Illeria touched his arm. "If the Queen must die, that the Moon people
and the Earth folk may be saved, let it be so," she urged simply.
The two men bit their lips.
"Come!" urged the girl. "There is a guardroom above. There must be
weapons."
"I could use one of those antique hook-'em swords on old Horta,"
growled Moore.
They burst into the guardroom prepared for sudden and violent action.
But the great chamber was empty of Moon men. On the walls hung ray
rifles. Ross and Moore each snatched one.
"Now where?" asked Moore.
Ross surveyed the room. Windowed on all sides, it had only two doors,
the one they had entered and another opposite. "We'll try that," Ross
decided. "What we've got to find now is a spot that commands the square
where the ray machine is bedded."
The sloping corridor led them to such a spot. On a balcony they stood
and for a moment were content to watch Horta's artisans toiling with
sandbags and debris to make barricades against the flood.
"They'll do it, too," Moore said aloud, voicing his chief's thought.
"Artana's trick was probably just to help us out," Ross judged. "He
hadn't enough water to flood 'em out."
Moore fidgeted. "Let's do something, Bruce! There's that ray reservoir.
Think these pop-guns will punch a hole in it?"
Ross raised his rifle, and lowered it as suddenly. For into sight,
beside the giant Horta, walked Queen Boada. Moore exclaimed under his
breath, fingering his rifle.
It was the Princess Illeria who, snatching the rifle from Moore's
hands, leveled it swiftly and fired. As Ross sought to snatch it from
her she faced him defiantly. "Let destiny rule us!" she exclaimed. "My
mother is an unhappy woman who stands in the way of peace. Let me fire
again!"
Her demand left Ross irresolute. As he held her hand, Moore cried out.
"They spotted that shot, Bruce! They're looking for us!"
It was true. Horta stood, legs spread, his fierce glance sweeping the
open space. Workers had begun to drop sandbags and pick up guns. Ross
loosed his hold.
"Let's fire together, then," he said heavily. "The double shot may
pierce that thick metal. Aim at the muddy mark, Illeria! Ready--fire!"
The two rifles spat together. Moore yelled, "You've done it!
Duck--fast!"
They could not take cover fast enough. Ross had one glimpse of a
tremendous sheet of flame licking out of the hole they had blasted,
saw its counterpart high in the sky at the mouth of the ray cylinder,
heard a great roar, and seemed to know nothing else.
* * * * *
He regained consciousness on the platform of Peak Four, where his
flagship, now repaired, rested airily. Artana, Moore and Illeria bent
over him solicitously.
"What happened?" he asked, fretfully.
Artana spoke soberly. "The Queen is dead." He turned to Illeria,
dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. "Long live the Queen!"
Ross glanced at Moore. The navigator winked. "Order is restored,
Chief," he explained. "That blow-up finished Horta and all his works.
And Earth is on the phone. All serene there, since the Los Angeles
disaster. You are ordered to return and report."
Illeria dropped to her knees beside Ross. "You will not go? You will
stay--and my people shall make you king!"
Ross looked long into her eyes, and the Earth seemed far away and an
unreal world. But he slowly shook his head as he rose and gently lifted
her to her feet. "I must go, Illeria," he said. "But--perhaps I shall
return. Good-bye, Artana, you will restore peace to the Moon."