Immediately the Earthman set himself to the task of examining everything in his prison. But as he had expected, there was little or nothing to discover. The walls which his tether permitted him to reach were all perfectly smooth and solid. He realized with a sheepish grin that it had been foolish of him to even dare to hope that they would be otherwise. The chain fastened to the fetter was quite adequate to hold him. The window, even if it might have been used as an avenue of escape, was securely fastened with bolts, so that it would have taken a man equipped with a heavy set of wrenches, an hour to remove it. To shatter the flexible pane was next to an impossibility. The table was firmly welded to the floor. Beyond the table, Shelby could not go, for the chain prevented him. But he was quite sure that there was nothing movable in the entire room massive enough to be used as a tool or weapon.
He slumped down on his bunk, and let one hand rest on a small power-pipe which ran along the wall and up to the illumination globe above. For a minute dejection almost got a firm grip on him. But he fought it off. This was no time to give up. Why, the struggle hadn't even started yet!
Shelby felt a faint vibration of the power-pipe under his hand. For a considerable time the impressions had been coming to him, but they had scarcely penetrated into his consciousness. They seemed no more significant than the hundred and one little noises and disturbances that go with the running of any space ship. Presently however, the regular sequence of the pulsations attracted his attention. Something made him think of the almost obsolete Morse code. Then the realization came to him. Someone in another room on he ship was tapping on the power-pipe—signaling—signaling him! He spelled the word out—A-u-s-t-i-n, repeated over and over again.
His first thought was of Jan. It must be she who was calling him for there was no one else.
Quickly, with his heavy signet ring, he tapped out an answer: "It is I, Jan, A. S. shoot—"
With tensed muscles, and with fingers firmly clutching the power-pipe that he might not miss a single signal, Shelby crouched, receiving the message. Somehow there was an urgency, an insistence, an appeal about those hurried pulsations that no human voice could have conveyed. It was fantastically like communicating with one who is buried alive.
"We must escape not later than five hours from now," the tapping spelled. "You have been unconscious for a long time—drugged. In five hours we land on Mars. Then escape will be impossible.
"Hekki has told me much, and I have seen much. The horrors that are Selba's henchmen—three times some of them came to the ship, once in a band of over a hundred. Hekki is worried. He has not troubled me yet. Too busy I suppose. I have tried to make believe that I agree to his plans. I thought I could control him that way. But he has been taking the Elar drug.
"We must escape, Austin. We must! Can't you think of a way? I will help! If they get you to the concentration base in the Taraal they will torture you. And we must remember our homeland!"
The hurrying vibrations ceased, and then, almost before he knew what he was doing, Shelby was tapping out an answer promising the impossible.
"Never fear, dearest," he signaled. "Just let me think for a few minutes." A moment later this phrase almost made him laugh. The sap hero of a comedy which had recently been broadcast over the radio-view had said almost these exact words. Think? Of what? Escape within five hours? How? But Jan's appeal sent in such an odd way had an almost magical effect on him, and made his brain work harder almost than ever before. And then the ghost of an idea came. There was a chance that it would work. He signaled to Jan, and then for half an hour, they put their heads together—planning.
Somewhat nervous, Shelby walked to the door and hammered loudly upon it. A thin-faced slave whose hide was burned by desert suns to the color of mahogany, appeared almost immediately.
Shelby answered his inquiring look briefly: "I would speak to your master," he said in Pagari—"right away." The slave nodded and reclosed the door.
In excited impatience the Earthman waited. Now and then he tapped short messages of encouragement to Jan. Would Hekalu never come? The strain of suspense was not exactly pleasant. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he rose from the bunk where he had been reclining in readiness for the first move of the coup he was planning, and began to pace the floor.
He chanced to glance out of the window. On the railed walk beyond, a man clad in space armor was bending over a small portable case which was supported on a tripod. Shelby surmised correctly that this man was Hekalu Selba.
Beside him, paying close attention to whatever the Martian was doing, stood the black Alkebar. The Earthman frowned in puzzlement, almost in awe. For Hekki's weird companion wore nothing that would be of the least help in protecting him from interplanetary cold and lack of air pressure. Not even an oxygen helmet! And yet, as the monster examined interestedly, every dial and switch that Hekalu touched, he showed not the slightest hint of discomfort. The airless emptiness of space seemed home to him. How could such things be? A strange thrill tingled and vibrated along Shelby's spine when he realized how alien was Alkebar. There was no kinship between him and the creatures of either Earth or Mars.
Presently Hekki looked up, and as though moved by some intuitive realization that he was being watched, turned awkwardly in his cumbersome attire, and glanced along the row of portholes in the side of the vessel. He saw the Earthman and smiled at him. Shelby felt that it was the kind of smile which a tolerant father might show to his youngest son. Hekalu waved his hand, and his lips, behind the glazed front of the helmet, formed several words which Shelby could not interpret. Then the Martian returned his attention to his apparatus.
When Selba entered his prisoner's room some moments later, he found him lounging on the bunk.
The Martian looked enquiringly at Shelby. "You have reached some conclusion, my friend?" he asked.
Without changing his position on the bunk the young man nodded. There was an expression of dejection and sullen resignation on his face which he was trying hard, above the intense excitement which possessed him, to make realistic. Still acting the part he spoke: "Yes, Akar Hekalu," he said between teeth that were apparently gritted with rage, "I have decided to reveal to you the secret of the Atomic Ray."
A triumphant gleam came into the Martian's eyes. "Ah, my friend," he said, "you at last see the light. I knew that you would. But what has been the cause for this sudden change in attitude? The torture chamber, perhaps?" There was an undercurrent of suspicion in Hekalu's voice.
Shelby turned his head sullenly away, feigning shame. He said nothing. A minute passed during which time Hekalu stared at his captive, a sardonic smirk of contempt curling his thin coral lips.
Finally he said, "I will have Koo Faya bring you writing materials, and you will describe in writing every detail of the manufacture of the missing element."
"No," replied Shelby, turning his face toward the Martian, "I haven't the ability to do that. It will be necessary for you to take me to the laboratory of the ship where I can demonstrate the process to you. It is much too delicate and complicated."
The noble's eyes wavered slightly. "Once," he said, "you tried to trick me, but I warn you that I am on guard now so do not attempt it again."
He signed to Alkebar who had been standing silently beside the open door. The giant drew a key from a pouch at his side, and kneeling, unlocked the fetter fastened about Shelby's ankle. It rattled to the floor. And at the same time the Earthian, leaning back on the bunk with arms stretching over his head, tapped sharply three times with his signet ring on the power-pipe. It seemed to be only an unconscious gesture—nervousness perhaps.
