Part 1

MOON OF DANGER

By Albert de Pina

The huge ship from Mars bore on toward Earth with the last haggard survivors of a terrible plague. But Ric Martin hurtled to intercept the space-giant, knowing it brought an evil far deadlier than even the relentless metal-spores it fled!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1947. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

_"In approximately two more hours," Dar Mihelson said, "the ionization towers will fail. Look well upon your world, for we may never return."_

_He was a huge, stern-visaged man, with the weight of his responsibility showing upon him, but his voice was soft as he spoke to his people through the ship's central televise._

_"This is our last chance for survival. Upon the success of this flight depends our very lives, and the preservation of the race. Venus is denied to us. Mercury has thrown up a barricade for ten thousand miles around their planet. Only Earth has offered us sanctuary--and even there a growing faction has risen against us in fear that some of the deadly spores may be transported to their planet."_

_Dar Mihelson paused, turned his bronze face to look out upon his world. His violet eyes brimmed with anguish. Only the walls of red metallic dust could be seen, the appalling clouds that had surged from the furthermost reaches of the planet to wipe out most of the populace, destroying cities, crumbling everything metallic and thereby adding unto itself. It had been a race of their science against time. The Ionization Towers had held back the dust, only long enough for the huge spaceship to be completed._

_"We want to go peaceably," Dar Mihelson continued, "but we are prepared for any contingency. Many of you have wondered about the_ Valiant's _unusual construction; some of you have doubted that the ship is capable. True, its secret is known only to a few, but this much I can tell you now: the_ Valiant _is a fully-equipped fighting ship, and we will use it as such if the occasion arises!"_

_The lines smoothed from Mihelson's face, as he concluded, "You have all been assigned to your quarters. The take-off will be in thirty minutes. Let us spend that time in prayer to merciful Providence, to guide us safely through our crisis...."_

I

Ric Martin could feel the excitement already, as he eased his gyro closer to Mount Palomar and saw the great Observatory dome just below him. The night was dark, ideal for observation. The greatest minds of Earth would be here this night, to watch a world and its people in their death-throes.

Ric's face went grim at the thought of it. For weeks the tele-casts had been jammed with the news. Mars was dying, and Mars had been a friendly neighbor for decades. Earth had been helpless to act. No one, not even the Martians, knew where the mysterious Red Plague came from; it had appeared simultaneously in a score of places across the planet, quickly spreading and destroying everything before it.

After prolonged hesitancy, the Earth Council had agreed to accept the Mars refugees. Thereupon a brooding dread and mistrust had swept across Earth like a patina. A new political faction, the anti-Mars sect, had arisen and was gathering strength. There would surely be trouble....

A shrill siren blast brought Ric out of his revery. He glanced back, saw a white-winged police 'copter descending upon him.

"Damn!" Ric set his plane down on the broad field atop Palomar, as the police 'copter came down beside him. Ric stepped out, straightened his uniform and waited.

"How'd you ever get through our lines?" the officer demanded suspiciously. "Don't you know this is the night of the Mars take-off? No one's permitted up here!"

"Sure, I know. But I have a special pass to this shindig." Ric produced a card signed by Professor George Broxted, and the name was magical.

"Very good, sir. Sorry to have detained you!" The officer stared after Ric's departing figure as though wondering how a Captain of the Interstellar Fleet could gain admittance here where so many big-names had failed.

And even Ric didn't realize what an occasion this was until he reached the tower. Every outstanding figure in the scientific as well as the political world was here, gathered in tense groups about the huge tele-panel in the center of the room. This Mars take-off was certainly the most dramatic event in all Mars' history and perhaps Earth's as well!

Professor Broxted spied him, came over and shook hands.

"Good evening, Ric! I won't bother with introductions. No one cares about that tonight. Glad you could make it!"

"So am I, Professor. I wouldn't have missed this. How much time?"

"Take-off's in twenty minutes, but we've already got the scene in focus. We can bring it to a distance of a few miles, thanks to the new magni-beams. Come."

They threaded their way toward the huge screen to stare at the scene pictured there.

* * * * *

It was a terribly changed Mars that Ric looked upon. The blood-red metallic haze covered all but a mile-wide strip of clear atmosphere; and along this strip Ric could see tiny dots of white light, which he guessed must be the Ionization Towers.

