Ted and his companion, Vanible Khan, hurried down a maze of stairways
and hallways until they arrived in a large, square room, the walls of
which were divided into panels. On each panel was a moving picture which
seemed to shine through from the rear. An operator sat at a switchboard
in the center of the room, pressing various buttons on the instrument
before him from time to time.
Maza was there with two of her gigantic guards, and several of her
oldest counselors. She pointed to one of the panels as they entered.
“P’an-ku is attacking your people with a terrible weapon, Ted Dustin,”
she said. “Look.”
He looked at the panel she indicated, and saw as through a powerful
telescope, a side view of the great lunar crater which he had learned to
recognize as Copernicus. Shooting upward from the center of the crater
was a bright band of green light.
“Now look at this picture,” continued Maza, pointing to another panel.
He looked, and saw a telescopic view of the earth. Despite the many
storm areas which hid outlines of land and water, he made out the shape
of North America, and saw that Washington and the territory surrounding
it were in an immense spot of green light.
“What can those rays do at that distance?” he asked Vanible Khan.
“That,” replied the lunar scientist, thoughtfully stroking his long
white beard, “depends wholly on the power of the ray projector which
P’an-ku is employing. If powerful enough, the green rays will contract
and destroy all matter which they come in contact. When nearly spent,
they still have the power to remove much of the heat from everything
they touch. I should say, off hand, that the area they reach at present
is intensely cold—perhaps even uninhabitable for human beings.”
Ted turned suddenly to Maza.
“May I have a glass helmet and a suit of insulated armor?” he asked. “My
own suit is useless until I can fit a new helmet to it.”
“You may, of course. But where are you going?”
“To destroy that green ray projector.”
“Ten thousand of my _nak-kar_ cavalry will fly with you,” she said.
“You are very kind to offer help,” he replied, “but I prefer to go
alone. This is my war and my people are being killed.”
“You refuse?” He could see that she was nettled.
“I decline with sincere thanks, if you please. Time is precious, and in
my vehicle I can reach the projector before your flying beasts are well
on the way, thereby saving many lives which otherwise might be
sacrificed by delay.”
“Very well. It is your war now, because I have not yet officially
declared war on P’an-ku. I will do so immediately. Then, if we cannot be
allies, I will fight him in my way and you in yours.”
She turned to one of the armored nobles who stood nearby.
“See that Ted Dustin is outfitted for surface flying at once,” she
commanded.
Fifteen minutes later, Ted stood on the roof of the palace attired in
the bell-like glass helmet and white, wooly, insulated armor of Maza’s
people. He fidgeted impatiently while a great _nak-kar_ was being
saddled in order that its rider might guide him up through one of the
huge and tortuous air shafts which led from the subterranean city of
Ultu to the ringed plain of Tycho above.
At his side stood Vanible Khan, stroking his long white beard and coolly
supervising the preparations. When the flying dragon was saddled and its
rider seated, the old scientist placed his hand on Ted’s shoulder, and
said:
“You are taking desperate chances, boy. It is doubtful if you will ever
get near enough to the projector to destroy it, but if you do you will
almost certainly be killed. I bid you farewell, and my prayers and those
of our people go with you.”
“I realize the chances and thank you for your good wishes. Goodbye,”
replied Ted, closing his visor and turning to climb into his craft.
Just as he placed his foot on the lower step a hand was laid on his arm.
He turned and saw Maza, flushed and panting from the exertion of
hurriedly climbing to the roof. As he turned and looked down into her
eyes he saw they were flashing with anger.
She reached up and raised his visor with dainty, pink-tipped fingers.
“How dare you leave me, Ted Dustin, without saying farewell,” she said.
“Why you might n-never come back.”
A tear rolled down her velvety cheek, and she shook her fluffy head to
dislodge it.
He started to bend over—to kiss her hand. Her eyes softened—drew him to
the beautiful upturned face. Before he knew what had happened, he was
kissing her, and she was returning his kiss with closed eyes, her arms
around his neck, her small, lithe body close to his.
Suddenly he released her, leaped into the cab, and signaled the
_nak-kar_ rider that he was ready. He elevated his craft slowly while
the great dragon clumsily lumbered forward with wings outspread—took to
the air, and circled upward toward a dark opening above.
Although the flying reptile moved swiftly through the maze of
passageways and caverns, evidently of volcanic origin, which led upward,
it seemed to Ted that their progress was exceedingly slow. The _nak-kar_
rider kept his bright head lamp lighted until they reached the surface,
where it was no longer necessary. Then, with a wave of his hand, he
indicated a vertical band of green light which emerged from the
northeastern horizon, and made a circle of green light on the face of
the earth.