Immediately there was a terrific crash from down the passage way, followed by an agonized scream. Another crash. More screams.
Hekalu started, and then making a hurried gesture to Alkebar which indicated that he was to guard the inventor of the Atomic Ray, he drew his automatic and dashed down the corridor to investigate the disturbance. The Earthman however, was in no mood to be guarded. No longer shackled, he leaped to his feet and over to the center of the room. The great voiceless beast from the stars stood before the doorway with his long arms outstretched. He was not trying to capture the Earthman—only seeking to block his path.
But Shelby had no time to waste. Gathering himself together, he hurtled straight for the ankles of his opponent. The fact that the artificial gravity of the ship was of the same strength as that of Mars—only a trifle more than one-third that of Earth—added to the effectiveness of his plunge. The mighty-muscled Alkebar, puzzled by the unheard-of tactics of his agile though vastly weaker foe, suddenly found himself in a sprawling heap on the floor. Shelby leaped over him through the door, slammed it, and raced precipitately down the corridor.
In the meantime Hekalu Selba had reached Janice Darell's room, but when he had unlocked it and had thrust his head inside to see what the matter was, a heavy urn, deftly aimed, had crashed full into his face. Shelby saw him sprawling in the passage badly dazed, and a split second later Jan dashed from her cabin. She looked around, and when she saw Shelby coming swiftly toward her she flashed him a quick smile of triumph.
But Alkebar had wrenched the portal of the Earthman's recent prison open, and was in hot pursuit. He was tugging frantically at the pistol in his belt.
"Run, Jan, quick!—To the control room!" Austin shouted.
He caught up Hekki's automatic which had dropped from the Martian's grasp when he had fallen, and wheeling, fired at the black colossus. The bullet struck Alkebar's right hand with which he was raising his pistol. The tough natural armor which covered the monster from head to foot prevented it from doing any serious damage, but it must have stung badly, for his weapon clattered to the floor. While he was stooping to recover it, Shelby hurried forward to catch up with Jan. It was but a few yards to the control room. If they could get there, overcome whoever was in charge and barricade themselves in, they could master the ship!
Their luck had been good, but it was not destined to be as good as that. They caught but a brief glimpse of the bewildering array of switches, dials and levers, that constituted the brain-center of the craft. Standing on guard before his instrument panels was the mahogany-colored slave Koo Faya. He was half crouching, at bay. There was a murderous light in his eyes, and he held leveled in his hands a light machine gun. Shelby's automatic was leveled too, and he pressed his trigger an instant before the Martian. Four bullets whizzed into the control room, splattering close about the thin mummy-like body of Koo Faya. A glass globe that glowed redly on the top of a complicated mechanism, was struck and burst with a popping sound. A rose-colored vapor floated ceiling-ward.
Simultaneously Koo Faya's weapon began to whir. Then, even as Shelby jerked Jan back out of danger, the wild shriek of an alarm siren mingled with the discordant clashing jangle of ungoverned machinery running amuck, rang through the ship, and the huge metal cigar pitched and careened like a frightened thing.
Alkebar, having recovered his pistol, was staggering down the passage shooting rapidly. But owing to the crazy motion of the space flier his missiles were momentarily not taking effect.
Austin and Jan knew that Koo Faya was leaping to a position where he could shoot his poisoned darts at them again. What now? Cornered? No! Janice Darell wrenched open a door in the side of the passage and shoved Shelby into the tiny room beyond.
In the opposite wall of the closet was a round dark opening. "The emergency flier," Jan shouted. "Into it!"
As quickly as they could they climbed through into the submarine-like interior beyond. Fighting to keep themselves erect, they slammed the heavy duralumin portal to and fastened it. Alkebar was already groping on the opposite side. But he was too late.
Shelby leaped to the control panel and cut the electric current from the magnets that held the emergency flier anchored to its mother ship. It floated, free from the careening hulk. Its rocket motors roared into life.
The occupants of the tiny craft looked back at theSelba. It had ceased its mad motions now, and was hanging quietly in space. Evidently Koo Faya had succeeded in righting matters to some slight extent at least. Would he be able to patch things up entirely? The red globe could be replaced in half an hour. It would be that length of time at least before theSelbacould engage in pursuit.
But the arm of a space ship, equipped with weapons commonly used in the void, is long. Hence Austin Shelby considered it his first duty to put as much distance between his craft and Hekalu's ship as possible.
Still four million miles away, Mars glowed—a tiny red disc; and he headed toward her giving the flier full freedom to do its best. The fiery vapors fairly tore from the rocket nozzles.
With one hand in readiness on the control lever, which resembled in appearance and operation the joystick of an airplane, and his feet on the bar used for steering in a lateral plane, he kept his eyes fixed on the receding bulk behind. Jan had handed him one of the two pairs of binoculars which she had just found in the supply compartment.
Austin knew what to expect from the direction of theSelba, and it came well within schedule. A flash of green fire spurted from the foredeck of the ship. It showed up with startling vividness against the jeweled sable of the void.
Abruptly Shelby drew the control lever back. In response to his movement the rocket nozzles, now deflected from alignment with the central axis of the craft, sent it into a steep climb. The terrific angular acceleration seemed intent on forcing the two fugitives straight through the metal floor. It drew the blood from their faces and made them grow pale and giddy. But they escaped being struck by the torpedo.
It exploded a hundred yards beneath the flier's keel. Fragments of it banged against the hull. In rapid succession other flashes darted from theSelba, which had dwindled to a silvery speck far to the rear. But still those missiles, directed by incredibly delicate sighting mechanisms, and hurled at almost the speed of light, continued to score remarkably close to their target.
If it had not been such an elusive target they most certainly would have blasted it to fragments. But Shelby, skilled as were most of the men of his time, in the handling of small space craft, was able to endow his flier with much of the agility of an alarmed dragon fly. Darting, weaving, zigzagging, yet always keeping its general course fixed toward Mars, it careened away. Always it was ringed by an aura of green flashes.
However, good fortune is seldom perfect. The tempered duralumin plates of the flier managed to withstand the force of all of the torpedo fragments which showered them—with one exception. One dart from Hekalu's ship exploded barely fifty feet to the right of the fugitive craft, and a flying chunk of steel sent it pitching and tumbling through the ether.
When the two bruised occupants had regained their equilibrium they heard a faint hissing above the roar of rockets. They knew that there was but slight chance that theSelbacould do them any further harm, for though the torpedoes continued to come, the distance between the two vessels was now so great that a damaging shot was almost an impossibility. Nevertheless, the present situation was serious enough. A leak!
