The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Moon Destroyers, by Monroe K. Ruch
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Title: The Moon Destroyers
Author: Monroe K. Ruch
Release Date: October 11, 2012 [EBook #41029]
Language: English
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The Moon Destroyers
By MONROE K. RUCH
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Wonder Stories
Quarterly Winter 1932. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Illustration: The tremendous speed of the dive brought them so close
that they could see the skeletons of wrecked ships piled up at the base
of the precipice.]
* * * * *
MONROE K. RUCH
The moon is not only the most prominent object in our heavens, but
also an integral part of the earth. We are, so to speak, an
astronomical unit, and we affect each other for better or for
worse.
We know that the gravitational attraction of the moon causes our
tides, and tends to slow up the earth in her daily rotation. It has
also been deemed responsible for earthquakes, causing untold
suffering among earth's people.
But so far the effect of the moon has been rather an inhuman
affair. No man has gone to the moon to see just what conditions are
there, and to observe accurately the influence that the moon and
earth exercise over each other. But when interplanetary travel does
come, when commerce between moon and earth may possibly assume
importance in our lives, the influence of the moon upon us may be
more accurately determined. And when it is, the amazing series of
incidents, pictured in this story, may yet come true.
* * * * *
Professor Erickson, head of the International Seismographical Institute,
sat with bowed head and pale face, watching the stylus of the instrument
before him trace its path on the slowly revolving drum. The laboratory,
situated high in the Himalayas, trembled slightly as mid-winter storms
roared and whistled around it, but something quite different, and
infinitely more sinister, was causing the needle to wander from its
ordinarily straight path.
Suddenly, with horrible certainty, it jumped, wavered back and forth,
and then moved rapidly to the right, until its black ink no longer
traced a line on the white paper.
"Holden," shouted Erickson to his assistant, "what does the direction
and distance finder tell us? The stylus has run clear off the graph."
Young Jack Holden was working feverishly over the dials and levers of
the panel before him. Slender yet strong, he looked like a long-bow of
stout old yew as he bent to the task. His steel gray eyes focused
intently on the verniers, taking the readings. The muscles in his tanned
cheeks were tight as he turned toward his superior. For a moment the
very storm seemed to hush, awaiting the words. Then he spoke.
"It's the Laurentian fault!"
For a moment both men stared at each other, stunned and helpless.
"That means," Holden managed to say, "that New York is a mass of ruins."
Pictures were forming in his mind; he saw the huge steel and glass
towers of the city, tossed and torn by the convulsive writhings of the
earth beneath. Great engineers had said that the city was safe, that no
tremors would ever disturb it, but they knew nothing of the terrific
force of such a shock as this. Those massive buildings, thousands of
feet high, would now be mere heaps of twisted junk. Holden closed his
eyes to shut out the picture, but to no avail. His sister! God! She was
probably one of the millions who now lay, crushed, bleeding and helpless
beneath the wreckage of the too-proud metropolis.
"My boy," the professor was speaking, "we must stay with our work, no
matter what happens." His voice was low; his entire family had been
wiped out, without doubt, but Science must be served.
For hours the two sat before their instruments, as shock after shock was
recorded. Jones came down from the television room above, and his report
confirmed their observations in horrible detail.
"All communications from the city itself are cut off, but an airliner
from England, which was about to dock, has broadcast the scene. Aid is
being rushed from all over the world, but at a conservative estimate ten
million are already dead, and millions more will probably die, buried
and hidden as they are beneath the wreckage."
At last, nearly five hours after the first shock, the Professor stood
up.
"I think that is all. My prophecies have come true, and at last my
theories will be needed. But the cost of it all, the horrible cost!"
* * * * *
Two weeks later a group of men were seated around the conference table
in the spacious offices of the Department of Public Safety of the World
Union. All faces were turned toward the stooped figure of Professor
Erickson, who was speaking from the head of the table.
"Gentlemen, I have outlined to you, only too briefly, the damage caused
by the quake a few days ago. I now state that a repetition of such a
disaster is imminent. Great faults have formed in the basic granites
throughout the entire globe. Observations recorded during five centuries
since the first conception of the idea by Dr. Maxwell Allen in 1931,
show conclusively that Earth-tides, set up by the attraction of the
moon, cause a sweeping series of stresses and strains. These, coming to
a fault, produce earthquakes. Now that there are huge faults in the
basic rock, these quakes will be of a tremendous force and range which
the most modern structures will be unable to resist."
"Professor," spoke John Dorman, Secretary of Public Safety, "if all this
is true, and we are assured that it is, what on earth can be done about
it?"
"Gentlemen, during nearly seventy years I have studied that problem,
and I have come to only one conclusion. Nothing on earth can be done
about it, if you permit the remark, but men from earth can do something.
_Destroy the moon!_"
A gasp went up from the great men assembled there. Erickson's colleagues
nodded in helpless agreement.
"But how?" The question came from all sides. Famous engineers looked at
each other questioningly.
"Gentlemen." This was a new voice, young and full of energy.
"Mr. Holden," responded the chairman.
"Professor Erickson was so kind as to confide in me several years ago,
and since then I have been at work on this problem. I have solved it."
Eager interest shone on all faces. Jack Holden was known and liked by
many of these men, despite his youth. His discovery of _hexoxen_, the
chemical which turned solid matter into almost intangible vapor, had
created quite a stir in scientific circles.
He now continued his address.
"If all the resources of Earth are made use of, it would be possible to
produce hundreds of tons of _hexoxen_ and sufficient amounts of the
element Europium to act as a catalyst. That would be plenty to reduce
the moon to a gaseous state. The clouds of gas could then be penetrated
by anti-gravitational screens, which would cause the smaller pieces to
drift off into space, where they will do no harm whatsoever."
Several distinguished engineers nodded their heads. One of them spoke.
"Mr. Secretary, the plan is entirely feasible. I move that Mr. Holden be
given permission to make use of all the necessary resources to carry out
his plan, and that he be placed in sole charge, assisted by an advisory
board of which Professor Erickson shall be chairman."
