Williams got his wrecked craft on an even keel somehow, and spun her
with his side jets to keep her even. His trip down was an incredibly
swift repetition of these movements, designed to land the ship on the
red sands with a cushioning belly-smack.
They were following him down to make sure he did not escape the crash
alive--to ray the smashed ship into an incandescent heap of metal! At
the last moment, Barry stretched out a leg, and kicked hard at the
emergency door-lock lever release.
Whipped open by the air-wash, the door was waiting as he leaped from
the seat. With a last look at the viewscreen--showing the red terrain
flashing into his face--he spun out into the air a second before the
crash. Darkness swept over him as he landed!
It was not the darkness of unconsciousness. He'd landed on his back,
pulled by steel muscles into an arc that rocked the impact from his
hurtling body.
But, somehow, a covering was over his eyes, and two men lay beside him,
one on either side. They spoke softly to each other over his head in a
language Barry recognized but could not understand; Martian!
He'd found the Martians all right, the hard way! But Grey and his men
would ray them all out of existence in a matter of seconds. Overhead
the rockets of the ore-king's ships thundered closer. They'd seen his
body hurtle from the wreck, and were searching! He wished the Martians
hadn't blindfolded him.
An intolerable glare from many ray beams beat through the covering over
his eyes. This was it! The heat of those beams brought sweat through
every pore of his body, but that was all. The drumming of rocket jets
receded. They were leaving!
Why hadn't they seen him? They'd rayed his ship into a heap of molten
metal that warmed him where he lay, yards away. But he and his captors
were unhurt. Apparently, Grey and his men had decided they'd been wrong
about seeing the investigator jump. They'd decided he was still in the
wreckage. But why hadn't they seen Grey and the Martians?
The question was quickly answered. As the thrumming of rockets died in
the distance, the two Martians pulled Barry to his feet. He blinked
as sunlight struck his eyes, and looked about. The three of them were
standing in the open, but a large square of rough cloth at their feet
explained why the ships above hadn't spotted them. It was colored to
blend into the red sand so perfectly it was almost invisible to Barry.
His respect for Martians leaped! A peaceful race they had been, before
they were attacked and conquered. But now they were showing how fast
they could learn. They'd mastered one of the most effective stratagems
of warfare, camouflage.
The clothing of his Martian captors was the same color as the cloth
that had covered them, even to masks over the face. One of them tugged
at Barry's arm and spoke softly in Martian. They wanted him to go with
them. He went gladly. If they took him to their headquarters, he'd
have the chance he wanted--to ask their help, and offer them his! His
heart was beating wildly. Grey and his followers would learn that Earth
Government had an answer for fraud and injustice!
His respect for the Martians increased again, when he was taken through
a cleverly concealed passage into a sand-swell. Inside was a rough
room, ingeniously hewn and held from collapsing inward.
Here were three more Martians, garbed as his captors were. One sat
before a visa-radio. This group of Martians was well organized! They'd
salvaged equipment from wrecked and abandoned ships.
* * * * *
One of Barry's companions went to the radio and spoke rapidly in
Martian, apparently reporting. The view screen was blank, but
Barry heard the Martian use the word, "Deisanocta," and something
clicked in his mind! The chanting he'd heard last night in the mist,
"Day-ess-a-nocta!" Was it the name of the lovely Martian girl, she who
seemed to be the leader of these men? One of them had spoken of her
respectfully as the Mother of Mist.
It was she he wanted to speak to, Barry Williams realized. And it was
her voice that struck his ears a moment later, answering the report of
the man! Her words were soft, gentle yet commanding. There was a timbre
to her throaty voice that moved Barry, brought him a picture of her
large, somber grey eyes against the clear white of her face.
"Deisanocta," he cried, starting suddenly forward. "I must speak to
you!"
His captors seized him roughly. Their faces were horrified. Barry
realized he had probably violated some form of Martian royal
etiquette--for this girl was undoubtedly a Martian princess. There had
been royalty on Mars when the Earthmen came, although the line had been
believed destroyed during the conquest.
Again the soft voice came into the room through the radio, still
speaking in Martian. A few words, and the instrument clicked dead.
"Wait!" cried Barry. But it was useless. The girl had ignored him, and
cut the connection.
Two of the Martians held Barry Williams firmly, although no longer
roughly. Another had gone to a little cabinet.
