Giants on the Earth

By Capt. S. P. Meek

The yoke of Jovian oppression
rests heavily on the dwellers of
Earth—until Damis, the Nepthalim,
comes forward to lead them in
spirited revolt.

CHAPTER I
The Jovian Tyrant

Glavour, Jovian Viceroy
of the Earth, looked arrogantly
about as he lay
at ease on the cushions of
the ornate chariot which bore him
through the streets of his capital
city. Like all the Jovians, he was
cast in a heroic mold compared to
his Earth-born subjects. Even for
a Jovian, Glavour was large.
He measured a
good eight feet
from the soles
of his huge
splayed feet to the crown of his
enormous head, crested with stiff
black hair which even the best efforts
of Tonsome, the court barber,
failed to make lie in order. His
keen black eyes glittered as they
swept over the scene before him.
Where only a few years before had
been only tangled tropical jungle
on the narrow neck of land separating
the two great oceans, now rose
row after row of stately buildings.
Suddenly Glavour’s
attention
was attracted by
a girlish form in
a passing chariot.

“Stop!” he cried.

Before them were figures
out of a nightmare.

[367]
Obedient to the driver’s touch
on a lever, the tiny radium motor
of the chariot ceased to revolve
and the equipage stopped its forward
motion. Glavour turned to an
equerry at his side.

“Havenner,” he exclaimed, “did
you note that maiden who passed
us?”

“I did, Your Excellency.”

“Bring her before me.”

The equerry sprang lightly to
the ground and called out in a
stentorian voice. At the sound
every vehicle on the street ceased
its movement until the will of the
Viceroy, the ruler of the Sons of
God, should be made known. In
a few steps, his powerful Jovian
muscles carrying his huge body
forward at a rate impossible to
persons born of Earthly parentage
who had not inherited the power
needed to overcome the enormous
gravity of Jupiter, Havenner
reached the equipage containing
the girl. He gave a curt order and
the girl’s driver turned his vehicle
and brought it alongside the
Viceroy’s.

[368]
Glavour’s eyes rested on the
slim lithesome figure of the
Earth-girl. She was just emerging
from the grace of girlhood into
the full dignity of young womanhood
and the soft clinging garb
she wore accentuated rather than
concealed the curves of her body.
As Glavour’s gaze fell on her, she
cast down her eyes and a flush
crept slowly over her pretty face
to the mass of coppery gold hair
which crowned her head. An expression
of brutal lust came into
the Viceroy’s eyes.

“Daughter of Man,” he said slowly,
“how are you named and what
is your family?”

“My name is Lura, Your Excellency,”
she faltered, “and I am the
daughter of Turgan, the Kildare
of this province.”

“You please me, girl,” said the
Viceroy. “Dismiss your chariot and
join me in mine. There is room in
my seraglio for you.”

Lura stared with horror at the
huge Jovian and shrank back from
his sensual gaze. Glavour gazed at
her in astonishment and a deep
scowl spread over his face.

“The prospect does not seem to
please you, Daughter of Man,” he
said slowly. “Perhaps the company
of the Viceroy of Tubain, Ruler
of the Universe, is too lowly to
please you and you desire more
exalted company. Be careful that
I do not have you stripped and
given to the palace guards for
their sport. Join me in my chariot.”

He half rose and leaned forward
to clasp her. Lura gave a cry of
horror and sprang from her chariot
to the ground on the side farthest
from the vehicle of the Viceroy.
Glavour leaped to his feet with a
roar of rage and lunged after her.
Before he had left his chariot,
the hand of his equerry fell restrainingly
on his shoulder. The
Viceroy turned a rage-maddened
face toward his minion.

“Seize that maiden, Havenner!”
he cried. “As I live, she shall be
sacrificed at the next games.”

The equerry made no move to
obey his superior’s orders and
Glavour’s face grew purple with
rage.

“Obey my orders or you shall
join her as a sacrifice!” he roared.

The equerry’s face paled slightly
and grew grim at the Viceroy’s
words but no trace of fear appeared
on his heavy countenance.

“Save your breath, Glavour,” he
said shortly, but in so quiet a
voice that no one but the Viceroy
heard him. “You may be head of
the Sons of God on this planet
but your power does not extend
to life and death over me, who
am of the same blood that you
are. I have the right to appeal to
Tubain from such a sentence. Before
you strive to haul that girl
away to your already crowded
seraglio against her will, listen to
me. Do you realize who she is?”

The Viceroy’s face was a study.
For a moment rage predominated
and he raised a mighty fist to
strike Havenner down, but the
equerry looked him fearlessly in
the eye. Slowly the hot rage faded
and a deadly ferocity took its
place.

“You try me far, Havenner,” he
said in a quiet voice, yet with a
hint of steel in his tones, “yet
your loyalty is above suspicion.
Heard you not the girl say she
was the daughter of the Kildare
of this province?”

“I heard, Your Excellency,” replied
the equerry, “but beyond
that, she is someone else. She is
the affianced bride of Damis, the
son of Hortan, who was Viceroy
before you.”

“A Nepthalim!” exclaimed the
Viceroy scornfully. “What matters
that? Are the desires of a half-breed
bastard to stand above the
[369]
wishes of the ruler of the planet?”

“It is true that the mother of
Damis was a Daughter of Man,”
said the equerry quietly, “yet Hortan
married her in honor. Damis
is a man of great influence and
it would be well to reflect before
you rob him of his chosen bride.
There is wide discontent with our
rule which needs only a leader to
flare up. Remember that we are
few and Jupiter is far away.”

“Havenner, you talk like a frightened
woman,” sneered the Viceroy.
“Let him join the ranks of the
malcontents. For my part, I hope
they revolt. They need to be taught
a lesson. Stand aside while I seize
the maiden.”

The equerry stood aside with
a shrug of his shoulders and
the Viceroy sprang to the ground.
The girl had run as rapidly as
her clinging robes would allow toward
one of the beautiful buildings
which lined the thoroughfare.
She had almost reached the doorway
before Glavour reached the
ground and raced after her. His
Jovian muscles carried his body
forward at a pace which no Terrestrial
could equal. It was evident
to the watchers that he would
seize Lura before she could reach
the sanctuary she sought.

A mingled chorus of cries of
rage and hisses came from the
Earthmen who witnessed the scene.
The Jovian guards strove to suppress
the outcries until a word
from Havenner made them cease
their efforts and close in around
the Viceregal chariot. The cries
rose to a tumult but as yet none
of the Earthmen dared to raise
a hand against the person of the
representative of Tubain, the far-off
Jovian whom they had been
forced to acknowledge as God, and
whom many of the ignorant believed
was God.

The Viceroy rapidly overtook his
victim and his hand was outstretched
to grasp her when there
came an interruption. From the
doorway which the girl had been
striving to reach, a man burst forth
and leaped between her and her
pursuer. Glavour stopped and glowered
at the new obstacle in the
path of his sensuality.

The newcomer stood five inches
over six feet in his flat sandals but
it was only in his unusual height
and his enormous strength that he
showed the blood of his Jovian
father. His feet were small and
shapely with a high-arched instep
and his whole form was graceful
and symmetrical. Crisply curling
yellow hair surmounted a head
which Praxiteles would have reveled
in as a model for his youthful
Hermes. As he faced the Viceroy,
his usual pleasant smile was gone
and his face was set in grim lines,
his clear blue eyes as cold as the
ice brought from the polar regions
to cool the Viceroy’s drink.

The two stood and stared at
one another, the black eyes of
the Jovian burning like fire in
strange contrast to the cold glare
of the blue ones. Then tension in
the street grew taut. The Earthmen
gradually closed in about
them. At a word from Havenner,
the Jovian guards closed up and
drew from their garments long
black tubes. Presently Glavour
broke the silence.

“Make way, son of Hortan, for
the Viceroy of God,” he rumbled
in his deep-toned voice.

Damis made no reply, nor did
he move a muscle. The rage deepened
on the Viceroy’s face and he
strode forward, his hand raised to
strike down this puny assailant who
had interposed his slight form between
the massive limbs of the
Jovian and the object of his desires.
With a cry of rage he
brought down his huge hand and
[370]
then Damis moved. So swiftly that
the eye could hardly follow his
movements, he leaped to one side
and his own hand shot up. Fingers
of steel circled the hairy wrist of
the Viceroy and stopped his hand
in mid-air. For a moment Glavour
was too astonished at the idea of
physical resistance to move. Damis,
with an almost contemptuous air,
tossed aside the hand he held and
made as if to turn his back. With
an inarticulate roar of rage, the
Jovian charged.

Again Damis sprang to one side
and his hand moved. In a long
arc his clenched fist shot up and
caught Glavour on the chin and
rocked the four hundred pounds
of bone and muscle that made up
the Viceroy. For a moment Glavour
staggered and then his hand fell
on Damis’ shoulder. Exerting all
of his huge strength, he pulled his
opponent toward him and threw
his massive arms about him. Damis
made no attempt to wriggle out
of the bone-crushing grip, but, instead,
threw his arms about the
Jovian and matched muscle against
muscle. The Jovian guards, who
had witnessed the feats of strength
which were the Viceroy’s boast,
expected only one outcome, but to
Havenner, who recalled that Hortan,
the father of Damis, had been
one of the mightiest men of Jupiter,
the issue was not a foregone
conclusion. Stealthily as a cat he
crept forward, a long black tube
clenched in his hand.

Mightily the two strove.
The face of the Jovian grew
dark red and then almost purple as
he put forth his last ounce of
strength to crush the opponent
whom he topped a good eighteen
inches. For all of his effort, not an
inch did Damis yield. His face
grew as pale as the Jovian’s grew
red and his breath came whistling
through his lips, but the strength
he had inherited from his mighty
sire stood him in good stead. Inch
by inch he bent the huge form of
his opponent backward. With a
sudden effort, the Jovian raised
one of his huge misshapen feet
and strove to bring his mighty
thighs to aid him in thrusting
away his enemy. Damis’ knee came
up and the Jovian dropped his
foot with a howl of pain. His
breath came in gasps and he stared
into the implacable blue eyes before
him with a sudden spasm of
fear. At last Glavour had met his
match.

He opened his lips to call to his
guards for help but shame held
back the cry. Once he admitted defeat,
the fear in which the Earthmen
held him would be shaken.
With an effort he bent forward
his head and buried his huge fangs
in Damis’ shoulder. There was a
cry from the watching Earthmen
as they surged forward. The Jovian
guards ran to their ruler’s
assistance but they were too far
away. Havenner was close and he
sprang forward, thrusting the black
tube which he carried, toward
Damis.

A cry advised Damis of his danger.
With a herculean effort he
lifted the huge Jovian from his
feet and swung him around until
the massive body was between him
and the threatening weapon of the
equerry. As swiftly as striking
snakes his arms uncoiled from
around Glavour’s body and grasped
him by the shoulders. With one
mighty heave he tore the Jovian’s
mouth from his shoulder although
the flesh was torn and
lacerated by the action. One arm
went under Glavour’s arm and back
around until the hand rested on
the back of his neck. The other
arm caught the Viceroy’s arm and
twisted it behind his back. Glavour
gave a cry of pain as the punishing
hold was applied. Holding his
[371]
captive before him, Damis turned
to the equerry.

“Put up your tube,” he said.
“One hostile move and your ruler
dies.”

“Disintegrate him, Havenner!”
gasped the Viceroy.

The equerry hesitated a moment
but aid was at hand. The
Jovian guards had come up to the
scene of the struggle and surrounded
the pair, black tubes in their
hands. The sight of reinforcements
roused the Viceroy’s lagging
courage.

“Capture him alive!” he gasped.
“He will be sacrificed at the next
games!”