Fixing the nose of the flier toward the Red Planet, and locking the controls, Shelby left the pilot's seat to determine the extent of the damage, while Jan searched the supply compartment for something with which to repair it. There was a deep dent in one of the ceiling plates and a thin wriggly crack through the center of it—not an easy job to patch that out in space under the best of circumstances.
The young man whistled when he saw how near they had come to a hideous death. Several times he had seen the bodies of men who had been suddenly exposed to the pressureless airless cold of the outer void—hideous bloated things through whose skin the livid blood had forced its way.
"Any luck, Jan," he asked, looking back at his companion. "Did you find some cement?"
She shook her head.
First stepping to the oxygen supply valve and opening it a trifle wider, Shelby hastened to assist the girl in her quest. Their ears were ringing. The air pressure within the hull was dropping rapidly. Diligently they ransacked every nook and corner, but found nothing more valuable than a can of thick grease. Shelby smeared some of it over the crevice; it helped but did not by any means check the flow of the escaping air entirely.
"It's a race with time now, Jan," he said quietly.
She looked at him. Her face was a trifle pale, but her lips and eyes were smiling. "Are we on our way to Mars, Captain?" she enquired.
He nodded. "We are, Admiral. The fuel tanks are full and if our air lasts we'll get there."
"And when we do," she put in, "the best of luck to Hekki and his friends!"
A vision swept through Shelby's mind—batteries of fantastic machines whose maws spewed flames of faint lavender fire—blinding flashes of light and world-rocking explosions: a hideous thing to dream of—hideous yet glorious, for the civilizations and freedom of two worlds depended upon it. To the Red Planet—theymustmake it!
Janice Darell had placed her hand lightly on Shelby's arm. Her expression was serious, almost hard. "Austin," she said, "tell me truthfully, can we really reach Mars? It is likely that we shall get there before we go out?"
"Certainly, darling," he replied, putting as much assurance into the words and expression as was possible. "Why do you ask?"
There was something that suggested doubt, perhaps even displeasure in her answer: "We have a duty to perform, Austin—a duty infinitely bigger than our own petty existences. You have not seen what I have seen—small scouting patrols that came to theSelbariding strange round things that must have been machines of some kind. One look at those henchmen of Alkebar, their great black bodies, their quick nervous movements—like eager panthers, their wicked-looking weapons which they carried with such an air of easy assurance, and you would have known what they hoped to do. Most of these devils are within the orbit of Mars for the first time. Certainly Hekki has told you something about them?"
Shelby nodded. "Very little; but I have noticed a few of Alkebar's remarkable peculiarities," he said.
"Well," she continued, "if we can't get to Taboor, there is one thing we can do—destroy theSelba, and with it Hekki and Alkebar."
"Destroy theSelba!" Shelby exploded, "with what? Those toy machine guns on the nose of this bus? The bullets wouldn't even make noticeable scratches in the hide of that tough old girl."
"Not with the machine guns," Jan said slowly, "with this flier! A little luck and it would work."
The idea flashed through Shelby's brain. Ram theSelbaat high speed! Absolutely certain self-murder! A wave of tremendous admiration for the girl came over him. She had something more in her favor than mere beauty and intelligence.
"Your idea is a pretty good one, Jan," he told her. "But rest assured that unless you can overpower me, it will never be put into execution. However, I'll tell you the truth: we have about a fifty-fifty chance of reaching the Red Planet alive."
And so they tore on their way across the void while they watched the dial on the oxygen tank. They were racing with a tiny needle that crept ever nearer to the zero point that was its goal.
By allowing the pressure within the flier to drop to the lowest point that they could endure, they managed to conserve considerable oxygen, for then the rate of escape from the crevice the torpedo fragment had made was naturally not so rapid.
Frequently they examined the sky behind them, expecting momentarily to discover the tiny speck of flitting silver that would be theSelba. But if the ship was pursuing them it had not yet come close enough to be seen.
However, there was another, and perhaps greater menace which kept their eyes turning this way and that, searching for signs of danger. Clusters of dully-glowing specks in any quarter of the heavens would be the first indications of its presence. They would grow larger, come hurtling on like racing meteors in the sun's glow. Only there would be an odd wobbly motion about their darting flight. Shelby tested the trips of the two machine guns. Spurts of green flame plumed out of the muzzles.
He had set the radio transmitter in operation, and was sending occasional signals for assistance. But he knew that this was practically a useless move. Hekalu had taken them far off the beaten track, and they were still half a million miles from the Terrestro-Martian traffic lane. The range of the transmitter of this craft was only ten thousand miles. Even if they had been much nearer the chances of their signals being picked up were slight.
The Martian disc was growing larger. It had become an ochre sphere delicately ringed and mottled with greens and browns like a cloudy opal. The flier was fairly eating up the distance.
Shelby had just said: "I believe we're going to make it, Jan," and then the signs which they had hoped would not appear came. Ahead of them and a little to their right, a vague cluster of specks glimmered into view. It wavered like a wisp of luminous smoke buffeted by a light breeze. This was the one thing that distinguished it from a meteor cluster.
Rapidly the individual points of light grew, becoming tiny stars that glowed by the reflected light of the sun. Within five minutes there was no longer any chance of mistaking their identity, for their flat disc-like shapes and the half-human forms of the things that rode them were already visible through the binoculars. They were approaching at terrific velocity. Both Jan and Austin knew them to be subjects of Alkebar. There was no mistaking their motive. Doubtless orders had been flashed to them from the disabledSelba.
Realizing that these fleet space riders could easily catch up with his flier if they so chose, Shelby made no attempt to elude them. Instead he clung doggedly to the straight course toward Mars.
The twin machine guns, responding obediently to their directing mechanism, swung on their swivel toward the hurtling foes. Shelby peered into the eye-piece of the "sighter," a complicated arrangement of mirrors and lenses which enabled the pilot to always look directly through the ring-sights regardless of what direction the gun barrels were pointing. He pressed the trips, and soundlessly, out in the vacuum of space, the guns went into action. Flickering green flames of detonating radio-active explosive darted from their muzzles.
Almost immediately there were answering flashes among the approaching shapes, for the high-calibre bullets were also loaded with explosive. One projectile took effect—another! Emerald flares of light, and nothing remained of two bold space men and their queer disc-like vehicles but torn fragments of flesh and metal.
The Space Men were very close now. Jan and Shelby could see the light flashing on their jeweled harnesses and on the weapons which they flourished defiantly. There must have been almost five hundred in the party. Somehow their wild charge was vaguely reminiscent of a band of fierce Bedouin marauders, racing madly across the desert, bent on pillage. Only it was the Arabs who suffered by this comparison, for the desert of these mysterious Space Men was the whole of interstellar emptiness; and their forms and those of the things they rode, were the forms of the forces of Iblees himself.