The motion was carried, the papers drawn up, and the meeting adjourned.
Holden grasped Professor Erickson firmly by the arm and hurried him to
the elevator.
"We've got just five minutes to get to the port. We're catching the
first airliner for San Francisco. There are three of the latest model
Mars-Earth freighters there, which we will use for our expedition. We
will also be near the best source of Europium. Hurry."
As the elevator shot downward, the old professor endeavored to
congratulate Holden on his appointment.
"Forget it. This was your idea, and they should have named you leader of
the expedition, but that really doesn't make much difference. Anything
you say goes, see?"
A crowd was milling around the entrance to the Western Hemisphere
tunnel. An official tried to stop Holden and his companion as they
pushed their way through the crowd.
"The liner is leaving. You can't go in there."
"Oh, we can't, huh? Here."
A single glance at the paper shoved under his nose, and the gatekeeper
came to life.
"Right this way, you're just in time."
The three ran out on top of the building, where the beautiful silver
shape of the liner floated at the top of a short tower. An officer was
just giving the command to cast loose, but as Holden shouted to him, he
countermanded it, for special orders from the Union had to be obeyed,
even if schedules were spoiled.
* * * * *
Nodding their thanks to the now obsequious gateman, the two scientists
hurried up the ladder that had been dropped for them; again came the
shouted "Cast off," and the huge liner, impelled by powerful motors,
rose rapidly to the high altitude at which she traveled.
"Message for you, sir," said a pleasant voice at Holden's elbow, and he
turned. A neatly uniformed boy held out to him a thin envelope. Breaking
the seal, he read rapidly.
"Will you show us in to the Captain, please," he addressed the boy as he
finished the message.
The lad nodded, and led them down a long hall to the bow of the ship and
up to the bridge.
"Mr. Holden, I presume? And Professor Erickson? I am Captain Linet."
The Captain was an immense man, well over six feet, with the build of a
prizefighter. His face was pleasant, but there was an expression of
intense sorrow in his deep blue eyes.
"I understand that you have been appointed to head an expedition to the
moon, the nature of which has not been revealed, but which will do away
forever with the earthquakes which have become so prevalent. I wish to
join that expedition. My beloved wife was in New York at the time of the
last quake. You understand."
Holden nodded sympathetically. He would be glad to have all the men like
this he could find, and he expressed that opinion to the Captain.
"Thank you. I will resign my position when we reach San Francisco, and
will await your orders."
"But, Captain," Holden asked, "how did you know that I was head of the
expedition?"
"Oh, the news has been broadcast everywhere, with instructions to give
you any aid possible. But no information was given as to the exact
nature of the trip. Could I be trusted--?"
"Why certainly. We are going to destroy the moon, wipe it out of
existence, so that it will cease to exert the tremendous gravitational
pull that has been causing--."
At that moment a petty officer appeared behind the Captain.
"Have you any further orders concerning the cargo to be dumped at New
Orleans?"
"No. I thought I gave you to understand that there were to be no more
additions to that cargo. Didn't you hear me?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," the man said, and walked away.
"I wonder how much of our conversation he heard?" mused Erickson. "But
then, I suppose it makes no difference."
After a few minutes of conversation, Holden asked the Captain if they
could be shown their cabins, so that they could get a few hours of rest
before reaching their destination. The request was readily granted, and
in a few minutes Holden was alone in a neat little room, furnished with
a comfortable chair, tables along two walls, and a very pleasant looking
berth built into the third side. The professor had a similar place a few
doors down the hall.
Holden threw off his shoes and coat and tumbled into the berth. The
events of the last weeks were spinning in his head, and a procession of
visions passed before his eyes. That terrible catastrophe, the trip to
Europe, to the capitol of the World Union, and now, the appointment as
leader of the most important expedition in the history of the universe,
with the possible exception of that first epoch-making voyage to Mars
back in 2350.
Another vision appeared before his eyes. Jean! Jean, his own sweetheart,
the one person in the world who mattered, gone now for a full year. Why
had she decided to make the voyage to Mars? What could have happened to
the ill-fated _Gloriana_, with her hundreds of passengers and valuable
cargo? A year ago she had left; and, as some people said, merely drifted
out into space, never to be heard from again.
A deep sob shook Holden's body as he thought of that beautiful girl,
who, laughing at his fears, had stepped into the space flyer with a
smile on her lips, promising to come back in a year and marry him.
At last, however, these memories gave way before exhaustion, and he fell
into a sleep, troubled by strange dreams. It seemed that a great serpent
had attacked him, and, flinging its coils about his body, was slowly
squeezing out his life. Suddenly, he was wide awake. Strong hands were
on his throat, the thumbs were pressed tight against his larynx.
He struggled to gain his breath, to shout for help, but the pressure
closed his throat. In another moment it would be too late. Then his mind
cleared; raising both hands to the back of his neck, he grasped the
little fingers of his assailant, and pulled with all his strength. The
man gave a cry of pain and anger and relaxed his grip. Holden gulped in
a breath of air, and flung himself from his berth, endeavoring to catch
and hold the coward who had attacked in the dark. The man, however, was
wiry and quick. With a sudden jerk he wriggled loose, gained the door
and was gone. When Holden reached the corridor, no one was in sight.
Quickly he walked to Professor Erickson's room, awakened him, and told
him what had happened.
Erickson rang up a steward, who promised to do everything in his power
to apprehend the culprit.
"Who could it have been?" asked Erickson.
"I haven't the slightest idea. I have no enemies that I know of. I'm not
carrying any valuables. It was probably a case of mistaken identity."
The incident was dismissed with that interpretation, and it was several
weeks before Holden thought of it again, but then he wished fervently
that he had investigated more thoroughly.
CHAPTER II
A Midnight Attack
It was midnight when the liner reached San Francisco, but Holden
insisted on going at once to the offices of the Interplanetary
Transportation Company, where work was carried on day and night.
Fortunately they found an official of the company who had sufficient
power to carry out their instructions.