With a roar the guards closed
in on the struggling pair. As hairy
hands grasped his shoulders, Damis
lunged back with all his strength.
There was the crack of a breaking
bone and the Viceroy’s arm hung
dangling and useless. Damis
whirled on the guards, shaking
himself loose for a moment from
their grasp, and his fists flew out.
Two of the giants went down before
well-aimed blows but no one
man, no matter what his might,
could fight against a score of the
huge Jovians and Damis was borne
to the ground. Even as he fell, a
roar went up from the watching
Terrestrials and with one accord
they closed in to attack.

The Jovian guards who were
nearest whirled about and raised
the black tubes threateningly. For
a moment the Earthmen hesitated
and then came on with a rush.
From the tubes came rays of intensely
violet light. As they fell
on the front ranks of the charging
Terrestrials, the form, on which
the rays impinged grew suddenly
tenuous. The sunlight penetrated
through the bodies for a moment
and then there was nothing but
a group of dancing motes of light
to mark where they had stood.

Undaunted by the fate of
their leaders, the balance of
the mob surged forward uttering
cries of hate and rage. From all
the doorways, fresh hordes of
Earthmen came rushing to join the
fray. Again and again the terrible
rays of the Jovian guards blasted
scores of their assailants into nothingness
but more came. Presently
the tubes of the Jovians began to
lose their power and the violet
light became lighter in shade. With
a roar the Earthmen swept forward
and the huge guards went
down under the onrushing waves
of humanity. Half a dozen of them
were dragged down and hurled
back into the milling crowd where
they were torn limb from limb.
The balance of the guards, guided
by Havenner’s stentorian shouts,
closed in around Glavour and the
prisoner and battered their way
by sheer brute force toward the
Viceregal chariot. They had reached
in and climbed in when a feminine
shout pierced the din of conflict.

“Damis! They have Damis prisoner!
Rescue him!”

With a roar, the mob charged
again. Mightily the Jovians strove
but they were outnumbered by
hundreds to one. One after another
was torn from the chariot
until Damis freed himself by a
mighty effort and leaped to the
ground. As he did so, the driver’s
hand found the controlling lever and
the chariot shot forward, crushing
under its wheels several luckless
Earthmen who stood in its path. A
roar of triumph rose from the
crowd and Damis was hastily lifted
to their shoulders. He looked down
on his rescuers with an anguished
face.

“Lura!” he gasped. “Is she safe?”

One of the Terrestrials shouted
something unintelligible and pointed
up. Damis’ gaze followed the
direction in which he pointed. From
an upper window of the building
[372]
into which she had fled, Lura’s
face, wreathed with smiles, looked
down on him. He smiled and waved
in triumph to her. There was a
stir on the outskirts of the crowd
and an elderly man, tall for an
Earthman and with dignity and
authority written large on his
countenance, made his way through
the crowd. At a word from him,
Damis was lowered to his feet to
face the newcomer.

“Damis,” said the elderly man, “I
never thought to grasp the hand
of a Nepthalim or of anyone with
Jovian blood in his veins in friendship,
yet I can do no less than
offer my hand. It is the thanks of
a father to the saviour of his
daughter.”

Damis met the outstretched
hand with a grip that made
the elderly man wince.

“It is an honor and a pleasure to
grasp in friendship the hand of
Turgan, the Kildare of this province,”
he said, “the hand of one
who was born to be ruler in fact,
instead of an underling under a
Jovian master.”

“It is true that my father was
king of this country before the
Jovians came, forty years ago,”
said Turgan gravely, “yet now
there is no honor or merit in it.
Even the rank of Kildare, which
is but that of a slave ruling other
more unfortunate slaves, could not
have prevented my only daughter
from being dragged away to the
seraglio of that monster. To such
a pass has one been brought whose
birth made him the peer of any.
But now we must plan and plan
swiftly, else are we undone. Glavour
will return with his minions.
Safety will be found only in flight,
for mere numbers cannot oppose
the weapons they will turn against
us. Damis, so far you have been
one with our Jovian masters, as
have all of the Nepthalim. Now it
is war to the death between them
and us. On which side do you
stand?”

Damis hesitated as the Kildare’s
keen gray eyes bored into his own.

“My father was Viceroy of the
Earth in the days gone by,” he
said slowly, “and he planned that
I should take his place. His dream
was a peaceful union of the strength
and science of Jupiter with the
beauty and humanity of the Earth.
True to his dream, I have cleaved
to his people and striven to bring
it about, but I can see now the
folly of his ambition. In stature
and mental power he was a Jovian,
in all else he was a Terrestrial.
Since his death I have seen you
stripped bit by bit of what he left
you until now you are lower than
the slaves on Jupiter, who can
appeal to Tubain against a cruel
master. Even I, a Nepthalim, the
son of a Viceroy, am forced to
revolt to save the maiden I love.
Henceforth, I give up my father’s
dream of peace and do what my
heart tells me is right. It is war
to the death between the Sons of
God and the Sons of Man, and I,
who am descended from a Son of
God and a Daughter of Man, cleave
to my mother’s people.”

A shout of joy came from all
who heard his ringing voice
announce his new allegiance. Damis
had ever a reputation as a humane
man and he was guilty of none of
the brutalities which made the Jovians
so detested and which were
bettered by those of the Nepthalim
who had the power. It was only
the influence which Damis had
wielded with the Earthmen which
had prevented many an outbreak
which would have been ruthlessly
crushed by the Jovian overlords.
To know that the son of a Viceroy,
reputed one of the most brilliant
as well as one of the strongest of
Jovian blood, was one with them,
[373]
made them hope that they might
make some headway against their
oppressors and wring from them
some small measure of liberty. Turgan’s
face was wreathed with
smiles.

“Again I offer you my hand,
Damis,” he said. “Before it was
as a father thanking you for the
rescue of his daughter. Now it is
a father welcoming the son he has
always longed for and whom he
feared he would never have. My
consent to your union with Lura
which was grudgingly given only
to save her from the dishonor of
being dragged a slave to Glavour’s
seraglio, is withdrawn, and in its
place I give you a happy father’s
joyous consent to the marriage.”

There were tears in the old Kildare’s
eyes as he grasped the hand
of the young blond giant. For a
moment they stood with clasped
hands, two strong men taking the
measure of one another and each
found the other good. The Kildare
dropped Damis’ hand and
turned to the crowd.

“To your homes!” he cried
sharply. “The Sons of God will
return with new weapons and it
is my wish that none be found to
oppose them. All within sound of
my voice who are members of the
inner council will join me in the
palace. Damis, come with me.”

Followed by Damis and a score
of Earthmen, the Kildare led the
way into a building. As they entered,
Damis cast a swift glance
around and looked questioningly at
Turgan.

“Lura—?” he asked hesitantly.

“Will join us in the council
room,” said Turgan with a smile.

CHAPTER II
Turgan’s Plan

Content with the Kildare’s
answer, Damis followed him
down a corridor and into a large
room set around with benches. The
Kildare did not pause but moved
to the far end of the room and
manipulated a hidden switch. A
portion of the paneled wall swung
inward and through the doorway
thus opened, Turgan led the way.
The corridor in which they found
themselves was dimly lighted by
radium bulbs which Damis shrewdly
suspected had been stolen from
the palace of the Viceroy by Earthmen
employed there. It sloped
steeply downward and Damis estimated
that they were fifty feet below
the level of the ground before
another door opened to Turgan’s
manipulation of hidden catches and
admitted them to a large room
equipped with tables and chairs
and well lighted by other radium
bulbs. Damis turned to the Kildare.

“For years there have been rumors
among the Sons of God of
the existence of this place,” he
exclaimed, “yet every effort to find
it has been futile. Glavour and his
council have at last decided that
it is merely a myth and that the
underground council chamber does
not exist. You have kept your secret
well, for never has a breath
of suspicion reached him that Turgan
was one of the conspirators
who plotted to overthrow the reign
of the Sons of God.”

“Let that, Damis, be a sample of
the earnestness and loyalty of
your new brethren,” said the Kildare.
“There are hundreds of
Earthmen who know where this
place is and what secrets it holds,
yet none has ever betrayed it.
Scores have gone to torture and to
the sacrifice of the games without
unsealing their lips. Would a Jovian
have done likewise?”

“To give them due credit, I
think they would have,” replied
Damis thoughtfully, “yet their motive
would not have been loyalty,
but stubbornness and a refusal to
[374]
subordinate their will to another’s.
I thought you said that Lura
would join us here?”

As Damis spoke a door on the
far side of the chamber
opened and a half dozen women
entered. Lura was among them and
with a cry of joy, she ran lightly
forward and threw herself into
Damis’ outstretched arms. Turgan
smiled paternally at them for a
moment and then touched his
daughter lightly on the shoulder.

“I have freely and gladly given
my blessing to your union with
Damis,” he said. “He is now one
with us. His presence makes victory
possible and enables us to
act at once instead of planning for
years. Damis, you can operate a
space flyer, can you not?”

“Certainly. That is knowledge
which all Nepthalim possess.”

A suppressed cheer greeted his
words and the Earthmen crowded
around him, vibrant with excitement.

“The time is at hand!” cried a
stern-faced man in the crimson robe
which marked him an Akildare, an
under-officer of the Earthmen.

“Before I can operate a space
flyer, I will have to have one to
operate,” objected Damis.

“That will be supplied,” cried a
dozen voices. Turgan’s voice rose
above the hubbub of sound.

“Let us proceed in orderly fashion,”
he cried.

The noise died down to silence
and at a gesture from their
ruler, the Earthmen took seats.
Turgan stood beside Damis.

“For the enlightenment of our
new-found brother, I will recite
what has happened and what we
have done, although most of you
know it and many of you have
done your part in bringing it
about.

“Forty years ago, the Earth was
prosperous, peopled with free men,
and happy. While we knew little
of science and lived in mere huts,
yet we worshipped beauty and Him
who ruled all and loved his children.
It was to such a world that
the Jovians came.

“When the first space flyer with
a load of these inhuman monsters
arrived on the earth, we foolishly
took them for the angels whom we
had been taught to believe spent
eternity in glorifying Him. We
welcomed them with our best and
humbly obeyed when they spoke.
This illusion was fostered by the
name the Jovians gave themselves,
the ‘Sons of God.’ Hortan, their
leader and the father of our new
brother, was a just and kindly man
and he ruled the earth wisely and
well. We learned from them and
they learned from us. That was
the golden age. And the Sons of
God saw that the Daughters of
Man were fair, and they took of
them wives, such as they chose.
And sons were born to them, the
Nepthalim, the mighty men of the
Earth.

“In time other flyers came from
the heavens above and brought
more of the Sons of God to rule
over us. Then Hortan, the Viceroy,
died, and Damis, know you how he
died? You were a babe at the time
and you know nothing. Your father
and your mother, who was my
distant kinswoman, died under the
knives of assassins. It was given
out that they had gone to Jupiter,
yet there were some who knew the
truth. You, the killers sought, but
one of the Earthmen whose heart
bled for your dead mother, spirited
you away. When you had grown to
boyhood, he announced your name
and lineage, although his life paid
for his indiscretion. The same hand
which struck down your father
and your mother struck at him
and struck not unavailingly. You,
since all knew your name and
[375]
lineage, he dared not strike, lest
those who love him not, would
appeal to Tubain. Know you the
name of the monster, the traitor to
his ruler and the murderer of your
parents?”

Damis’ face had paled during
the recital and when the old
Kildare turned to him, he silently
shook his head.

“It was the monster who now
rules over us as Viceroy and who
profanes the name of God by conferring
it on his master and who
would, if he dared, assume the
name for himself. It was Glavour,
Viceroy of the Earth.”