Apparently these henchmen of Alkebar had some object in view other than the mere destruction of the flier, for they made no move to use their weapons. They were pulling upon levers on their vehicles, checking their headlong flight.
Now they were coursing with the little craft, swarming about it, edging nearer, at the same time taking care to keep out of range of Shelby's guns.
There was a scraping against the hull and a light jolt as a talon secured a hold on an eyelet ring. A black bulk dropped down on the nose of the craft. A pair of hands gripped the barrels of the machine guns, and with an easy tug, tore them from their mountings. There were shifting scratching sounds coming through the flier's light shell—heavy bodies moving about, and then a sudden ripping vibration. The control lever felt loose in Shelby's hand. He could no longer guide the vessel. And there was nothing either he or Jan could do except wait. The rocket motors still purred evenly.
"I guess they've got us this time, Jan," the young man said to his companion. "I wonder what they are going to do with us?" He spoke as casually as though this latest unfavorable turn of fortune was no more serious than the loss of a game of chess.
Janice Darell was equally cool. "Next time we win," she laughed. It is odd how human beings so often react to strange and terrifying situations. "I'm always ready, you see. Here I was crouching behind you throughout the fight with this perfectly useless pistol in my hand, hoping foolishly that I might be able to use it. That's loyalty."
They fell to studying the two monsters which rested on the nose of the craft in front of the pilot's observation window, where the guns had been. The Space Man was crouching out there trying to peer in at them. He was very much like Alkebar—only not so large, and his equipment and adornment did not boast so many jewels.
Shelby felt a peculiar sense of the unreality of the creature. He looked into its face and saw its eyes. Beside the left orb was a mottled area that must have been a scar. It seemed as concrete as anything he had ever seen, and yet for the second time, he told himself that such a creature wasn't possible!
Time honored tradition had said: "Life can exist only where there is oxygen, water and warmth." And all three of the requisites were lacking in the void. Shelby realized that tradition might be wrong, but the question still remained: How did these creatures of space live? Whence came the energy that kept their bodies functioning? If not from the combustion of food with oxygen, then where? If there were no moisture in their bodies, and there certainly couldn't be, for it would have been frozen in an instant and diffused through sublimation, how could vital fluids flow through their veins? He put these questions to Jan, but she shook her head.
"Hekki informed me that these people inhabited a region somewhere beyond Mars, but he did not tell how it was that they could live in space," she said. "It might be that they have had a development similar to terrestrial insects with the skeleton of armor enclosing their flesh."
The vehicles of the Space Men were even greater puzzles. How did they fly out here where the rocket was the only human invention that could move? Many of the vehicles were visible now through the flier's windows. They were disc shaped platforms of a strange lusterless metal. In the center of the top was an opening in which the Space Men sat. Projecting from the discs were a series of levers, permitting evidently simple control. But no hint of their principle of operation was given. They emitted no rocket jets; no beams projected from them.
Austin realized that there were many mysteries of the universe with which he was not acquainted; this was certainly one.
The sound of bodies moving about on the outer shell of the flier was still audible. Presently there was a sharp explosion somewhere toward the stern. The rockets immediately fell silent. The fugitives saw that some of the Space Men were now busying themselves with long metal cables. Deftly and expertly they were looping them through the eyelet rings set at frequent intervals along the sides of the flier.
The other ends of the cables they fastened firmly to similar rings on their vehicles. They finished the job with all the efficiency of trained military engineers. Then, with the small interplanetary vessel in tow, the Space Men began to move off toward Mars, rapidly gaining momentum until their speed must have considerably exceeded that which most space craft could equal. They deflected their course somewhat from the direct path to the Red Planet, probably to avoid a meeting with any wandering ship.
Throughout the fantastic voyage Shelby and Janice Darell found little to do but stare dumbfounded at their weird captors and to watch the rapidly dropping needle of their oxygen supply-gauge. But as it proved, there was little danger of suffocation, for the Space Men were making good time.
And so, after two hours of flying they came to Mars—not to Taboor which the fugitives had previously hoped to reach, but to a deep valley in the desert of the Taraal. The strange caravan circled around to the night side of the planet, and then, slowly and carefully, but with a hint that they understood their work well, they proceeded to lower the disabled craft through the atmosphere to the ground below.
The door of the flier was torn open like a paper thing, and a black giant fully as huge and burly as Alkebar himself hustled the adventurers roughly out into the open.
The pock-marked face of Loo, the Martian name for their nearer moon, was in the sky, and by its light they could see hundreds of Space Men crowding about them. Plainly this Martian colony was fairly well peopled, for there were many more than the five hundred who captured them. The attitude of the onlookers was one of casual curiosity. For the moment at least they were not showing the more brutal side of their characters.
The fugitives were given but a moment to look about, while their jailer apparently carried on a silent conversation with one of his lieutenants.
They saw the sandy floor of the huge rectangular enclosure dotted with strange mounds which must have been some kind of shelter, the encircling walls crowned by square towers at regular intervals. Those walls were amber-colored in the moonlight, and cast dense shadows that shifted visibly as Loo raced in its meteoric course toward the east. Here and there before the mounds huge vague shapes squatted. At the center of the enclosure a tall spire of silvery girders rose, supporting at its summit a cone of a dull black substance. It looked like the creation of either Earthmen or Martians.
Beyond the wall the rounded summits of desert hills, over which in ages past, a restless ocean had poured and flowed, were visible. In spite of their position the two young Earthians could not help but marvel at the silent grandeur of this exotic scenery. A light though chilly desert wind blew refreshingly against their faces.
The black giant had kept a hand on each of his prisoners during his brief conference, and now, none too gently, he guided them to the entrance of one of the mound dwellings. The Space Man ushered his charges into a corridor, and then, fumbling with a curious lock he opened a heavy door and shoved them into the dim-lit room beyond. With a rattling clink the great stone panel closed behind them.
A lump of self-luminous rock set in the stone ceiling gave a faint illumination to the bare interior. There was no furniture—only the sand-covered floor and rough rocky walls. On the floor a Space Man, larger and more magnificently-muscled by far than any they had yet seen, sprawled. He was either unconscious or dead; they could not tell which. There were hideous welts and gashes and half-healed scars all over his body. The gashes were caked with a viscid purplish substance.
With the coming of the sudden Martian dawn which flashed through a narrow embrasure high in the wall, the jailer returned. His first act was to thrust the needle of what appeared to be a form of hypodermic syringe into the arm of the unconscious Space Man. Then he led his Earthian captives out into the open.
