Part 2

Hammond's grin changed to a startled gape. Confusion moiled in his brain. How had she known what he was thinking? And where had she learned English! She spoke it like an American.

The girl smiled, as if hearing his confusion. She was a tall, lissome girl; a corn-yellow blond of remarkable beauty. But there was an imperiousness in her manner, a quiet dignity to her regard, a grace to her movements that set her above the Amazons that had captured Hammond. That she was a warrior also, albeit, the commanding officer of this strange craft, was evinced by her attire which was the same as that of the other female fighters. On a small table to her left was a shield, differing from the plain blue of the others by the single, glowing white star in its center. With it reposed one of the rifle-like weapons.

On her left arm she wore a metal band, like that of the minor officer that had escorted Hammond here. But this band was of gold, and it held the same symbol of high status, the single white star of glowing stone that writhed with a strange white fire.

Hammond took control of his confused thoughts. He said: "I'm sorry if I've offended you, Gena. But I can't control my thoughts, and they were sincere." His handsome face lighted with his quick, infectious grin. "You are very beautiful, and very desirable."

The quick fire leaped across the girl's face again, and in Hammond's mind there suddenly beat a tumultuous surge of emotions other than his own. Then the girl's face went sombre, and the strange surge in Hammond abruptly ceased. "You are a very impetuous young barbarian," she said, coldly. "But perhaps your uncouthness can be excused. You will indeed prove an interesting specimen to present to Aleea, the Queen Mother."

Hammond frowned. He had almost forgotten the utter strangeness of the entire experience, but it came back to him now, and with it the clamor for explanation.

The girl read his thoughts. "I, Gena, am not of Earth. Nor did I, before you entered this room, know your language, or know that your people call this planet Earth and the planet from which I come Mars. All this, and as much of Earth and your civilization as you know I have probed from your mind while you stood there."

She came around the desk, smiling now. "Your thoughts are confused. You do not readily believe. Mars--impossible! No ship has yet been constructed that can negotiate the airless void of space--no _Earthian_ craft!" she emphasized. "But we of Mars have."

Hammond looked about him, out through the transparent hull wall to the far low maroon cliffs that he knew were the boat sides. He shrugged. Fantastic or no, this was the reality, and with a true scientist's adaptable mind he accepted it.

"How is it then," he questioned calmly, "that the warriors that captured me did not learn my language, nor read my thoughts?"

Gena's imperial features held dignity. "I am a commander," she answered. "Which means that I am a thorough master of that which your scientists call ESP--extra-sensory perception--as well as its opposite, which they have not yet recognized, but which they might call EST--extra-sensory transmission. It takes a certain type of personality, even on Mars, and years of training to attain to the power to perceive what is in other minds, plus the power to transmit to them, selectively, and at will, that which I wish them to know, understand, or obey."

Hammond relaxed, his keen mind enjoying itself. "Then you are not speaking to me in American? Yet to me it seems you are talking my language."

Gena's eyes quickened. "Precisely. I am speaking the language of the mind. Your mind reinterprets what I say in the phonetic symbols you call American, due to speech habits, just as it interprets such phonetic symbols as thoughts and ideas. If you spoke another language the written symbols and sounds conjured up by your mind would be different, but the thoughts and ideas conveyed would be the same."

Hammond frowned. "Then, if you and your people use only the language of the mind, how does it happen that I heard spoken words which I did not understand?"

"I did not say we use _only_ the language of the mind. We have our own phonetic symbols; in fact, I am talking audibly to you now. When you first entered I probed your mind, and put you _en rapport_ as you might call it, not only with our mind language, but with our thought symbols, so you now reinterpret both as your own language."

Hammond shook his head. "But I still speak in American."

"No, you are only thinking in American. You are now vocalizing in our language as naturally as if you were speaking your tongue. Here, look at this chart."

* * * * *

Hammond glanced at the chart she held before him. It seemed written in English, though the ideas conveyed were somewhat startling and foreign, having to do with intricate calculation of space travel. Yet Hammond recalled that only a few moments before they had been in strange and unintelligible symbols.