The blood surged back into
Damis’ face and he raised a hand
in a dramatic gesture.

“Now I vow that I will never
rest until he lies low in death and
this be the hand that brings him
there!”

A murmur of applause greeted
Damis’ announcement and Turgan
went on with his tale.

“With the kind and just Hortan
dead, Glavour assumed the throne
of power, for none dared oppose
him. Once secure, he gave way to
every brutal lust and vice. Your
mother was Hortan’s only wife and
he honored her as such, and meant
that the Nepthalim should in time
rule the Earth, but Glavour had
no such ideas. To him, the Daughters
of Man were playthings to
satisfy his brutal lusts. By dozens
and by scores he swept the fairest
of them into his seraglio, heeding
not the bonds of matrimony nor
the wishes of his victims. Only
the fact that my daughter has
been kept from his sight until to-day
has spared her.

“The Earthmen who had been
content to live under Hortan’s rule,
rebelled against Glavour but the
rebellion was crushed in blood.
Time and again they rose, but
each time the mighty weapons of
the Jovians stamped out resistance.
At last we realized that craft and
not force must win the battle. This
chamber had been built when Hortan
erected his new capital and none
of the Jovians knew of its location,
so it was chosen as our meeting
place. To-day, Damis, I have
twenty thousand men sworn to do
my bidding and to rise when I
give the word. Many thousands
more will rise when they see others
in arms and know that again the
Sons of Man stand in arms against
the Sons of God.”

“There are less than a thousand
Jovians and perhaps
twice that number of Nepthalim
on the Earth, yet that handful
would stand victorious against all
the Earthmen living,” said Damis
thoughtfully. “Even I, and I am a
Nepthalim, do not know the secret
weapons in the arsenal of Glavour,
but I know that they are more
powerful than anything we have
ever seen. Forget not, too, that a
radio message to Jupiter will bring
down ships with hundreds, nay,
thousands, of her fighting men with
weapons to overwhelm all opposition.”

“Such was the case but it is so
no longer since we number you
among us,” replied the Kildare.
“Earthmen are employed in the
communications net which the Jovians
have thrown around the
Earth and it is but a step from
those machines to the huge one
with which they talk to their
mother planet. My spies have been
busy for years and our plans are
all laid. There is one planet which
all the forces of Jupiter have never
been able to conquer; from which
their ships have ever retreated in
defeat.”

“Mars!” exclaimed Damis.

“Exactly,” replied Turgan. “The
Martians are a peaceful and justice-loving
people, yet they know
[376]
that peace is given only to those
who are ready and able to fight
for it. Ages ago they perfected
weapons before which the Jovians
fly, if they are not destroyed. I
have communicated with the Grand
Mognac of Mars and laid our
plight before him. He has pledged
his aid and has promised us enough
of his weapons to not only destroy
the Jovians and the Nepthalim on
the Earth, but also to prevent other
Jovian ships from ever landing.
The only problem has been how to
get them here. The Martians, not
desiring conquest and content with
their own planet, have never perfected
space flyers. They have
promised us the weapons, but we
must go to Mars and bring them
here. Enough can be transported on
one of the Jovian ships.”

“How will we get a ship?” asked
Damis.

“That also has been solved. There
are two Jovian ships kept on the
Earth, ready for instant flight to
Jupiter. They are loosely guarded
for the Sons of God believe that
we have no idea of how to operate
them. We can capture one of them
whenever we desire, but so far such
action would have been useless. Little
by little we have gathered bits
of information about the flyers, but
we had expected to wait for years
before our venture would have a
chance of success. We dared not try
prematurely, for one attempt will be
all that we will ever get. Now we
are ready to strike. You can fly the
ship to Mars and back and with the
Martian weapons, we can sweep the
Jovians from the Earth.”

Damis’ eyes lighted as Turgan
spoke.

“Your plans are good,” he cried,
“and I will fly the ship for you. In
return I ask but one thing: let mine
be the hand which strikes Glavour
down.”

“If it can be so done, yours shall
be the hand, oh Nepthalim!” cried
the Akildare who had first spoken
of the ship. Turgan bowed his head
and a murmur of assent came from
the assembled council.

“And now for action!” cried Turgan.
“There is no need to talk
longer. Years ago our plans were
perfected for the capture of the
space ship and each knows the part
assigned to him. Toness, the Akildare,
will rule during my absence,
for I will command the ship, under
Damis. Twelve of our men who
know all that we have been able
to learn will make up the crew.
None of them will take any part
in the capture of the ship for
many lives may be lost in that venture
and we will need the instructed
men to operate the ship
after we capture it. Damis, have
you any addition to make to our
plans?”

“Only one, Turgan. Glavour will
ransack the Earth rather than be
cheated of one he has marked for
his prey. Lura will be safe nowhere
on Earth. Her capture by
the Sons of God will discourage
the timid who will say that if
Turgan cannot protect his own
daughter, how can he free the
Earth? She must go with us.”

“Your point is well taken,
Damis,” replied the Kildare. “She
shall go. Now to action! Monaill,
are your men ready?”

“They will assemble at my signal,
oh, Kildare.”

“Give the signal, for nothing
will be gained by delay. We will
follow behind while you capture
the ship.”

Monaill bowed before the
Kildare and hastened from
the council room. In a few words
Turgan gave to Toness the final
orders for the conduct of the conspiracy
during his absence. Followed
by Lura, Damis and three
of the council, he made his way
[377]
to a hidden doorway. Along an
underground passage they made
their way for a quarter of a mile.
A group of figures was seen dimly
ahead of them and nine men
joined the party. Turgan identified
them to Damis as the balance of
the crew.

“Has Monaill passed this way?”
he asked.

“He passed with his band a few
moments ago, oh, Kildare,” replied
one of the men. “See, there is the
light which summons us to follow.”

He pointed to a tiny light which
had suddenly flashed into brilliance.
Turgan nodded and led the way
forward. At another doorway which
opened to Turgan’s touch on a
hidden lever, the party paused. An
instant later there came from a few
hundred yards ahead of them a
hoarse cry of alarm followed by
the roar of a huge whistle.

“The battle has joined!” cried
Turgan. The others crouched, tense
and motionless. From ahead came
the sound of battle. Violet light
showed in short intense flashes. It
was evident that the Jovian guard
of the space ship was fighting valiantly
to protect it. Shaking aside
Turgan’s restraining hand, Damis
crept slowly forward.

Two hundred yards from the spot
where he left Turgan he came to a
bend in the passage. The sound of
battle came from just ahead. He
crept forward and peered around
the corner. The passage emerged
from the ground and gave way to
a huge open space which he recognized
as part of the grounds of the
Viceregal palace. Standing on a
launching platform was a Jovian
space ship around which a battle
raged.

Five of the huge Jovians were
battling furiously with a score
of Earthmen. Three dead Jovians
and a dozen crushed forms of Terrestrials
testified to the bitterness
of the fight. The terrible black
tubes of the Jovians were exhausted
and the battle was now being
waged hand to hand, Jovian ax
against Earthly sword. The Terrestrials
were being gradually pressed
back.

A shout came from the distance
and Damis could see a dozen Jovian
guards hastening toward the
scene of the fight, brandishing in
their hands the terrible black tubes.
He turned back and shouted to
Turgan.

“Hasten!” he cried. “In a moment,
Monaill and his men will be
overthrown!”

With a shout the crouching
group of Terrestrials rushed toward
him, but Damis did not wait.
The oncoming Jovians were several
hundred yards away when he
threw himself into the fray. At
his appearance, a cry of dismay
went up from the Earthmen which
was changed to one of mingled
wonder and triumph as Damis
seized the nearest Jovian and bore
the fellow down despite his struggles.
It was a matter of seconds
for him to break the bull neck of
the huge guard and he turned to
grasp another. The four remaining
Jovians backed away but Damis
was not to be denied. He rushed
in and grasped another about the
waist, avoiding the swing of the
forty-pound ax, and dragged him
back. The swords of the Terrestrials
pierced the struggling guard
from the rear and Damis rushed
toward the three survivors.

Heartened by his aid, the remnants
of Monaill’s band charged
with him. Two of the Jovians fell
before the swords of the Earthmen
and the third went down before
a blow of Damis’ fist. As he
turned back to the ship, Turgan,
followed by the crew of the ship,
dashed up.

“Into the ship!” cried Damis. A
[378]
glance showed that the Jovian
guards were less than two hundred
yards away and were coming on
in huge leaps. The door of the
space ship was open and the band
of Terrestrials clambered in.

“Quick, Damis!” came Lura’s
voice.

The Nepthalim turned to enter
but his gaze fell on the six survivors
of Monaill’s band.

“In with you!” he cried sharply.

The Terrestrials hesitated but
Damis grasped the nearest of
them by the belt and threw him
bodily into the ship. The others
hesitated no longer but clambered
in. The Jovians were less than
fifty yards away and already deep
violet flashes began to come from
the tubes they carried. Damis
stooped and grasped one of the
dead Jovians. With an effort possible
to only two men on Earth,
himself and Glavour, he raised the
body above his head and hurled
it straight at the oncoming Jovians.
His aim was true and three
of them were swept from their
feet. With a mighty bound, Damis
sprang through the door of the
space ship and the airlock clanged
shut behind him.

The crew of the ship were already
in place, awaiting orders.
There was no time for instruction
and Damis leaped to the control
board. He pulled a lever far down
and in an instant the entire crew
was flat on the floor as though an
enormous weight had pressed them
down. With a superhuman effort,
Damis raised himself enough to
cut off the power. The ship shot
on through the rapidly thinning
air, its sides glowing a dull red.
The heat inside the ship was almost
intolerable.

As the pressure of the enormous
acceleration ceased, the bruised
Terrestrials struggled to their feet.
Damis turned to another lever and
a breath of icy air swept through
the ship.

“This will help for an instant,”
he gasped, “and the cold of space
will soon cool us down. I had to
give the ship a tremendous start
or the tubes of the Sons of God
would have reduced us to elemental
atoms. Keep away from the walls
and don’t exert yourselves. I can
handle the ship alone for the
present.”

For half an hour the ship
charged on through space.
Damis presently pulled the control
lever down and placed the ship
under power. The walls changed
from dull red to black and the
temperature in the ship grew noticeably
lower. Damis made his way
to one of the walls and tested it
with a moistened finger.

“It’s cool enough to touch,” he
announced. “Fortunately the insulating
vacuum between the inner
and the outer skins was at its
maximum, otherwise we would
have been roasted alive. The external
wall was almost at the fusing
point. We can move around now.”

He posted lookouts at the observing
instruments with which the
ship was equipped and instructed
them in their duties and the manipulation
of the instruments. He
placed one man at the control lever
of the stern rocket-motors. As he
turned away from the control
board he saw Lura standing quietly
in a corner. He opened his arms
and she ran to them with a cry
of joy.

“Oh, Damis, I was so afraid for
you,” she gasped, “and I wanted
to hug you when you jumped in
and Father closed the lock behind
you but I knew that you had to
take care of the ship. Were you
hurt at all?”

“Not a bit, darling,” he assured
her, “but it was touch and go for
a moment. I didn’t know whether
[379]
the guards would dare to disintegrate
the ship without orders from
Glavour. In any event, the blasts of
the stern motors must have hurled
them half a mile. No strength could
stand the blast of gas to which
they were subjected. Are you all
right?”

“Perfectly,” she replied; “I never
was in any danger. I was the first
one in the ship and the only chance
I had to be hurt was to have you
overcome and the ship recaptured.
In that case, I had this.”

She displayed a small dagger
which she drew from the bosom
of her robe. Damis shuddered and
took the weapon from her.

“Poisoned,” he exclaimed as he
glanced at its tip. “You had better
let me take care of it. You might
fall and prick yourself with it.”

