IX

The electro-hypnosis machines finished, Standish enlisted Ga-Marr's aid

and proceeded to try them on a group of Sirian prisoners.

"After all," the Earthman said, "what we're doing is for the sake of

your planet and mine. These prisoners will suffer no ill effect, but by

organizing their efforts, we can aid a great cause."

He turned a control knob, and a low hum sounded in the machine. The

green liquid in the globe began to bubble, and a column of mist climbed

upward through the connecting tube.

Improved as they were by Standish, the machines immediately placed the

Sirians in a mental state where they were receptive to all commands.

Yet they retained full control of their mental faculties.

The work began. Frameworks for twenty space destroyers were laid. Like

automatons the Sirians toiled, worked side by side with the men of

Lyra. The twenty hulls were completed, and the atomic motors were being

installed when Standish called Ga-Marr aside.

"I'm going to leave you in charge," the Earthman said, "while I take

the _Phantom_ out again. The more prisoners, the quicker we'll have a

fleet. Besides the Sirians will have grown careless again by now."

This time, however, Standish steadfastly refused to take Thalia along.

"I'm going to skirt the very stratosphere of Earth," he told her, "and

it'll be too dangerous. But I'll be back soon."

Thalia pouted, but Standish was firm.

With another Lyrian, Dar-ley, as his lieutenant, Standish took off. He

headed at full speed for the interplanetary lane between Sirius and

Earth. As he went on, suspicion assailed him. Not a single Sirian ship

did he see. Once a slow-moving freighter from far off Protorus crossed

his path. The freighter clapped on all speed in a frantic attempt to

escape. But Standish viewed it without interest.

He was drawing close to Earth. Alert, Standish kept the moon between

him and his home planet, advancing cautiously. But there was no sign of

trouble. The spaceways were empty.

Now the cold expanse of the moon opened before him. The _Phantom_

soared over Tycho, Aristotle and Petavius, dipped downward and came to

a rest on a barren lava plain. Standish took down a space suit, and a

small magno telescope and went out through the air lock. Pacing slowly

across the frigid flat, he tried to fathom the growing puzzle.

A hundred yards from the ship he trained his scope on Earth, staring

long and intently. But the range was too great and the scope too weak

for detailed observation.

And then abruptly he stiffened. Through the powerful retinite lens a

tiny dot focused his vision. A rocket ship! He adjusted the glass and

studied her lines. Unquestionably she was Sirian and heading toward the

moon on an oblique angle.

Standish ran for the _Phantom_. The air lock closed; he threw over the

control lever, and the big ship headed with a lurch for the enemy.

In the pilot cuddy Dar-Ley watched the cosmoscope and intoned the

distance measurements.

"Thirty thousand miles. Enemy still following same course."

"Twenty thousand. No change."

"Eight hundred."

A frown crossed Standish's face. The Sirian ship must have seen them by

now. Alone and without convoy, it should have turned and fled.

Puzzled, the Earthman ordered a shot across the enemy's bows. The

Sirian did not change her course. And then Dar-Ley gave a frantic cry.

"Behind us. Look!"

* * * * *

Six Sirian ships were racing out from the surface of the moon in battle

formation. Even as Standish looked, he saw four more cruisers join the

others, spread out to cut off the _Phantom_.

He realized then that he had blundered into a trap. The Sirians had

been waiting for him. The single cruiser had been the bait which he had

swallowed blindly.

"We'll have to run for it," Dar-Ley cried. "They're too many for us."

Standish's teeth came together grimly. "We'll give them a fight for

their money first."

On toward the cruiser the _Phantom_ raced. The ship staggered as the

Sirian opened fire, and two of the shots glanced harmlessly off the

_feloranium_ hull. But with five well-placed shots Standish demolished

the Sirian's guns and left her floating helplessly. Then the _Phantom_

turned helm and ran alongside on the opposite side of the cruiser.

In an instant Dar-Ley saw Standish's strategy. The _Phantom_ was now

protected with the cruiser between her and the fleet. The Earthman

flipped open his microphone switch.

"Rocket bomb. Full charge. Point four."

There was a deafening report as the bomb erupted from its cylinder.

Through the port Standish saw the nearest Sirian ship explode into

fragments. He smiled grimly and swung his helm far over.

"Here we go, Dar-Ley. If they catch us, they'll have to move."

But fast though the _Phantom_ was, the fleet hung steadily in her wake.

Finally the Earthman switched on the boosters, auxiliary machines which

drew power from intra-spacial emanations and built up the speed of the

atomic motors. Gradually the fleet dropped behind.

"Close call!" Standish breathed. "Faggard almost got me that time."

X

Standish had never believed in hunches, yet the moment he entered the

stratosphere of Lyra he knew something was wrong. A moment later he

was free of the cloud level and over Calthedra. A wave of despair shot

through him.