He nodded, slowly, a little awed. "You have advanced far on Mars. And here on Earth we smugly pride ourselves on our knowledge, on a civilization that even now is tearing itself to shreds. Surely, you of Mars, with your advanced science, have succeeded in founding a better and more peaceful world."

The girl's eyes clouded, and for a moment her thought control slipped. Hammond had a wondering sensation of fear and anxiety.

"We have come far, Earthman," she nodded. "Evolution seems to have started from the same base on Mars, and taken the same general course as that of Earth. With variations, of course. We, the Metiphrons, the mammals of Mars, have achieved to high civilization. Our cities are united and at peace--among ourselves. Our science has wrought wondrous changes. We have crossed space, and we have harnessed as well as condensed the atom. On Mars we are of normal size, which is to say we average about the size and weight of you Americans. This space ship, those tanks, our weapons--all weigh and bulk accordingly. But for space travel, and for certain doubtful ventures, we have condensed the atoms of our bodies and that of this craft and all our weapons, without changing their mass or qualitative characteristics. The electrical particles are all there, and in precisely the same proportion. But in each atom the particles are much closer together, moving in smaller orbits."

Hammond nodded. "Then I still weigh one hundred and eighty pounds?"

"You did, till your weight was reduced by the degravitator strapped to your back. Remove it, and your body, without changing size, will once more attract and be attracted by your planet sufficiently to weigh one hundred and eighty pounds. This ship, small as it no doubt appeared to you and your companion, weighs countless tons. Were it not for the giant degravitator in the central room it would plummet down to the ocean depths."

Hammond nodded, slowly. "With such science, and at peace among yourselves, you must be supreme on your planet. And yet--" His gaze shifted to shield and weapon on the small table. "You seem a warrior people."

Gena's face clouded. "Life is a struggle, Earthman. Forever and beyond, perhaps. We Metiphrons have achieved to unity and peace. But on Mars evolution took two parallel paths. That which culminated in the Metiphrons, my people, arising as on Earth from the lowly protozoa. And with it, keeping pace, that of the crustacean--culminating in the opposite life form of Mars--the Sediphrons. For centuries now they have fought us for mastery of the planet. Somewhat related to your arachnidæ, their later evolution has been consciously anthropomorphic, as they strove to imitate us in everything, even in bodily shape. Their motives?" The girl smiled bleakly. "The ancient motives of life--to enslave us, to be dominant on the planet, to infuse our blood with their own in order to speed their anthropomorphic evolution--and finally, to use as food those of us not suitable for slaves or to bear their hybrid progeny.

"You can see why the very thought of them is repugnant to us. Why every female bears arms from infancy. And why we hoped to find aid, from the females here on Earth, for our fight to crush the Sediphrons."

Hammond nodded. "Then the Metiphron males don't bear arms?"

"Bear arms?" Gena smiled. "The males attend to our machinery, take care of the incubators and watch our young until they are able to take care of themselves. But fight?" She shook her head, as if the idea were strange and almost laughable.

Hammond grinned. "Things are somewhat changed around on Earth, Gena. The women do plenty of scrapping here, of course--and there's some who would insist they have it over the males, most of the time, in domestic life. But the really big blowoffs, like the ones going on in Europe and in Asia--they're still strictly for males."

The girl commander shrugged, dubiously. "Men are too phlegmatic to make good fighters."

She broke off, caught by a warning red signal that suddenly flashed to life on a complicated instrument board to left of the desk. For the space of several seconds she concentrated, her pretty brow slightly furrowed. When she turned to Hammond there was a worried frown in her eyes.

"My audiodetector indicates the proximity of a strange space ship. Its commander does not answer my telepathic inquiries. Something is definitely wrong. I must place my sub-officers on the alert. Also Ardiné, my division commander, who is conducting the search for your friend, Peter Storm."

Once more she concentrated on the issuance of telepathic orders.

* * * * *

The floor suddenly lurched violently beneath them. Hammond thrown off balance, went down to his hands. He twisted erect, supple as a cat, and reached out a supporting arm for Gena, who had been thrown against the desk. A strange thrill tingled through him at the softness of her.