It is unnecessary to go into the details of the meeting, or of the
ensuing days. The unlimited power given Holden, together with the vital
importance of his mission, brought everyone into instant cooperation.
Three mammoth space ships were turned over to the gang of mechanics he
had hired, to be fitted with projectors for the anti-gravitational
screens. Thousands of chemists all over the world dropped their work to
prepare the precious _hexoxen_ while others extracted Europium from the
rare minerals in which it was found. Special freight ships were sent out
to gather together the supply of these materials upon which the fate of
the earth depended, and rapidly the great quantities of the chemical
necessary were stored in the ships.
Captain Linet had proven true to his word, and, with his great executive
ability, had made himself invaluable.
It was a pleasant sight to see the huge old Captain, veteran of many a
storm in the air, conferring with the slim young Holden, whose pleasant
features and soft voice gave no real notion of the immense energy, fiery
courage and scientific knowledge which he possessed.
Crews for the three ships had to be assembled. Holden and Erickson
picked many from among the scientific men of their acquaintance, all
experts in their lines. The Interplanetary Transportation Company
recommended several of their best men for the positions on board
requiring technical knowledge of the handling of space ships, and
Captain Linet also picked up a few of his friends--brave, strong men.
There were to be fifty on each ship.
The start had been scheduled for the fifteenth of the month, but on the
tenth Professor Erickson received a radiogram from the Seismographical
Institute which read as follows: "Observations indicate a series of
stresses approaching Pacific fault, probably aggravated by unusual tidal
action of moon in that area tenth of next month."
"Gentlemen," the old professor addressed the little group gathered in
the office allotted them in the I. T. C. building, "as you know, this is
the tenth. Without allowing for possible delays, we would just have
time, starting tomorrow, to reach the moon, distribute the _hexoxen_ and
Europium and get out of range by the first. That would leave us only ten
days for cutting the gaseous mass into small pieces which will drift
harmlessly into space. If we do not have that task accomplished by the
time indicated in this message, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and
Seattle will suffer the fate which overtook New York such a short time
ago."
Holden's face was pale as he rose and nodded to the professor. "If
Captain Linet will take the responsibility of getting the crews on
board, I will see that we are ready to leave at high noon tomorrow."
The meeting adjourned in a flurry of papers, a ringing of bells, and
brisk words spoken into television transmitters.
All that night and all the next morning work went on. At eleven A. M.
the last five hundred tons of _hexoxen_ was loaded on the _San
Francisco_, which was to be the flagship; at noon exactly the huge doors
swung shut, the repulsion tubes at the stern began to glow, and the
beautiful cigar-shaped ship rose from the earth, followed immediately by
the _Los Angeles_ and the _Ganymede_. They cruised slowly, at about six
hundred miles per hour, until they were well out of the earth's
atmosphere, when full power was slowly turned on, and the trip to the
moon was actually begun.
Holden and Erickson stood in the bow of the _San Francisco_, watching
the skilful hands of the pilot, Edwards, as he spun the dials
controlling the steering discharges, keeping the delicate needle in the
direction indicator exactly in line with the path indicated on the chart
before him.
"How are things going, Edwards?" Holden asked.
"Fine so far. We have developed our necessary velocity in very good
time. If you would allow me a word of advice, I would suggest that you
turn in now, as the tremendous acceleration of the last few minutes, and
the speed with which we are now traveling, are liable to affect you
disagreeably, since this is your first trip. Our course has been plotted
by the experts of the I. T. C., and there is nothing to do now but to
stay on it."
* * * * *
Holden decided that the suggestion was a good one, as he was beginning
to feel light-headed and slightly bewildered. Erickson, however, chose
to go down to the observation room, for a glance at the earth, and the
two parted company in the hall which led through the storage
compartments, located amidships.
As Holden continued on down the hall toward his cabin, a sudden feeling
of danger came over him. Memories of the clutching hands that had
endeavored to throttle the life out of him shot into his mind. He
laughed to himself, attributing the fear to the mental disorganization
suffered by travelers on their first trip into space. He opened the door
of his cabin, and stepped inside, instinctively reaching for the
light-switch.
His hand encountered warm flesh! Swiftly he went into action, diving for
the stranger's throat, but his unknown antagonist had the advantage of
being prepared. Holden heard a soft swish, a tremendous weight seemed to
descend on him, crushing his entire body. Buzzing lights flashed before
his eyes. Then came darkness, and he sank, unconscious, to the floor.
"Jack, Jack, my boy." The voice came from a great distance, slowly
penetrating the great cloud which hung over him. "Jack, what's the
matter with you?" He realized that someone was talking to him. With a
mighty effort, he opened his eyes and endeavored to distinguish the
speaker among the thousands of objects which whirled before his eyes. At
last things settled down, and he saw the anxious faces of Erickson and
Captain Linet bending above him.
"Somebody was in my cabin, and slugged me over the head with a
black-jack when I came in. Look at the wall-cabinet, will you,
professor, and see if any of the papers are missing?"
The professor stepped over to one side of the room, and bent to examine
the compartment set in the solid metal of the wall.
"Holden," he cried, "the intruder tried to open the cabinet, but was
unable to do so, or else you came back sooner than he had expected.
There are tool marks all around the lock."
"That means," exclaimed Captain Linet, "that the man either has tools in
his cabin, or has access to the machine shop here on board."
Scarcely had he spoken when the floor leaped beneath their feet, a
deafening roar sounded from the bow, and the lights went out. Sounds of
running feet came from the corridor. The three men picked themselves up
from the positions into which they had been thrown by the force of the
shock, and rushed to the door.
The emergency lights had been switched on, and they could see fairly
well by the dim illumination. They hurried into the pilot house at the
bow. Edwards was struggling with the controls, pale but determined.
"There's something wrong with the steering apparatus we've run into a
group of tiny meteorites, but, thank God, they didn't hit hard enough to
penetrate the shell. The other ships seem to be in good shape; they're
standing by a few hundred miles away, for I've signaled them not to get
themselves tangled up with this shower."
