Part 3

Roal made no answer because Shorty suddenly busied himself with piloting the ship to the surface of the desert. He spiralled slowly down until he was as close as possible to the point where he believed the burrow to be.

The ship slid over the sands with a quiet hiss. Roal and Shorty darkened the craft and stepped out onto the dimly-lit sands. The undulating desert was like a frozen sea, trackless and featureless.

"The best way will be to walk in a spiral around the ship and see if we can cross my tracks," said Roal. "There has been very little wind since we were here. They might be visible."

Shorty disagreed, but they separated by about six feet and began walking in a spiral path. As minutes passed and lengthened they wound outward from the ship and the task seemed more hopeless than ever. Long ages of desert living had made the Martians masters of camouflage.

After an hour's search had yielded nothing Roal was nearly ready to admit defeat. "I think we had better go back to the ship and recheck our position."

"It's as close as we can possibly get it. Your tracks are gone, that's all. They wouldn't last more than half a day at the most. But how about this? Here is something that might be worth looking into."

Roal looked at the spot Shorty indicated. A wide, shuffled path in the sand looked as if a herd of sheep had passed that way.

"Fresh, too," said Roal. "Looks as if a whole congregation of Martians had come this way recently."

"Shall we follow it."

"We may as well. There's a chance it leads to the burrow of Toomar. Burrows are pretty far apart, you know."

The path was obvious because of its freshness, but the tracks were not deep and already the shifting sands were smoothing under the caress of the night wind. In half an hour they would be gone.

All at once they vanished and the sands were smooth as a sheet.

"Here it is," said Shorty. "Their hole must be right here somewhere."

Roal prodded the sands with his foot. After a moment he struck the hard surface of a door over a burrow shaft. He scooped away a spot and pounded forcefully on the stone door.

It echoed dully like the hollowness of a tomb. But after a moment there was a slow motion and the sand slid down as the slab rose.

A withered Martian head poked cautiously above the sand as Roal and Shorty darted behind the slab. "Who comes?" the Martian whispered.

"We seek Toomar," said Roal.

"Toomar is below. What business have you with him?"

"I was waiting on the desert a few days ago and Toomar was kind enough to offer water in his burrow. But when I emerged I found that someone below had stolen a small white gem from me. I have come to claim the gem."

"We are most sorry that such an unfortunate occurrence should be laid at our door," said the Martian humbly. "Come below. I know nothing of it, but I am sure that none among us was guilty of such a crime. You may make any demands you wish in procuring the gem again. If one of us is guilty, he shall be punished."

So far the Martian's acts were in accord with the habits of his race and the relationship established with Earthmen. But it seemed to Roal that he almost overdid it. The Martian was almost _anxious_ to get them into the burrow.

But it was ridiculous, he told himself. He would find nothing here. And the Martian was only trying to avoid trouble.

* * * * *

Nevertheless, the Earthmens' hands strayed to their lances as they descended into the dark depths of the burrow. The narrow shaft was the same as the one he had previously entered, Roal was certain.

A few Martians were sitting against the walls in the first chamber to which they came. The dim light came from phosphorescent stones set into the walls. Despite the air of carelessness which appeared as the Martians' perpetual guise, there was a tension that Roal could not define. It wasn't in their stick-like limbs, nor was it in their dull eyes. But it was in the very air that Roal breathed and he could not help looking about warily.

In a moment the guide returned from his disappearance down a side tunnel. "Toomar comes," he announced.

The Martian who had offered Roal water appeared now and surveyed them. Roal repeated the story of the theft.

"It is indeed a grievous thing," said Toomar sorrowfully. "Come into the lower chambers and we will see all those who were present that day."

Shorty hesitated. "Aren't these--?"

Roal shrugged. He had spent his career in a job where identification of individuals was a critical factor, but he still could not tell if those Martians now sitting about the room were or were not among the group that had been there on his first visit.