With an answering wave of farewell, Ted seized the controls and gave the
Lunite such an exhibition of speed as must have commanded his awe and
wonder.
Flying high above the moon’s surface in the tenuous lunar atmosphere, he
traveled at a speed far surpassing that of the bullet cars which the
Lunites used in traversing the glazed ray-valleys. As he progressed
toward Copernicus he noticed that the valleys which radiated from Tycho
grew fewer and further apart, and that there were other glazed valleys
coming down from the north. While the former had appeared a glistening
white in the sunlight, these latter were yellowish in appearance,
evidently due to the fact that they were roofed with amber instead of
clear glass. The great green ray, the projector of which it was his
purpose to destroy, gave him the exact location of Copernicus and showed
him that these yellow ray-valleys ramified from that place.
He was less than a hundred miles from his objective when the spherical
bulk of a lunar flying globe suddenly loomed ahead. A deadly green ray
instantly shot toward him, but Ted was now ready to profit by his first
experience with the war globes of P’an-ku.
Instead of continuing on his course, he suddenly dropped for a thousand
feet, and while manipulating his atomotor with his left hand brought a
degravitor gun into play with his right. His aim was true, and the
forward revolving disc of the flying globe flashed and disappeared when
struck by the invisible rays. The globe instantly made a half turn and
commenced a swift nose dive groundward. Before the aft disc could be
reversed, Ted aimed his degravitor at this, also, destroying it
instantly. A half dozen green rays shot out from various parts of the
globe, flashing like the spokes of a giant wheel as the craft hurtled to
the ground—then disappeared as a lurid explosion announced the
destruction of the ship.
Fearing that, having been seen by the aerial patrol, his presence had
been announced by radio, Ted decided to attack at once. He therefore
aimed his craft as if it had been a projectile, in a curved trajectory
which would carry him at a height of about ten miles over the huge rim
of Copernicus, and downward toward the central source of light. With
both forward degravitors turned on and the atomotor running at the
maximum speed possible in the presence of the tenuous atmospheric gases,
the craft instantly became a terrific missile of destruction.
So swiftly did it fly that the view of the rugged, crater-pitted
landscape beneath became blurred, despite the great size and sharp
detail of the major formations.
Ted spotted his objective before he was above the great outer ring of
Copernicus. It was the tallest of the five great central mountain peaks
which project upward from the floor of the crater. The great green ray
which was trained on the earth was coming directly from the tip of this
peak, and the entire crater of the mighty ring mountain was bathed in a
weird green light, evidently reflections of the ray from the glistening
walls and peaks.
In a moment Ted was directly over the southwest rim of the huge crater.
Instantly, he pointed his craft downward, and the invisible rays of the
two forward degravitors struck the peak of the tallest inner
mountain—still more than thirty miles away. Even at that distance the
telltale flash from the mountain top told him that his aim was true.
Then, with degravitors set rigidly in position, he dived straight for
his target.
From one of the pits beneath, a green ray of ordinary dimensions
suddenly burst forth. Others flashed out, searching the sky for the
marauder who had dared this attack on the mighty ray projector of
P’an-ku. But Ted was flying so swiftly and his craft was so high in the
air and so small that it was not easy for the Lunites to locate him. At
the moment they only knew of his presence because the tip of the
mountain peak which surrounded their green ray projector was rapidly
melting away under the attack of his invisible rays.
As he progressed toward the central peak, Ted noticed that the searching
green rays grew thicker and thicker. Suddenly one sheared away the stern
of his craft, and with it the rear atomotor outlets. The crippled
vehicle was carried forward for a few seconds by its own momentum, but
gradually succumbing to the insistent pull of gravity it deviated from
its course—wobbled unsteadily, and began to fall groundward.
Releasing his now useless atomotor controls, Ted concentrated his
attention on the two forward degravitors. As his ship fell, wobbling
this way and that, he kept his two ray guns steadily pointed at the
mountain top from which the great green ray emerged. His craft was
falling with terrific speed when he had the satisfaction of seeing the
green ray wink out, and the section of the mountain top containing what
was left of the projecting machinery, topple over, hurtle down the
mountainside in an avalanche of debris, and crash to the ground in an
enormous cloud of dust and smoke.
But he had not noticed his own proximity to the crater floor. There came
a sudden shock that smashed the keel of his craft like an egg shell—then
oblivion.