The huge ship from Mars bore on toward Earth with
the last haggard survivors of a terrible plague.
But Ric Martin hurtled to intercept the space-giant,
knowing it brought an evil far deadlier than
even the relentless metal-spores it fled!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_"In approximately two more hours," Dar Mihelson said, "the ionization
towers will fail. Look well upon your world, for we may never return."_
_He was a huge, stern-visaged man, with the weight of his
responsibility showing upon him, but his voice was soft as he spoke to
his people through the ship's central televise._
_"This is our last chance for survival. Upon the success of this flight
depends our very lives, and the preservation of the race. Venus is
denied to us. Mercury has thrown up a barricade for ten thousand miles
around their planet. Only Earth has offered us sanctuary--and even
there a growing faction has risen against us in fear that some of the
deadly spores may be transported to their planet."_
_Dar Mihelson paused, turned his bronze face to look out upon his
world. His violet eyes brimmed with anguish. Only the walls of red
metallic dust could be seen, the appalling clouds that had surged from
the furthermost reaches of the planet to wipe out most of the populace,
destroying cities, crumbling everything metallic and thereby adding
unto itself. It had been a race of their science against time. The
Ionization Towers had held back the dust, only long enough for the huge
spaceship to be completed._
_"We want to go peaceably," Dar Mihelson continued, "but we are
prepared for any contingency. Many of you have wondered about the_
Valiant's _unusual construction; some of you have doubted that the ship
is capable. True, its secret is known only to a few, but this much I
can tell you now: the_ Valiant _is a fully-equipped fighting ship, and
we will use it as such if the occasion arises!"_
_The lines smoothed from Mihelson's face, as he concluded, "You have
all been assigned to your quarters. The take-off will be in thirty
minutes. Let us spend that time in prayer to merciful Providence, to
guide us safely through our crisis...."_
I
Ric Martin could feel the excitement already, as he eased his gyro
closer to Mount Palomar and saw the great Observatory dome just below
him. The night was dark, ideal for observation. The greatest minds of
Earth would be here this night, to watch a world and its people in
their death-throes.
Ric's face went grim at the thought of it. For weeks the tele-casts had
been jammed with the news. Mars was dying, and Mars had been a friendly
neighbor for decades. Earth had been helpless to act. No one, not even
the Martians, knew where the mysterious Red Plague came from; it had
appeared simultaneously in a score of places across the planet, quickly
spreading and destroying everything before it.
After prolonged hesitancy, the Earth Council had agreed to accept the
Mars refugees. Thereupon a brooding dread and mistrust had swept across
Earth like a patina. A new political faction, the anti-Mars sect, had
arisen and was gathering strength. There would surely be trouble....
A shrill siren blast brought Ric out of his revery. He glanced back,
saw a white-winged police 'copter descending upon him.
"Damn!" Ric set his plane down on the broad field atop Palomar, as the
police 'copter came down beside him. Ric stepped out, straightened his
uniform and waited.
"How'd you ever get through our lines?" the officer demanded
suspiciously. "Don't you know this is the night of the Mars take-off?
No one's permitted up here!"
"Sure, I know. But I have a special pass to this shindig." Ric produced
a card signed by Professor George Broxted, and the name was magical.
"Very good, sir. Sorry to have detained you!" The officer stared
after Ric's departing figure as though wondering how a Captain of the
Interstellar Fleet could gain admittance here where so many big-names
had failed.
And even Ric didn't realize what an occasion this was until he reached
the tower. Every outstanding figure in the scientific as well as the
political world was here, gathered in tense groups about the huge
tele-panel in the center of the room. This Mars take-off was certainly
the most dramatic event in all Mars' history and perhaps Earth's as
well!
Professor Broxted spied him, came over and shook hands.
"Good evening, Ric! I won't bother with introductions. No one cares
about that tonight. Glad you could make it!"
"So am I, Professor. I wouldn't have missed this. How much time?"
"Take-off's in twenty minutes, but we've already got the scene in
focus. We can bring it to a distance of a few miles, thanks to the new
magni-beams. Come."
They threaded their way toward the huge screen to stare at the scene
pictured there.
* * * * *
It was a terribly changed Mars that Ric looked upon. The blood-red
metallic haze covered all but a mile-wide strip of clear atmosphere;
and along this strip Ric could see tiny dots of white light, which he
guessed must be the Ionization Towers.