"There's the _Valiant_," Broxted said. "You can just see it on the lower edge of the screen."

Ric peered--then gave a gasp of disbelief. Even at this distance, it was apparent that the ship had tremendous bulk and stretched for fully a mile!

"They're going to hoist gravs in that? It will fall apart!"

"There are some here tonight," Broxted's voice lowered, "who hope that will happen. The _Valiant_ was built in record time under supervision of Dar Mihelson. It's supposed to have a new type of anti-grav." Broxted paused. "I knew Dar Mihelson well, when I was at Mars University two years ago. A fine man, and I trust him still. He's given his word that not a spore will reach Earth, and every precaution will be taken!"

"It's a ticklish situation."

"Yes. And believe me, the anti-Mars faction here has grown more than anyone dreams! There've been secret meetings, and tonight may set everything off. Ric ... if the _Valiant_ manages to up gravs, keep your eyes open! Wessell's here!"

Ric's brows furrowed, beneath his shock of blond hair. Yes, Wessell _would_ be here. Felix Wessell was Supreme Commander of Earth's Interstellar Fleet, and he'd been particularly bitter in his denunciation of the Earth Council's decision to accept the Mars refugees. There had even been rumors that Wessell was holding the Fleet in readiness, if necessary, to prevent the _Valiant_ from landing on Earth. The man wielded a powerful influence.

Ric looked about him now but didn't see his superior, Wessell, and didn't want to. He did see Lal Disbro, the Martian Ambassador. Disbro and his aides had been stranded on Earth when the sudden malady struck his planet. Now the man was a disconsolate figure who seemed to have aged ten years in as many weeks, knowing that only a few of his people were left and even their fate was an imponderable.

It was largely due to Disbro's frantic efforts that the Earth Council had agreed to accept the _Valiant_--and then only after appeals to Venus and Mercury had been coldly refused. Looking at Disbro now, Ric felt truly sorry for him.

* * * * *

"It's almost time!" Broxted touched Ric's arm. The telescopic sights were being set to follow the _Valiant_ in its flight. There was tension in the room and sudden, deathly silence. Could the clumsy bulk of the _Valiant_ really hoist gravs, or would it crack up against the wastes of Mars? The future of a race was in the balance.

The televise took on a deeper glow. The entire planet of Mars was a backdrop across the screen. The seconds ticked off. Suddenly then ... the _Valiant_ moved! It seemed to shudder for a moment under unleashed power. Then it slid slowly forward across sand.

For a few seconds the scene wavered. The watchers couldn't tell what was happening. Ric gave a quick glance at Lal Disbro. The man's face had gone pale.

Now it was apparent that the great ship was rising as a bulk, to hang poised, fighting against gravity. Then the flash of rockets was plainly seen--literally dozens of them, spaced in parallel rows across the long underhull.

The scene was silent and unreal. But there was no doubt in any man's mind, now--the ship had lifted gravs and was blasting! Slowly, the great lumbering shape widened the distance. The scene resolved to the blackness of outer space where a glitter of stars was seen. There the _Valiant_ steadied on her course.

The worst was over. It had been dramatic, momentous. Ric heard sighs of relief about him. People were congratulating Lal Disbro, whose face was wreathed in smiles.

But there were men in this room who did not smile, who were strangely silent. Again Ric allowed his gaze to sweep about--and this time he spotted Wessell.

The man was tall, hard-featured, crisp of manner. His eyes were stern as he leaned a little forward to peer at the screen. Ric watched him. Wessell's only show of emotion was a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth. Now that the _Valiant_ had gained free space he was studying it, studying it hard. His lips curled a little in disdain.

Ric glanced again at the screen. The Martian ship _was_ clumsy, there was no denying it. On its slow and careful course it would take perhaps six days to reach Earth. Much could happen in six days....

Then he saw Wessell rise. The man crossed to the private room where the communicators were kept. Through the partly open door Ric saw him lift a tube and speak into it with crisp authority.

"Trouble," Ric muttered. "I knew it!" And there were cold, coiling knots in the pit of his stomach.