She surrendered the weapon to
him with a smile and Damis placed
it in a cabinet built against the
wall of the flyer.

“Now go in and lie down,” he
told her. “I’ve got to start plotting
a course to Mars and teaching my
crew how to operate the ship.”

“Can’t I learn, too?” she objected.
“If anything should happen,
it might be quite a useful bit of
knowledge. Besides, I already understand
celestial geography quite
well and I may be able to help in
the navigation.”

Damis looked at her in surprise.

“You a celestial geographer?” he
asked in astonishment. “Where did
you learn it?”

“From my father. He was a famous
heaven-master before the Jovians
came and he taught me.”

“That’s excellent!” cried Damis.
“I didn’t realize we had so much
knowledge at our command. Turgan,
will you take charge of the
navigating after I plot a course?
Lura can assist you. Now, the rest
of you attend to my words and
I’ll teach you how to operate the
rocket motors.”

The Jovian ship was built along
very simple lines. Batteries of
rocket motors at the bow and stern
and on each of the sides furnished
both motive and steering power.
The Terrestrials were all chosen
men and in three hours Damis announced
himself as satisfied with
their ability to operate the ship
under any normal conditions. With
Turgan and Lura watching and
checking his calculations, he plotted
a course which would intercept
Mars on its orbit.

“Luckily, Mars is approaching us
now,” he said, “and we won’t have
a stern chase, which is always a
long one. We will be able to reach
Mars, spend several days on it and
return to Earth before ships can
reach the Earth from Jupiter, even
if they are already on the way,
which is highly probable. I’ll turn
the ship a little.”

Under his direction, the crew
turned the ship in its course until
it was headed for the point in
space where Damis planned to intercept
the red planet. With the
course set to his satisfaction, he
gave orders for the stern motors
to be operated at such a power as
to give the highest acceleration
consistent with comfort for the
crew. There were no windows in
the ship but two observers seated
at instruments kept the entire
heavens under constant observation.
Damis motioned one of them
to stand aside and told Lura to
take his place. She sat down before
a box in which were set two lenses,
eye-distance apart. She looked
through the lenses and gave a cry
of astonishment. Before her appeared
the heavens in miniature
with the entire galaxy of stars displayed
to her gaze. In the center
of the screen was a large disk
thickly marked with pocks.

“The moon,” explained Damis.
“We are headed directly toward it
now but we’ll shift and go around
[380]
it. We’ll pass only a few hundred
miles from its surface, but unfortunately
it will be between us and
the sun and you’ll be able to see
nothing. Look in the other observer.”

Lura turned to the second instrument.
A large part of the
hemisphere was blotted out by the
Earth which was still only a few
thousand miles away. The sun
showed to one side of the Earth,
but a movable disk was arranged
in the instrument by means of
which it could be shut off from
the gaze of the observer. Despite
the presence of the sun, the stars
shone brilliantly in the intense
black of space.

“How fast are we traveling?”
asked Lura.

“It is impossible to tell exactly,”
he replied. “I can approximate our
speed by a study of the power
consumed in our stern motors and
again I can approximate it by a
series of celestial observations, provided
we do not have to change
our course while I am doing so.”

“Isn’t there some sort of an instrument
which will tell you how
fast we are going?” she asked in
astonishment.

“Unfortunately not. We are traveling
through no medium which is
dense enough to register on an
instrument. Our course is not
straight, but is necessarily an erratic
one as we are subject to the
gravimetric pull of all of the celestial
bodies. Just now the Earth
supplies most of the pull on us
but as soon as we approach the
moon, we will tend to fall on it
and frequent sideblasts will be
needed to keep us away from it.
Once we get up some speed that
is comparable with light, we can
measure by direct comparison, but
our speed is too low for that now.”

“I saw you lay out your course,
but how are we steering?”

“The observer who works on the
front instrument keeps a cross
hair on a fixed star. When the
curving of the ship deviates us
more than five degrees from our
course, a side motor is turned on
until we straighten out again. It
is quite a simple matter and I’ll
take the ship myself when we near
Mars. There is no need to be frightened.”

“I’m not frightened,” said Lura
quickly; “I was just curious. Is there
any danger of hitting a wandering
body?”

“Not much in this zone and at
this speed. When our speed
picks up there will be a slight danger
because the higher our rate of
speed, the more crowded space becomes.
If we were going to Jupiter
we would have to use much more
caution. The asteroid belt lying between
Mars and Jupiter is really
crowded with small bodies but comparatively
few are in the zone between
Earth and Mars. That is one
thing I figured on when I said that
we would have plenty of time to
go to Mars and back before ships
could come from Jupiter. Ships
from Jupiter would be able to develop
a much higher speed than we
will attain were it not for the
asteroid belt. They will have to
travel quite slowly through it, in
portions, not over a few thousand
miles per minute, while we are not
held down that way. Now that we
are really started, it will be best
to set regular watches. I will assign
you as navigator for one watch
if you wish.”

“I certainly do want to do my
share.”

“All right, we’ll let it go that
way. Turgan and I will take the
other two watches until we get
there.”

“How soon will that be?”

“About seventeen days. Mars
happens to be only about forty
[381]
million miles away just now. Now
I’ll set the watches and divide the
crew.”

A short examination showed
Damis that his crew were intelligent
and that his instruction had
been good. Every member knew
his duties. Instead of the two
twelve-hour watches which were
usual on space flyers, the additional
members of the crew who
had been part of Monaill’s band
enabled Damis to set only eight-hour
shifts. Each member of the
crew was taught to operate the
offensive ray projectors with which
the flyer was equipped.

Things soon settled down to
routine. No wandering celestial
bodies came close enough to cause
them any real alarm. Once the
novelty of hurtling through space
had passed away, the trip became
monotonous. The Earth, which had
at first filled the field of one of
the observers, dwindled until it
became merely a brilliant green
star. The red speck which was
Mars grew constantly more prominent
as the hours went by and
Damis gave the word to turn on
the bow motors and retard the
speed of the flyer. Several of the
crew had worked in the communications
net which Glavour had
thrown around the Earth and under
orders from Turgan, they began
to call the red planet on the
ship’s communicator.

“It is well to let them know
who we are,” he said to Damis
when he gave the order. “We are
flying a Jovian ship and since we
have come so far successfully, I
have no desire to be blasted out
of space by their powerful weapons
of defense.”

Damis agreed heartily, and for
twelve hours continual attempts
were made to communicate with
their destination. At last their signals
were answered. Despite the
differences in language, they had
no trouble in understanding the
messages. A system of communication
based not on words or sound
forms, but on thought forms, had
been introduced to the Earth by
the Jovians and both Damis and
Turgan were quite familiar with
it. The Martians informed them
that the approaching ship had been
sighted and carefully watched for
several days. As soon as he learned
who the occupants were, the Grand
Mognac of Mars sent a message of
welcome and instructed them on
what part of the planet to land. He
promised that a deputation would
meet them with transportation to
his capital city where he would
welcome them in person and supply
them with the weapons they
sought.

CHAPTER III
The Doom on Mars

Two days later Damis dropped
the ship gently to the ground
in a wide and deep depression
which had been designated as their
landing place. The Grand Mognac
had assured them that the depression
held enough atmosphere to
enable them to breathe with comfort.
There was no one in sight
when they landed and after a
short consultation, Damis and Turgan
entered the airlock. In a few
moments they stood on the surface
of Mars.

They had landed in a desert
without even a trace of the most
rudimentary vegetation. Barren
slate-colored mountains shut off
their view at a distance of a few
miles. When they strove to move
they found that the conditions
which had confronted the Jovians in
their first landing on the Earth
were duplicated. The lesser gravity
of the smaller planet made their
strength too great for easy control
and the slightest effort sent them
[382]
yards into the air. This condition
had been anticipated and at a word
from Damis, lead weights, made
to clamp on the soles of their sandals
were passed out from the space
ship. Although this enabled them
to keep their footing when moving
over the dry surface of Mars,
the slightest exertion in the thin
air caused them acute distress.

“We had better save our strength
until the messengers of the Grand
Mognac arrive,” said Damis at
length. “We may have quite a
trip before us.”

Turgan agreed and they sat
down by the side of the ship where
its shadow would shield them from
the fierce solar rays which beat
down on them. The sun looked
curiously small, yet its rays penetrated
the thin air with a heat and
fierceness strange to them. Lura
and a half dozen of the crew were
passed through the airlock and
joined them.

“I am surprised that the Martians
have not arrived,” said Damis
presently. “I am interested to see
what their appearance is.”

Hardly had he spoken than
the air before them seemed
to thicken in a curious fashion.
Lura gave a cry of alarm and
pressed close to Damis. The sun’s
rays penetrated with difficulty
through a patch of air directly before
them. Gradually the mistiness
began to assume a nebulous uncertain
outline and separated itself
into four distinct patches. The
thickening air took on a silvery
metallic gleam and four metallic
cylinders made their appearance.
Two of them were about eight feet
in height and three feet in diameter.
The other two were fully
thirty feet in length and about
the same diameter. On the top of
each one was a projecting cap
shaped like a mushroom and from
it long tenuous streamers of metal
ran the full length of each cylinder.
From the ether came a thought
wave which registered on the
brains of all the Terrestrials.

“The Grand Mognac of Mars
sends his greeting and a welcome
to the visitors from Earth,” the
message ran. “Before his envoys
make their appearance before you,
we wish to warn you to be prepared
for a severe shock for their
physical appearance is not that of
the life with which you are familiar.
I would suggest that you
turn your heads while we emerge
from our transporters.”

Obediently the Earthmen turned
their gaze toward their ship until
another thought wave ordered them
to turn. Lura gave a cry of horror
and Damis instinctively raised one
of the Jovian ray tubes. Before
them were huge figures which
seemed to have stepped out of a
nightmare, so grotesque were their
forms.

The Martians had long slug-like
bodies, twenty-five feet in
length, from which projected a
multiplicity of short legs. The legs
on the rear portions of the bodies
terminated in sucker-like disks on
which they stood on the surface of
the planet. The upper part of the
body was raised from the ground
and the legs terminated in forked
appendages like hands. Stiff, coarse
hair, brown in color, protruded
from between brilliant green scales,
edged with crimson. The heads
were huge and misshapen and consisted
mostly of eyes with a multitude
of facets and huge jaws which
worked incessantly as though the
slugs were continually chewing on
something. Nothing that the Earth
could show resembled those monstrosities,
although it flashed across
Damis’ mind that a hugely enlarged
caricature of an intelligent caterpillar
would bear some resemblance
to the Martians. Another thought
[383]
wave impinged on the consciousness
of the Terrestrials.

“Mars is much older than your
planet and evolution has gone much
farther here than it has on the
Earth. At one time there were
forms of life similar to yours which
ruled this planet, but as air and
water became scarce, these forms
gave way to others which were
better suited to conditions as they
existed. I would be pleased to explain
further, but the Grand Mognac
anxiously awaits his guests.
His orders are that two of you shall
visit him in his city. The two
whom he desires to come are Turgan,
the leader of the expedition
and Damis, the Nepthalim. Fear
nothing, you are among friends.”

Damis hesitated and cast a glance
at Lura.

“By all means, Damis, do as the
Grand Mognac bids you,” she exclaimed.
“I will stay here with the
ship until you return. I am not at
all frightened, for the whole crew
will be here with me.”

Damis kissed her and after a
word with Turgan, he announced
their readiness to proceed.
He inquired the direction in
which they should travel, but another
thought wave interrupted
him.