The girl was half turned, facing the transparent prow wall. She said: "Zuggoth, the Sediphron King!" There was fear in her, momentarily. Then she stiffened, her brow furrowing in telepathic concentration, evidently issuing orders to the defense posts of the _Vandar III_.

Hammond, glancing over her shoulder, saw that a second craft, exactly like the one he was in, had alighted on the boat seat beside them. Holes were already dilating open in the gleaming side. Ugly muzzles, huge and ominous to Hammond's changed perspective, thrust through these holes. A moment later the flash and roar of heavy artillery shattered the quiet.

At the same time hundreds of the eight legged war tanks swarmed out of holes in the lower part of the space cruiser. Some of these charged toward the _Vandar III_, and were immediately met in combat by the divisions Gena had ordered out to assist sub-commander Ardiné in her search for Peter Storm. Others scuttled off to engage the separated scouters.

Gena seemed to have forgotten Hammond. She watched the heavy electronic artillery from the hostile war cruiser, her mind sending telepathic command after command to the various sections of the ship. The _Vandar's_ own artillery was firing, but spasmodically, as if trouble was aboard. Gena's brow furrowed.

* * * * *

Hammond watched the strange battle. The ambulant tanks, he saw, were not only fighting with similar guns of lighter calibre, but were engaging each other with their clawed feet, like crustaceans. The guns did not fire projectiles, but flashes of electronic force which resembled lightning. The armor of the space ships held under the primary blasts, but was eroded by them, and repeated bolts, striking in the same spot, would eventually break through.

The quick flame of combat surged through Hammond as he watched. "Why don't you maneuver the ship?" he shouted, forgetting the girl-commander could read his thoughts. "Circle over them, come down on them from some blind spot. You can't win in this position. They've got more guns!"

The girl faced him, as if suddenly aware he was by her side. Her features were white, and there was strain in her, in her flashing eyes.

"I can't!" she replied. "There were traitors among the men in my crew. Sediphrons, disguised as hybrids. They have seized the control room, and wrecked many of our big guns. We've lost!"

"No!" Hammond cried, roughly. "The control room! Maybe we can still take over, if there's not too many of them. If they haven't wrecked the driving mechanism we might still get away. Where is it, Gena?"

The girl looked at him, strangely. "The males of Earth are indeed a different breed," she commented. Then: "Come! Perhaps we have a chance."

She gathered up her shield and electronic rifle, and headed for what seemed a blank wall. Hammond followed. A door suddenly dilated open before Gena, and they passed through, hurried down a short, deserted ramp that spiraled downward for about a hundred feet.

It ended at an open doorway. Beyond, in the midst of electronic crackle and strange battle shouts, a dozen hybrids were holding the control room against a company of Amazons trying to force their way in from another doorway across the room. Two of Gena's operators were on the floor, evidently dead. Three others struggled in the grip of the scraggy bearded, huge-armed "fifth column" hybrids.

Other hybrids were smashing the delicate controls. These saw Gena and Hammond first. They swung around, reaching for electronic rifles.

Gena succeeded in killing two of them. Hammond, closing in quickly behind her, noticed that the rifles were fired, not from the shoulder, but held with the stock beneath the arm, and manouvered with one hand while the shield was held with the others.

Before she could fire again Gena became the target for two of the traitors. She caught the flash from one rifle on her shield, but could not raise it in time to ward off the other. The electronic bolt caught her squarely on her helmet.

With a muffled growl Hammond charged. The scraggy bearded traitor fired hurriedly, evidently disconcerted by sight of a bronzed, muscled male diving for him. The blast seared lightly across Hammond's back muscles. Then his hurtling body smashed into his opponent, hurling him down.

He swore monotonously, viciously, clubbed with savage fists at the bearded, screaming face. His victim screamed for aid.

At the next instant a wave of the fighting Amazons, evidently spurred to frenzy by sight of their fallen leader, surged forward, blasting into the room.

Hammond clung to the struggling saboteur he had floored. The Sediphron had lost rifle and shield, and was gouging at Hammond's eyes with the fingers of his dwarfed right hand. The other, huge and leg-like, was locked behind the chemist's neck in a bone crushing grip.

