Part 3

* * * * *

A group of Phobians moved toward him, pushing one of the half-filled carts. Ric watched them dully, feeling only a desire to give up, to sink down into the lichen growth that came about his ankles. To move, even to think, was an effort. Then one of the Phobians came toward him.

"You are new," the man said without emotion. "To stand still is fatal. You must keep working, keep moving, if you want to last long."

"Thanks." With an effort Ric roused himself from his lethargy, and joined the group. He worked fast now. It was tiring work, and the sweat still poured from him, but he felt his brain gradually clearing, and the blood didn't pound so heavily at his temples. He knew well what Kueelo had meant when he said, "You will work very hard, Earthman ... in order to stay alive."

"My name is Yarnith," said the Phobian who had first spoken, as he moved and worked beside Ric.

Ric didn't see what that mattered, and he made no reply.

"You are Earthian," the man went on. "I don't know how you came here, but you are strong, stronger than four of us. Stay with our group, Earthman!"

Ric looked at him, then, and at the others in the group. There were perhaps a dozen. They were frail and pallid, but somehow their eyes were not so vacant, there was not the gray look of death upon their faces.

"You've not been here so long as the others!" Ric ventured.

Yarnith's face twisted bitterly. "No. Once we worked in the city, at the laboratories, carrying on Gorak's great work. He has promised us much ... expansion, and the respect of other worlds and the glory that once was ours. But I've seen our people sent here to the spore-fields in increasing numbers! It's a living death!"

Ric saw the others nod in agreement, as they listened to Yarnith. "How much longer will it be?" one of them grumbled. "I for one do not intend to stay here and become as these others!" He indicated the hundreds of Phobians moving listlessly about their work.

Ric's heart leaped. "You mean ... you're planning an escape?"

But immediately he saw he was wrong. Yarnith looked at him in puzzlement. "Escape ... how can that be? This is our world, and where could we go?"

Ric knew, then, that these people knew little of Gorak's plans. They were probably unaware of the secret air-lock leading from their hollow world! Not for three generations had a Phobian set foot on the barren outer surface. Gorak was using them as pawns in his insatiable plan.

Again Ric looked about him. Their cart was half-filled now, and they were moving toward a group of rough stone buildings that apparently served as barracks. Yarnith whispered, "Be alert, Earthman!"

Ric was puzzled, but stayed with them. They rounded a corner of one of the buildings, out of sight of the other workers. Then Yarnith acted quickly. He burrowed deep into the cart, came up with a small leather pouch; then as the other Phobians gathered 'round, he portioned out the contents.

Ric thought he recognized the brownish stuff. The dread _eishn_ stems, a powerful narcotic. He'd encountered it once on Venus.

"It helps," Yarnith explained. "It combats the fatigue, builds up a cellular resistance and re-activates the blood stream. But we don't have much of it here, and--"

One of the men gave a warning cry. Ric whirled, saw another group of Phobians appear around the corner of the building. Their dull eyes took on a glint as they saw the _eishn_ stems. Some of the newcomers carried crude knives. Then they were rushing forward, and Ric found himself battling beside Yarnith and the others, battling for his life.

He lashed out as two of the Phobians converged upon him. His fist caught one of them, the man's face lost contour and his frail body sailed backward. The other went down from a blow to the body. Then a dozen of them were upon him, hands tearing at his arms and throat, and Ric felt himself going down. He fought back, using fists and knees now. The dread lethargy of this place was gone from him. He was feeling the first joy of battle against odds.

Soon he was clear, using his Earth strength to advantage. He rolled aside as a knife flashed toward him, grazing his cheek. He gained his feet. Yarnith and the others were fighting against overwhelming odds. He saw Yarnith seize a fallen knife, and two Phobians went down with blood gushing from their throats.

The very silence lent an unreality. Ric was everywhere now, unleashing sledgehammer fists that cut a path through the attackers. He evaded the slashing knives, seized one of the Phobians and hurled him bodily.

Yarnith fought on by Ric's side, exulting, using the knife. The attacking group was falling back now. Panic seized them as they witnessed the Earthman's strength. Soon they were fleeing, leaving a half-dozen of their dead and dying on the ground.