“We have brought transportation
for you,” it said. “Each of you
will enter one of the smaller transporters
which were especially prepared
for your use. When you enter
them, seal them tightly and
place your feet in the stirrups you
will find in them. Grasp the handles
which will be before you firmly
in your hands. In an instant you
will be dissolved into elemental
atoms and carried on a beam of
force to the receiving focus where
you will again be materialized.
There is no danger and no pain. It
is our usual means of transportation.”

With a final word of farewell to
Lura and the crew, Turgan and
Damis unfastened and entered the
two smaller cylinders. Before the
astonished eyes of the Terrestrials
the cylinders grew thin and vanished
like a puff of smoke dissipating
in a wind. Lura turned to
Kastner whom Turgan had left in
command.

“What were my father’s orders?”
she asked.

“Merely that we wait here until
his return,” he replied. “Since we
are among friends, there is no need
to keep the ray projectors manned
and I am anxious to let all of the
crew have the experience of setting
foot on a new planet.”

“I am a little tired,” said Lura.
“I will return to the ship and rest
while you let the crew try their
footing on Mars.”

She entered the airlock and in a
few moments was again inside the
ship. At a word from Kastner the
balance of the crew passed through
the lock and began to amuse themselves
by trying to keep their footing
on the surface of Mars.

Damis and Turgan, having entered
the transporters, slipped
their feet in place as the Martians
had directed. They grasped firmly
the handles which projected from
the inside of the cylinders. There
was a momentary sensation of slight
nausea and then a thought wave
reached them.

“You have arrived. Unfasten your
cylinders and emerge.”

They stepped out of the transporters
and rubbed their eyes in
astonishment. Two of the huge
slugs had been amazing, but the
effect of half a hundred grouped
about them was more than the
mind could, for a moment, grasp.
They were in a huge room composed
apparently of the same silvery
material of which the transporters
were made. It rose above
[384]
them in a huge dome with no signs
of windows or openings. It was
lighted by a soft glow which
seemed to emanate from the material
of the dome itself, for it
cast no shadows. On a raised platform
before them rested one of the
huge slugs, a broad band of silvery
metal set with flashing coruscating
jewels clasped about its body. From
the ornament and the exalted position,
they judged that they were
before the Grand Mognac of Mars.
With a muttered word to Turgan
to follow him, Damis advanced to
the foot of the platform and bowed
deeply.

“I thank you for that mark of
respect, Nepthalim,” came a thought
wave from the Grand Mognac, “but
such forms are obsolete on Mars.
Here all living intelligences are
equal. Only the accident of superior
mental power is allowed to
differentiate between us and this
added power brings only added and
more arduous duties. You came
here to get weapons which will
free you from the dominance of
the Jovians who rule you, did you
not?”

“We did, oh Grand Mognac,” replied
Damis.

“Your prayers shall be answered
if you are found worthy. Relate to
me now all that has passed since
the Jovians first landed on your
planet. If you can form thoughts
without speaking, you may save the
effort of speech. The air has become
so thin on Mars that sound will
not carry over large portions of it.
As a result, we have no organs of
hearing, for they have been atrophied
from ages of disuse. We use
thought as our only means of communication.”

Rapidly, Damis marshaled his
thoughts in order. Slowly and
carefully he pictured in his mind
the landing of the Jovians as he
had heard it described and then
the event leading up to their trip.
The Grand Mognac frequently interrupted
him and caused him to
amplify in detail some of the mental
pictures and at times turned to
Turgan and requested him to picture
the same events. When Damis
had finished the Grand Mognac was
motionless for ten minutes.

“Pardon me for sealing my
thoughts from you,” he said at
length, “but my consultation with
my councillors was not a matter
for those from another planet to
know, no matter how friendly they
may be. My council have agreed
with me that your tale is a true
one and has been fairly pictured.
We have no interest in the fate of
your planet except that we desire
to help the form best adapted to
bring about the day we all await
with anxiety when all of the planets
will be united in bonds of love
and justice. We believe that the
form which developed on the Earth
is better adapted to this than the
form which developed on Jupiter
and we will give you weapons
which will enable you to free yourselves
and to protect your planet
against future invasions. My scientists
are now busy preparing for
you weapons which we will deliver
to your ship. Meanwhile, you are
our honored guests. You will be
interested in seeing life as it exists
here and Attomanis, one of my
council, will be your guide and
will answer your questions.”

The Grand Mognac dropped the
upper portion of his body to the
dais as a sign that the interview
was ended. Damis and Turgan hurriedly
tried to form appropriate
expressions of gratitude in their
minds but a powerful thought wave
took possession of their minds.

“Follow me,” it said.

One of the caterpillars crawled
forward and beckoned to them.
With a backward glance at the
[385]
Grand Mognac who seemed unaware
of their existence, Damis and
Turgan followed their guide. He
led the way to a platform upon
which he slowly crawled. In answer
to a thought command, Turgan
and Damis climbed upon it and in
an instant they were skimming at
high speed over the ground. The
platform came to a stop near the
outer edge of the huge dome. They
followed their guide from the platform
to a box-like contrivance built
against the dome. It had lenses
similar in appearance to the observers
on the Jovian space ship
but built on a larger scale. Attomanis
removed the lenses from the
instrument and substituted two
smaller pairs through which he
motioned Turgan and Damis to
look.

Before them lay a huge plain
across which ran a belt of green
foliage. The vegetation forms were
like nothing the earth could show.
There were no true leaves but huge
pulpy branches ran up into the
air a hundred feet and divided and
subdivided until they became no
larger around than hairs. At places
on the plants were huge crimson,
mauve and blue flowers, ten feet
across. As they watched a monstrous
form flitted into view. It
was that of a butterfly, but such a
butterfly as they had never imagined.

The spread of the huge wings
was fully a hundred feet across
and its swollen body was larger by
far than the huge slug which stood
beside them. The butterfly waved
its thirty-foot tentacles and approached
one of the blue flowers.
A long curled sucker, fifty feet in
length, unrolled and was plunged
down into the heart of the trumpet-shaped
flower. Gradually the blue
color faded to mauve and then to a
brilliant crimson. The butterfly
abandoned it when the change of
color was completed and flitted
away to another of the blue blooms.

“What manner of thing is
that?” demanded Damis.

“That was a member of the
council,” replied Attomanis. “She
was chosen to be one of those to
perpetuate our race. Evolution has
gone further with us than on your
planet but it will show you what
in time you may expect.

“Life started with an amoeba on
Mars as it did on Earth and the
slow process of evolution followed
similar lines. At one time forms
like yours were the ruling and
guiding intelligences of Mars. They
were, however, a highly specialized
form. As conditions changed, the
form changed. The head and chest
grew larger as the air grew thinner
until the enfeebled trunk and limbs
could no longer support their
weight. Gradually the form died
out and was replaced by others.

“The forms which you call insects
on your Earth were more
primitive and hardier forms and
more readily adaptable. They increased
in size and in intelligence
until they were ready to supplant
all other forms. The last vestiges
of the bipeds were carefully nurtured
and guarded by our forefathers
until the vanishing atmosphere
made their survival impossible.
The insect form became
supreme.

“We multiplied with extreme
rapidity and would have overcrowded
the planet had we not
learned several things. Our present
form of life is immature in many
ways. For example, we are totally
unable to reproduce our kind. That
is the function of the next phase.
In this form, however, the intelligence
reaches its maximum. As a
result, all living creatures, except
selected ones, have their growth
arrested at the larval stage and
pass their entire life in this form.
Certain ones at long intervals of
[386]
time as the population diminishes,
are allowed to spin cocoons and
hatch out in the form you have
witnessed. This form is almost
brainless, the securing of nourishment
from flowers and reproducing
their kind being the limits of their
intelligence. The eggs are maturing
in the body of the one you saw.
Soon she will lay many thousands
of them and then, her life mission
accomplished, she will die. We will
gather these eggs and tend them
until they hatch. All defective ones
will be destroyed and the balance
will be instructed until they are
ready to take their place in the
community and carry on the work
of the planet.”

“That is extremely interesting,”
exclaimed Damis. “Will
our Earth in time support the same
forms of life as does Mars now?”

“I can see no reason why evolution
should follow a different path
there than it has here,” replied Attomanis,
“but millions of years will
pass before you lose your atmosphere
to such an extent as we
have. All of our water is gathered
at the polar icecaps, from whence
we lead it as it melts through
underground pipes hundreds of
miles to the spot where we desire
vegetation to grow. There we deliver
it directly to the roots of the
plants so there is no waste. Great
bands of cultivated areas crisscross
the planet where the soil is of unusual
fertility. A certain number of
plants are allowed to flower and to
bear fruit for the sustenance of
the reproductive form of life and
to replace themselves. The others
we devour while they are young
and tender.”

“Do you always live in these
sealed cities?”

“Always. There are hundreds of
them scattered over the planet. As
you have noticed, they are composed
of damazonium, the same
substance as is used in making the
transporters. The whole city is
but a large transporter. When we
desire to feed, the city is disintegrated
and materialized over a
patch of vegetation which we eat.
When the supply is for a time
exhausted, the city is moved. This
is one way in which we conserve
the small supply of atmosphere
which is left.”

Attomanis suddenly paused and
held up one hand for silence. In a
moment the thought waves again
beat in on the consciousness of
Damis and Turgan.

“The weapons which were promised
you are ready,” he said. “We
will return to the throne of the
Grand Mognac and you will receive
instructions in their use.”

He again mounted the platform
and Damis and Turgan took
their places beside him. Rapidly
they were borne over the ground
until they came to a stop before
the dais on which the Grand Mognac
rested. Beside the four cylinders
in which they and the Grand
Mognac’s messengers had traveled
from the space ship to the city,
another of huge proportions stood
before the platform. Beside it were
two instruments. From a mass of
coils and tubes a long rod projected
up. It was pivoted so that it could
be directed toward any point. The
rod on one of the instruments was
blue while the other was a fiery
scarlet.

“These are the weapons which
will enable you to destroy your
oppressors and prevent more from
ever landing,” said the Grand Mognac.
“I must caution you, however,
regarding their use. They generate
a ray of almost infinite frequency,
much higher than the disintegrating
ray the Jovians use. Instead of resolving
materials into light and
energy, these devices will absolutely
destroy the ether, that imponderable
[387]
substance which permeates
and fills all space.

“Heat and light travel in waves
through the ether. When it is
destroyed, only blackness and entire
absence of heat remain. Nothing
can bear the cold of interstellar
space and yet it is warm
compared to the absolute cold
which the absence of ether produces.
When you direct one of
these rays toward a Jovian ship,
the ether in the ship is destroyed.
No insulation against the cold of
space will interfere for the ether
penetrates and permeates all substance.
The cold of absolute
nothingness will destroy all life
in the twinkling of an eye and the
ship will be reduced to a puff of
powder. At such a temperature,
even stellanium has less strength
than the most brittle substance.

“There are two of these devices,
set to different powers.
The one with the blue rod is for
use against space ships either before
or after they enter the atmosphere
envelope. Beware of using
it except when it points in a
direction almost normal to the surface
of your planet. These devices
tap and use the enormous force of
gravity itself and when they are
locked to your planet, they are
anchored to the center of gravity
of the planet. Unless it were normal
to the planet’s surface, its reactive
force is so great that it
would disrupt the balance which
holds the planet in place were the
beam sent off on a tangential line.

“The other, whose projecting rod
is painted red, can be used at any
angle as its force is only a minute
fraction of that of the other. It
also must be locked to the center
of gravity of the earth before it
is used by means of the switch on
the front. This instrument will give
you power to annihilate your oppressors
on earth, for while it has
not the terrible force of the other,
it will penetrate any protective
screen which the science of Jupiter
can erect. Use it only against the
Jovians and when you have finished
with it, destroy it that it may not
fall into the hands of those who
would misuse it. The other may
be left intact to repel other Jovian
attacks but I think you need fear
none. Once they learn you have
it, they will be content with their
conquests of Venus and Mercury
and give you a wide berth. The
Jovians have had a taste of it already
and they leave Mars alone.
Each instrument is set in action
by closing the switch on top, after
closing the gravity anchor switch.
To stop them, open the top switch.”

