The Secret of the Martian Moons (20 page)

The Command Board was located in a large domed building at the center of the city. Several vehicles were already there, and Nelson and his two escorts entered to find a group of about thirty men already seated in comfortable easy chairs around a series of low tables obviously housing recorders and transmitters.

There was a strong similarity between all the men there, Nelson noted as he was introduced and presented to several of the leaders. None were over five feet four, all were very broad-shouldered and deep-chested, stocky and muscular, and all were red-haired.

A graying oldster seemed to be the head. He was Norfal: World-talker and played the role of chairman.

When Nelson had seated himself, Bodril took the floor. Talking in Martian, he outlined Nelson’s story and the entire problem. Sitting next to young Parr, Taktor: Word-learner whispered a rapid translation of everything that was going on.

Then there followed some heated discussion. There was none, Nelson was relieved to note, who counseled war. It was agreed that every effort must be spent to find some way of making peace with their neighbor world. The problem was how to get through to them.

A suggestion was made that they broadcast directly to Earth when their planetary positions permitted it. If Nelson came before the cameras and explained, then perhaps that would break down terrestrial suspicions.

“It won’t work,” Nelson said when he heard this. “I am sure the Earth leaders will believe that I am speaking under hypnosis or compulsion. That sort of trick was tried in our wars and they would surely suspect it. I don’t think they would believe anything you said, in view of the stories the Vegans must have told them.”

Another suggestion was made that they simply leave Earth alone. But Norfal himself rejected that. If they did, then sooner or later Earth would attack the Martians. Even if they didn’t, if ever a future generation of Martians wanted to set off for the stars again, leaving Mars untenanted, they would certainly find the planet devastated or ruined by the time they returned. It was essential, Norfal insisted, to make peace and establish good relations right away, without delay.

Finally Nelson took the floor. He had been listening to all the various viewpoints and saw that they were getting nowhere. “I have an idea,” he said. “I think I can find a way.” Taktor was translating his words into Martian as he spoke.

“While the people of the Earth will not believe me if I spoke from Mars, they will believe me if I meet them in person. It seems to me that I have got to go back myself and tell them about you. If you still have the Vegan cubeship you found me in, I can go back in that, for they must be still expecting it. They would let me through if I arrived in that.”

There was some conversation and then Norfal answered: "I think you speak correctly. If you yourself could appear there, then indeed they might listen to reason. But it will not be possible for you to use the cubeship. Not only would it be all too slow in making the trip, but it is still out of commission. The blast that hit it has burned out its powerlines. They would all have to be repaired. And then, if you appeared in that ship, why would they believe you? There would be no evidence that your account of the—the Marauders—was anything but a dream.”

Bodril got the floor. “I think I can find a solution. If Nelson Parr could go back to Earth in a Martian cruiser, he would arrive there very fast and very soon. The cruiser would prove our reality. While perhaps a whole fleet of our ships might run the risk of encountering terrestrial suicide attackers, one swift small cruiser could slip through their guards . . . and would not be such a menace as to draw too heavy or too violent fire.”

This struck a responsive note. The meeting ended with the plan's approval. Besides its being the quickest way out, Nelson realized that the bravado and daring involved in the cruiser idea appealed to the Martian sense of adventurousness.

During the next few days Nelson had a chance to look over the secrets of the world on which he had been born. He was shown through the great underground workshops, saw the vast all-mechanical machinery that turned out most of the products used on Mars without the need of human supervision. He spent fascinating hours in museum and recording rooms, gazing with awe and wonder at the vivid records of life on distant star worlds. All too soon the time came to depart.

The cruiser was a sleek black craft, a couple of hundred feet long, streamlined and rakish in appearance. It rested on the desert floor outside Solis Laeus, in an area reserved to the great star vessels themselves. For as far as the eye could see were row on row of giant ships, thousands of feet in length, towering up like man-made cliffs. Among them the cruiser seemed almost a speck.