Toomar turned back into the passage from which he had come. Roal and Shorty followed closely.

The passage wound with interminable crooks and turns until their sense of direction was hopelessly lost, and still they kept going down. Roal believed they must have gone down five or six hundred feet at least when Toomar finally halted before a closed door.

"In here," he directed.

Roal hesitated, then stepped in as Toomar flung the door open.

In the moment that it took for the scene within the room to crystallize on the retinas of the two Earthmen, Toomar slammed the door and bolted it. And his dry, cracked voice announced, "The Earthmen have come, Master."

Roal and Shorty needed no other invitation to go for their flame lances. Even as their arms whipped up the dry limbs of the Martian's arms pinned Roal's hands. Shorty's lance swung from his hip in a single motion and burned a hole through Toomar's face as Roal hurled the Martian over his shoulder into the faces of the Martians in the room.

His gun up then, Roal still hesitated in the shock of recognition as the man across the room turned from a table to face him. It was the giant Sebours, father of Mariana--Alayna.

A vicious Martian word snarled from his lips as he leaped behind protecting shelves, drawing a gun. Then from doorways on either side, a stream of Martians flowed into the room like a pile of dry sticks on the breast of a wave. But they were like no Martians Roal had ever seen before. There were guns in their hands, spurting lines of flames toward the Earthmen.

"In here!" Roal shouted to Shorty. He leaped through an open door beside him into a sort of storeroom lined with shelves of chemicals and electrical equipment.

They were out of sight of the enemy for an instant and had time to catch a breath and a glimpse of their surroundings. The place looked like some biological or chemical laboratory. Sebours was dressed in a sterile garb as if about to perform some dissection or operation, they had noted. And he seemed to be in complete charge, for the Martians called him master, and hastened to obey him.

Roal and Shorty stationed themselves on each side of the doorway. As the Martians made futile attempts to burn them down the Earthmen slew them as they appeared in the line of sight. They were safe enough for the moment, but they didn't have time or ammunition enough to kill all the Martians that could attack. It was only a temporary stalemate.

On Roal's side there was a small window, evidently for passing supplies from the storeroom to the laboratory. But it was at right angles to the doorway and did not look out upon the main part of the laboratory. Roal had avoided getting in line with the window, but he glanced towards it hoping to find a means of escape.

Beyond the window was a polished wooden cabinet in which the lights of the room reflected. The cabinet door was half open and moving slowly with the motion of the air in the room. As Roal watched it idly he saw in its polished surface a distorted reflection of the laboratory.

Suddenly, in the reflecting surface, he saw Sebours cautiously leave his place of hiding and warn the Martians to stand guard. Then he returned to the table where he had been working. The swinging door shifted the reflection out of Roal's vision, but in that instant he had seen something that turned him cold.

On the table where Sebours was working lay a still form. A human body graced with a head of golden hair like none that Roal had ever seen. Except once--

Alayna.

* * * * *

He wished the door would swing back. But as if in confirmation of his identification a low cry of terror suddenly shot through the room. And it was Alayna's voice. Roal knew that he could never mistake it.

He called to Shorty in a hoarse whisper. "They've got Alayna out there and that big ape is doing something to her. We've got to rush them."

"We can't. They'd mow us down before we got out the door."

"We can't let him maim her, either. I'm going out. Coming?"

"Don't be a fool!" Shorty pleaded. "We've got to use our brains. You're no good to Alayna dead."

"Yeah, you're right," Roal admitted. "What I just saw out there got me, but--if that window were only facing Sebours--"

"We could burn a hole through the wall. That might be our best bet. You could nail him in the back--provided a Martian didn't poke a lance through and blast your hand off the minute you got it through."

"Yeah, that wouldn't work."

Alayna's scream came once more and her cry of, "Roal, Roal--"

The sound quickened his pulses to maddening pace. So she had learned he was there. That polished door was swinging slowly again in the motion of the air. An inspiration seized Roal. Once he had seen an outlaw perform an incredible feat with a flame lance. If it could be done now--

It was dangerous, but he moved decisively to the window. It was the only way to save Alayna, a reflective shot from that wooden door panel.