Neither Jan nor Austin were surprised when they saw theSelbasquatting near the base of the spire. Several Space Men, directed by the slave Koo Faya, moved about the ship, working the fueling pump.
Walking down the gangplank which led up to the entrance of the vessel was Alkebar, and beside him, Hekalu himself. The latter sauntered leisurely toward his captives, and the Chieftain moved off toward a group of Space Men standing some distance away.
The Martian made a brief nervous sign to the jailer. "Gently, Rega," he said. The Space Man relaxed his painful grip on his prisoners. The noble surveyed them smiling. Defiantly, half contemptuously, Shelby was smiling back.
Finally, with a mocking casual air, Hekki spoke: "There is a very ancient saying on your planet," he said, "to the effect that bad pennies always return." The corners of his mouth twitched with sardonic amusement. His manner grew more serious, yet still there was an undercurrent of sarcasm: "Miss Darell and Mr. Shelby, I want to compliment you on your remarkable cleverness and daring. Words cannot express my admiration for you. You have every right to be proud of yourselves."
Shelby nodded. "We are," he told him drily. "Is there anything more on your mind?" He turned away with an expression of bored contemptuous indifference.
"I have little to say except that we are about to continue our recently interrupted journey tonight, Mr. Shelby," said the Martian.
He saw the Earthman and the girl casting interested glances at the disc vehicles that surrounded them everywhere.
"You like my people?" Hekki inquired. "You find them entertaining? Perhaps you have discovered things in their habits which you cannot understand. Shall I give you explanations?" For the moment at least there was a serious earnest ring in Hekalu's voice.
"Flag of truce, Jan. This should be interesting," Shelby said. His eyes were full of eagerness as he turned back toward the Martian. "How do they live out there?" he cried. "There isn't any air or water, and it's almost as cold as it can get anywhere. Why, the thing is utterly impossible according to the laws of common sense!"
Immediately all of Hekalu's lazy air of careless mockery was gone, and the dynamic aura of the tireless experimenter and inventor that had hidden beneath it showed out clear. His voice was husky with suppressed excitement when he spoke:
"I too was dumbfounded when, some five Earth years ago, I first ran across the Space Men out there. (He waved his hand toward the west away from the sun.) But after I had studied them for a time, I knew that there was really nothing very remarkable or impossible about the nature of their living. It is actually quite similar to our own.
"Why do we need air? Simply because by the chemical combination of oxygen with food we obtain the energy necessary to make our brains to think, our limbs to move, and our hearts to beat. Energy is life. But doesn't it occur to you that this vital thing might be obtained in some other manner? The Space Men do. Their principal food is the radio-active element, atomic number 109, as yet undiscovered on the planets. It is a purplish liquid that is fairly abundant on a number of the planetoids. Daily, like radium, it gives off vast quantities of energy; and when in the systems of the Space Men it supplies them with power more efficiently than food and oxygen ever could do for us.
"Why can't we survive the intense cold of space? The answer is a simple one. The protoplasm of all forms of living things that we know of, including the Space Men themselves, is a colloidal jelly the principal portion of which is, and must be, a liquid. Cells must be bathed and nourished, and impurities washed away. Without liquids there seems to be no likelihood that there would be any life, unless in some manner a gas could perform this fluid function. Solids would remain forever dead and motionless.
"If anything happens to chill even slightly the protoplasm of any of the higher forms of planetary life, the body fluid becomes sluggish and death may result. No mammals or birds that we know of can live actively with their body temperatures at all approaching the freezing point of water. However, in the polar seas of both planets there are creatures whose systems function quite normally with their blood temperatures just above this point. But beyond this deadline, zero degrees Centigrade, or a little lower or higher, depending on the actual congealing point of the water in their bodies, even they cannot go, for there, the cold limit of Terrestro-Martian life has been reached.
"Why couldn't these polar fish survive the cold of space? Simply because the protoplasm of their tissues, based on water, would instantly become solid, and in solids as I have said, there can be no real life except perhaps in the form of suspended animation.
"The Space Men face no such danger, for first, their bodies are protected by this heat-resisting outer covering; and second, the liquid in their veins freezes only at absolute zero, and since it is radio-active—producing heat from within itself—it cannot get that cold even in the void. And that, friends, is the whole stupendous, simple explanation."
"And how do the Space Men's vehicles move?" asked Jan.
Hekki shook his head. "Except that a strange propulsive ray is involved, I know very little about it. I have not yet discovered how the Space Men manage to produce the ray. The works of Nature ever surpass the works of man.
"And that is all I have time for now, my friends. Breakfast is ready aboard ship. Enjoy my hospitality to the fullest!" Hekki's mask of smiling sardonic cruelty had dropped again. He waved something to Sega.
Janice, sensing that she was about to be separated from her lover, threw herself into his arms. The series of things she had gone through in the past twenty-four hours had frayed her nerves almost to the breaking point.
"Don't let them take me away from you, Austin. Don't let them! Oh, Hekki, please!"
Hekalu's face reddened, and then Sega tore the two apart. Shelby struggled but it was useless. Sega's huge muscles were quite equal to the task of mastering a dozen of the best fighting men of Earth.
He dragged his captives aboard theSelba, and guided by the inscrutable Koo Faya, locked them in chambers from which escape would now be definitely impossible. Jan was thrust into the room she had occupied before, but Shelby was put into a chamber somewhat larger than his original prison.
An almost ungovernable fury had taken possession of the young Earthman. If for only a moment he could get his hand on the smooth Hekalu! His fingers clutched and unclutched spasmodically as he hurriedly paced the room. When presently, he found himself hammering on the walls with the frenzy of a trapped gorilla, a realization of where he was headed came to him. "Stop where you are, you fool!" he muttered to himself.
He went to the table where an appetizing breakfast was set out. He ate a little and then waited a while. He wanted to make sure that the food was not drugged. Half an hour passed and he felt no ill effects. He ate the rest of his breakfast. Then he made several attempts to signal Jan by tapping on the walls, but he was quite sure that to get a message to her in this way was now out of the question.
For a long time he gazed out into the sunlit valley floor from his window. Preparations of some kind were under way. It looked as though the entire population, which must have numbered close to fifteen hundred Space Men all told, was getting ready to move awayen masse. Scores of the strange black people were hurrying about, lugging loads of weapons and hundreds of large cylindrical objects into four immense box-like things of dull metal. Several vehicles, resembling machines of the Space Men, but many times larger, were clustered together in a group.
It must have been several hours after Shelby had been taken into the space ship that two of Alkebar's people came to his room, carrying between them the unconscious form of the Space Man who had been Jan's and his fellow prisoner during the night of their arrival on Mars. They threw the limp giant down carelessly on one of the bunks, and without a glance at him or the Earthman, they stamped out.