When he bade Broxted goodbye a few minutes later, and headed back for the city, it was with a feeling of dark events brewing--events that were going to touch him whether he liked it or not.

II

It came very soon. The harsh buzzing of the ampliphone beside Ric's bed jerked him awake. "Hello," he said sleepily. "Ric Martin...."

Then sleep was gone from him, as he listened to the voice of his Unit Commander.

"Very well, sir. Yes ... yes, I understand. At once!" He slammed off the switch and began dressing quickly. This was it! He'd been called back to duty at two in the morning. In thirty-six hours the Coast Fleet was to join the Chicago Fleet at a rendezvous a hundred miles in space, and there prepare in battle formation.

"Wessell," he muttered. "I didn't think he'd really do it! Those poor Martians...."

By the time he reached Government Spaceport, Ric's heart was bitter within him. How could the plodding _Valiant_ hope to stand against even two Units of Earth's Fleet? True, Wessell's move was in direct defiance of the Council's edict, but he was moving swiftly! Ric had never reached a decision as to what he, as a Captain in Earth's Fleet, would do if Wessell attempted to carry out his high-handed plan. He had been trained to obey orders implicitly and unquestioningly.

But this was wrong and Ric knew it was wrong. He made his decision now. Setting down at the edge of the Spaceport, he hurried to the building housing the tiny Patrol cruisers. These ships were swift and secret, with tubes of the new allotropic metal recently found on Mercury. Access to them could be attained only by special Government pass.

As he neared the doors, a guard stepped out of the shadows. The man recognized Ric's uniform but he remained alert, hand hovering near his parala-gun, as he gave a challenge.

"Wessell's orders," Ric replied tersely. "Emergency!"

"Sorry, sir. You know this requires special--"

"All right," Ric sighed. "Here's my pass!" He saw the guard relax for an instant. Ric poised on his toes and unleashed a long left that sent the guard staggering against the building. The man righted himself, muttered an oath and came boring in. But already Ric was following through with a vicious right; it connected with the angle of the guard's jaw, and he went down. Then Ric was inside the doors, sprinting down the corridor.

He found the hangar of the _Falcon_, a swift three-man cruiser which he knew well. A glance at the power-board showed him that it was fueled and ready. A minute later he was blasting upward, watching the city's lights drop swiftly away.

Once in free space, he set the robot-control. It would be thirty hours before he intercepted the _Valiant_ somewhere in its plodding path for Earth. At least he could warn them! For he knew, now, that Wessell meant to go all the way--utter annihilation for the _Valiant_!

And this meant revolt--the overthrow of Earth's Supreme Council! Wessell had waited a long time for this, and there were men behind him, ready to back him to the hilt. The Mars crisis had provided a convenient spark.

But Ric wasn't thinking of Wessell now, nor the Earth Council, as he settled down to watchfulness. He was thinking of two thousand Martians, the last of their race, struggling to keep alive this last thin life-line of survival. He was thinking of death in space. Even if he warned them of Wessell's plan--where were they to go?

* * * * *

Hours later, his probing magni-finder picked out the _Valiant_ from the depths of blackness. It was still vastly far away, a mere pin-point in his V-Panel, but Ric cut acceleration. He watched the Martian ship grow larger by the hour. He switched to his radio-beam and sent a message through, but it remained unanswered.

It was still unanswered when he drew close enough to cut his rockets altogether and go into a drift. Surely they were radio-equipped? There was only one explanation. They simply weren't expecting a spacer out here, so their beam was off power.

They wouldn't spot him, either. The _Falcon_ was tiny by comparison, and solid black, undetectable against the backdrop of space. But he'd have to get aboard the _Valiant_ some way! Slowly he brought his cruiser beneath the great ship's hull. He was more than ever impressed by the size of this Martian colossus.

And he was puzzled. There was something strange about this ship's construction. It was more than merely clumsy, it was grotesque! Carefully he eased along, examining it. For one thing there were too many air-locks, even for a ship of this size. Ric shook his head in puzzlement.

He began trying his tractor beam on those locks, tightening the beam slowly. The locks held. Still he persisted, easing the _Falcon_ along the hull; he had to gain an entrance somewhere! With any kind of luck....