At that moment a breathless tube-man came running in.
"Report for you, sir, from the tube-room. Someone tampered with the
timing device that controls the feeding of the charges. We can have it
repaired in a few hours."
"Good," snapped Edwards. "Give me all the power you can from the
emergency tubes, and keep the main stern tubes going full." Turning to
Holden, he continued, "I'll try to steer out of this shower by means of
the deceleration tubes, but I don't dare use up too much of their power,
and they can't be recharged until after we land."
"Captain Linet," Holden ordered, "start a search of the ship. Go over
every man's room first, and pay especial attention to their baggage.
Read all the private papers you can find, and see if you can't get some
clue as to why all this is being done. By the way, do we have any arms
on board?"
Linet smiled. "While your orders didn't cover that matter, sir, I took
the liberty to bring with me a very complete arsenal of small arms, and
three of the newly developed rapid-fire disintegrators, using your
_hexoxen_ as the material for the bullets. Very effective, I may add."
"Fine. As soon as a man is searched, and has been entirely cleared of
all shadow of suspicion, arm him."
Erickson departed with Captain Linet, and Holden remained in the pilot
room, helping Edwards work the ship onward. After about an hour and a
half, they had reached an area free from meteorites of dangerous size.
"I think I can handle her myself, now. Thanks very much," Edwards said,
and Holden departed to do a little investigating on his own.
* * * * *
In the tube-room at the stern, he found Linet. The doughty Captain had
evidently been giving the men a thorough raking over, for they were all
looking slightly sheepish, as men do when they have had to reveal the
most intimate details of their lives.
"All in shape here," Linet reported. "Five of the men I know best are
searching the living quarters, under command of Professor Erickson. If
you will come with me now, we will go to the observation room, where the
rest of the men are loafing while off duty."
As they passed down the central hall in the section where the cabins
were located, a man ran out from a side passage, saw them, and turned at
full speed for the bow.
"Stop him," came a shout. Holden recognized the voice as Erickson's. The
man heard it, too, for he whirled in his tracks, whipped an
old-fashioned automatic pistol from his pocket, leveled it at Holden,
and took careful aim. The fraction of a second during which his eye
rested along the sights was his undoing.
Captain Linet's hand, hidden under the loose jacket he was wearing,
pressed the release on his short-range ray pistol, a light bluish streak
touched the man's breast, and he fell forward, his heart literally
shattered by the energy of the ray.
Holden reached him first, and rolled him over. His face was faintly
familiar, and doubt changed to recognition as Captain Linet exclaimed,
"It's Chambers, a former petty officer on my airliner."
It was the man who had come up to the Captain while Holden and Erickson
were conversing with him on the bridge.
"What on earth could the man have been up to? He must have been mad to
attack me on this ship, with no chance of escape," exclaimed Holden. "Do
you know anything of his record, Captain?"
"Nothing whatsoever, except that he seemed honest enough, and hard
working. I was the one responsible for his presence on board here, as he
had mentioned some knowledge of interplanetary travel, and we needed
men."
Erickson had come up by that time.
"We found nothing in this man's cabin except some tools that he had
evidently stolen from the machine shop, and a code book of the type used
by commercial companies for interplanetary messages. He entered the room
while we were searching it, and bolted when he saw us."
The thing was puzzling, but most of the men on board accepted the
explanation that the man was mad, and had for some reason resorted to
desperate measures to assure the safety of the moon.
"You know," explained Captain Linet, "back a few hundred years ago,
there was the expression 'moonstruck' applied to people who were
mentally deranged."
At any rate, the incident was closed, as no one could be found who might
possibly have been an accomplice. Minor damage caused by the cloud of
meteorites was repaired, and the three ships swung in close together,
heading for the satellite which they were commissioned to destroy.
The men spent as much time as they could in their bunks, for there was
hard dangerous work ahead of them. Huge cartridges had to be filled with
_hexoxen_, caps of Europium placed on top, and adjustments made so that,
after a certain time had elapsed, the catalyst would come into contact
with the _hexoxen_, causing a reaction to take place which would
continue almost as long as there was solid material present to be
vaporized. One slip of tired hands, one miscalculation and many men,
perhaps the entire party, would suffer a terrible fate.
Holden was busy with one of the latest and best maps of the moon,
looking for places where landing could be made, and charting the spots
where the cartridges would be buried. The exact time for which every
charge was to be set had to be worked out in advance.
CHAPTER III
A Sudden Encounter
The map of the moon was not as complete as it could have been, either.
No particular interest had been taken in our satellite since the first
exploratory expeditions nearly fifty years before, when it had been
determined that the moon was of no value to Earthmen, either as an
outpost for colonization or a station for the production of power from
the sun's rays. Jack did the best he could, however, and the little dots
he placed on the map were close enough together to assure complete
vaporization of the solid material in less than the allotted time.
At the end of the second day out, by earth-time, the dead satellite
loomed immense, only five thousand miles ahead. Holden was in the pilot
house when Edwards began turning on the deceleration tubes.
"I flashed your message to the other ships," he said, as his quick
fingers touched the buttons which sent messages to the tube-room,
"telling them to stand by and land with us. I understand that the plan
is to use these ships to travel over the surface of the moon, making
landings in such positions that expeditions can be sent out in four
directions to plant cartridges. That will certainly give us plenty of
time, if nothing goes wrong."
"I don't see what could go wrong," replied Holden, "since that madman is
out of the way."
Eagerly he watched the dead, dust-covered surface approach, marveling at
the huge craters and precipitous peaks.
In two hours the five thousand miles had been reduced to less than that
many yards, and in a few more minutes the three great ships were
settling softly on the smooth surface of the plain at the foot of Mount
Julian.
Space suits were rapidly donned, the air-locks set in operation, and the
men hastily began unloading the first four charges of _hexoxen_ and
Europium. Holden called a meeting of the ship commanders in the pilot
room of the _San Francisco_.
