lay, he stumbled upon the Martian Special. He flashed his electro again and saw that the man was unmistakably dead. He went back to the Earthman, stared down for a moment. There was no doubt that he had unwittingly saved Ketrik's life.

"Guess you served your purpose here, after all," Ketrik murmured, but his thoughts at that moment were not as calloused as the words.

With a few strokes of his electro, he removed the crystyte globe of radium from the ceiling; and carrying this light, he was no longer bothered by the scavengers. For hours he proceeded along the tunnel. At last, infinitely weary and wracked with pain, he reached a blank wall.

Searching around it, he at last found a loose stone which he pulled away. A tiny metal lever was revealed. After tugging interminably at it and pounding the rust away, Ketrik managed to pull it slowly back.

The entire wall swung around on pivots. A blast of foul air struck him. Ketrik stepped into a small passage. He recognized it as one of the underground sewers of Turibek. He followed it and came to a short flight of stone stairs leading up to a hinged door. Slowly he shoved it open.

He was in Turibek! This was one of the narrow, winding streets in the warehouse district. He glanced at the sky. It was night. Deimos was gone below the horizon, but Phobos rode high on liquid sapphire.

Ketrik rested there for a few hours until Phobos descended. Then, in the utterly dark hour that precedes dawn on Mars, he crept forth and sought the shop of one Jal Thurlo in the Street of the Double Moon.

IV

He found the shop, in a twisting little street that seemed to cringe from the rest of the city. The insignia of Jal Thurlo was still upon the door, and Ketrik breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, after his persistent knocking, the door opened a trifle and Ketrik saw the wizened little face of Jal Thurlo. The shop-keeper's eyes were dark with suspicion.

"I was told I would find one Jal Thurlo here," Ketrik said glibly. "I come with news of a secret shipment. Rare _kaladonis_ furs from the plains of Io."

"At this ungodly hour?" Thurlo grumbled sleepily.

"It is the proper hour for such matters, thou sulky one! Permit me to enter now or I take my news elsewhere!"

Thurlo opened the door, and Ketrik slipped into a dark room that smelled of spices, perfumes, and a miscellany of objects from the far planets. He followed the little Martian through the shop and along a dim corridor, until they arrived at the living quarters. There, under brilliant light, Thurlo faced him. "Who sent you?"

Ketrik answered carefully. He knew this little man carried a needle-gun in his sleeve and had used it on occasion. "No one. I merely seek haven here. I once saved your life on Deimos--you remember it?"

Thurlo started visibly. "Ketrik! Is it really you? But no, it cannot be!"

"It's Ketrik, all right. But 'Khosan' for the time being. Remember this?" He bared one arm and revealed a long jagged scar from shoulder to elbow. He further proved his identity by recounting the adventure on Deimos many years ago, in which he'd received this scar while saving Thurlo's life. "I must remind you of the Martian blood debt," he ended. "I saved your life and it is forfeit to me until you repay."

"I have not forgotten!" He looked at the other's torn and bleeding legs. "Come, man, let me dress those wounds! Then you can tell me why you are here."

Ketrik recounted part but not all. When he had finished, impressing upon Thurlo the urgent need to get inside Dar Vaajo's laboratories, the little Martian shook his head.

"I fear it cannot be done. That part of the city is strictly forbidden. Vaajo's palace is there, and the homes of his scientists, all surrounded by the wall. Even the few servants who are permitted to pass in and out occasionally are painstakingly examined."

"I've got to get in there," Ketrik reiterated. "And I intend to!"

"Wish I could help you. It might be for the best! Dar Vaajo is becoming as hated as he is feared, yes even by his own people! Something monstrous and mad is going on in those laboratories!"

"What can you tell me about it?"

Thurlo's eyes became dark, and his voice lowered. "Only this: Frequently, in the dark of night, a faint greenish glow comes over the city. It only lasts a few seconds, then withdraws into a pillar of concentrated fire _directly over the laboratories_! Then it seems to extend itself, lashing outward into space."

"Greenish fire!" Ketrik exclaimed. "Do you mean electronic power, Thurlo?"

"No, not that at all. I'm no scientist, but I know this is _cold light_. It's different--devilish! You may laugh at me, Ketrik, but I will say it. These radiations seem alien to this world, to this universe; they seem almost--_alive_!"