Then, somewhere amidships, one of the locks opened under the steady pull of his beam. Slowly it swung outward. Ric's hands flew to the controls. Carefully he eased the _Falcon_ forward and into the lock. There was room to spare. The outer door closed and he heard generators humming, automatically building up an atmosphere. Finally they stopped and he knew it was safe. He leaped down from the _Falcon_.

The inner door was swinging back automatically. For a moment Ric hesitated; then he stepped through, saw that he was in some sort of control room. There were instruments such as he'd never seen in any spacer! He stared around uncertainly. Then from behind him came a queerly accented voice.

"Greetings, Earthman. But I won't say welcome, yet. You will please turn around--slowly!"

* * * * *

Ric turned. A Martian holding a heat gun stepped from behind a bulwark. The Martian came forward and the gun got playful with the third button on Ric's tunic.

Ric had expected this. Naturally they'd be suspicious of an Earthman aboard--but he could soon explain things. He stepped back a little from the gun.

"I'm friendly. I must see Dar Mihelson at once! I come with urgent news!"

"So? What news?"

"Wessell's massing the Earth Fleet. In thirty-six hours they'll be out here to meet you. He'll never allow you to land on Earth!"

"So. Hear that, Kueelo?" He addressed a second Martian who was busy at work over a bank of levers.

This man looked up and grinned, and Ric liked him even less than the one crowding him. He especially didn't like the eyes. They were strange and colorless, not quite Martian.

"Yes, I heard. Take care of him, Luhor; we haven't much time!"

Luhor surged forward, bringing the gun up. Ric swayed to the right, his hands darted out and caught the man's free wrist; with the same motion he twisted, and brought Luhor sailing across his body to crash into a metal beam, where he slumped and lay still.

Kueelo had whirled, muttering an oath that certainly wasn't Martian. Now he leaped for the free gun. Ric reached it a second faster, kicked it out of reach. He parried Kueelo's fist--then sent a left to the Martian's stomach and crossed with a right. The man was huge, and stood his ground.

Ric danced back as Kueelo came boring in. He realized joyously that this lesser, artificial gravity was an advantage. He sent a boxer's left, long and weaving, to Kueelo's face, then a second and third, that set the Martian off balance. Ric stepped in with a crashing right-cross. Kueelo's legs went rubbery. Another smashing right and the Martian's face lost contour; he whirled half around and slumped across the bank of levers. Ric rolled his body away and stood looking down.

There were thirty of those levers, all numbered. They were large and heavy, but just now they were all pulled up from their contacts, revealing masses of coils and wires. Ric frowned, wondering what it meant. He thought he knew!

Those wires could be easily fused or cut. Ric recognized sabotage when he saw it....

He glanced at Kueelo. The man would be out for some time. He stepped to the one called Luhor, bent quickly over him. The man was dead, his skull crushed. Momentary panic flooded over Ric. After all, he could be wrong; if he'd blundered, he'd have to account for this!

He rose, looked around for an inter-communication system. He couldn't spot one. This ship was utterly alien to him. He did find another door, however, and stepped out into a corridor.

Ric gasped. This corridor extended for well over half a mile ahead of him, and as far behind--straight through the heart of the ship. This was a colossus indeed! Far ahead he could see a few men moving about, but if they noticed him at that distance they gave no sign of it. He started to walk in that direction, but a crisp voice stopped him.

"Hold it, Earthman!" Something hard and heavy jabbed into his back. "You are very careless, Earthman. Your blow stunned me, but Martians recover easily. And you forgot to take the heat gun."

Ric shot a glance over his shoulder. It was Kueelo all right, he of the colorless eyes.

"Martian? Phobian half-breed, you mean! Those eyes--"

"Never mind!" The gun jabbed harder. "No tricks with your hands this time, if you want to stay alive. Turn around--slowly! Let us march in the _other_ direction."

* * * * *

They walked along the empty corridor. Ric's mind was in turmoil. A half-breed aboard this ship was unthinkable! They passed strange, curved bulkheads abutting on the corridor. Ric couldn't understand them either. Everything about this ship was puzzling.

"I'm really glad you came, Earthman. It makes my task easier!"

