The Secret of the Martian Moons (15 page)

“Yes,” said Parr, and turning away from the screen, conferred briefly with Doldnan. He turned back hastily. “You’ll have to start at once, son. I’m told our moon has been in motion for the past half hour already, starting to swing out to make a race for the Earth. We’re on the sunward side and going to race in, cutting inside Mercury’s orbit to swing around and out again to join Earth on the other side of the sun. You’ll have to outrace us, because Deimos is on the outward side of Mars now and if Kunosh makes good his escape plans it will start outward at any moment.”

"Gosh, you’re right!” Nelson jumped to the tablelike control board of his strange ship. There were flickering lights on a curious panel there, but he could not decipher them. Doubtless the original designers of the ship had a code that told them what their ship’s detectors indicated, but the Earthling had no time to figure it out. He glanced through the windows of the ship. He was still inside the hangar, but glancing upward he saw that the open dome was showing a visible motion of stars.

He stared a few seconds at the visible sky and realized that the motion of the stars was different from what it should be in the normal orbital motion of the small moon. Kunosh had started the starship going! Every precious second wasted now would take him farther away from Earth, farther away from a rendezvous with Phobos.

Nelson went back to the telescreen. He saw that his father was busy conferring with several of the native councilors. “Good-by,” Nelson called. "I’m going to take off. I’ll try to catch up with you as soon as possible, if this ship can do it. Call me later!”

His father glanced back, waved. Nelson switched off, ran back to the controls. He could feel beneath his feet a curious vibration—the whole moon was undergoing a series of tiny quakes as it was being shaken out of its orbital inertia, forced to respond to controls that had not been used in hundreds of Earth years.

Hastily he checked his control plugs, reviewing Kunosh’s hasty words. He wondered if the old man had lied even about this—it wouldn’t be past him to do that. Well, he had no other chance but to try the plugs. He pushed the plug that was to seal the ship and was pleased to hear the far-off thud as the outside door slid into place. A light glowing on his board confirmed that and added to his knowledge of the controls.

He glanced upward and saw that the hangar was still open to the skies. Evidently Kunosh, who could have closed it and made trouble for him, was sincere in his desire that the Earthling go away. Nelson punched in the starter plug and felt the ship begin to vibrate on a tune of its own.

Somewhere in the engine floor below him there was a high-pitched whine that settled down into a low humming. There was a smell of ozone as currents started to flow into bars and condensers that had been idle since before the Pyramids were built. The ship seemed vibrant with its own life, seemed as if it were poised on its toes, ready for a leap into the void which was its natural surrounding.

Nelson punched the accelerator button, manipulated the hand bars below it. The ship gave a light jolt, and Nelson felt die strange sensation of pressure against his feet. He saw the cavern walls suddenly slip downward and in an instant the outer surface of Deimos passed in view and vanished below. He glanced to the side windows, saw the cold gray surface of the little moon spread out, and he directed the cubical ship upward, steadily accelerating.

His eyes took in the control panel and he watched the various lights shift thereon. Quickly he recognized a little white square in the center as indicating his own ship. To one side a large red mass was gathering and changing in color. This must indicate the moon he was leaving. He recognized the system as very akin to a radar board, though apparently the Malakarji Vegans used a color system to indicate different bodies. An arrow of red pointed steadily to one side—and he recognized this as the Mars direction. Nelson nodded to himself—he wouldn't have much trouble with this ship, even though it did seem to be blind on the underside.

He brought the ship to a hanging position near the moon while he studied the area of space in which he found himself. It was as his father had said. Phobos was on the sunward side of Mars, out of sight in eclipse by the bulk of the red planet, now dark beneath Nelson's gaze. The sun could be seen by the edge of its corona peeking from one hemisphere of Mars.

Deimos was on what could be termed the outer side of Mars, facing away from the sun. Its position in relation to the oncoming Marauder fleet was at right angles, the enemy ships coming in a full ninety degrees removed. It was apparent already that Deimos was farther away from Mars than it had been before.