But Ketrik did not laugh. He was remembering the mad survivor of a missing Earth spacer. He was remembering the poor gibbering devil he had seen but recently in the tunnel. He thought of these and other things, and felt the hair at the back of his neck begin to rise.

"Why," Thurlo was grumbling, "did Vaajo have to come _here_ to conduct his devilish experiments? Why could he not have stayed in the northern capital?"

"Because here he is in close contact with the Rajecs," Ketrik said experimentally, and watched for the little Martian's reaction.

"Yes!" Thurlo nodded. "I can tell you something about that, too. Under the treaty, the Rajecs are allowed access to Turibek or, if they wish, other cities to the north. Vaajo has even built a magnificent temple here, where they can carry on their own ritualistic worship. Well--I've seen those black caravans come into the city, quite a number of them in the past weeks. But one sees little of them afterwards! Of course they may be shunted further north...."

"No!" Ketrik smacked a fist into his palm. "No, Thurlo, for some reason they are needed here! It's all a part of Vaajo's plan--I knew it!"

"I care little about the Rajecs," Thurlo shrugged. "It is well that they disappear."

Ketrik thought differently. He lay awake in the little cubicle to which Thurlo assigned him, his mind too turbulent for sleep. The pattern, though still vague, was beginning to take shape. At least he had gained entrance to Turibek! Tomorrow he would make a short tour about the city, try to formulate a plan. At last his tired muscles relaxed, and he dropped into an untroubled sleep.

* * * * *

It was high noon when Jal Thurlo wakened him. The little Martian seemed strangely perturbed. "My friend, there is one at the alley entrance who asks for you!"

"For me?" Ketrik was up instantly and began dressing with deft, precise fingers. Who else would know that he had arrived in Turibek? But his mind was put at ease when he reached the rear entrance. Standing before him was the somewhat bedraggled but still grinning figure of Aarnto, the caravan leader.

"Did I not say, Khosan, that the day would soon come when you could repay me? I remembered well your mention of this shop!" And when Ketrik hesitated, he went on, "Well, O fugitive of the dark tunnels--am I not permitted entrance?"

"Come in--quickly!"

Aarnto waved a hand cheerily. "There is no need for alarm. I entered through the city gates as I said I would. The others have gone to the temple, but not I. I will need a place...."

Thurlo frowned. Ketrik said, "It's all right, Thurlo. Aarnto's a friend of mine. Please allow him to stay. I owe a debt too." He turned to Aarnto. "But listen! Don't draw the Specials here. I can't afford that!"

"I am caution itself, my friend! I too have a mission here. Perhaps one night's sanctuary is all I shall ask, and your debt is paid." The black still smiled--with all but his eyes. Behind them Ketrik detected a hardness and cunning, together with a warning not to ask questions.

Ketrik had no intention of doing that, but he made a resolution to watch this one. If their paths here should ever chance to cross, Aarnto would be a tough one indeed! Ketrik left him in Thurlo's capable but somewhat reluctant hands, while he prepared himself for his tour of the city.

From the Street of the Double Moon, he emerged into the broader thoroughfare. Turibek was the metropolis of the south, boasting of theatres, caf├ęs and shopping centers, as well as a magnificent spaceport.

Ketrik gave but a glance to the overhead mono-cars, preferring to stroll leisurely. He found the people, the streets, and the queer facaded buildings much the same as he'd know them years ago.

There was one startling difference. At the end of this main thoroughfare a forbidding wall reared up, to extend out of sight in either direction. That was the wall around the laboratories. Ketrik could not possibly see what lay beyond.

He made his way slowly in that direction. Thurlo had furnished him with apparel that stamped him as a prosperous, somewhat foppish Martian, perhaps a mercantile buyer. He stopped once, listened to news blaring from a public Tele-system, but it contained nothing of consequence to him--no mention of Dar Vaajo or local events.

A few minutes later he entered a tiny shop dealing in rare spices and tobaccos. He purchased a vile but expensive Venusian cigar. He lighted and drew upon it with evident relish.

"Ah, we do not find these often in Roktol!" he said to the proprietor, naming a city far to the north. "Turibek has its advantages after all."