Shelby would have liked to examine his cell mate more closely, but owing to the chain which had again been fastened to his ankle, it was impossible to get nearer to him than four yards. Who was this creature? His gorgeously bejeweled harness and his huge size seemed to indicate that he had been a leader of some kind. Shelby had noticed that all Space Men who had a right to command, were somewhat larger than their fellows.
All through the long Martian day Shelby paced the length of his tether, pausing occasionally to look out of the window and to think. By nightfall he was in a state bordering upon complete dejection. Not that he was weak; Shelby could face trying situations shoulder to shoulder with the stubbornest and cleverest men that Earth or Mars could produce. But he was human and had his limitations. Recapture after a glowing promise of freedom and safety for his people, his love, and himself had almost crushed him.
Only half interestedly he wondered when Hekalu Selba would strike. He knew that it would be very soon. In vain he tried to tell himself that he had no real proof of the Martian's power, but always a vision of those black horrors swooping down like living thunderbolts upon Taboor or New York or Chicago made him realize how futile would be any resistance that the planets could offer.
Even if there were but fifteen hundred Space Men, and Shelby was certain as actual knowledge that there were many more, and even if they must fight with their bare hands, still they would be a formidable menace. Within an hour's time they could strike in a dozen different places on the surface of a planet. Shelby did not know that already there were forces of Fate in action which neither he nor Hekalu Selba himself had been able to foresee—forces however, which boded no good for the worlds.
Koo Faya brought the Earthman his noonday and evening meal. With each came a note from Hekalu, both exactly alike: "Remember the Atomic Ray." Doubtless the Martian sought by endless repetition of this message to undermine his captive's nerves to a point where he would divulge the secret.
At dusk there was the sound of activity aboard theSelba—muffled shouts and the drone of generators being tuned up. Then the slow rocking and swaying of the vessel which told that her levitator plates were in action, raising her off the ground, through the atmosphere and out into the void.
Shelby looked out of the window, saw that the stars were growing brighter and the sky blacker. A searchlight was playing from somewhere on the ship, for in the shadow of the planet it was very dark. The beams swung back and forth stabbing through the swarms of Space Men who flew in a cluster about theSelba. The lights lingered for several instants on the forms of four great metal cubes that were being lifted up through the gaseous envelope of Mars by a number of the larger discs the Earthman had seen resting beside them in the valley that day.
Shelby threw himself upon his bunk. He gave one quick glance at the blob of darkness on the other bunk at the farther end of the room, wondered vaguely who or what the creature could be, and then, mentally and physically exhausted, went quickly to sleep.
When he awoke Shelby spent many minutes staring at his fellow prisoner. There were indications that his consciousness was returning for he stirred frequently. Presently he who had been the Earthman's and the mysterious one's jailer in the hut the night before, came, bearing a bowl filled with a purplish radio-active liquid which served the Space Men as food. He also carried a hypodermic syringe and a small glass container partially filled with a clear fluid.
These last two articles he placed upon the table, while he carried the bowl over to his charge. He shook the lacerated and bejeweled Space Man roughly and when he had aroused him to a sluggish half-consciousness, held the bowl of liquid food to his lips. Mechanically the prisoner drank.
Shelby looked at the tiny vial on the table and then at the back of the jailer. Close beside the vial stood a glass partially filled with water. The Earthman had drawn a drink from the tap shortly before going to bed, and had left the tumbler standing there.
The idea that had now entered his head had no real purpose. He recognized it as no more than a practical joke, plain and simple; but the idea was clamoring for attention. He would pour out the drug, which was almost certainly meant to keep the giant captive senseless, and replace it with harmless water. The jailer would not see for he was very busy. A little noise, the rattling of the chain or the tinkling of the glass as it was set down, would not matter, for though the Space Men may have possessed a very delicate touch sense capable of detecting faint vibrations in solid objects about them, Shelby knew by now that they had no real organs of hearing.
And so, quickly the deed was done, and quickly he returned to his bed feigning sleep.
It was a long time after the jailer had departed before Shelby's trick bore fruit. The huge prisoner rose to a sitting posture and looked about, a trifle dazedly at first. He surveyed his wounds, felt over himself tentatively, and then glanced at Shelby. The Earthman saw that the fogginess was clearing from his big eyes. There was a questioning expression in them.
Shelby thought that there was a slight chance that the colossus might be able to read his lips even though he could not hear. "Who are you?" he questioned in Pagari.
Apparently the creature understood, for immediately he turned, and with his forefinger slowly traced out on the wall behind him in the planetary symbols: "Friend of enemies of Black Emperor and of Man from Fourth World."
Shelby was taken aback by the Space Man's startling knowledge of things of which he should know nothing. "That makes me your friend," he wrote, smiling.
The giant nodded, and for almost a minute stared fixedly at the Earthman. There was a strange appeal in his eyes. Finally he turned, and laboriously he traced a quaintly worded message on the wall: "Think hard to know what I go say," he wrote.
Shelby had heard a good deal about telepathy and thought transference, depending on etheric vibrations of some kind, supposedly originating in the mind of one individual, and capable of being detected and interpreted by the mind of another. Several savants of Earth and Mars claimed to be adept with it, but owing to the fact that to master the art required a long period of intensive practice, it had not come into general use.
Could it be that this savage of the void was claiming knowledge of it? Sensing the meaning back of the odd words, the Earthman bent every fibre of his will to the task of concentrating on the idea of communication. He gazed fixedly at the eyes of the black mystic, and presently felt a slight tingling about his temples, and then, within his brain it seemed that a tiny voice speaking with a queer wording and a peculiar accent, came to life. It was odd to look at that blank impassive face and hear those words!
"I know you to be friend of mine," the voice said. "I read it in brains. You free me from sleep. But where are we? What Fourth World Man do? What for you here?"
Briefly Shelby outlined the events of the past few days, starting with his meeting with Hekalu. However, he was careful not to make any mention of the Atomic Ray. Then, partially through curiosity, and partially in the hope that the information might be helpful, he mentally asked his companion to tell him more about the Space Men's relations with the Martian.
"Everything maybe all right," said the giant. "Maybe everybody happy at last. Who know? But I tell you. We Star People—my people Star People. For a long time, oh, for very long time, we wander out there in empty places. One million year, two million year, who know? We free. Maybe find little planet—we camp there—soon go away. We fight, we hunt. Oh, there very many of us! Like sand in sky!
"One day some of us find your sun. We land on little world. Stay long. Man from Fourth World come in ship. We frightened, but he make friends. Bring us gifts. We give jewels and things we make. He learn our sign language—talk with us—tell about his world. Go away but soon come back. Bring more gifts—want more jewels and things. He take some of us with him to empty desert where nobody live. Tell us to bring jewels there to trade, but always be careful no one see!