He came toward Barry, a hypodermic needle in his hand. Struggle was
useless. Barry extended his arm with a smile, and saw admiration in the
other's eyes.
There was a sharp, momentary pain in his arm as the needle was expertly
inserted. Then a sensation of well-being, flooded the Earthman. A
warmth flowed through his veins, and pounded a flush into his face.
There was nothing else.
The Martian went back to the cabinet, came again toward Barry. This
time he extended his hand, in the palm of which lay two white tablets.
The look on the Martian's face was clear. Barry Williams must take
them, of his free will or forcibly.
Again Barry accepted graciously, and saw the Martians smile in
approval. He gulped down the tablets. It was only brief seconds later
that he sagged toward the ground. There was no sensation save a
weariness, a heaviness of his limbs and eyes. Darkness rolled over him,
soft and deep and comfortable blackness.
* * * * *
Barry Williams' will tugged at his eyelids, as his consciousness
returned. They responded sluggishly, reluctantly. His muscles, too,
resisted, with a numbness that revealed he'd slept a long time. Beneath
him, the red sand of the Martian desert was his couch.
When, finally, his blue eyes focused, he saw nothing; nothing save a
white blanket that folded about him on every side--the mist! Struggling
to his feet, he moved stiffly a few steps, to the right, the left,
forward, back.
There was nothing anywhere except that blanket of mist. No stars, no
bright moons! The sand at his feet was almost obscured by the silvery
curtain.
Barry's mind was clearing, and he stopped short with a sudden
realization. Yesterday--or had it been yesterday, there was no telling
if it was night or day--the mist had oppressed his senses, brought him
to his knees paralyzed and helpless! Yet, now, it had no effect.
He breathed deeply, remembering how his lungs had labored and his mind
reeled the last time. But the mist was refreshing as the purest air,
and his mind remained clear.
The hypodermic they'd given him! It must be an antidote to the drug
that was in the mist--for Barry was now sure the mist was a depressive
drug, meant to paralyze and terrify. The dead Earthmen had not died
from the mist itself, but from some power that struck under cover of
that terror!
But the Martians had immunized him! Barry shrugged. Perhaps he'd
convinced them he was a friend, and they'd stamped him with this
immunity that all their fellows might know him from the other Earthmen
who were enemies--
The thought brought a sudden chill to Barry Williams' spine! He'd been
walking, first slowly, then, as his legs lost their stiffness, more
and more rapidly. Yet, still the mist was all about him. Never in its
ghostlike appearances before had the mist covered more than a small
patch of the desert!
These thoughts began to add together in his mind. Immunizing him--a
fiend, putting him to sleep so that he would be unable to argue or
resist until he could be safely disposed of, the extent of the mist.
All this could mean--
"This is it," Barry groaned aloud. "This is the revolt!
"The first appearances of the mist were to terrorize, and to test! This
is the real thing; the mist over the whole surface of Mars, organized
Martians striking under its cover!"
His words came back to him from the hateful white blanket, muffled and
run together into unintelligible echoes.
"You failed--failed!" the echoes seemed to mutter. "Earthmen will
die--Earth troops will come against the 'savages.' No justice for Mars!"
Barry shook his head angrily against his imaginings. Suddenly, he
stumbled and pitched forward over something at his feet.
His heart sank at sight of the gruesome thing in the sand. A dead
Earthman--but not unmarked as had been the earlier victims of the
white mist. This man had been killed by violence, killed as he lay
unconscious, overcome by the mist drug!
"This is it," Barry groaned again. Another form of death was striking
under the silver blanket. This man had been a murderer and exploiter,
but to Earth Government he was a citizen killed by savages!
Barry Williams stumbled on dazedly. There was nothing he could do! He
stumbled over another body and passed on. A third form appeared in the
sand at his feet. He started to turn aside, then stopped.
* * * * *
Quickly he bent over the figure, his hand going to the pulse. There was
a heartbeat, and the chest moved slightly with breathing! This body was
alive, there were no wounds. Peering into the face, Barry realized it
was a Martian!
A Martian overcome by the mist. After puzzling a moment, Barry laughed.
Of course! All the natives couldn't have been in on the plans--not even
most of them. Therefore, they'd be drugged and put to sleep like the
Earthmen.