Kunosh was taking his moon into the empty reaches of outer space—directly away from Earth, from Mars,

from the Marauders. By the time the dread black ships reached Mars, Deimos would be lost in the untraceable void between the stars.

Nelson raced to the controls. He had to turn the ship, race around Mars, and head sunward at top speed if he ever hoped to see Earth again!

It the moment of takeoff, Nelson’s cubical craft was . heading away from Deimos but much in the same direction as the moon. He ran his fingers over the control board lightly, getting the feel of it, and then punched another button. There was a dizzying grinding noise and the whole houselike ship seemed to tilt. There was a split-second feeling of falling and then the engine caught in again and the gravital thrust was resumed. Now, however, the craft was moving away from Deimos at right angles to Mars.

It was eerie the way this odd ship operated. Built as it was like a small sealed house, with everything upright against a floor, it was totally unlike any ship Nelson had seen, even on the most experimental designs of the earliest space conquerors. As a rule ships were designed to fly in weightlessness, riding on the static impetus delivered by their rockets. While the rocket drive was on, those within the ship would be restricted to their hammocks and cushioned rests under the weight of an acceleration of several gravities. After this drive, which never lasted too long, the rest of the trip would take place in free fall—where there was no feeling of top or bottom, where floor and ceiling were the same.

On this odd vessel there was always one gravity acceleration and no free fall. Perhaps not exactly one gravity, for Nelson felt singularly light. The planet for which this ship had been designed must have been smaller than Earth, its gravity somewhat weaker, and its controls adjusted accordingly. Still it was a pleasant feeling for the young man, who had been so long virtually weightless.

Nelson watched the heavens as his cube tore along. Deimos rapidly diminished in size, became a white dot, and vanished amid the stars. Mars did not change much in diameter, but the sun was rising over its disk as Nelson's ship rushed away from its shadow into the direct rays of the sun. That body assumed at last its usual appearance—a blindingly brilliant white ball of light, surrounded by a waving glow of fiery projections that were its coronary discharges. All this appeared against the jet-black airless sky of space!

Nelson searched the sky for a sign of Phobos. This proved a difficult task, for as that tiny body was between the sun and himself, it was always the unlit dark side that he would see. He could hope to see the runaway moon, therefore, only by the manner in which it might black out the view of stars whose light it crossed. And as the moon was also heading almost directly sunward, always the bright glare of Sol would hurt the eye of the searcher.

It didn't take too long for the cubical ship to get clear of Mars
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bulk—and it dawned on Nelson that its speed of one gravity was an illusion. Inside, this acceleration effect remained fixed, but plainly the craft had a greater capacity for speed than that. Somehow this extra pressure was deflected or absorbed so that it never affected the interior of the cube. Another invention that would immensely improve the art of space flight—if there was such an art left after the Marauders got through with the solar system 1

Nelson studied the control board again to try to determine what were the equivalents of speed and pressure indicators. He found a glowing bulb of green that had originally been very dim, was now fairly bright, and seemed to be growing stronger all the time. Carefully he adjusted the acceleration plug and the glow softened. This, then, was the speedometer system, and the young man used it to level off at a steady rate of speed until he was clear around Mars and heading in the proper direction.

It occurred to him that the builders of this ship must have been a keen-eyed race if they could depend on slight shifts of color intensity as a reliable scientific guide.

Clear of Mars, he again turned the craft, experiencing the odd second of tilt, and this time pointed the roof of the ship almost directly at the sun. He pulled the accelerator plug out and watched the green bulb grow brighter until it became almost blinding.

For a moment he bit his lip as he realized that he still had no way of knowing just how fast he would be going and therefore just how and when to slow down or shift. This was going to be a very dangerous business—he was, in fact, flying almost blind and it would take a miracle of sorts if he could bring this ship into port again!