"You are a stranger here?"

"Yes, I have just arrived. I am a buyer for Varik's." He saw the man was impressed. "I find Turibek a fascinating city, but tell me--the high wall to the east of here--what is it? They would not allow me to pass!"

"And no wonder, sir. Those walls surround the palace grounds and laboratories of our Emperor!"

"To be sure! I should have known that." Ketrik smiled, and when he spoke again there was the slightest hint of mockery. "Ah, but you of Turibek should be flattered that our Emperor chose your city to carry on his noble experiments."

The man hesitated, glanced around, but decided to speak. "I think you know we are not fortunate, sir. What Dar Vaajo is doing may be for the best ... but if only we were informed!"

Ketrik raised his brows in puzzlement, and the other went on, "Eh, then you do not know of it? But of course not--you have just arrived. Well, sir, it is to come again _tonight_--at two hours past the midnight. This morning's Tele-news warned all residents to stay in their homes at that hour--and we know what that means."

* * * * *

Ketrik knew, too. The green radiance which Thurlo had spoken of. Tonight! He wanted to observe that display! Then he thought of the Rajecs, the caravan of two hundred which had just that day entered the city. His mind leaped. Was it mere coincidence, that upon this very day...?

He said carelessly, "I have heard that more of those wretched Rajecs were permitted entrance this morning. It seems a stupid thing, this treaty which allows the outlanders to pollute our cities!"

"It would seem so, yes. But Dar Vaajo is cunning in his way. Perhaps the blacks are shipped north, to work the Uranium mines!"

Ketrik dared ask no more questions. He left the shop and continued his stroll toward the wall. When he came within a block of it he could see that it wasn't stone, as he had supposed. It was heavy mesh-_duraplon_ reaching twenty feet high, and still higher were the electronic control-towers. A touch of a button would throw any section of this wall into flaming, deadly radiance. Here was a formidable barrier! Ketrik frowned, looking at it--but he didn't dare linger there too long.

He turned back, was crossing the street when he heard a warning shout and then a clarion-blast. He leaped to the curb just as a vehicle swept by. It swerved sharply to avoid hitting him. Two others followed--they were the three-wheeled, electronic-powered cars native to Mars.

From the rear seat of the second car a girl's face peered out, a bit frightened at the near accident. A golden face, lovely, with copper-hued hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders, and eyes large and blue as _asterines_.

This much Ketrik saw, before the cars were gone. He turned and stared. A section of the _duraplon_ wall slid upward and the cars passed through; all, except the last one. It turned sharply and came hurtling back to where Ketrik stood. A pompous Martian climbed out, strode angrily up to him.

"You! Dolt! The Princess Praana might have been injured! What are you doing here anyway, so near the grounds? Do you not know it is forbidden?"

The Princess Praana! Yes, now Ketrik remembered. Dar Vaajo had a daughter--she had completed her early education at one of Earth's best schools. That was all of ten years ago, but she had been a pretty child even then.

"Well! Answer me! Or shall I take you to the Guards for questions?"

Ketrik came out of his reverie and looked at this man. A high-servant at the palace, probably, judging from his manner. Ketrik bowed coldly.

"I was not aware of the restricted area. I am but newly arrived in Turibek, and have found your city most charming--until now." There was the correct amount of annoyance in his voice, plus a subtle warning. "You wish to see my credentials, sir?"

The other's manner changed. For the first time he seemed to notice Ketrik's dignified dress and manner. He hesitated.

"I don't suppose that will be necessary, sir. A thousand pardons for speaking so hastily, but our nerves have been on edge, you know, ever since the rumor that some of the _S'Relah_ would attempt to enter the city."

"My dear man! I am sure our Emperor's splendid Guard can deal capably with these _S'Relah_! I will bid you good day now; I have yet to visit your charming shops." Ketrik turned haughtily, began his stroll back to the main avenues. He felt the Martian's puzzled gaze upon him, but did not look back.

He did not look back until ten minutes later, when he had the eerie sensation of being followed. He spotted the man at once, undoubtedly a Special--tall, cold-eyed, a bit too leisurely of manner. Ketrik smiled grimly, and entered a shop. The man followed. Ketrik came out, and the Special was just the correct distance behind.