Ric towered there, still feeling the fierce surge of blood that was a tonic to him. He heard Yarnith's exultant voice.

"That was a battle, Earthman! I'm glad you were with us. They'll kill to get a few of these _eishn_ stems." It seemed not to matter to Yarnith that these were his own people. He extended the pouch, but Ric waved it away. Yarnith seemed puzzled, then shrugged, as the group went back to their work.

Disgust flooded Ric like a cold wave from the sea. These people were lost, struggling against a hopeless existence. They were little more than beasts, and the addiction to the _eishn_ stems only hastened the inevitable. He could not even feel pity--and certainly he could expect no help from them.

* * * * *

He returned to their quarters in the city, weary of body and mind. It was hours before the dread effect of the spores left him--but Ric was determined not to resort to the _eishn_ stems. Praana and Tal Horan had returned, and they compared notes for the day.

"They've gone far," Tal said grimly, "much farther than I ever dreamed! They have an improved type of atomic furnace. They process and shape the new metal into bomb-casings for the spores; but they're using it for new rocket-tubes as well! According to Kueelo, it will give them tubes that are absolutely blast proof and triples efficiency in relation to fuel consumption. Already they've equipped two new spacers, and will have more of them ready in the event that Earth refuses the Phobian ultimatum."

Ric listened wearily, his mind trying to seize the problem. "What will the ultimatum be?"

"I learned that today," Praana said. "Gorak will demand full recognition of Phobos as a member of the Inner Planet Federation, with himself as supreme ruler of Mars once he reclaims it from the red plague."

"Earth Council will never agree!"

"I learned even more," Praana went on. "Dar Mihelson managed to reach Luna safely with all units! They are safe for the time being, deep within Tycho. And Ric ... the balance of Earth's fleet has sided with your Earth Council, and against Wessell. Already a showdown battle is in the making!"

Ric groaned. "Just what Gorak wanted! It will give him the time he needs. Tal, how far have they gone?"

"Unfortunately, Kueelo's already deciphered our formula and it gives them the missing equation! You see, Bedril and I were working on a principle which meant stripping the outer sheathe of electrons from the new metal, without disrupting the atom itself--and the power generated would serve to counter-act the spores. Here, in their new type of atomic furnace, they have the necessary heat and pressure to do that."

"What will it mean, then?" Ric's brows furrowed.

"Simply that, in a manner of speaking, they'll be able to control the spore action, and they'll soon be able to launch the spore-bombs all the way to Earth!"

Ric arose and paced the room angrily. He stepped to the outer door and peered along the corridor, but a group of guards hurried toward him with electros held in readiness. They had been instructed well. Ric turned and continued to pace the room.

"It will be at least a few days before they're ready," Tal said. "There's little I can do to slow them down, Ric--but my chance may come!"

Ric paused. Already an idea was growing apace within him. It was a desperate idea but they had to try something--anything! He said, "I think somewhere in this city there's a supply of _eishn_ stems. I saw some of the workers using it today--maybe it's smuggled out to them occasionally. I want to get hold of some! All I can get! Praana, suppose you work on that. If you can, find out where the stuff's kept!"

VI

For Ric, the next few days were an anguish that surpassed the most refined torture. He worked long hours in the spore-fields, doing the work of a hundred Phobians. One worked hard, in order to retain life and sanity; to remain long idle, out there was to die a slow death. As it was, the stuff was taking an insidious toll of him. At times he wondered why he bothered. But he drove himself on, hoping against hope.

Once he even partook of the _eishn_ stems that Yarnith offered. The stuff was bitter, gum-like, and offered a soaring elation and a surcease from the terrible fatigue; but the after-effect was so depressive that he didn't try it again.

He stayed with Yarnith's little group, moving and working and fighting with them. The others became increasingly hostile, launching sporadic attacks--those who could rouse themselves from lethargy--in an effort to get some of the _eishn_ stems. But soon even Yarnith's small supply was gone, divided among his group.

Still the fighting went on, for the sake of action and blood-lust. Each day men died. Each day Ric had to protect himself. He found himself taking a fierce joy in it, and he no longer looked upon these Phobians as men. They were mere beasts with the killer instinct.