Hammond's shoulder muscles writhed. He thrust his right hand up to a scraggy bearded chin. To his surprise, not only the chin but the whole face came away, revealing another beneath it. A hideous, crablike face with popping eyes that stood out on stalks. It was covered with a green chitinous armor.

Startled, the Sediphron "fifth columnist" relaxed its grip on his neck. Hammond wrenched free. His hand clamped down on the huge arm.

The Sediphron surged back, leaving the artificial limb in the chemist's hand. A huge, toothed claw was revealed. The Sediphron surged in, reaching for Hammond.

The Earthman twisted, a faint sneer writhing his lips. The Sediphron was unbelievably clumsy. Hammond caught the descending claw and gave a sharp, quick twist. The entire limb came off in his hands, broken cleanly at the shoulder joint. Swinging the heavy limb in a swift moulinet the Earthman brought it down with crushing force beneath the popping eyes of his adversary. It crashed through the chitinous skull as if it were an eggshell.

Hammond whirled back to the fallen girl-commander, bent by her limp body. Her fallen rifle caught his eye, and he reached for it, sensing the swift swirl of battle swing toward him.

His fingers fell short. A numbing pain lashed through his head, bringing quick blackness.

* * * * *

Consciousness returned slowly to Hammond. He felt himself being carried. But it was the sharp barked order that lingered in his mind, that seemed to rift the blackness that shrouded his aching brain.

His eyes opened. He found himself looking up into the hideous, crablike face of a Sediphron who carried him by the shoulders.

The sharp, imperious voice came again, halting Hammond's carriers. The young chemist was put on his feet, flanked immediately by a half dozen Sediphrons with menacing electronic rifles.

Hammond stiffened. He was back in Gena's big observation and chart room. A horde of armed Sediphrons filled the room, drawn up in stiff military array.

Behind the metal desk sat a huge man-like crustacean, deep green in color. An enormous, toothed claw rested before him on the scattered flight charts.

The crablike mouth moved constantly. Words drummed against Hammond's ear, in a language he strangely understood. "Bring in the other Earth specimen, Vard. And the Metiphron sub-commander, Ardiné."

Hammond turned. Only then did he see Gena, flanked by a Sediphron guard, facing the hideous crustacean behind the desk. Their eyes met, and a warm surge of thankfulness enveloped Hammond.

"Thank God, Gena!" he thought, forcefully, "you're unharmed."

The girl-commander smiled wanly. "This is the end, Earthman. Zuggoth has won."

The crablike thing behind the desk teetered a little in the chair. His thoughts interrupted harshly. "Not the end, Gena, for you. You and your sub-commander will round out my harem back on Syrrvi. This daring, primitive Earthian male and his companion will be minutely examined."

Back of Hammond a door dilated open. Grim-faced, with a gash over his left eye, stocky Peter Storm was pushed into the room by a squad of Sediphrons. A flashing-eyed brunette, reaching barely to Storm's shoulder, walked by his side, head erect.

Storm's grim face relaxed as he saw Hammond. His mouth cracked into a wry grin. "So they got you, too, Frank!" he said in English.

Hammond nodded, gravely. "How'd they get you, Pete?"

Storm shrugged, looked down at the brunette by his side. "Ardiné finally cornered me, with one of those eight-legged tanks. _Under a nail in the boat seat!_" Storm shook his head, as if the thing was crazy. "We were heading back for the 'big one' when the other space cruiser landed on the seat and started blasting. Three Sediphron tanks cornered us and wrecked our vehicle. Ardiné," he glanced down at her again, in a manner that flicked understanding into Hammond's eyes, "put up a good fight. But they finally got us, and marched us here. Looks like this Zuggoth has taken the ship. A division of his blitzkrieg panzers are mopping up--"

Zuggoth's harsh order suddenly obtruded. "Silence!"

Storm shrugged. The Sediphron warriors in the room stiffened expectantly.