He cut the charge of the lance down to a minimum. It would be sure to burn through the wood, but enough of the searing energy might be reflected. It was one of the peculiarities of the flame lance beam that it could be reflected from a wooden surface at a low angle of incidence.

The door panel slowly swung the image of Sebours into Roal's line of sight. He raised the lance. But the image was so distorted in the surface that the figure of Alayna mingled and flowed with that of her father. If the warped door forced the deadly energy a fraction of a degree away from its target Alayna would receive the full reflected blast instead of Sebours.

Roal waited. The door moved, then paused. It was not quite far enough--but it was moving back now in the wrong direction. In another instant it would be too late.

Roal jammed himself against the wall to get the best angle of reflection. The images wobbled and flowed on the uneven surface, but there was no time to wait for a better reflection.

He pressed the trigger.

A fury of flame leaped out towards the door and burst against it in a bloom of crimson fire. The charred wood that remained refused to tell Roal of the success or failure of his shot.

There was no sound from the laboratory to tell if the shot had hit or missed--or found the wrong target. Only a sudden great silence.

And in that silence Roal plunged out. He could not endure the waiting in ambush longer. He plunged out upon a scene of disaster--for his enemies. Closely following, Shorty came out blasting with his lance.

But the Martians were too dumb-stricken to fight back. They seemed to have lost all their nerve and some had even dropped their guns to the floor. They all faced the table where disaster had befallen them.

Roal saw at once that his daring shot had been successful. Sebours had fallen across Alayna and now he slumped slowly to the floor. The reflected fire of the lance had not been sufficient to burn through him, but rather had enveloped him in horrible consuming fire. His death had not been pretty and he had died over the bound form of his daughter.

Roal grabbed a scalpel and slashed at the bonds holding the girl to the table. Weakly, she rose and her eyes were filled with tears and thanksgiving.

"I couldn't believe you'd get here," she said weakly.

Roal looked down at the dead body of her father. "I'm sorry--about him," he said.

"It is no matter," said Alayna. "That is sorrow that is long gone. But come with me quickly. We must get out of here. The Thousand Minds will know of what has happened and we simply must attack them first."

Roal was bewildered by her words, but she gave him no time for questions. Clad in her filmy costume as if prepared for appearance in the Starhouse, Alayna jumped lightly to the floor and ran between the stupefied Martians held at bay by Shorty.

The Earthmen followed into a passage and barred the doorway. Then Alayna directed them to burn down the roof and the walls with the flame lances, sealing the passage completely.

As fleet as a patrol ship, Alayna darted down the passage ahead of them, making it difficult for Roal and Shorty to follow the winding tunnel beneath the desert sands. Their flame lances were kept ready, but no Martians appeared.

After a long time of breathless running through the passage ways, Alayna finally halted beside a small chamber.

Her breath came in gasps. "We can rest here for a moment," she said. "We'll be safe for a little while, I think."

She flung herself upon the floor as Roal and Shorty followed her in. Shorty stood guard at the door, but Roal sat down beside her, his eyes tasting the exquisite beauty and tender loveliness of her.

* * * * *

After a moment she rose to a sitting position, breathing more easily. "I suppose you wonder what this is all about?" she said.

"You read my mind on that," said Roal.

She took a deep breath. "My real name is Mariana Sebours," she said. "Perhaps you knew of me as a concert singer--"

"I looked up your record. Brooks gave me your story. I know that it was your father that I killed back there. I'm sorry, but there was no other way."

"Don't worry about _him_," said Mariana. "_They_ killed him long ago only he wasn't actually dead. I'm thankful that the end came for him at last."

"Who are _they_?"

"The Martians. They are planning to rid the planet of Earthmen and conquer Earth in revenge for what Earth had done to Mars."