Under the direction of the Grand
Mognac, the Martians placed the
terrible weapons in the transporter
prepared for them. Turgan and
Damis strove to thank the Grand
Mognac for his gift but he interrupted
them promptly.

“No thanks are due us,” he said.
“We have done that which we believe
is the best for the orderly development
of this galaxy of planets
and there is no reason why we
should be thanked. Now enter the
transporters and you will be returned
to your space ship. Destroy
your oppressors and work for the
day when Mars and Earth will
march in peace toward the final
goal of all life.”

Accompanied by two Martian
envoys, Damis and Turgan
entered the cylinders and
fastened them closely. They set
their feet in place and grasped the
handles before them. Again came
the feeling of nausea and then a
thought ordered them to emerge
from the transporters. They
emerged almost at the same instant.
Before them lay the space ship
with its airlock wide open. Not a
living soul was in sight. Damis
[388]
leaped toward the ship, but his
foot struck an obstruction which
sent him sprawling. He glanced
down and a hoarse cry of alarm
broke from his lips. He had
stumbled over the body of Kastner.
The body had been horribly mutilated
by some heavy instrument,
one arm hanging to the torso by
a mere shred of flesh. Scattered
around on the ground lay other
mutilated bodies.

With a shout of anguish, Turgan
sped toward the open space ship.
Damis, with a pale face, hastily
examined the dead bodies. Eighteen
of the Terrestrials lay stiff in death
while the bodies of two huge Jovians
in the uniform of Glavour’s
personal guard told the cause of
their death. Damis struck by a sudden
apprehension, ran from one
body to the next, and in a little
while he straightened up with a
momentary breath of relief. Lura’s
body was not among them. He
turned to the space ship in time
to see Turgan appear in the door
of the airlock, his face distorted
by grief and his tall body swaying.
Damis hurriedly ran to him.

“Is Lura—dead?”

He brought out the last word
with an effort. Turgan’s face
worked for a moment before he
could reply. Through the thin air
of Mars came his choking voice.

“Worse,” he muttered: “she is
gone!”

Damis’ fist caught him under the ear.

CHAPTER IV
Damis’ Decision

[100]
Damis stared at Turgan for
a moment as though unable
to comprehend the old
man’s words.

“Gone?” he repeated stupidly. “She
has slain herself?”

“No,” replied the Kildare, his face
still working in grief; “she is gone
from us. She has been captured by
Glavour’s minions.”

“Her dagger—?” asked Damis
hesitatingly.

“Is gone with her,” replied Turgan.

The Nepthalim started toward the
space ship but a thought wave from
one of the Martian envoys stopped
him in mid-stride.

“Wait, Man of Earth,” came the
message. “The heavens are eternally
watched by our people and none can
enter or leave the vicinity of Mars
unknown to us. My comrade is now
inquiring of each of the observers
whence came the Jovians and where
they have gone.”

Turgan and Damis waited impatiently.
Presently the second Martian
sent a thought wave to their
minds.

“The Jovian ship approached
Mars using Phobus, one of our
moons, as a screen to its movements.
It was close to the planet before it
was seen. When challenged, the ship
sent a message saying that it was
captained by Toness, an Akildare of
Earth and an enemy of the Jovians.
The Grand Mognac was engaged and
the matter was referred to the Mozar
of Chinamonot, the nearest city.
Thinking they were your followers,
he directed them to land here. The
Grand Mognac is enraged beyond
measure that, after so many ages of
failure, the Jovians have made a successful
raid on our planet. The Mozar
will pay for his indiscretion with
his life.”

A groan burst from Turgan’s lips.
Damis stood for a moment stricken
with grief, and then sprang in giant
leaps toward the space flyer.

“Come, Turgan!” he cried. “We
may overtake them yet. At least we
can avenge if we cannot save.”

The Kildare followed him more
slowly.

“Where, oh, Nepthalim,” he asked,
“will we find them in the trackless
wastes of space?”

Damis paused at the words.

“Why, between here and Earth,”
[101]
he replied. As he did so a thought
crossed his mind which was revealed
by the sudden expression of dismay
which clouded his features. “Earth,
Venus, Mercury, Moon, Jupiter—all
are under the rule of the Sons of
God,” he cried.

“And to any of them, Glavour’s
ship may have fled,” replied the Kildare.
“Before we start in pursuit, it
is best to find, if we can, in what
direction the ship went.”

Frantically, Damis strove
to muster his thoughts and hurl
a question at the two Martians who
stood beside the transporter cylinders.
Before the thought had been
fully formed, an answer reached him.

“I have been inquiring, Nepthalim,
why, when our observers saw that
the ship contained Jovians, they were
not destroyed. One of the observers
who watched them tells me that their
ship landed between your ship and
the only instruments of destruction
which could be brought to bear on
them. The Jovians poured out and
attacked your crew who were all out
of the ship. They were so mingled
that it would have been impossible
to destroy them without encompassing
the destruction of your men as
well and we could not blast their
ship into nothingness without also
destroying yours. When they rose
again they carried one of your crew
a prisoner and so they were not
blasted out of the heavens. They
took a course which carried them behind
Phobus where they were
shielded. When next seen, they were
headed away from your planet.”

“If Glavour came to Mars, Lura
is dead by now,” said Turgan sorrowfully,
tears coursing down his
cheeks. “Glavour is not one to await
the fulfillment of his desires and
Lura had her dagger. Her soul is
now with Him whom we are taught
to glorify. His will be done!”

“If it be His will,” replied Damis.
“Don’t give up, Turgan, we may save
her yet.” He turned to the Martians
and formed a thought message in his
mind.

“Has your science any way of telling
us who was in command of the
Jovian ship?” he asked.

“Were your men who lie dead
familiar with the features of the
Jovian Viceroy?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“Then we will search the brains of
the dead. The pictures that are in the
living brain fade rapidly when death
comes, but the last impression of
these men was a powerful one of
fighting and hatred and some traces
may remain. I will search.”

The huge slug crawled over the
ground to the body of the nearest
dead Terrestrial. In one of his
many hands he carried a shiny metal
tube from which crimson rays flickered
and played over the head of the
dead man. The skull disintegrated
under the influence of the strange instrument
until the brain lay naked
and exposed to the fierce glare of
the Martian sun. The Martian delicately
connected two wires terminating
in metal plates to the tissue of
the brain and attached the other ends
of the wires to a metal circlet which
he clamped about his middle. For
some moments he remained motionless
and then crawled to the body of
the second dead Earthman. One
after another he examined each of
the eighteen dead bodies. When he
had completed he crawled over to
Damis and Turgan.

“Put these bands about your brows,”
he commanded in thought language
as he handed to each of them a metallic
band similar to the one clasped
about him. The two Earthmen quickly
adjusted the bands. “Let your
minds remain a blank and in them
will be reproduced the impressions
I have gathered from the brains of
your dead followers.”

Damis sprang suddenly upward
and smote with all of his force at the
[102]
air. Out of nothingness had materialized
the form of a huge Jovian
clad in the uniform of Glavour’s
guards. His blow went harmless
through the thin air and the Jovian
swung a massive ax. Just before the
blow landed the Jovian disappeared
and a thought wave from the Martian
impinged on Damis’ brain.

“Spare your energies, Nepthalim,”
the message said. “What you saw was
not a Jovian but was the last impression
stored in the brain of the
man who met his death under a blow
of the ax which seemed to be striking
at you. I am merely reproducing
in you the emotions and experiences
that man felt. Had I allowed the
phantom blow to land, you would
now be cold in death, so great was
the strength of the impression. Now
make your mind again a blank and
I will reveal to you what was in the
mind of another at the instant that
his death came upon him.”

Before the Nepthalim’s startled
gaze, another Jovian appeared.

“Havenner!” he cried as he recognized
the principal officer of Glavour.
The equerry came forward
slowly, blood dripping from a wound
in his leg. He swung his ax but it
went wide of the mark. Again he
struck, but two Terrestrials attacked
him from the rear and he whirled.
For a moment, Damis had a chance
to watch the conflict which was raging
about him. Nine of the huge Jovians
were engaged in deadly combat
with a dozen of the Terrestrials who
still remained on their feet. In the
door of the space ship stood Lura,
watching the conflict with frightened
eyes. One after another of the
Earthmen were stricken down. Suddenly
a Jovian rushed at Damis but
the scene went blank before the
raised ax could strike him down.

“Have you seen enough or shall I
show you the scenes in the brains
of the others?” asked the Martian.

“I have seen and recognized nine
of the Jovians,” replied Damis, “yet
among them was not the one I feared.
Let me see into the brains of the
others that I may be sure that Glavour
was not among them.”

Another scene materialized before
him. It was merely a variation of
those he had already seen. In the
brain of one of the Terrestrials he
saw the landing of the Jovian ship
and the sudden outrush of the Sons
of God, armed only with the forty-pound
axes they used at close quarters.
In none of the scenes did he see
the huge form of Glavour. He removed
the band with a sigh of relief.

“I broke Glavour’s arms a few days
back,” he said to Turgan, “and it is
probable that that prevented him
from following us, even if he felt
that he could leave the Earth in the
turmoil which Toness had undoubtedly
raised. It means that Lura is
safe for the present, for Havenner
would not dare to do other than to
bring her to the Viceroy. We must
follow them and endeavor to rescue
her. I will ask our friends if they
can plot her course for us.”

“I have inquired as to that,” replied
the Martian to Damis’ unspoken
question, “and find we cannot.
Soon after the ship left the
surface of Mars, our observers
sighted a Jovian fleet of a hundred
flyers in the asteroid belt between
here and Jupiter. They are nearly
through the belt now and are headed
toward your planet. Their path will
bring them within a few thousand
miles of Mars and every instrument
on the planet is trained on them.
While the Grand Mognac believes
that Earth is their destination, never
before have the Jovians approached
us in such force and it may be that
Tubain will try to avenge his former
defeats by an attack in force. We
have no instruments to spare to keep
track of a lone flyer unless it changes
its course and approaches us. There
is one more source of information. I
[103]
will examine the brains of the dead
Jovians. Perhaps they know their
leader’s plans.”

From the first Jovian the Martian
turned away with an expression of
disappointment.

“There is nothing in his brain but
a scene of the fight with your followers,
yet it may cheer you to know
that at the last he felt fear, the emotion
the Jovians boast is foreign to
them,” said the Martian. “I will examine
the other.”

With his crimson ray he removed
the covering from the brain of the
second Jovian and connected his
wires. For a few moments he was
motionless and then he removed the
wires and crawled rapidly toward
Damis.

“Nepthalim, here is what you
wish,” came his thoughts, jumbled
in a chaotic state of excitement.
“This man had a wonderful brain and
the impressions of the last month
are clear and distinct. Attend carefully
and leave your mind a blank.”

On the Martian plain buildings
suddenly materialized before
the Nepthalim’s gaze. With a cry of
astonishment he saw himself facing
Glavour in defiance. Lura, who had
been crouching behind him, ran into
one of the buildings. Act by act,
Damis saw the fight between himself
and the Jovian Viceroy repeated.
The Viceroy, one arm
dangling uselessly, was whisked
away in his chariot. The scene faded
and another took its place. The Viceregal
palace was beleaguered by
thousands and scores of thousands
of shouting Terrestrials. The Jovians
sought with rays and with
atomic bombs to disperse them, but
where a score were blasted into nothingness
or torn into fragments, a
hundred fresh men took their place.
Suddenly the Jovian rays began to
fail. The Earthmen had found the
secret source of power which supplied
the palace and had cut it.