"You mean--"

"Yes. I shall leave the _Valiant_ to the Earth Fleet. But when that happens _we_ won't be there." He chuckled. "You don't understand? But you will--soon."

They paused before a bulkhead with "UNIT 26" blazoned on the door. Kueelo rapped sharply. After a long moment the door opened slightly. Kueelo thrust it wide, shoved Ric forward and stepped in quickly behind him. Ric caught a glimpse of a dozen people in this room, men and women alike. There were startled gasps as Kueelo waved the heat gun at them.

"Back! Move back all of you, and quickly! You, Earthman--get over there with them."

Ric joined the group, saw a slow grin come over Kueelo's face. The other Martians were stunned, speechless, partly at the sight of an Earthman aboard but mainly because one of their kind stood there waving a lethal weapon at them.

Then Ric heard a gasp from a Martian girl standing near him, and she clutched at the arm of her companion.

"Tal ... it's he, the same one! He managed to get aboard!"

Kueelo flashed them a glance, bowed mockingly. "Yes. So our paths cross again, Tal Horan. How fortunate for me!" His smile faded. "Naric! You may come forward now. I shall need you."

A tall brooding Martian came from the group to stand at Kueelo's side. He too produced a heat gun and helped to keep the others covered. He jerked his head toward the inner corridor. "How did things go?"

"This Earthman interfered. Luhor is dead. It doesn't matter now, we have to get away from here fast! Wessell is bringing out the Earth Fleet!"

Ric heard mutterings about him and knew that any moment these two renegades were going to have their hands full. Kueelo knew it, too. He opened the door again and motioned the group through, as he and Naric kept them carefully covered.

"You may stay and fight it out with your brave Commander," Kueelo told them mockingly. "_We_ have plans a little less foolhardy ... no, these two stay," he told Naric, indicating Tal Horan and the girl. "The Earthman, too!"

One of the Martians leaped forward, making a try for Kueelo's gun. Kueelo blasted him down calmly, the heat beam making a charred hole completely through the man's neck. The others dragged him out, the door clanged shut and the five of them were alone in Unit 26.

"Quickly now! They'll be giving the alarm! Naric, take the controls while I release the plates. But first...." Kueelo faced the three, holding a different type of gun, shorter and thicker. Without warning he aimed it at the floor near their feet. A projectile burst, a pinkish gas sprayed quickly up.

Ric tried to leap forward, but now he couldn't move! Intuition told him to hold his breath. He glimpsed Tal Horan trying to support the girl as she slumped to the floor. But Tal was going down too, slowly, his eyes burning hatred. Then things blurred for Ric. Somehow he kept himself erect as a shadow swayed toward him. His head seemed to burst, but he knew it wasn't the gas ... it was Kueelo's gun crashing down....

III

Someone slapped his face, a voice sounded urgently in his ear. Ric opened his eyes and looked up at Tal Horan, whose lean face broke into a grin.

"That's better. Kueelo must have hit you pretty hard!"

Ric struggled up. His head ached. They were somewhere in a tiny room, and he could hear a thin whine of rocket-tubes under full blast. The Martian girl was standing near, her attention torn between the Earthman and a view-plate looking out into space.

Ric walked a bit unsteadily to the view-plate. Far away in space he saw the _Valiant_ still plodding its course, but their Unit seemed to be blasting away from it at a sharp tangent!

"Dar Mihelson anticipated trouble with the Earth Fleet," Tal Horan answered Ric's puzzled glance. "No spores are going to Earth, but he's determined to fight if necessary. We only want a place to live, Earthman, until we can get back to Mars and wipe out that red plague!"

"The name's Ric Martin. But look, Tal ... Mihelson mustn't fight! He can't possibly stand against Wessell's fleet!"

"I've counselled against it, but Mihelson is Commander and he's determined if it comes to a showdown--"

"Look!" The girl was pointing into the view-plate. Far ahead of the _Valiant_, across thousands of miles of space, they could see a tiny pin-point of moving light. The Earth Fleet was moving out fast.

"Tal ... Ric Martin is right. It will mean annihilation for our people. But the _Valiant_ has speed! If we could only get a message through to Mihelson...."

Ric strode to the door, tested it. It was locked. He turned back to Tal. "Where's Kueelo and his pal?"