"There's the _Valiant_," Broxted said. "You can just see it on the
lower edge of the screen."
Ric peered--then gave a gasp of disbelief. Even at this distance, it
was apparent that the ship had tremendous bulk and stretched for fully
a mile!
"They're going to hoist gravs in that? It will fall apart!"
"There are some here tonight," Broxted's voice lowered, "who hope that
will happen. The _Valiant_ was built in record time under supervision
of Dar Mihelson. It's supposed to have a new type of anti-grav."
Broxted paused. "I knew Dar Mihelson well, when I was at Mars
University two years ago. A fine man, and I trust him still. He's given
his word that not a spore will reach Earth, and every precaution will
be taken!"
"It's a ticklish situation."
"Yes. And believe me, the anti-Mars faction here has grown more than
anyone dreams! There've been secret meetings, and tonight may set
everything off. Ric ... if the _Valiant_ manages to up gravs, keep
your eyes open! Wessell's here!"
Ric's brows furrowed, beneath his shock of blond hair. Yes, Wessell
_would_ be here. Felix Wessell was Supreme Commander of Earth's
Interstellar Fleet, and he'd been particularly bitter in his
denunciation of the Earth Council's decision to accept the Mars
refugees. There had even been rumors that Wessell was holding the Fleet
in readiness, if necessary, to prevent the _Valiant_ from landing on
Earth. The man wielded a powerful influence.
Ric looked about him now but didn't see his superior, Wessell, and
didn't want to. He did see Lal Disbro, the Martian Ambassador. Disbro
and his aides had been stranded on Earth when the sudden malady struck
his planet. Now the man was a disconsolate figure who seemed to have
aged ten years in as many weeks, knowing that only a few of his people
were left and even their fate was an imponderable.
It was largely due to Disbro's frantic efforts that the Earth Council
had agreed to accept the _Valiant_--and then only after appeals to
Venus and Mercury had been coldly refused. Looking at Disbro now, Ric
felt truly sorry for him.
* * * * *
"It's almost time!" Broxted touched Ric's arm. The telescopic sights
were being set to follow the _Valiant_ in its flight. There was tension
in the room and sudden, deathly silence. Could the clumsy bulk of the
_Valiant_ really hoist gravs, or would it crack up against the wastes
of Mars? The future of a race was in the balance.
The televise took on a deeper glow. The entire planet of Mars was a
backdrop across the screen. The seconds ticked off. Suddenly then ...
the _Valiant_ moved! It seemed to shudder for a moment under unleashed
power. Then it slid slowly forward across sand.
For a few seconds the scene wavered. The watchers couldn't tell what
was happening. Ric gave a quick glance at Lal Disbro. The man's face
had gone pale.
Now it was apparent that the great ship was rising as a bulk, to hang
poised, fighting against gravity. Then the flash of rockets was plainly
seen--literally dozens of them, spaced in parallel rows across the
long underhull.
The scene was silent and unreal. But there was no doubt in any man's
mind, now--the ship had lifted gravs and was blasting! Slowly, the
great lumbering shape widened the distance. The scene resolved to the
blackness of outer space where a glitter of stars was seen. There the
_Valiant_ steadied on her course.
The worst was over. It had been dramatic, momentous. Ric heard sighs of
relief about him. People were congratulating Lal Disbro, whose face was
wreathed in smiles.
But there were men in this room who did not smile, who were strangely
silent. Again Ric allowed his gaze to sweep about--and this time he
spotted Wessell.
The man was tall, hard-featured, crisp of manner. His eyes were stern
as he leaned a little forward to peer at the screen. Ric watched him.
Wessell's only show of emotion was a slight twitching at the corners of
his mouth. Now that the _Valiant_ had gained free space he was studying
it, studying it hard. His lips curled a little in disdain.
Ric glanced again at the screen. The Martian ship _was_ clumsy, there
was no denying it. On its slow and careful course it would take perhaps
six days to reach Earth. Much could happen in six days....
Then he saw Wessell rise. The man crossed to the private room where the
communicators were kept. Through the partly open door Ric saw him lift
a tube and speak into it with crisp authority.
"Trouble," Ric muttered. "I knew it!" And there were cold, coiling
knots in the pit of his stomach.
When he bade Broxted goodbye a few minutes later, and headed back for
the city, it was with a feeling of dark events brewing--events that
were going to touch him whether he liked it or not.