The hideous crablike mouth worked. "Imperial orders of Zuggoth, first in command over Kulaav, land of the Sediphrons! All the males of the _Vandar III_ shall be immediately put to death, and stored in the cargo rooms, along with the female warriors who have been killed in battle. These we shall use for food on our journey back to Syrrvi. The unharmed females shall be divided among you, according to rank, and placed in your harem. All but these two--" His huge claw lifted to indicate Gena and Ardiné. "They are reserved for the First One!"

A low, satisfied beat of sound came from the attentive warriors.

"The machinery of the _Vandar III_ shall be immediately repaired for our triumphant return to Kulaav. These two strange males, natives of Earth, I personally wish to dissect in the laboratory. Important information concerning future forays in greater force to this green planet may be obtained in this manner."

The huge claw waved imperiously. "I, Zuggoth, first in command, have spoken."

For a moment there was silence. In that stillness Hammond's desperate gaze sought Storm's. Death, so casually pronounced, death on the dissecting table. It was monstrous.

It was Storm who moved first. He took a quick sidestep, and swung, without preamble. His still taped, solid fist crushed through the green chitinous armor of the nearest guard's face. Then he was whirling, striking again, and Hammond was joining him, lashing at the nearest guard, trying to slash a path to Zuggoth, first in command.

It was a bitter battle while it lasted. Hammond nearly made it. He saw Zuggoth rear back in alarm, half lift his electronic rifle--Then a clubbed weapon sank the fighting chemist to his knees, and a moment later he was smothered under a pile of bodies.

Chains were shackled about his wrists and ankles. He was jerked erect to face Zuggoth, who had relaxed again in his chair. The ball-like eyes of the Sediphron king glared at him.

"Take them to the dissecting rooms at once!" he ordered. "There shall I cut the wild life from them, slowly, with much pain!"

Hammond shook the hair from his eyes and met Storm's battered grin with one of his own. Then his gaze sought Gena's.

The girl's face was white, her lips trembling. Her thoughts reached him, heavy with regret. "Goodbye, Earthman!"

The chemist's lips went grim. "Goodbye, Gena," he answered. Then a Sediphron guard shoved him roughly toward the door, after Storm.

* * * * *

The dissecting room was high-walled, white, full of strange apparatus that only vaguely resembled similar machines of Earth. There was the Martian fluoroscope with which Storm and Hammond were minutely examined, and notes taken on a Martian "talkie"--evidently a highly advanced type camera with sound track arrangement which recorded that revealed by the fluoroscope and the comments of the observer.

The fluoroscope was a vast improvement over the earth type. Hammond, watching Storm being examined with it, saw that any part of his companion's internal anatomy could be brought into sharp focus on the screen. Heart, lungs, bone structure, arteries. Each was minutely examined, probed into--the while the Martian "talkie" hummed softly.

A number of strange drugs were needled into them as they stood behind the fluoroscope. Drugs that burned like fire, contorting their bodies with convulsions, and which were immediately eased by the introduction of a neutralizing drug. Others that paralyzed motor nerves, and that deadened the sensory cells. All was recorded by the laboratory scientists.

Finally, Hammond and Storm were strapped on the dissecting tables. A blinding, white light beat down on their almost naked bodies.

Zuggoth came into the laboratory then. For a few moments he and the laboratory scientists held a consultation. Hammond, craning his neck, could see the Sediphron king's crablike mouth work, see the ball-like eyes wave on the end of their stalks.

The Martian "talkie" was run for him, the picture sequences thrown against a special screen that held the scenes clear without the dimming of the bright laboratory lights. Zuggoth watched attentively, only his revolting eyes swaying.

Then he waved his huge claw. The "talkie" was shut off. Huge, hideous, he walked to the dissecting tables. A smaller table, holding a gleaming array of scalpels and cutting instruments of all types was wheeled to his side.

He turned to Hammond. His dwarfed right hand, humanlike, with tiny fingers, picked up a knife.

* * * * *

At that moment a hidden bell began to clang incessantly. Zuggoth paused, half turned. The laboratory assistants fidgeted. One of them said: "It is the alarm signal, First One. Something has happened in the ship!"