"He make friends with Black Emperor. They plan. Gather big army. But many not like Black Emperor and Fourth World Man. My father, big noble, not like them; I not like them. They never good to us—make our people work hard, and take away our animals.
"Civil war soon—my father lead many little tribes, but Black Emperor and Man from Fourth World win. Have many strange weapons. Make peace for big conquest war, and I am hostage on Fourth Planet.
"Mars man good to me at first. I learn languages—both Pagari and Earth language. I learn to throw thoughts. My father learned from Mars slave. Then bad things happen. Fourth World Man not like me to throw thoughts to my father so far away. He give me sleep drug. When my father lead revolt again, Mars Man torture me. Now, as you say, he take me back to place where army is, on two little worlds."
A gleam of hope came into Austin Shelby's eyes, but it passed quickly. His lips curled bitterly. It was not well to base one's hope on the assertion of an unknown savage that he could hurl his thoughts across millions of miles of space.
"By what name are you known, Man of the Void?" he asked.
The voice in his brain spoke again: "Mars Man call me Ankova." Here the giant made a darting gesture with his hand. "Mean same as so in my sign language—Darting Meteor."
"I see. Can you communicate with your father now, Ankova?—get help?"
The Space Man nodded. "My brain clear now," he said. "Sleep drug not bother me any more. I talk right away."
He lay back on the bunk and for several minutes stared fixedly up at nothing. The performance was reminiscent of the seance of an ancient spirit meeting. He sat up, and again his big eyes fastened themselves upon Shelby, and the uncanny voice spoke in the Earthman's brain:
"I get father. He on scouting expedition—very close. He bring five thousand men to rescue you and me. They get here maybe three, four hours. My father—his army same weapons as Black Emperor's. Flash, flash—all gone—everything gone."
There was the sound of movement beyond the door. Shelby waved his hand in a quick downward gesture which Ankova interpreted correctly. He slumped limply upon the bedding in a very excellent counterfeit of unconsciousness. And then Hekalu Selba entered. His face was white as chalk, and yet there was nothing in it that hinted even of a trace of fear—only icy calm. Behind him was Sega.
"Mr. Shelby," the Martian said with slow cool deliberation, "think well. Either you will reveal the secret of the Atomic Ray immediately or I shall have you immersed in the juice of the flame flowers."
Austin Shelby met Hekalu's chilly stare with a taunting smile. He sensed in the Martian's manner that his plans had met with some serious danger.
"Though I am your prisoner," he told him, "I believe that I can defy you. In the first place I do not fear the tortures that you might inflict upon me." Here he took a tiny glass capsule from his sleeve pocket and placed it in his mouth. "I do not mean by that that I am super-human, that I can endure any pain. But should the torture become unbearable I would crunch the poison vial which I have carried since I joined the Sekor fraternity back on Mars, between my teeth and bring death. That, I am not afraid of. Besides, I could give you the formulas for almost any number of unknown compounds, any one of which might be the missing crystal for all you might know. It would be several hours before you would discover that I had not given you the right one."
The Martian's face grew even whiter and harder at these words. Thoughts and plans flashed through his mind. Should he tell the Earthman what had happened—that Alkebar, the Black Emperor, had secretly slipped through the air lock into space?—that he was certainly intent upon conquering the planets alone? It would not be hard to convince the Earthman that the savage Alkebar would be an infinitely more terrible and ruthless master than any human being ever could be. Perhaps he could win Shelby to his side for as long as he needed him. He was wavering, and then, with the sudden rush of inspiration a better idea came.
"I have told you many times that you are clever, my friend," he said with some slight show of his old careless air. "Again I compliment you. But listen carefully: suppose I took the girl—put her in the gentle embrace of the juice of the flame flowers—told you to produce a formula that would work before I released her?"
The effect on the Earthman was electrical, but it was not quite what Hekalu Selba had expected. The blood red haze of murder rushed before Austin Shelby's eyes, and with movements more suggestive of a wounded panther than a human being he leaped from the bunk and tore for the Martian with flailing fists. He gave no thought to the idea that what Hekki had said might be only a histrionic gesture.
"Oh, God!" he shrieked raspingly, "You Devil! You unutterable stinking, rotten fiend!" But it was a wild useless move. Hekalu was lightening quick and sure with the pistol. He inflicted death, or merely produced a disabling wound almost at will. And so it was that Shelby sprawled senseless on the floor with a nasty though not very dangerous bullet wound across the side of his head.
Sega and the Martian were bending over him, and then again the unexpected happened. An ebony form whose great hands and incredible muscles seemed quite equal to the task of tearing a gorilla limb from limb, arose from the other bunk and towered over the Prince of Selba and his Space Man companion.
The former, hearing a slight sound, turned, and realizing his peril fired two shots at the mountainous monster. Then he darted agilely for the door. He gave one quick backward look—saw the hand of Ankova descending with trip-hammer force upon the skull of Sega, and then slammed the stout portal behind him.
Sega had been unfortunate, but now all his troubles were over for his neck was broken. Ankova transferred to his own belt the weapons of the corpse—his heavy pistol—his case of atomic grenades—his bejeweled war club. Then he devoted his attention to Shelby.
Gently he carried him to the bunk and made awkward attempts to bandage his head with strips torn from the bedding. Satisfied at last with the crude but effective results of his efforts, he strode to the window.
For a long time he stood there, staring. But he saw nothing that interested him. The ether all about was crowded with Space Men coursing with theSelba. Except for a gentle swaying shifting movement they seemed to hang perfectly motionless in the void, and yet their speed was many miles a second.
The fantastic cavalcade aroused no wonder in the mind of Ankova, for to him they were as prosaic and commonplace as the grass under the feet of any Earthian. He cocked his head on one side as though listening. Perhaps at that moment something was coming to him from across the endless regions of the etheric desert—something which only his incredibly refined telepathic sense could detect.
His unshod feet sensed the faint vibration in the metal floor. Someone was approaching the room. First taking the precaution of tearing Shelby's chain from the wall, he turned and waited before the door with ready war club. He did not wait long for it banged open almost immediately. A Space Man appeared. Behind him were others.
Ankova did not ask their mission for he saw that they wore the insignia that meant loyalty to the man from the Fourth World. Instead he leaped in to close quarters. His whirring war club, toothed with sharp spikes, ripped and tore at the head and shoulders of the unfortunate warrior. Falteringly, the creature tried to parry the blows with his own weapon; but it was useless. Before he was able to attain his fighting stride he was down, the purple radio-active liquid that flowed in his veins in lieu of blood, dyeing the threshold. His lips curled in a grimace of agony, but he made no sound—mute he had lived and he died in the same manner.