Bodril: Space-leader, who had been a captain of one of the great ships, had volunteered to pilot the little cruiser to Earth. Once again Nelson took leave of the red desert of Mars as he paused in the lock of the cruiser to look back. Then he entered, found his way to the forward control cabin.

Bodril was seated at an amazingly simple control board. It was a glassy hemisphere in which seemed to float tiny images of the inner planets. The board was strictly automatic. All controls were primarily machine run. The art of space flight had been so simplified that all a pilot had to do was to indicate where he wanted to go. The mechanical controls did the rest, automatically computing the course, launching the ship, directing its speed and slowing it on arrival.

Without more ado, Bodril flicked the starter and leaned back. The ship left the ground, soared upward and pointed itself sunward. Nelson felt nothing. It was smooth.

There was nothing to do for most of the trip, and it was a blessing that it could be done so fast. The Earth was visible but still far away on the other side of the sun. The ship, which could travel at interstellar speeds if necessary, cut the intercepting orbit short. They would approach Earth in about four days’ travel.

During this time Nelson tried to put out of his head thoughts of his ordeal to come. He felt sure that Earth’s defenders would not be caught napping. He examined the ship’s armament, an impressive array of weapons and shields. He talked with other members of tire crew, and found them seasoned space warriors, veterans of many a battle with monster and inhuman warriors. The stories they told were always amazing.

Steadily they neared the Earth. Then came a moment when an alarm rang throughout the ship. Nelson dashed to the control room. Bodril sat before the pilot board, hand resting on chin, an odd smile on his lips. When Nelson came up, he pointed.

They were still a million miles from Earth, but now a single spot hung in the void between them. “It must be the outermost scout of the defending fleet,” said Bodril.

Contact had been made.

They rapidly closed in, not bothering to halt their regular course for Earth. The other ship did not falter on its own course. It seemed to be swinging out to intercept them.

“What sort of craft would it be?” asked Bodril. “Rocket-driven? What kind of armament?”

Nelson thought a moment. “It would be rocket-driven of course, because we have no other kind of space drive yet—unless there were ships of another sort stored away on Phobos, I don’t think they would risk something like that as a first scout. But as for armament, that’s a puzzle.

“You see, we never had a space war. There are no other intelligent races in this system, and we never had any space pirates or powerful colonies. So we never had a space-going war fleet. There are a number of fast emergency rocket craft, and that is probably one of them. They could be armed in a hurry. I imagine outside torpedo tubes could be rigged on their hulls easily enough, fitted with rocket torpedoes adopted from the guided missiles used during Earth’s last great war. With atomic warheads, they could be quite dangerous. Add proximity fuses, and it wouldn’t be much trouble firing them at an invader.”

Bodril nodded. “That sounds like a good guess. I’ve got our outer radar screens up so if anything approaches us, we’ll know of it.”

They could see the Earth defender approaching now and beginning to show up in their telescopic view-plates. It was, as surmised, a small streamlined rocket, heading still directly toward them, riding on streams of blue-white atomic fire from its tubes. Now, even as they watched, they saw a spurt of yellow-white fire from its side and a spark seemed to travel out from it and vanish.

“That’s the torpedo!” said Nelson. Bodril nodded silently, shifted a lever on his panel. Instantly a point of color appeared in the hemispheric space sector plate. The torpedo was on track. Bodril watched it a moment, saw it nearing the thin outer circle that marked their own ship’s outer sphere of sensitivity. The moment it touched, there was a flicker, then a flash.

For an instant Nelson was blinded by the glare that swept in through the nearest visual port in the control room. “That was a thorium disintegration bomb,” said Bodril.

“Won’t the rays penetrate our hull even now?” asked Nelson.

“Nothing but visual light can get through our neutralizer screen,” said Bodril. “A good thing too. If I thought it was otherwise, I’d have blown that cruiser off the map the instant we spotted it. We used to do that when attacked, until we got the Procyon people’s neutralizer devices.”

“We should make a careful point not to hurt anyone,” said Nelson. “We’ve got to dodge and box, but if any of the defenders get killed, it will be very hard to keep Earth tempers down.”