"Commander Huges," he addressed the man in charge of the _Los Angeles_,
"you will proceed toward Mount Locke, and continue in that line until
you reach the spot marked on this chart, which is directly opposite our
present position. Rogers, you take the _Ganymede_, and go at an angle of
120 degrees to Huges' course, toward Mount Zoga. I will continue over
the Crater of Aristotle. We will keep in constant communication with
each other by means of the space phone. Time the charges so that they
will commence to react on the afternoon of the twenty-eighth, thus
giving a sufficient margin of time in case of delays due to parties
getting lost. That's all."
The _Ganymede_ and the _Los Angeles_ left almost immediately, while men
from the _San Francisco_ set out to plant the first charges. There were
four men to each cartridge, since it was necessary that they travel
fast.
Holden smiled as the lean figure of Professor Erickson, almost lost in
his space-suit, bounded away in great leaps at the head of his party. In
five hours they returned, having had no trouble at all. Edwards
manipulated the controls, and the ship rose quickly to an altitude of
about five thousand feet and headed for the rim of the Crater of
Aristotle, barely visible in the distance. As they neared the rim, they
rose higher and higher. The mammoth cliffs of black rock towered above
them, and the meters registered a height of five miles as they passed
through a crack in the cliffs and looked down on the level floor beneath
them.
Suddenly Holden, who had been inspecting the country from one of the bow
ports, uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
"A tiny ship is rising toward us from the floor of the crater, near the
cliffs!"
There it was, a speck rapidly growing larger, headed straight for them,
and gaining velocity with every foot it covered.
Edwards worked frantically with the controls, diving in a zig-zag path
toward the strange craft. Captain Linet rushed in, carrying one of the
light _hexoxen_ guns. Holden hurried to help him place it in a specially
designed aperture in the bow, while Erickson and the regular radio man
endeavored to establish communications with the intruder. A voice
suddenly spoke from their instrument.
"You will consider yourselves our captives. Land at once as close as
possible to the white spot you see at the base of the cliff. If you do
not obey instructions, we will ram you immediately."
"Don't reply for a moment," Holden commanded, focusing his glasses in
the direction indicated. As the powerful lenses brought out every detail
of the scene below, he paled visibly.
"What's the matter?" demanded Erickson.
"Matter enough," was the amazing reply. "We've run into a den of some
bandits. They must be the fiends who have been preying on the Earth-Mars
shipping!"
* * * * *
The tremendous speed of the dive had brought them so close that all
could see, without the aid of binoculars, the great skeletons of wrecked
ships piled up at the base of the precipice.
"Tell those rats to go to hell," snapped Holden, "and get in touch with
our own ships; use code and tell them to get here as quickly as
possible, prepared for a fight. Get near enough to this pirate ship to
open on it with the _hexoxen_ guns. Can you keep them from ramming us,
Edwards?"
"I think so, for a time, at least."
The enemy's craft was now only a few hundred yards away, and Holden
scrutinized it closely for any sign that might give a clue to the
original builders or present owners. Not over a hundred and fifty feet
in length, with no visible openings, it looked like a slightly fattened
steel needle. Its stern tubes were of the ordinary type; they glowed red
against the silvery background, as the enemy swooped and circled, trying
to get into position for a final, crushing blow.
"Every man in space suits," Holden ordered. "Good work, Linet," he
cried, as he saw a sudden pock-mark appear in the pirate's side, where
the devastating _hexoxen_ bullet had struck.
"They've certainly got thick plates," remarked the Captain, as another
direct hit failed to do more than scratch the metal. "Probably heavier
up in front, if they mean what they say about ramming. I'm going to
concentrate on the stern."
The dull red surface of the moon, the black walls of the crater, and the
twinkling stars of outer space mingled in a fantastic whirl as Edwards
skilfully kept the _San Francisco_ out of the enemy's reach, at the same
time giving Linet and the men in the observation compartment sufficient
opportunity to train their guns on vital spots. It was a hopeless game,
though, for the smaller ship was incredibly fast.
Erickson straightened up from his position behind the operator of the
space-phone. "We can't make any connections with either the _Ganymede_
or the _Los Angeles_. Probably these pirates have developed a shield
which, thrown around their victims, prevents any message from getting to
the outside."
That looked bad. Erickson switched the receiver back to the wave-length
of the enemy. A continual stream of taunts and threats came from the
loudspeaker.
"Why don't you surrender?" the gruff voice barked. "You haven't a chance
against us, but if you surrender you may be allowed to work with us, for
your own benefit as well as ours."
"Go to hell," the formerly meek Erickson roared into the transmitter,
surprised at his own rage.
Then finally, with a desperate dash, the tiny pirate ship darted in.
Edwards did his best to swerve away from the needle-point, but in vain.
There was a shattering crash; Holden felt himself hurled through the
air, but his heavy space-suit saved him from being crushed as he hit the
wall of the room. Edwards stayed with the controls, somehow, cursing
savagely.
"Only a glancing blow, but it smashed all the main stern tubes, and
evidently disabled the anti-gravitational shield transmitter. We're
going down."
Holden dashed to a port and glanced out. A welcome sight met his eyes.
The enemy, also injured, was heading for home as fast as his disabled
engines permitted.
"Those _hexoxen_ bombs must have weakened his plating, so that it sprang
when he rammed us," Edwards exclaimed when he saw what was happening.
Slowly the _San Francisco_ sank toward the red and black volcanic ash of
the crater floor. A hasty inspection revealed that Edwards had been
correct in his diagnosis of the trouble. Extensive repairs would be
necessary before they could proceed, but, fortunately, no one was
seriously hurt, and the main shell showed no signs of strains or leaks.
As soon as Edwards had brought them safely to rest on the ground, Holden
called a council of war.
"From the way these chaps fight, it's evident that they have no weapons,
other than the bow of their ship, and possibly some short-range ray
pistols, or the still more antiquated guns using some form of explosive
to expel metal bullets. As soon as the shadow of the cliff throws this
section of the crater into darkness, I'm going to do a little exploring,
and see if I can't find out where these rats hide, when they're not out
in space. Linet, you throw a line of pickets around the ship; Edwards,
get started on repairs, and Erickson, keep on trying to get in touch
with our companions."