Ric was becoming one of them.

Only one thing sustained him. After each day's work the Martian, Naric, came for him in the atomo-car and took him back to his quarters in the city. There at least he had the company of Praana and Tal Horan. He could bathe, and rest, and the meals weren't bad.

Tal Horan, in the meantime, was working hard with Kueelo and the others in the laboratories, at the atomic furnaces, at the forges. Kueelo seemed not to care how much Tal learned of their work. He was supremely confident.

And well he might be. Tal told Ric of it.

"I've seen the newly processed metal under test! It stands up indefinitely against the metal-devouring spores--and eventually it will be a complete counter-active against them. And the new rocket-tubes are frightening! I saw one of them in the testing block, subjected to internal blasts far greater than anything known. It seems almost resilient under stress!" Tal's face had gone pale as he talked. "Later they plan to equip an entire Fleet. If that time ever comes...."

Time began to lose all meaning for Ric. Days blended into a phantasmagoria of working and fighting ... blood and madness. Already he was forgetting how he had come here. He cared even less. He was here to die, and he hoped it would be soon.

It was perhaps a week later that Kueelo came to them, after the days work. "Gorak wishes to see you. All of you!"

Tal and Praana were puzzled. In Ric, a spark struck home. He struggled to rouse himself. Gorak ... what could he want with them now?

* * * * *

"Today," Gorak told them when they appeared in his quarters, "I spoke with the Earth Council. I gave them my ultimatum."

He paused, watching their amazement. Then he turned to the tele-magnum, a huge and magnificent instrument, as powerful as anything Earth had.

"I cut into the Earth beam while they were broadcasting to Venus and, by drowning out their channel, contacted them for a few minutes. Needless to say," he turned his cold orbs upon Ric, "they refused my terms. They refuse to believe I destroyed Mars. Of course I realize it would be hard for them to capitulate even if they wanted to. Earth's Fleet is divided, and all has not gone well with Wessell. Already there have been skirmishes around Luna, and part of Wessell's fleet has gone down to destruction."

Ric's heart leaped. At least this was good news! But Gorak's cold voice went on.

"I cannot wait for them to destroy themselves, because in two more days Phobos comes into juxtaposition with Earth, and that will not happen again for months. Earth must have an object lesson! Come. I wish to show you what I mean."

Once again they entered the atomo-car and were speeding away from the city, traversing Phobos' inner shell. They passed the laboratories and shops, hearing the clangor of work still going on. They came to a place where huge, powerful-looking rockets were arranged in neat rows. There were literally hundreds of them.

"Those are the bombs!" Tal whispered to Ric. "They explode upon contact, releasing the spores!"

Their car had stopped, and Gorak ordered them out. Kueelo and Naric were there, and dozens of Phobians, fully armed. The place was well guarded. They saw vast mechanisms reaching endlessly across the wall. These were topped by huge metal discs, perhaps ten feet in diameter.

"The propulsion pits," Gorak explained. "Even vaster, of course, than those we used against Mars. I wanted you especially to see these--Ric Martin. Kueelo, show him."

Kueelo stepped to the operating board. Slowly, under his control, one of the huge discs slid back. A great, gleaming metal bore was revealed. It ejected toward them silently, as though on great compression coils.

"The bores extend entirely through Phobos' shell," Gorak went on. "It has been the work of years. They rest on huge pivots and can be adjusted to any desired angle." He waved a hand. "As you can see, we have twenty of them. Let us hope we will not need them all. Luna is airless, and the action of the spores will be faster there than on Mars."

"Luna!" Praana swayed and would have collapsed, but for Tal Horan's arms about her. "You're going to land the spores on Earth's moon? My people are there ... bottled up in Tycho!"

"That is unfortunate. Your people may yet be saved, Princess Praana. It depends upon Ric Martin."

"What do you mean?" Ric's voice was tight.