"But what have we done? I thought everything was serene and peaceful between us!"

"No. If you recall, history speaks of the Martians of a century ago as being much different from those around us now. They were not the skinny, dried-out creatures they are now. We have done that to them. Once they were as robust and healthy as we. We have made them what they are and forced them into burrows beneath the desert in order to exist."

"But how?"

"Merely by being here. My father made a long study of the cause and determined that our two races are simply incompatible. The infinitesimal, almost imperceptible radiations that have long been known to emanate from human beings are nearly lethal to the Martians. They produce the desiccation that we see.

"As a result of his work my father was filled with a tremendous sympathy for the Martians and resolved to find a way out of the dilemma. It occupied years of his life, but he found no way.

"On the other hand, the Martians themselves found a way to defeat Earth and extract revenge. They discovered _harmeena_. I suppose I don't need to tell you about its effects, but what you know are only the surface effects. You don't understand the long-range results of use of the drug."

"What are they? The initial effects are bad enough."

"It is in the second generation of addicts that the true results appear. The children of anyone who has used _harmeena_ a single time and obtained the full effect of it will have minds distorted so that they can be made subject to the telepathic controls of the Martians.

"The Martians are an old race, and time means nothing to them. For a century they have placidly carried on business and social life with us, all the time secretly planning to destroy us when the time was right and a weapon could be found. Now they have begun. _Harmeena_ is being introduced into the lowest level of our society, but it will be carried to the highest levels if their plans are fulfilled. And then, in another century, perhaps, they will be ready to strike the final blow and take over Earth. All Earth will eventually become enslaved to the Thousand Minds when those who are robots under Martian control are finally directed to kill off all those who aren't."

"These Thousand Minds--the SBI has heard rumors using that term, but nothing concrete has ever come to our attention."

"The Thousand Minds are the secret ruling body of the Martians. The premier accepted by Earth is only a puppet. By mental control, the Thousand Minds are in direct contact with every Martian on the planet and it is they who are most expert in the science of mind control."

"What is the secret of the phantom tavern, Starhouse? Is it only an illusion?"

"The phantom tavern actually exists. I will take you there in a moment. Through their mental powers, the Thousand Minds can project an image of the Starhouse to any point on the planet, and when a person enters the door of that projected image of Starhouse, he is actually transported here beneath the desert by the power of the Thousand Minds."

Roal whistled softly. "So that is the explanation of the phantom tavern. It seems incredible that such power exists. But what of your father's part in this plot--and yours?"

* * * * *

The Queen of the Silver Stars hung her head for a moment, then looked frankly into Roal's eyes. "My first concern was to save my father from death and injury at the hands of the Martians. Perhaps I was selfish in this. But, secondly, he was the one man in the system who knew more about them than anyone else in the world. If anyone could know their vulnerable spots it was he.

"So I stayed with him as closely as possible during this long association with the Martians. He was so incensed by the thing that Earthmen are doing to the Martians that he even fell in with their plan to destroy through the drug. He knew that an appeal to Earth powers and governments would be futile. Commercial interests would not allow the withdrawal of Earthmen from Mars. He knew better than to ask for that.

"I gave up my career and came to Starhouse. It was a vicious, horrible existence, but I stayed to try to protect him and to persuade him to try to bring about a peaceful solution to the problem. I thought if this could eventually be done it would atone for the crimes I've committed in persuading men to use the drug.

"Now I know that I was wrong. For my father turned more and more against Earthmen and beat and lashed me at times when I tried to persuade him against his course of action. At last I gave up altogether and called you. The Thousand Minds knew of it, of course, and ordered me reduced to the status that my father had been in for so long."

"What was that?" Roal asked. "What was going to be done to you?"