* * * * *
Scarcely had he finished speaking when the light began to fade, and in a
few minutes it was pitch black. Refusing to take anyone along with him,
Holden crept out of the air-lock, and with an occasional glance at the
compass fastened inside his suit, always pointing toward the _San
Francisco_, he set out in the general direction of the wrecked space
ships he had seen piled along the base of the cliff. He made good time,
despite the weight of his suit and the poor footing afforded by the
loosely piled dust, and finally saw ahead of him the silvery gleam of a
ship's side. Afraid to use his light, he crept toward the bow of the
craft, past a huge hole, and reached the name-plate. Following the
deeply engraved characters, he slowly spelled out the name "G-L-O-R-,"
his heart gave a great thump. _Gloriana_, the Earth-Mars passenger
transport into which his own Jean had stepped so happily a year
previously!
A sudden hope flared up and then died down as he remembered the gaping
hole he had just passed. The cowards had probably attacked without
warning; the terrible cold of outer space had flooded through the
opening made by that sharp-pointed prow,--. He could not bear to carry
the image further; with a sob in his throat and murderous hatred in his
heart, he continued his search for the pirate stronghold.
Winding his way among other shattered ships, he came to the base of the
towering cliff, and turned to the right along it, finding his way by
constantly touching the hard rock with his gloved hand. Suddenly there
was a space where he could touch nothing, then the texture of the
material changed.
Carefully shielding the glow, he flashed a light on the wall for a
moment. It was metal, not rock! The pirates had walled in a cave with
plates from the captured transports; probably they were living within,
in all the luxury of their stolen wealth.
A few yards farther on his searching hand touched a seam in the metal,
still farther, another, evidently the air-lock through which the pirates
took their ship into the cave. Holden sat down to think. At that moment
the wall against which he leaned began to move slowly outward! A dim ray
of light came from the opening, which, as he turned to look, he saw to
be an air-lock. The inner door was closed, obviously someone was
expected to enter. He drew a deep breath, clasped his gun firmly in his
right hand, and plunged in.
As soon as he entered, the outer door closed; he heard valves click
open, air rushed into the chamber, and the inner door slowly opened,
revealing a long hall, dark and ominous.
Without removing the helmet of his space-suit, he started down the hall,
but had gone no more than a few steps before he felt a hand on his
sleeve, drawing him through a darkened doorway. The door closed, a light
flashed on, and before him stood, smiling and happy, his sweetheart,
Jean!
With a single movement he flung off his helmet and seized her in his
arms. For a short, delicious moment she clung to him, whispering those
words that lovers know so well. At last she said, "We haven't a minute
to lose, Jack. Let me tell you all I know about this place."
"But Jean, how did you get here? How does it happen that you had access
to the air-lock?"
"I was captured by these fiends, and am a prisoner, together with about
fifteen others, only five of them being men. All the rest were killed,
either when the pirates rammed the ships, or here, when they decided the
place was becoming crowded." Her face paled at the memory of the
horrible massacres, but she went bravely on.
"We have no space-suits, and the pirates, of whom there are perhaps
seventy-five, let us wander around pretty much as we please. We know of
practically everything that goes on. I happened to hear your name
mentioned in the phone room the other day, when a spy on your ship sent
a message. When the pirates brought their ship in, crippled by the
fight, I was sure that you were around somewhere. I have been watching
ever since, making use of a sound detector pieced together from some
scraps of material I picked up unnoticed.
"There aren't any guards because the gang is busy repairing the _Silver
Death_, as they call their ship, preparatory to finishing the job they
started today. Oh, Jack, you must go, now. They may be through at any
time. I don't know when I will see you again, if ever, but I couldn't
resist talking to you, touching you, just once more."
"One moment, dear. I have an idea. Is there any compartment, farther
back or lower down, where you could gather the prisoners together, and
be safe in case the outer wall was broken down?"
* * * * *
"Yes," she replied breathlessly, "one of the older, smaller caves is
still airtight, and while the gang is busy on the _Silver Death_ we
could go there and close the locks. What good would that do, though?
They are certain you can't get in here, or they wouldn't leave the place
unguarded. They have your ship surrounded by a wave-proof shield, so you
can't communicate with the others of your fleet, you know."
"I know that, but I think I can steal a leaf from their own book. Will
they all be working, say three hours from now?"
"I think so. Your guns did a great deal of damage, weakening the forward
structures of their craft."
"All right. Get your friends together in the old cave you mentioned,
seal it, and then wait till I come back."
Tenderly he kissed her good-bye, then hastened away, anxious to get his
work done before the shadow of the cliff again receded.
Thanking the fates for the good fortune that had saved Jean, and had led
her to the air-lock at the moment he was there, he stumbled over the
rocks and dust piles until halted by the picket line surrounding the
_San Francisco_. He called the men into the ship, and hastened to the
pilot room, where Edwards was testing the controls.
"Any luck?"
"Yes, a lot. Can you get the ship in shape to travel in three hours?"
"She's in pretty good shape now, although not capable of the trip back
to Earth."
Captain Linet entered at that moment, and with him Professor Erickson.
Holden recounted his adventures of the last hour and then set forth his
plan.
"The cave is walled up with thin plating from the ships the pirates have
brought in here. The entire gang is at work, repairing their own flier;
none of them, or at least only a few, are wearing space suits. I propose
to drive the bow of the _San Francisco_ into the wall of their cave,
previously weakening it by a few bursts from the _hexoxen_ guns!"
"It is possible," replied Edwards, "but it will probably put us out of
commission altogether."
"In any case," put in Erickson, "we will be rid of this damnable shield,
and can communicate with our companions."
It certainly was the only plan, for, as soon as the pirates had repaired
their ship, another unequal battle would be waged, with the result very
little in doubt.
All hands set to work completing repairs on the main stern tubes, the
only ones necessary to drive the _San Francisco_ forward. In less than
three hours, Edwards pronounced the work done to his satisfaction.