Gorak looked at him calculatingly. "You may have wondered why we have revealed everything to you--all of our plans, all of our power. It's because I want you, as an Earthman, to realize what's in store for your planet unless they capitulate. I don't want Earth to go the way of Mars. I don't even want to destroy Earth's moon--unless it's necessary. It's up to you, Ric Martin, to convince your stubborn Earth Council!"

"How can I do that?"

"Tomorrow evening Earth's regular news broadcast will be beamed to Venus. I can cut into the channel again, as I did today. This time _you_ will speak to them. You will tell your Council what you have seen here, and what faces them. It will be their last chance! If you don't convince them ... Luna's destruction will! Earth was aloof when Mars was dying, but this will be much nearer home!"

* * * * *

The hours passed. A deadly quiet had come over the city, not even broken now by the monotonous hum of the atomic furnaces. It was "night"; their wall lights had automatically dimmed, but outside the bluish light from Phobos' walls was all-pervading.

Ric, Praana and Tal Horan did not sleep. But the guards outside had been doubled, and they were alert, patrolling the corridors ceaselessly. Occasionally one of the guards stopped to look in upon them.

"Your people will not die, Praana," Ric told her. "I'll convince the Council to do as Gorak says. Later, perhaps, they can find the way to deal with him."

"No! His first move would be to order the surrender of their entire Fleet. Earth would be relegated to a minor power ... and Venus would be next!"

Tal said thoughtfully, "Ric ... when you get in front of that tele-magnum, tell your Council to send their entire Fleet out here! They ought to be able to blast Phobos out of space!"

"Yes, if they could get within ten thousand miles of here--which they can't! Gorak's bombs are radio-controlled, and the entire Fleet wouldn't stand long against them."

They were suddenly silent, as a Phobian guard appeared in the doorway. For a moment the man stood hesitant. Praana rose, quickly crossed the room to him. The guard handed something to her, and moved quickly away.

"The _eishn_ stems!" Praana handed Ric several tightly wrapped bundles. "For days I've been trying to persuade him to get some for us! I convinced him we needed it for ourselves."

Ric had almost forgotten about it. "My plan may not work, now. But it's a last chance. If only they send me back to the spore-fields tomorrow!" He hid the drug carefully away in his clothes.

And Ric did go back to the fields. For him it was the same routine day. Those deadly spores needed harvesting, to go into the bombs that were still being assembled. He worked as usual, but stayed near the man Yarnith, awaiting his chance.

At last it came. He managed to get Yarnith apart from the others.

"I have something for you!" Ric reached into his pocket, brought out one of the _eishn_ stems. Just one.

Yarnith seized it, placed it in his mouth. His hands trembled in eagerness, his dulling eyes came to life. "Earthman! where did you--I thought--"

"Yes, you thought there were no more of them! Yarnith, you are no longer men, you are slaves, all of you are slaves! Do you suppose Gorak cares about you? He and the others live in luxury in the city, while the rest of you work out here and die and kill--"

Yarnith wasn't listening, he had become as the others. He no longer cared. Ric looked at the man in disgust, then fury swept over him. He seized Yarnith's arm, whirled him around roughly. Yarnith cowered, whimpering.

"Listen to me! Listen! There are more _eishn_ stems, enough for all of you. All you have to do is take them! Do you understand that?"

Yarnith understood that. It was all he understood, all he cared. He nodded eagerly. "More of them?"

"Yes, in the city! Gorak has them!"

Yarnith slumped in despair. "The city. We can never go there again. None of us have ever--"

Ric shoved him away disgustedly, went to join the others. Throughout the day he moved among them, portioning out the stems, giving them the same story. Each worker received one stem, no more. Some were beyond understanding him, and these he tried to avoid. Others watched him covetously, eyeing the supply of stems he was portioning out.

Once a knife slashed his shoulder, and he went to his knees from the blow. Ric whirled and killed the man with a single blow that snapped the frail neck. Ric went berserk then, dashing among them, flailing and lashing and throwing fists left and right as the blood-lust came upon him. They fled before him.

"You're going to understand one thing, damn you!" he shouted. "There are plenty of these stems in the city, but you'll get them for yourself! I'll bring you no more!"

That seemed to work better. It roused them from their lethargy, and Ric kept them that way. How many more he killed or maimed, he never knew. It became a sort of mad game. It was a day Ric was never to forget!