Again the scene faded and he was
on a space ship with Havenner talking
to him. The words he could not
hear for the Martian could not comprehend
a record of a sound. The
pictures conjured up by the words
were easy of comprehension and in
picture forms the Martian conveyed
to him the sense of the conversation.
Havenner was telling him of their
destination. First came a scene
which he recognized as a Martian
landscape. The Jovians swarmed
from their space ship and struck
down the Earthmen without exertion.
Three were made captives:
himself, Turgan, and Lura. The Jovians
reentered the ship and sped
away into space. Damis wondered
what this last picture signified.

Another scene materialized
and they were on another
planet. It was not Mars and it was
not Earth. For a moment he was
puzzled. The sun, when it shone, was
larger and fiercer than he had ever
seen it, but it shone only for an instant.
Blankets of cloud and fog hid
it from view. Rain fell incessantly.
Lush, rank vegetation covered the
ground and rose in a tangle far overhead.
The Jovians emerged from the
space ship, the prisoners in their
midst. A huge lizard, a hundred feet
long, rushed at them but a flash of
the disintegrating tubes dissolved it
into dancing motes of light. The Jovians
made their way through the
steaming jungle until a huge city,
roofed with a crystal dome which
covered it and arched high into the
air, appeared before them. Toward
this city the Jovians marched.

“The crystal cities of Venus!”
cried Turgan. Damis nodded in assent.

Again the scene changed and the
Martian plain was before them.
From the space ship the Jovians
emerged, but instead of the easy victory
they had had in the earlier
scene, they found the task a difficult
[104]
one. From all sides the Terrestrials
charged at them and Damis found
himself fighting against his compatriots.
A sword flashed before his
eyes and the scene was gone.

“Have you learned that which you
sought?” came a Martian thought inquiry.

Damis hastily formed his thoughts
into an affirmative message of thanks
and turned to Turgan.

“We know now where to go,” he
cried exultingly. “Lura is safe until
they land on Venus and enter the
crystal cities, for Havenner would
not dare to do otherwise than carry
out the orders of Glavour. The Martian
weapons which we have will insure
us an easy victory. Come, let us
hasten.”

A thought message from the Martians
stopped him.

“Those weapons on which you
are planning, Nepthalim, were
given to you by our Grand Mognac
for the purpose of ridding your
planet of your oppressors and of
defending your planet against further
Jovian attacks, not for the purpose
of invading another planet with
which we have no quarrel. If you
will use them for the purpose for
which they were given you, you may
depart with them in peace. If you
plan to go to Venus, the weapons
will remain on Mars.”

“We will go to the Earth and rid
her of her oppressors,” replied Damis,
“but first we must go to Venus
and rescue Lura.”

“Venus lies beyond the sun,” was
the Martian answer, “while your
planet and Mars are on the same
side. It will take you five times as
long to go to Venus as to go to the
Earth. Meanwhile the Jovian fleet
will have landed and your efforts
will be in vain to dislodge them.
Even now you must fly at your best
speed to reach your planet before
them.”

“But we cannot abandon Lura. She
is the only daughter of my comrade
and she is my affianced bride. She
means more to us than does the fate
of our planet.”

“Then go to Venus after her, Nepthalim,
but go without Martian aid.
Only to save you from your oppressors
will we help you. Never has
Mars attempted conquest of another
celestial body, although not even
Jupiter could stand against our
might if we chose to attack it.”

“You cannot understand her relationship
to us, Martian.”

“No, I cannot. We are sexless and
sex exists on Mars only for the purpose
for which it was intended, the
perpetuation of our species. It may
be that we have been mistaken. If
the fate of one member of your species
means more to you than the rescue
of your whole race, it is perhaps
well that you be eliminated by the
Jovians. In any event, our decision
is final. Make your choice of whether
you depart with the weapons or as
you came.”

“Then I will go to Venus,” cried
Damis. “If necessary, I will fight the
Jovians with bare hands, but I will
rescue Lura or die in the attempt.”

“And what of the Earthmen who
trusted you, Nepthalim?”
asked Turgan. “Dozens gave their
lives gladly to capture the space
ship in which we came here and
thousands have gone cheerfully to
annihilation to keep the Sons of
God beleaguered in the Viceregal
palace until we return with the weapons
which will bring them victory.
Think you that they would choose
the destruction of enslavement of
the whole race to the possible chance
of rescuing one person from the
grasp of Glavour’s minions?”

“Turgan, you are mad!” cried Damis.
“Have you forgotten that Lura
is your only child?”

“Since the days of Hortan, Glavour
has sought information as to
the secret assembly room. Hundreds
[105]
of men have gone to torture and
death with their lips sealed when
they could have bought life and freedom
by speaking.”

“Were it my own life, Turgan, I
would not hesitate.”

“Think you that never before has
an Earthman been faced with the
choice of betraying his countrymen
or seeing his wife or daughter violated
and sacrificed in the games?
All have been true to the last and yet
they could have done little harm had
they spoken. You have the fate of
the Earth in your hand, yet you hesitate.
I am Lura’s father and I know
her better, it seems, than do you. If
you abandon her countrymen, she
will despise you for a coward. It is
better that one or that many be lost
than that all be lost.”

Damis bowed his head in silence.
Raised by the Jovians whose only
ideal of life was their own selfish
pleasure, the thought that the fate of
thousands whom he did not know
and in whom he felt little interest
could be of more importance than
the fate of the one whose safety
meant more than life to him was a
novel one. The lifelong training he
had received from the Sons of God
struggled, and struggled in vain,
against the ideals he had inherited
from his Earthly mother and his
loved sire. With a face drawn with
anguish, he raised his head.

“We will take your weapons,
Martian, and with them go
to Earth. If it be His will that Lura
be safe, safe shall she be although
the whole force of Jupiter threaten
her. If not, His will be done. One
promise I exact of you, Turgan.
When we have reached Earth and I
have taught your followers to use
the Martian weapons, you will give
me a crew and let me depart to
Venus to find her.”

“Gladly will I promise, and if I be
spared, I will go with you, Damis,”
said Turgan. “Do not think that
Lura is not dear to me; she is dearer
than all else in the Universe save
only the keeping bright the ideal of
loyalty that has been the guiding
light of the Terrestrials for untold
ages.”

“Your decision is well made, Nepthalim,”
said the Martian, “and word
of it shall be given to the Grand
Mognac that he may know that he
made no mistake when he entrusted
you with the weapons of Mars. Now
for your course. When you rise, direct
your ship toward Deiphos. The
Jovian fleet is now at an ascension of
forty-two degrees and at an angle of
one hundred and sixty degrees from
the sun. Deiphos will hide you from
their instruments. Once you reach
it, our observers will plot your
course and send you a bearing which
will take you as far from the Jovian
fleet as possible. They are now passing
Ceres and will soon be out of the
asteroid belt. They are larger and
more powerful than the ship you are
flying and they will make better
speed. However, if you use your
maximum power, you will easily arrive
on your planet before them.
Have you fuel enough for your trip
at full speed?”

Damis hastily inspected the fuel
supply of the ship and made some
rapid calculations.

“We have enough to carry us at
maximum speed to Earth and to retard
us to a safe landing, but very little
to spare. Can you give us some?”

“There is no tantalum on Mars except
a little scattered through tons
of rock. It would take us days to extract
enough to do you any good. It
is well that you did not plan to fly
to Venus for you could have made
little speed and the Jovian flyer
would have reached there long before
you did. Now go, and may our
best wishes aid you in your flight.”

Damis turned and instinctively
held out his hand. A trace of
expression flickered over the face of
[106]
the nearest Martian slug and he bent
forward and clasped the proffered
hand in one of the many hands with
which he was provided. No further
message came to Damis from the
Martians and he entered the airlock
with Turgan following him. As the
lock clanged shut, he turned to his
companion.

“Open the reserve air tanks and
restore the atmosphere gradually to
the pressure of Earth,” he directed.
“Unless you do that, we will be unable
to function efficiently.”

While Turgan opened the valve
which allowed the reserve supply of
compressed air to gradually enter
the ship, Damis pulled down the
starting lever of the ship. With a
terrific lurch the flyer left the surface
of Mars and shot up into the
trackless realms of space. Abandoning
his controls for an instant, Damis
looked into one of the observers.
The plain below them was empty of
Martians, but in the distance he
could dimly see two of the silvery
domes which marked their cities. He
made some short calculations and
turned on a side motor for a moment.
The ship swerved and headed for the
Martian satellite to which he had
been directed.

In an hour he was holding the ship
less than a thousand miles from Deiphos
while he received a message
from the Grand Mognac as to the location
of the Jovian fleet, their speed
and course, and the course which he
should fly to reach the Earth ahead
of them. He noted down the directions
and set the cross hairs of his
forward observer on Alpha Centauri.
His hand sought the controlling
lever and the ship rapidly gathered
momentum for the trip to Earth.

CHAPTER V
A Desperate Plan

Flying the space ship with a
crew of two men instead of the
normal nine threw a heavy strain on
Damis. Turgan proved to be almost
tireless, but while he could act as an
observer, Damis devoutly hoped that
no wandering celestial body would
approach within the danger zone
while he was alone on duty. Nothing
of the sort happened. The days
passed with monotonous slowness,
yet daily and, indeed, hourly, the
planet Mars faded to a red star and
the green point of light which
marked their destination grew
larger. Damis cast many a longing
glance at Venus, but he remained
steadfast to the faith which Turgan
had engendered in him. During the
long hours Turgan had opportunity
to tell the Nepthalim of some of the
sacrifices made by Terrestrials for
the cause of liberty. They filled Damis
with amazement and moved him
to awe to think of the loyalty and
bravery displayed by those whom he
had been taught from childhood to
regard as a race of slaves, created
solely to minister to their overlords.

Damis pushed the ship to the
greatest acceleration which he dared
to use, and, as they approached the
Earth, he cast many an anxious
glance at the diminishing fuel supply.
For thirteen days he drove at
high speed until the Earth seemed
almost at hand. Using almost the
full power of his bow motors, he
checked its speed. For a time he
thought he had overestimated the
power of his motors and that it
would be necessary to avoid the atmosphere
belt, run past the Earth
and return. At the middle of the fifteenth
day, with the Earth less than
a thousand miles away, he threw in
his last notch of power.

The deceleration pressed them so
tightly to the nose of the ship that
they could hardly breathe. Damis
lay with his hand on a side motor to
throw them out of danger. Gradually
the forward motion of the ship
ceased and at last Damis rose with an
effort and shut off the bow motors.

“We are falling under the influence
[107]
of terrestrial gravity,” he announced.
“In another three hours,
we will land.”

He was as good as his word.
Three hours later he dropped
the space ship to a landing at a spot
half a dozen miles distant from the
beleaguered capital of the Sons of
God. As he landed, the sun was just
peeping over the eastern horizon.

Their approach had been seen and
the ship was surrounded by hundreds
of Terrestrial swordsmen. As
the airlock opened and Damis and
Turgan appeared there was silence
for a moment and then a thunderous
shout of joy rose to the heavens.
From the forefront of the crowd, a
crimson-robed man ran toward the
ship.

“Turgan, my lord,” he cried as fell
on his knees and strove to kiss the
Kildare’s hand. “You are spared to
us who had given you up for lost.
Our spies reported that the Sons of
God had followed you to Mars and
had slain you all. Havenner reported
to Glavour that you had made such a
resistance that it was impossible to
follow his orders and bring you back
alive.”

“Havenner!” cried Damis. “Havenner
is on Venus with Lura.”