"They told me then that long ago they had performed an operation on my father and it made him the same as if his parents had been _harmeena_ addicts. His brain was totally under the control of the Thousand Minds. That was the reason I could not prevail against him. But at the same time he was aware of the wrong that he was doing to his countrymen and to me. He lived for years in a mental hell of torment. That is why I'm glad he is gone. There is peace for him now. But the Thousand Minds were forcing him to perform the operation on me.

"You see, he had become a great figure to the common people among the Martians. He symbolized their hidden revolt. Hardly any knew of the actual persons in the group of the Thousand Minds, but my father was their emissary to the people. To them he was the symbol of all that the Thousand were doing. That is why his death so demoralized those in the laboratory. It was as if their whole revolution were suddenly tumbling down."

When Alayna finished she was trembling as if with cold. Roal reached to his own shoulders and placed his cape about her. She looked up at him. "Thank you. Did you ever wonder why it was that I tried to warn you against the drug when you first came to Starhouse? It was because of the cape. It was the first true kindness that any man had shown me for so long that it made me want to cry."

Roal thought he understood, but he said, "There have been plenty to admire you in Starhouse."

Alayna shuddered. "The things I see in their eyes are not admiration."

Shorty had not relaxed his guard at the doorway, though he had strained to hear the words of Alayna's story. Now he gave a warning. "Martians down the passage. They act like they're on a hunt. We'd better move!"

VI

Alayna rose and then hesitated as if in indecision. "The only way to wipe out the Martian plot is to destroy the Thousand Minds and do it now. If we fail to attack now, it will give them a respite to re-establish themselves and our hopes will be lost."

"But there are only the three of us and two weapons," said Roal. "We cannot attack a thousand Martians with such powers as you say they have. We'll have to be concerned merely with escape now, and attack later."

"You'll never find the Thousand Minds again, if you fail to follow through now," said Alayna. "Would you attack if I could get you a hundred armed spacemen?"

"With a third that many I'd attack, but where can you find them? Surely not in the desert."

"Follow me."

The Queen of the Silver Stars stepped to the opening in the chamber and glanced down. "It's too late to go that way. We'll have to use the old air tunnel."

She came back into the room and approached an opening on the other side so small that the two men had not noticed it.

"I can squeeze through. If you can follow me we can get out through here."

Roal considered the width of his shoulders dubiously. "We can try."

He assisted Alayna into the narrow opening after she again discarded the cape which hampered her movement. Shorty followed. He was of small build, not very much larger than Alayna. Finally Roal wormed his own way into it, thankful he was not bothered by claustrophobia.

He lay on his side with one arm extended forward, the other down towards the mouth of the tube. This made it possible to guard the entrance with the flame lance.

It was stifling hot in the tube, and dust rose to choke them as the result of their struggles. Roal assumed Alayna was making good progress. And Shorty seemed to be having no trouble but he was creeping forward by painful inches.

The opening was visible as a dim spot of light beyond his feet, but suddenly that spot of light wavered and darkened. Someone had passed before it. Roal stopped moving and stared down. It wasn't merely someone standing before the opening. A Martian was bending forward, looking into it. And Roal caught the glimmer of light on a gun as it was aimed down the tube towards him.

Quickly, he squeezed the trigger of his own lance at full power. A dozen bursts of flame plunged down the length of the air tube. The first one toppled the Martian in the mouth of the tube. Successive shots bit into the roof and walls near the mouth. A hiss of melting sand turned into a roar as the tube collapsed behind them. Waves of choking dust smothered them and threw them into coughing spasms.

Alayna gave a frantic cry of alarm and Shorty tried to squirm about to see what had happened. Roal explained to them. "And it means there's only one way to go, now--forward. Is there any chance of them cutting us off, Alayna?"

"Plenty. It all depends on how many controls the Thousand Minds may have near the other end. Fortunately, the main controls were there in the lab with my father and you killed many of them. But we'll soon be through. I'll try to go faster."

Roal could have said that she needn't hurry on his account. Already Shorty was a considerable distance ahead of him, and Alayna was probably much farther by the sound of her voice.