Ankova stepped over the prostrate form and engaged the one who had stood behind him. The second Space Man fared little better. He made but a brief and unsuccessful defense and then he too went down. And so Ankova, who before his capture had won fame among the tribes of the Star People as one of the mightiest fighters that their race had ever produced, battled on in the narrow passage until the seven Space Men whom Hekalu had sent to put him and Austin Shelby under restraint were either dying or dead.
The victor glanced down the corridor—saw at the farther end a small portion of the control room's interior. Koo Faya, the Martian, was there, working with demoniac haste over switches and dials.
Ankova drew his pistol, started to aim at the slave, and then thought better of it. There was a tenseness within the hull of theSelba—something which made a deep impression on Ankova's keen intuition. His muscles tautened and a tingling sensation rippled over his ebony hide. The vibrations of the rocket motors were more noticeable than usual. Evidently the ship was tearing along at the greatest speed it could attain. And it swayed unnaturally.
Ankova knew the layout of theSelbawell, for he had traveled in it often. And now he sensed quite clearly what was happening. He hurried to a supply room and selected a space armor from a rack. His Earthman friend might need it. Then he dashed back to the room In which he and Shelby had been imprisoned.
A glance out of the window confirmed his suspicions as to what was going on. The force of Space Men which was acting as an escort for theSelbahad arranged itself in a sort of spherical protecting network around the craft. Another and superior force was attempting savagely to pierce this formation. The foes of Hekalu's henchmen would draw themselves into cone-shaped groups and rush the defenders, and the latter would swarm over the cones like angry and determined hornets. A hot fight was in progress out there. The ether was lit with green flashes of light, and fragments of the bodies of Space Men and their vehicles already strewed the void. In this running battle theSelbawas not idle. Her torpedoes were exploding among the attackers with blinding glares of light.
Ankova wondered who the would-be destroyers of theSelbawere. Clearly they were not the forces of his father, for they had not yet had time to arrive. Some stray tribe perhaps. He wished that he might see their insignia, but owing to their distance from the ship and their eccentric movements, this was impossible. He did not know that they were the minions of Alkebar who had turned enemy to Hekalu but a few hours before.
The Space Man realized that for the time being he was safe enough, but he took the precaution of planning for escape from the ship should it become necessary. He eyed the heavily glazed porthole. A few deft blows with his war club would shatter that. Beyond, there were a few discs without Space Men circling about. With luck it would be possible to capture one. First he barricaded the door with metal bars torn from the bunks, and then put the space armor on the still senseless Earthman. Then there was nothing to do but wait.
The battle was going against the defenders. Shattering concussions of atomic projectiles banging against theSelba'shull made the hurtling vessel pitch and roll frightfully. The thunder of shells waxed and waned.
It must have been over two hours later that a huge torpedo set in motion by the forces of the Black Emperor, struck the ship. The explosion rolled her completely over, and tore a jagged though not disabling hole in her side. The air puffed out from the control room compartment, but the men who labored so feverishly there, were clad in heavy space armor, and aside from being badly bruised they were unhurt.
The torpedo was the last gesture of the Alkebarians. Ankova saw a cloud of luminous specks approaching from the void at terrific velocity. They grew rapidly brighter. A blue and an orange star shot up from their midst—the identification signal of Telaba, Ankova's father. That signal was quite enough for the Black Emperor's men. Without waiting to argue they turned and fled. So quickly did they go that Telaba's warriors were unable to identify them.
The rebel tribesmen were checking their speed now, preparing to fight. But still they came on apparently like hurtling comets. They swept the remnants of Hekalu Selba's loyalists before them in one terrific charge, and then they were swarming over theSelbaand through the rent in her side. There was a brief flurry of pistol shots from the crew before they were captured and bound.
In a prison compartment aft, Austin Shelby had regained his senses sufficiently to have a vague idea of what was going on around him. Ankova was supporting him, and he was staggering toward the door. His mind took up a train of thought from where it had left off. He was calling for Jan and cursing Hekalu. Cased as his head was, in an oxygen helmet, his shrieking voice was magnified a dozen times, and assumed a weird vaulted quality that startled him back to sensibility.
Ankova read his thoughts, and by telepathy replied to him: "Your lady? I forget. But we find her. She all right—sure!"
The Space Man removed the barricade and opened the door. The sudden outrush of air from the room almost toppled Shelby from his feet. And then the Earthman heard a familiar voice in the head-phones of the radio with which his helmet was equipped: "I'm in X7, Austin. Let me out if you can."
"Janice!" he cried, and with new vigor hurried to the door of the room she had mentioned.
Ankova smashed the lock with his war club and the portal flew open. Jan was standing there encased in space armor. She was trying hard to smile.
"You're safe, darling!" Shelby cried, "And I thought that that fiend was going to hurt you!"
"My luck," she said. "Koo Faya was thoughtful enough to bring this space armor, otherwise, I wouldn't have been fit to look at any more." She pointed to a shattered window. "And you—heaven's how you can yell—and swear! I am ashamed of you!"
Her eyes widened when she looked at Ankova, but Shelby reassured her. "This is Ankova, and he is our friend—big shot, too," he said. "And Jan, I guess we're free now—really free."
Ugly Space Men, some of them gashed and wounded, crowded about as though bent on destroying the two feeble Earthians. But with imperious gestures Ankova waved them back. He conversed by signs with these warriors of his father, and then took Janice Darell and Austin each by the arm.
"Big surprise," he told them. "Come."
He led them to the control room. And there, in the grip of a black colossus was Hekalu Selba—captive. The Martian nodded perfunctorily to the girl and then turned his level gaze toward the man. His face showed no hint of anger, and it seemed that a shadow of a smile twinkled about his lips.
"Here we have a contrast, Mr. Shelby," he said quietly, "triumph and disaster staring at each other!"
Shelby told him that he should be wreaking vengeance on the noble for the numerous wrongs he had done him, but the calm unflinching attitude of the Prince of Selba made him almost like the captive.
Shelby waved the Martian's captors back and he stood free. "There is no contrast now, Akar Hekalu, for an outsider could not tell which was which!"
As Hekki's jailer led him away, Shelby, assisted by Janice Darell, busied himself with the ship's controls.
And so the batteredSelbaescorted by five thousand Space Men set out for a certain minor planet where were amassed the forces of Telaba, insubordinate vassal of the Black Emperor. And on another planet was Alkebar, the Black Emperor himself, ready to hurl his shock troops, a horde five million strong, at the planets.