Martians overcome by the means that was to free them! Barry's mind was
racing. Free them! That was it! They'd be needed for the fighting. The
other Martians, the organized ones under Deisanocta, would come to give
immunizing injections to such of their fellows as this one Barry found
on the sand!
With the realization, Barry Williams threw himself down on the ground.
He couldn't be far from the place they'd captured him. That meant, the
vicinity of the Martian Princess' headquarters. Perhaps she herself
would come, searching for her followers.
She did. She came silently, short minutes later, moving like a wraith
in her silver mesh costume, that somehow made her seem part of the
mist. Mother of Mist. Barry remembered the title.
The silver accents of her voice came clearly to his ears. She spoke in
Martian. Two of her men appeared beside her. One went toward the fallen
Martian, something in his hand that Barry knew would be a hypodermic
syringe. The other saw Barry, started toward him.
"Hold everything!" Barry leaped up. "I am no enemy."
The other paused, he knew there could be only one Earthman who walked
through the mist unharmed. Barry's eyes went to Deisanocta.
"Princess, I must speak to you!"
She came closer, until her face was clear before him. Her grey eyes
glowed softly. "I know of your mission here, Barry Williams," she said
in her throaty voice. "Your mind was open to me when first we met in
the mist."
It had been she who hypnotized him! Barry nodded slowly, he'd suspected
as much. "Then you must know I want to help your people. This fighting
must stop. I promise you that, if I can reach Earth--if you will help
me get a ship and fuel--I can win justice and freedom for your people!"
The girl's eyes flashed. "A free Mars will make its own peace with
Earth," she cried. Here was the spirit not of savages--but of a free
race Earth could respect! Her voice softened. "But thank you, Barry
Williams. You have been spared because your purpose here was friendly,
and because I--I--trust you.
"Now." Her eyes glowed from deep within, "You will sleep, Barry
Williams, sleep the walking sleep under my will."
* * * * *
Barry met her gaze, feeling the impact of her mind. For long moments,
his eyes were locked with hers. A puzzled doubt appeared at last on her
features.
"Sleep, Barry Williams," she murmured uncertainly.
"Sorry," he grinned. "There's no more power in the mist over my
will--and you can't hypnotize me against my will. Hypnotism is a new
art with your people, Princess. You forgot to condition me to your
commands."
Deisanocta smiled. "An old Earthman implanted the science in my mind
when I was but a child, being hidden from the oppressors. Much that is
there, I do not know how to use."
"Won't you let me help you," asked Barry Williams. "If you ignore my
advice, that's up to you."
She considered his words. Her eyes on his still glowed, but with a
different light. "Very well," she said at last. "You may stay with me.
After victory, you can be my emissary to Earth."
Barry walked beside her, the Martians of her party following
respectfully behind.
"Why don't you take these men prisoners," Barry asked, "instead of
killing them?"
Deisanocta answered sadly: "My people have been killed and beaten too
long. I could not restrain them.
"Besides, these men could be dangerous. If some of my mist-producing
units failed, those who sleep in that area would awaken after a few
breaths of air. We would have enemies behind us." She smiled a little
wistfully. "These Earthmen do not sleep as deeply as you did from those
pills."
"You must capture Craig Grey alive," he said with sudden realization.
"While he sleeps under the influence of the mist, you can hypnotize
him. Then we can learn the details of his fraud, how he deceived Earth
about your people! With names and facts, we can convict him--prove his
guilt!"
"It shall be so," she promised. "Even now my followers are awakening
those of our people who sleep. When all are gathered, we will move into
the mine headquarters and the forts. We go slowly, for some of our
enemies will be in spaceships, safe from the mist drug. But we will
take enough weapons as we go to overcome them!"
"I hope," Barry muttered.
Deisanocta seemed not to hear him. Her grey eyes were alight, her
cheeks flushed with excitement.
"The hour is very near," she said. "Mars shall be free!
"Come, I must speak with my men."
She led the way toward a nearby sand-swell, moving with that marvelous
sense of direction that seemed a characteristic of Martians. For
generations, they had made their way unerringly over the trackless
desert. Now, even in the mist blanket that made objects invisible short
feet away, the Princess did not falter.
Straight to a cleverly concealed door she walked, through, and into
the same type of room Barry Williams had seen before. At her entrance,
a Martian lowered his ready heat ray and stood respectfully for her
commands.