To navigate through space one had to know not only the exact whereabouts and speed of your objective, but a very definitely exact idea of your own speed and whereabouts. Doubtless the builders of this Vegan vessel could read this information, but it was an unlearned language to Nelson.

Anxiously he went to the telescreen, turned it on. Nothing appeared but shifting lights. He wanted to turn on a general radio call, but he could not tell how or what controlled that. He tried various plugs at random, giving each a chance. Finally he got a hum on one, called, worked his screen.

There was a flicker of bright light, the passing glimpse of a face. Holding his breath, he jiggled the button back and forth and then at last the screen steadied and he looked again into the face of a Phobosian. The view was not as clear as before, but it was steady.

The stranger saw him, turned away and apparently called. In a few minutes McQueen’s ruddy features flashed into view.

“Hi, feller. Heard about your little troubles. What’s on your mind?”

Quickly Nelson outlined his problem to McQueen. The man frowned a minute, then said, “Well, I can have the navigators here locate you and give you your speed and direction from our radar observations. You can slow up or speed up a bit and they can follow you and tell you what you’re doing. In that way you can build up a rough chart of how your ship operates and what power light indicates what power speed. How’s that?”

This made good sense, and although it might mean losing time, it was vital to crack the problem of his ship’s controls. McQueen’s face gave way to that of Telders, their expedition’s crack astral navigator.

Then began a half hour of shifting speed and marking notes. Nelson would push the plug down and dim the bulb. Telders would take a reading on Phobos’ super-radar and tell the boy his speed. Nelson would then accelerate slowly and get a new reading from the rocketeer. In this way young Parr finally jotted down a listing equivalent of speed for every power of his control board light and was able to get that clear.

Next he obtained from Telders the exact direction and course that the giant starship was following. They were proceeding at near maximum acceleration (their greatest speed was unsafe in planetary zones) almost directly toward the sun. When they passed within Mercury’s orbit, they would shift sufficiently to miss the sun and tear on past it, coming to within eight million miles of its blazing atmosphere. This would be a ticklish and unpleasant experience but it would not last long, so great would be their speed at that moment. Once past it they would blast along away from it and straight toward Earth, slowing down as they got past the orbit of Venus.

The trip would probably take about five weeks at the acceleration of which Phobos was capable. I advise you to try to catch us and land here,” said Telders.

I don’t think your little ship could possibly survive such acceleration and such a near-sun course itself.”

Nelson nodded. He corrected his direction so that he was following directly on Phobos’ trail—having located it on his visual screens by following Telders’ directions. Then he pulled out his acceleration plug full blast. The green bulb was blinding.

Suddenly there was nothing else to do but wait. It would take hours to catch up with Phobos and there was nothing to do but sit it out. And now Nelson realized that he hadn’t eaten, that he was famished.

He waved good-by to Telders, telling him that he’d tune back in in another hour, and switched off. He set out to find the cube’s kitchen.

The ship was indeed a little house! He looked into a couple of small bedrooms, oddly equipped, but clearly sleeping chambers with recognizable pneumatic beds. He passed through a sort of wardroom-library, whose books were small wall panels which flashed rapidly moving series of unreadable colored symbols when activated. There were markings on doors in these symbols, and he recognized that the alphabet these Malakarji used was made up of seven simple symbols, but always used in color, thereby making die same symbol serve at least nine possible letters, depending on whether the figure was red, or blue, or some other color.

He found the kitchen at last, a compact chamber with a counterlike board running the length and the usual plugs, marked with colored letters. It dawned on Nelson then that if the ship had been last used a few thousand years ago, there would be no hope of finding edible supplies!

Well, nothing gained by not trying. He began to work the plugs to see what he could get.

He got water right away. There was a squishing sound and a little transparent container popped out of a wall opening, like a plug from a message tube. He held it in his hand and looked at it. There was a cap at one end which he untwisted, and after that it was just like a glass of water. It tasted odd, tangy, with a curious, but not unpleasant chemical undertone. But it quenched the thirst.