At the next loading platform Ketrik purchased a ticket, waited until one of the mono-cars dropped down from the single overhead track. He entered the car, walked the length of it and exited on the opposite side. He hurried across an area-way and lost himself in the crowd waiting for the opposite-bound car which just then hove into view. The simple ruse worked. He boarded this car and there was no sign of his pursuer.

Dusk was fast coming upon the city when he again made his way to Thurlo's shop. His mind still wrestled with the problem of the electronic wall, and how to get beyond it. He immediately discarded the idea of an aero-copter in the dead of night; there would surely be detector rays. Here was a problem that called for planning, and patience.

And something else vaguely bothered him. A vision intruded upon his thoughts, annoying but persistent--the vision of a girl's face, lovely and golden....

V

He entered the shop, and was startled to see a Rajec emerge from behind a counter piled high with silks and fineries. The black was tall, elderly, a bit stooped, with a nervous twitch at the side of his face.

"Ah, sir, welcome to the humble shop of Thurlo. May I assist you in a selection? Some of these rare laces from Io, perhaps--or these exquisite candelabra? Over a thousand years old, sir, yet they have found their mysterious way here from the Deimian Temple of the Ancients."

Ketrik smiled a little, picked up the candelabra and set it down. "A fake. And so are you, Aarnto. I recognize you now."

"But not at first," Aarnto grinned. "I think my disguise will do. Not as thorough as yours, of course," he added.

"Where is Jal Thurlo?"

"Back there preparing the evening meal." Aarnto's finely chiselled nose wrinkled appreciatively. "And a welcome repast it will be, after our miserable desert fare!"

Thurlo had not spared his talents, and the meal proved to be excellent. Ketrik ate appreciatively but in silence. Thurlo hardly touched the food, seemed perturbed over something. Only Aarnto was his old self--more than that! His crisp manner, which Ketrik had noticed earlier in the day, was gone; he now seemed happy and almost jovial, as he kept up a running conversation. He told of haggling with one of the customers over a set of Venusian tapestries, finally getting twice the expected price.

"And look at this," he held to the light a crystalline jar that adorned the table. "Would you look at it, Khosan? _Vanadol_, the nectar of the Gods! An ancient vintage, too! I found it hidden away, far back on one of the dark shelves. I am sure," he smiled slyly, "that our host can obtain more where it came from, so let us drink to this occasion." He poured the blue liquor into their cups. "Yes, Khosan, an occasion--that two such as you and I should find our way here!"

Ketrik smiled, barely touched the stinging liquor to his lips.

When they had finished the repast, Aarnto rose and excused himself, but stood a moment hesitant. "I must leave you now, and I may have no occasion to return here. I wish to thank you, Thurlo, for you have been most gracious. And you--Khosan. We have been helpful to each other?"

"Yes, Aarnto. You more than I."

"Then the debt is paid." With that, the black was gone, out into the night which swallowed him up.

Thurlo sighed. "I hope he never returns. I do not like that one! If he is caught, and it becomes known I harbored one of the _S'Relah_ here, even for a day.... I only did it for you, Ketrik."

"You needn't worry. He's a clever one. But I wish I knew what they were up to!"

"They'll fry on Dar Vaajo's torture plates," Thurlo prophesied.

Ketrik thought of his own fate if he were caught, but quickly put it out of mind. "What do _you_ think they're up to, Thurlo?"

The little Martian spoke slowly. "The _S'Relah_? They are apart from other Rajecs. Treaties mean nothing to those fanatics. They wish to strike at Dar Vaajo, and"--he hesitated--"what better way to do it than through his daughter?"

* * * * *

The Princess Praana! Of course that was it! A bold stroke, but just such a one as the Society of _S'Relah_ would attempt. Ketrik realized now that some such thought had been hammering at his mind all the afternoon. He said eagerly, "Tell me about her, Thurlo. I caught a glimpse of her this afternoon."

"You did? Yes, she visits the shops occasionally, always accompanied by a bodyguard. The Palace Guard has been doubled too, since these rumors of the _S'Relah_. I'll wager her father would be furious if he knew she had left the grounds this afternoon! But that girl has a mind and temper of her own--so I have heard."