Nor would they forget him. At the end of that day he saw many of them in groups, muttering to themselves, watching him balefully. As if for the first time, they realized one thing: this Earthman always returned to the city ... and he had _eishn_ stems!

When Ric returned this time, there was a weariness upon him such as he had never known. But a fierce hope burned within him, a hope that these Phobians would remember ... that they'd become men again for at least a while, and not fall again into their lethargy....

He'd done his best, and there would not be another chance.

VII

Kueelo came to them, as they were at the evening meal. "Be ready, Ric Martin. The Earth broadcast will be in a few hours. Gorak is getting the tele-magnum ready now." He handed Ric a closely-written paper. "These are the things you will tell your Earth Council, and be sure you follow it to the letter!"

Ric scarcely looked at the paper. They waited nervously, as the minutes lengthened into hours, and Ric's thoughts whirled in chaos. To refuse Gorak's dictates now would mean death to Praana's people on Luna. On the other hand Ric knew that Earth would never capitulate! At the very best, it would mean holocaust and a spatial war such as the System had not known in two hundred years.

At last it was time. They were taken under special guard to Gorak's quarters, where the tele-magnum was ready. The next few minutes would determine the fate of two worlds, perhaps even the entire System!

Everyone was tense. Even Gorak's pallid features were pulled into tight lines, as he said to Ric, "When we've gained control of the Earth beam, you will announce yourself. Then you will read what is on the paper, and no more! If you depart from it in the slightest, I shall order my guards to blast you down." He turned to Praana. "When Ric Martin is through, you may make a plea to the Earth Council on behalf of your people."

Gorak turned to the tele-magnum, an instrument that dwarfed everything in the room. The control panel was taller than the man himself, connected to huge coils and tubes. He manipulated the controls with swift surety. The tubes came aglow, danced with silvery radiance.

The coils hummed a smooth threnody, then shrieked as they absorbed the increasing power. Soon the sound rose above the audible. Then ... from far away, a faint voice was heard droning monotonously. This was the Earth beam, the scheduled news broadcast to Venus. Gorak moved the dials swiftly, and the voice filtered through.

"... at last report, has been determined that the Martians under command of Dar Mihelson have maintained their temporary haven within crater Tycho. The eight-day Battle of Luna, it is expected, will be terminated shortly. An unconfirmed report says that Felix Wessell has been captured, and is being returned to Earth where he will face court-martial for high treason. Another amazing development concerning the plague on Mars, is thought to be a hoax. Thirty hours ago--"

Gorak twisted the dials viciously, cutting off the voice. "A hoax! So they think my demands are a hoax!" Fury mastered him for a moment, then he went to work over the controls. "I'll cut into their beam. Be ready, Ric Martin! They'd better listen now!"

The voice came again, then was drowned out as Gorak's increased potential flooded the channel. Tal Horan, standing beside Ric, was suddenly tense. He gripped his arm and whispered, "Listen!"

But Ric had heard it too, they all heard it. From the streets outside, from far away, came an angry murmur--a _crowd_ murmur, wafted to them through the night stillness. And it was coming nearer.

* * * * *

They saw Kueelo motion to several of the guards, and the men hurried outside. Still the sounds came, louder now, a sort of angry chant. Now it seemed to enter this street, to be heading this way.

Alarmed, Kueelo himself seized an electro and hurried out. Gorak still worked over the tele-magnum. He looked up in annoyance. Then he straightened.

"Very well, Ric Martin. I've established contact!"

Ric hesitated, then moved slowly to stand before the tele-sender. He moistened his lips, glanced at the paper in his hand. At that moment a guard came bursting back into the room. Blood streamed from his face.

"The workers! I--I think they've revolted!"

Gorak leaped to another instrument, pressed a row of buttons--six of them, lightning-fast. Then he was across the room, hurrying out the door.

"Ric Martin speaking!" Ric was shouting into the tele-sender. "Be alert for spore-bombs aimed at Luna!" He could not be sure it got across, but that was all he had time for. The remaining guards stood hesitant, started to follow Gorak, and then turned back.