As the light began to creep in toward the base of the cliff, the huge
ship rose slightly off the ground, the tubes glowed red and, guided by a
powerful searchlight installed on the bow, Edwards pointed his craft
toward the gleaming metal patch that marked the position of the pirate
cave.
At short range, Holden, Linet, and Erickson opened with the three
_hexoxen_ guns. They saw the bursts take effect on the metal. Edwards
turned the power on full, and they felt the floor leaping under them.
Would the bow of the _San Francisco_ hold? Would they all be crushed to
death at the impact? Another moment would tell. Holden saw the metal
plates dead ahead, could distinguish the seams marking the air-lock.
He fired one final shot, and flung himself to the floor of the pilot
room, endeavoring to find some means of bracing himself for the shock.
Then it came! Torn from his position, he saw the plates buckling and
heaving about him. The lights went out. A great crash sounded in his
ears, and everything went black. In a moment he regained consciousness,
and staggered to his feet, bruised and dizzy. Thank God, his space suit
had not been harmed! A faint glow from the outside made things visible
and he saw that the shock had torn a huge piece out of the plating of
the pilot room.
A hand clutched his elbow, and through the phone in his space suit he
heard Linet's voice.
"Erickson and Edwards are knocked out. Let's see what we did to these
chaps here."
* * * * *
Rushing back through the corridor, they collected as many of the crew as
were able to move, flung open the heavy doors of the air-lock, and
scrambled down to the floor of the cave.
Here and there lay bodies, pirates caught unawares. Suddenly Holden saw
a blue flash. One of the mechanics clutched at his breast and fell, dead
in an instant.
"Some of these fellows are still alive. They're using ray pistols,"
Holden shouted into his suit phone.
Even as he spoke he heard the sound of running feet from the darkness in
the rear of the cave, where the bow of the _Silver Death_ was barely
visible in her cradle, and in a moment at least fifty figures, pirates
who had somehow escaped the fatal cold of space, clad in clumsy suits
and brandishing pistols, flung themselves desperately upon the smaller
party.
Blue flashes were everywhere as the battle commenced, but the only sound
was of struggling feet, with an occasional thud as a body hit the floor.
The pirates had been weakened by their long stay on the moon, and moved
slowly, but the surprise of their attack, and the superiority of numbers
had given them some advantage. It was man to man fighting, savage and
merciless.
Holden, with a neat dive, knocked the feet from under a huge fellow who
had trained a pistol on him, and they rolled over and over, each trying
desperately to gain a second's advantage. He heard a dull crash to one
side, as Captain Linet, jumping high into the air, landed with stunning
force on a bewildered assailant. Thinking of Jean, waiting for him in
some dim corner of the cave, he redoubled his efforts.
For a fraction of a second his pistol pointed toward his antagonist's
body, and that was enough. He pressed the release, and the deadly ray
shot into the body beneath him, dealing instant death. Freeing himself
from the cold grip, he ducked an empty pistol flung at him by a new
assailant. Again his finger bent, and another body dropped to join those
lying motionless on the floor.
A fast-moving shadow caught his eye. He saw one of the pirates detach
himself from a writhing group and head for the side of the cave. That
was the place where Jean had said she would be waiting!
Pausing only an instant to make sure that his pistol was still charged,
Holden sprang in pursuit of the fleeing form. He saw him stoop and pick
up a heavy bar from the floor. The coward was going to burst open the
chamber where the helpless captives waited! It was impossible to aim at
that speed, so Holden forced his flying feet to move still faster, and
foot by foot he drew closer to the man he pursued. Metal plates again
gleamed in front of him, and he saw the pirate raise the bar high over
his head, preparing for a blow which would crush the thin plates. The
tiniest hole would mean death to the captives, who had no means of
protecting themselves.
With one last desperate effort, Holden jumped, his Earth-trained muscles
carrying him high into the air, while his pistol stabbed the partial
darkness with vivid rays. Dodging and ducking, the pirate evaded the
fatal stabs, while his bar beat a loud tattoo against the metal. Holden
struck at him with his now useless pistol as he landed. The blow missed,
and, losing his balance, he staggered and fell, past his foe, who
quickly turned, raising his bar for a _coup de grace_ which never
landed. The familiar flash of a pistol once more illuminated the scene,
the bar dropped from dead hands, and Holden scrambled to his feet.
A voice was speaking through his suit phone, and he recognized it as
Erickson's. "I just came to, tumbled out of that hole in the pilot room,
saw the flash of your pistol, and here I am."
The old professor appeared, wobbling slightly, but still game. The
flashes toward the mouth of the cave had grown fewer. Leaving Erickson
to guard the compartment of the captives, Holden hurried back to the
fight. Even as he went, the flashes died out altogether, and he heard
Linet's hearty voice in the phone. "Holden, where are you? We've cleaned
out them all down here."
Light was now flooding in from outside, and bodies could be seen lying
thick on the floor, cold and stiff in death. Sadly Holden recognized
many of them as his own men. After a hasty conference with Linet, he
gathered together fifteen space suits, and with an escort helping to
carry them, he hurried back to Jean.
* * * * *
The door of the air-lock opened as his party approached. They went in,
heard the swish of air entering, and in a few minutes the inner door
swung wide. A happy crowd of men and women surrounded them, as they rid
themselves of their helmets. Holden felt Jean's arms around him, her
sweet lips once more on his. For a second they clung together, then
parted, for there was work to be done. The space suits were distributed
and, as he led the way back to the _San Francisco_, Jean told him
briefly the details of the long year of imprisonment.
"They gave us warning before they rammed us, as they wanted to save the
women, for a purpose you can guess. Fortunately, there were never enough
of us to go around, and these men, exiles from two planets, were always
quarreling among themselves, so we were quite safe. We just existed,
praying that some exploring expedition would find us, or that the
_Silver Death_ would meet a ship too strong for her to ram and, fleeing
here for refuge, be trailed."
