Part 3

"Come!" urged the girl. "There is a guardroom above. There must be weapons."

"I could use one of those antique hook-'em swords on old Horta," growled Moore.

They burst into the guardroom prepared for sudden and violent action. But the great chamber was empty of Moon men. On the walls hung ray rifles. Ross and Moore each snatched one.

"Now where?" asked Moore.

Ross surveyed the room. Windowed on all sides, it had only two doors, the one they had entered and another opposite. "We'll try that," Ross decided. "What we've got to find now is a spot that commands the square where the ray machine is bedded."

The sloping corridor led them to such a spot. On a balcony they stood and for a moment were content to watch Horta's artisans toiling with sandbags and debris to make barricades against the flood.

"They'll do it, too," Moore said aloud, voicing his chief's thought.

"Artana's trick was probably just to help us out," Ross judged. "He hadn't enough water to flood 'em out."

Moore fidgeted. "Let's do something, Bruce! There's that ray reservoir. Think these pop-guns will punch a hole in it?"

Ross raised his rifle, and lowered it as suddenly. For into sight, beside the giant Horta, walked Queen Boada. Moore exclaimed under his breath, fingering his rifle.

It was the Princess Illeria who, snatching the rifle from Moore's hands, leveled it swiftly and fired. As Ross sought to snatch it from her she faced him defiantly. "Let destiny rule us!" she exclaimed. "My mother is an unhappy woman who stands in the way of peace. Let me fire again!"

Her demand left Ross irresolute. As he held her hand, Moore cried out. "They spotted that shot, Bruce! They're looking for us!"

It was true. Horta stood, legs spread, his fierce glance sweeping the open space. Workers had begun to drop sandbags and pick up guns. Ross loosed his hold.

"Let's fire together, then," he said heavily. "The double shot may pierce that thick metal. Aim at the muddy mark, Illeria! Ready--fire!"

The two rifles spat together. Moore yelled, "You've done it! Duck--fast!"

They could not take cover fast enough. Ross had one glimpse of a tremendous sheet of flame licking out of the hole they had blasted, saw its counterpart high in the sky at the mouth of the ray cylinder, heard a great roar, and seemed to know nothing else.

* * * * *

He regained consciousness on the platform of Peak Four, where his flagship, now repaired, rested airily. Artana, Moore and Illeria bent over him solicitously.

"What happened?" he asked, fretfully.

Artana spoke soberly. "The Queen is dead." He turned to Illeria, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. "Long live the Queen!"

Ross glanced at Moore. The navigator winked. "Order is restored, Chief," he explained. "That blow-up finished Horta and all his works. And Earth is on the phone. All serene there, since the Los Angeles disaster. You are ordered to return and report."

Illeria dropped to her knees beside Ross. "You will not go? You will stay--and my people shall make you king!"

Ross looked long into her eyes, and the Earth seemed far away and an unreal world. But he slowly shook his head as he rose and gently lifted her to her feet. "I must go, Illeria," he said. "But--perhaps I shall return. Good-bye, Artana, you will restore peace to the Moon."

The Lord of the Peaks bowed his head, "That I will, farewell, Ross!"

With one last glance at the white-faced princess, Ross nodded shortly to Moore. They strode to their ship without a backward glance. At a curt order the helmsman took her off, and in seconds the two figures on Peak Four's platform had dwindled to specks.

"You can come back," Moore grunted.

"Think so?"

"Sure. When the Council hears what you've done they'll give you twenty years' leave. With pay."

Ross smiled. And the smile lingered as he turned to Jorgens to dictate a message for the Earth. The rocket ship droned on through space.