The city was a ruin. Not a single building remained. The great palace

was a mass of debris, and the choked streets were deserted. With a

great fear he headed the _Phantom_ for the landing field. Here a cry of

dismay escaped his lips.

The sleek space ships which had dotted the level were no more. Twisted

lumps of metal and scattered pieces of broken machinery were all that

remained of the fleet.

"In heaven's name," cried Dar-Ley, "what has happened?"

"Drum Faggard," said Standish heavily. "He attacked while we were gone.

It must have been only his lieutenants we met off the moon."

The _Phantom_ dropped to a landing, and the two men climbed out,

followed by the crew. A death-like silence reigned. As he stood there

staring at the grim devastation, the Earthman's fists clenched. The

Lyrians, the prisoners, the Emperor ... had they all gone?

And then he thought of Thalia!

He lurched into a stumbling run and headed for the ruined city. In

the metropolis the destruction was even more terrible. Ray guns had

leveled every structure to the ground. Dead Lyrians lay on all sides.

Every labor-saving device which had been constructed through Standish's

efforts had been shattered.

But an instant later, in the midst of this wreckage, he saw a familiar

figure stagger toward him. Ga-Marr!

The Emperor's son's face was caked with blood and his clothing was torn

to shreds, but he managed to gasp a single word:

"Water...!"

Standish dispatched Dar-Ley back to the _Phantom_ for a canteen, then

tore off his coat and rolled it into a pillow, forcing Ga-Marr to

rest his head upon it. But when the Lyrian struggled up on one elbow

and drank thirstily from Dar-Ley's canteen, Standish choked out the

question that was uppermost in his mind.

"Thalia! Where is she?"

Ga-Marr's voice was a sob. "Drum Faggard! He surprised us with an

entire fleet while you were gone. He kidnaped my father, and he took

Thalia."

A blur rose up before Standish's eyes. "And the others?" he demanded.

"The rest of your people? Can it be they all are dead?"

Ga-Marr shook his head. "They fled to the hills. I alone remained here

because I knew you would return."

It was time, Standish realized, for action. But what action? His fleet

was gone, all his work destroyed. Even the girl he had come to love

had been taken from him. He turned and stared helplessly at the black

hulled _Phantom_ resting on its mooring platform. Powerful as that

ship was, he knew it was not enough. He might raid more Sirian ships,

destroy more transports, but what would it avail him. He had played his

hand, and he had lost. He was up against a blank wall.

* * * * *

And then a single object on the far side of the palace ruins focused

in his vision. Stone and debris were piled high there, but the little,

crudely-built space ship with which he and Ga-Marr had escaped from

the unknown planet had escaped damage. For a moment Standish's brow

furrowed in thought; then he uttered an exclamation.

"To the _Phantom_!" he said. "There may yet be a way...."

With Ga-Marr supported by Standish, they hurried down the debris-choked

streets and across to the landing field. Reaching the ship, the

Earthman turned his crew of twenty-four over to Dar-Ley, ordering them

to leave at once for the hills where they were to aid the Lyrians.

"But what are you going to do without a crew?" objected Dar-Ley.

Standish's face was a block of granite. "I'm going to fight trickery

with trickery," he said.

Then the Earthman and Ga-Marr entered the destroyer alone. Slowly,

Standish guided the big ship over the ruins of the city of Calthedra.

Above the palace, he suddenly shot out the magnetic grappling bars and

secured the little space ship.

"What can you do with that?" Ga-Marr frowned. "The thing has little

power and...."

But Standish, lips set hard, was moving the controls with silent

determination. Up the _Phantom_ shot, boring forward like a hound to

the hunt, carrying the crude little ship with it. Standish threw over

the accelerator to the farthest notch and switched on both boosters. He

motioned Ga-Marr into the control seat.

"Head directly for Earth. I'm going back and see if I can get a little

more speed out of those motors."

Hour after hour the big ship plunged, rocketing madly across the

star-filled heavens. Time and space were dropping behind them like

falling grains of sand. Standish, returning from the motor chamber, saw

the planets of Pluto and Uranus rise up far ahead. Then Earth came into

sight, a pin-point almost at the limit of his vision.

The Earthman glanced at the chronometer on the instrument panel. It

would be approximately midnight when they reached the North American

continent, judging by their present speed. Unless the Sirians at

their Frisco base were watching closely, they might be able to pass

unobserved.

Earth grew. Now the _Phantom_ was zooming down through the

stratosphere. Over New California they swept, checking trajectory by

reversing motors.

Over Omaha, Standish looked through the floor plate. Were the

front-line breastworks still here? Or had his people been forced to

retreat farther toward the Atlantic seaboard?

"I see lights," Ga-Marr said abruptly. "There seem to be fortifications

below us."

With a sigh of relief Standish guided the _Phantom_ downward. He was at

home again.