Holden sighted Captain Linet hurrying toward them. In the light now
flooding the entire cavern, he could see lines of despair and
hopelessness written over the florid face.
"What's the matter?"
"Matter enough," came the ominous answer. "The space phone on our ship
is entirely disabled. We won't be able to get in touch with the
_Ganymede_ or the _Los Angeles_. In a few days, the _hexoxen_ charges
they plant will commence to go off, and that will be the end of us."
Holden stopped, stunned by the news. Fleeting visions of happiness with
Jean vanished into thin air. He would be destroyed by the chemical he
had invented, with which he had hoped to save the world.
"I thought we might get out in the _Silver Death_," continued the
captain, "but the entrance is entirely blocked by our own ship, and I'm
afraid it will never move again."
Then Jean's clear voice cut in. "How about the space phone on the
_Silver Death_? Won't it work?"
"Why, of course it will," laughed the captain, amused at his own
stupidity.
Stumbling and tripping in their haste, the three hurried through the
open air lock of the pirate craft, into the pilot room.
Holden feverishly set to work, whirling the strange dials, pushing this
button, then that. At last a faint roar sounded in the loud speaker.
Pressing his helmet against the transmitter, so that the vibrations
would carry his voice, he shouted, "_Ganymede_, _Los Angeles_, Holden
calling."
"What ho?" came a cheery voice, which he recognized as belonging to
Huges, commander of the _Los Angeles_.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he explained the situation. Busy days
followed. _Hexoxen_ and Europium from the _San Francisco_ were
transferred to the other ships, with as much of the treasure collected
by the pirates as could be loaded into the cramped quarters.
With Huges and Rogers assisting, Holden revised the schedule for
planting the charges.
"We simply haven't time," he explained, "to set the charges as close
together as I had planned. There's nothing to do but get all of them in
that we can, and then hope that conditions in the interior of the moon
will be of a nature to promote the action of the _hexoxen_."
The ships' crews understood only too well the importance and danger of
their work, and during the days that followed they toiled like a gang of
madmen. Parties raced each other over the rough surface of the dead
satellite, grimly determined that their efforts to save the world should
not be in vain. Even the men of the party which had been rescued,
weakened as they were by their long stay in the pirate cave, insisted on
giving what help they could.
Finally came the day when the first charges were set to go off. Holden
sat in the pilot room of the _Ganymede_, his eyes on the chronometer,
while Captain Linet swept the desolate plain with powerful binoculars
for the cloud of dust which would signal the return of the last party.
"Five minutes yet, Captain," Holden said in a low voice. "Tell the _Los
Angeles_ to pull out. The first charges are scarcely two hundred miles
from here, and I'm not certain how fast the reaction will travel."
Five minutes. Two minutes. The silver shape of the _Los Angeles_ was
already fading in the distance. Suddenly a sharp shock rocked the stony
bed on which the _Ganymede_ was resting. Simultaneously five figures
appeared, racing at full speed for the ship. Shock after shock tore at
the ground beneath their feet. Holden stood at the controls, waiting for
the signal that his five comrades were safely aboard. To his tensed
nerves it seemed hours before the welcome sound came to his ears, and
with a sigh of relief he opened the power into the stern tubes, and
laughed happily as the huge ship shot away from the heaving surface of
the dying moon.
Anxious seconds passed. From the height to which they had risen, a great
part of the moon was visible, and for the first time Holden realized the
full power of the chemical which his ingenuity had devised. Immense
tongues of flame ripped through the dust and rock of the satellite,
sending dense clouds of vapor bellowing out into space. Mighty mountains
disappeared in an instant.
The _Ganymede_ was traveling at full speed, and yet it seemed as though
at any moment the conflagration might reach out, consuming the space
ship in that all-engulfing reaction. Holden manipulated the controls
with flying fingers, seeking to get every available bit of speed from
the metal monster which was carrying its precious cargo of human beings
away from a terrible death.
Far ahead he could see the shape of the _Los Angeles_, now safely
outside the danger zone. Thin clouds of vapor floated around the
_Ganymede_, then suddenly cleared.
Captain Linet gave a shout of joy as he read the distance recorded on
the dials. "Jack, my boy, we're safe. We're outside the limit to which
the reaction can extend."
With the three ships playing their deadly beams on the moon, Holden
watched the immense craters, the towering mountains, and the desolate
plains of the moon slowly vaporize.
It was an awe-inspiring sight, as this dead world slowly melted into the
nothingness of space, as though a disease of matter were wasting it
inexorably away.
No doubt, on the earth, as the contours of the moon slowly blurred and
became indistinct, with the accumulation of vapor around its now ragged
rim, there must have been terror and consternation. And as the moon
slowly evaporated in the skies a virtual panic must have ensued among
the Earth's people.
The hand of a terrible fate, or the coming of the end of the world, must
have been shouted from city to city as the only explanation of this
apparent disaster in the heavens.
But the work had to go on....
For days, the _Ganymede_ and the _Los Angeles_ cruised through the thin
clouds, spreading between them the anti-gravitational shield, while the
sections of vapor, freed of their mutual attraction, drifted out into
uncharted space.
It was slow, dangerous work, cutting those sections off from the main
mass, and maintaining the proper position until they had floated off
into space. Occasional particles of rock, small but deadly, clattered
against the hard shell of the space ship. Fortunately, no fragments of
appreciable size were encountered; the _hexoxen_ had done its work
thoroughly. For eight days the powerful ray sliced and repelled. Under
its influence huge clouds of vapor, the ghostly remains of the calm
globe which had innocently threatened the earth, hurtled off into the
farthest reaches of space, there to sink at last into the substance of
some flaming star.
At last the work was finished, and the two ships, saviors of the Earth,
turned their bows toward home to carry to the awestruck people of Earth
the glad news that interplanetary commerce would be as free of pirates
thereafter as the Earth would be free of the disastrous quakes.
And Jack Holden, at last, faced with a light heart the honors that would
be his, knowing that he could now share them with the girl of his
dreams.
THE END.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Moon Destroyers, by Monroe K. Ruch
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