“I know,” said Bodril. “We’d be the same. You just better hope then that that cruiser was shielded against its own bomb’s blast and rays too.”

The cruiser was already slipping out of sight, far off and losing speed. Nelson expressed the opinion that its crew surely must have been armored against the danger. “Probably had but the one torpedo,” he added.

Now again they were heading on toward the great glowing green-and-blue world. Nelson could see the aura of its atmosphere glowing in the rays of the sun. He could see mists veiling parts of its surface, and the lower edge of South America peeking through. It was a beautiful world, he thought, the finest in the system.

The moon was not in their path, but was just emerging from the other, farther, side of Earth. A good thing, Nelson thought, for the bulk of whatever war fleet Earth had equipped was probably based there. He explained this thought to Bodril.

“That’s luck,” said the Martian space leader. “Maybe we can beat them in.”

On they sped, cutting down the miles to Earth hundreds by the second. Again their radar signaled trouble. There was a line of little spheres somewhere up ahead of them. Even as they watched they saw these mysterious objects beginning to float in their direction.

“Must be space buoys of some sort,” said Nelson. “Patterned after the floating mines of the sea wars. They’ll be dangerous.”

“Manned?” asked Bodril, but Nelson shook his head and explained the idea of mines to him. The Martian broke into a smile. “Well, as long as they’re not manned, they’re no trouble.”

He whistled into the ship’s communicator. Several answering hails showed his gunners alert. One after another the Martian cruiser’s various gun turrets blinked into activity on the central board’s markers. One after another the little spheres vanished from their vision screen.

“What’s happening?” asked Nelson.

“I’m giving my gunners some target practice. They’re picking off the space mines by hand beam,” was the reply.

Another alarm bell rang. This time there were several ships rocketing into their field of vision from behind them.

“Clever,” said Bodril. “They slipped up behind us from somewhere. That’ll keep us alert, but probably won’t be much trouble. As long as we outdistance them. Besides, we can play a little trick on them that’ll have them puzzled.” He pressed several buttons on his board, grinning.

“The one thing they probably don’t expect is that we plan to land on Earth,” said Nelson.

"Exactly. I’m sure they think we are just an advance scout for a great fleet of invaders. So I'm giving them plenty of grounds for their belief.” He looked up from the board. “Look to our rear. Nelson,” he said.

The young Terrestrial turned, went over to the port plate that looked out their rear. He gasped. Stringing out behind them was a long line of identical cruisers, long black Martian craft. Farther behind them, behind even the pursuing Earth ships, was a shadowy black cloud, the mighty bulk of the entire Mars Marauder fleet!

"What is it! Where’d they come from!” For one terrible sinking instant the thought flashed through Nelson s head that he had been deceived. That the Martians had fooled him into revealing Earth’s secrets and then had secretly launched a Marauder invasion on his heels. Bodril’s chuckle relieved the thought in an instant.

"Nice show, eh! It’s a three-dimension picture show we re putting on. For the last million miles we have been spraying out a special type of dust on our course. Projectors from our rear are now setting up some excellent films of our fleet in full array. The dust motes pick up the projection, which is atomically attuned to them and reflect the picture perfectly. It also will deceive radars. But look at our attackers!”

On their viewplate, the Earth fleet was shifting swiftly, spreading out, moving no longer directly for the advance Martian ship, which appeared to be but the smallest and weakest of patrol scouts, but was heading suicidally for what appeared to be the mighty mass of battleships a million miles to their rear!

"There isn’t a single defender coming for us now!” said Nelson amazed. "How could they be so foolish!”

"Don’t take it to heart,” said Bodril. "After all, these men are truly brave, believe me. There are mighty few races in the galaxy that would have the courage to go for the main fleet when surprised like that. Almost all simply cut and run. You realize that every man in those Earth ships believes he is going to certain death? That every man there is prepared to throw away his life in an effort to save his world? It makes even a man like myself proud to share ancestors with them.”