“The ship of the Sons of God returned
last night,” replied the Akildare,
“with a loss of two men of its
crew and with the Princess Lura a
prisoner.”

Tears of joy sprang into Damis’
eyes and ran unrestrained down his
face.

“And she is safe?” he cried.

“One of our spies saw her and reports
that she is well although in
poor spirits. She is confined in the
palace and will not be harmed. A
Jovian fleet of a hundred ships is expected
hourly with Tubain himself
in command. A message to Glavour
has ordered that Lura be held for
Tubain’s arrival, when he will dispose
of her.”

“What is the situation here, Toness?”
interrupted Turgan. “I rejoice
with Damis that my daughter
is safe, yet, unless we are victorious,
her present safety will avail her
little.”

“Things have gone neither well
nor ill since your departure,
Kildare,” replied Toness. “I have
followed out the great conspiracy as
it was planned many years ago. Although
we have lost thousands of
our bravest men, we have the Sons of
God besieged in the Viceregal palace
and we have tapped and cut the
secret source of power which Timour,
the Akildare, found years ago.
They have no weapons save some
hand tubes that are not yet exhausted
and their axes. Their most
powerful weapons of offense are
crippled, yet we cannot storm the
palace in the face of the defenses
they have left. Have you brought us
any hope from Mars?”

“We have brought weapons
against which all the power and science
of the Sons of God are as helpless
as is our feeble strength against
their might,” replied Turgan. “Send
me men to transport these weapons,
and in two hours not a Jovian will
remain on the planet.”

A wild cheer of joy from the assembled
Terrestrials answered the
words of the Kildare. A score of
men ran forward and entered the
space ship on the heels of Turgan.
They reappeared in a few minutes
carrying with the greatest of care
the two terrible weapons which were
the gift of the Grand Mognac. Damis
suddenly looked up from a reverie in
which he had been plunged.

“I have just figured it out,” he exclaimed.
“Despite his report to Glavour,
Havenner knew that Turgan
and I lived. He started away from
Mars toward Venus, a destination
which he had already informed his
crew that they would make for. He
feared the Martian weapons and he
[108]
strove to draw us away toward Venus
so that he would be safe. Once the
Martian instruments had ceased to
watch him, he altered his course and
made for Earth. With his greater
supply of fuel and more powerful
ship, he was able to make a higher
speed and, despite the additional
million or two of miles, he was able
to land before us. The thing that
puzzles me is why we were not seen
by the Jovians as we approached.”

“You came from a different direction
than Havenner, oh Nepthalim,”
replied Toness. “All of their instruments
were either watching Havenner
or the Jovian fleet. But for an
accident, your approach would not
have been noted by us. I am confident
that the Sons of God have no
idea that you have returned, especially
since Havenner reported that
he had slain you. We will take them
by surprise. Where shall we take
the weapons?”

“Take the one with the blue rod to
the top of the mountain which overlooks
the palace and set it so that the
rod points in the direction from
which Tubain’s fleet is approaching.
That hill is less than two miles from
the palace, so you had better take
them both there. Point the red rod toward
the palace.”

At a word from Toness, the Terrestrials
started off with the
weapons for the point indicated by
Damis. The Nepthalim and Turgan
followed them, relating their adventure
on the red planet as they walked
along. The shutting off of the Jovian
source of power had effectually crippled
all of the power-driven chariots
which certain of the higher officials
among the Earthmen had been allowed
to maintain.

On the top of the hill overlooking
the palace grounds the two Martian
weapons were placed on the ground,
side by side. Damis carefully aligned
the red rod on the Viceregal palace.
When he had it set, with a word of
warning, he closed the gravity anchor
switch. The instrument settled
a trifle on the solid rock on which it
was bedded and then was motionless.
At a word from Damis, as many of
the Terrestrials as could find a hand-rest
pushed against it. It was as
though they were pressing against
the mountain itself. Damis sighted
along the rod and adjusted it until it
pointed at the center of the building.

“So much for that one,” he said. “It
is the less powerful of the two, but it
will be enough to destroy the Sons
of God and the Nepthalim who are in
the palace. The few who are scattered
over the Earth, we can dispose
of at our leisure. If the Jovian fleet
approaches the Earth from directly
above us, we will be able to destroy
it easily. In any event, this weapon
is to be used only when it is approximately
normal to the surface of the
Earth. We must have it almost under
the point from which the Jovians
are approaching. That may be on the
opposite side of the Earth.”

“I think not, Nepthalim,” said
Toness. “We know that Glavour and
Tubain have been in constant communication
since the Jovian fleet
passed Mars and he expects them to
land here. There would be no object
in their taking a circuitous
route, so they will probably drop directly
down in the palace grounds.”

“Let us hope so, Toness. In any
event, we might as well anchor the
weapon here as elsewhere.”

He set the weapon with the blue
rod on another patch of bare
rock and tested the rod to make sure
that it revolved freely and could be
made to cover the entire heavens
from horizon to horizon. He closed
the gravity anchor switch and again
the efforts of a dozen Terrestrials
were futile to move it.

“Now we are ready for their attack,”
he said to Turgan. “You are
as familiar with these weapons as I
am, but I will instruct a dozen of
[109]
your followers in using them. It is
possible that we may not be able to
operate the weapons ourselves.”

“I can operate one weapon while
you manipulate the other, Damis,”
replied the Kildare. “However, no
harm will be done in instructing
others.”

“I may not be here,” said Damis
briefly.

Without replying to the questions
of Turgan and Toness, he proceeded
to instruct a dozen of the Earthmen
in the use of the terrible Martian
weapons. When he was certain that
he had a half dozen men capable of
attending to each of the weapons, he
turned to Turgan.

“I may not be here when the weapons
are used,” he said. “When I
thought that Lura had gone to Venus,
I gave her up and sacrificed both
her and my heart on the altar of our
cause, for it is what she would have
chosen. Now I have accomplished
the sacrifice and returned with the
Martian weapons to find that she is a
captive in the Viceroy’s palace. We
can turn on the rays and reduce the
building and all in it to a pinch of
dust in a few seconds, but Lura
would be immolated with the Sons
of God. The weapons are here; our
men know how to use them, and my
usefulness is at an end. Now I
stand here with no more responsibility
for our success than the humblest
swordsman. Since I am no
longer needed, I will leave the fate
of the Earth to you and follow out
my private designs.”

“Where are you going, Nepthalim?”
cried Toness. The question
was echoed by all within the sound
of his voice. Only Turgan smiled as
though he knew Damis’ answer.

“Where could I go, Akildare,
but to one place?” replied
the Nepthalim. “I go to Glavour’s
palace. I have two errands
there. One is to rescue Lura and the
other is to mete out to Glavour the
death which I swore that I would accomplish.
The rays can be turned
on and the palace demolished at any
time, but I ask that you wait until I
return with Lura or until you know
that we are dead.”

“But if the Jovian fleet arrives before
that time, Nepthalim?” demanded
Toness.

“Then give the word for the use
of the weapons, Akildare, and Lura’s
soul and mine will join the thousands
of others whose lives are but
a part of the price the race of Earthmen
have had to pay to rid their
planet of the Sons of God.”

“It grieves me, Damis, to see you
go to certain death,” said Turgan
sadly to the blond giant, “yet I will
say nothing to stop you. Were it not
that my presence would hinder you
in your attempt, I would accompany
you.”

“Your place, Kildare, is at the head
of your men, whom you were born to
rule. I can hope to succeed only by
stealth, else a thousand men would
come with me. Now call from the
ranks one who is a barber that he
may change the color of my hair and
alter my face that I shall not be
known.”

At the Kildare’s word, three men
stepped forward from the ranks of
swordsmen and announced themselves
adepts in the art of disguise.
Swift runners were sent to bring
supplies and the three labored over
Damis. When they had finished
their ministrations, only a close observer
would have known him under
the bushy black beard which covered
his face.

CHAPTER VI
In the Seraglio

With a parting word to Turgan
and his followers, Damis
made his way alone down the hill
and into the thick tropical jungle
which grew up almost to the gates
of the Viceregal palace. He was well
[110]
acquainted with a secret entrance
into the building. It was a matter of
minutes for him to locate the outer
end and open it.

For half a mile he made his way
underground until a huge stone door
barred his way. He felt for the hidden
catches and the slab of rock rose
before him. As he turned toward
the doorway he found himself looking
into the muzzle of a black ray
tube in the hands of a gigantic Jovian
in the uniform of the Viceroy’s
guards.

“Whence came you, Nepthalim?”
demanded the guard, a cold note of
suspicion in his voice.

“From far Torna,” replied Damis
readily. “I am Durmino, Komar of
the province of Capries. The slaves
rose on us and all were slain except
me. I have had to travel by night and
hide by day to reach here. I knew
not whether the slaves had conquered
or not, but when I found
them lying by thousands about Glavour’s
palace, I knew that the reign
of the Sons of God was safe. What
news from Tubain?”

The face of the Jovian guard
cleared as Damis spoke. Durmino, a
son of Glavour by one of his Terrestrial
concubines, was Komar of Capries,
a fact well known to Damis.
There was nothing in the newcomer’s
story to excite suspicion.

“The fleet of the Ruler of the Universe
is approaching,” the guard replied.
“In two hours it will be hovering
above us. We would have
needed no aid had not the dogs of
Earthmen found our source of power
and managed to destroy it with
stolen ray tubes. We have been
cooped up here like rats waiting for
Tubain to arrive. When he comes
our vengeance will be heavy.”

“The heavier the better,” growled
Damis with an oath. “The dogs have
been getting surly for a generation.
I hope that Tubain will teach them a
lesson that will not be forgotten for
ages to come.”

“He will, never fear,” laughed the
guard. “Already Glavour has made
his plans. I am not a member of the
council, yet I have heard enough to
realize why Glavour is our ruler. My
brain could not conceive of such a
stupendous plan.”

“I will go to my father now,” said
Damis. “What is the word for passing
the inner gate? I wish to surprise
my sire for he doubtless
mourns me as dead.”

“He thinks you are dead,” replied
the guard, “yet I never heard of
Glavour mourning for any loss
which did not affect his pleasures.
He has plenty of bastards to take
your place. The word is ‘Tubain.'”

“I thank you, Son of God,” said
Damis, “and I will inform my sire of
the great respect and high regard
which you have for him. Fear not,
your words shall be truthfully reported
to him.”

Leaving the Jovian guard hastily
reviewing the conversation
with the supposed Durmino,
Damis made his way toward the palace.
Since he knew that he would
not reach another door until after
several of the underground passages
with which the foundations of the
palace were honeycombed had
joined, he had little doubt of his
ability to make his way unsuspected
into the citadel. He debated for a
moment on the advisability of killing
the Jovian guard and taking his
weapons, but caution prevailed, and
empty-handed, save for a dagger
concealed under his robes, he strode
forward.

His knowledge of the password enabled
him to pass the various guards
he met without difficulty. There
were many of the Nepthalim who
held subordinate positions in the
outlying provinces and who were
seldom at court, and the Jovian
guards, who in their hearts regarded
the Nepthalim as little better than
the Terrestrials, paid small attention
[111]
to him. He passed several guarded
points before the path rose steeply
and he passed through the final gate
into the palace itself. A Nepthalim
passed him hurriedly and Damis
plucked at his robe.

“I am just from outpost,” he said.
“What news of Tubain?”

“The fleet has entered the atmosphere
belt a thousand miles east of
here,” replied the Nepthalim. “They
are dropping to an altitude of five
miles and will then approach. They
should arrive in an hour. It is well
that they hurry.”

“What rush is there?” asked Damis
in surprise. “We may not be
able to leave here, but, at the same
time, all the forces the slaves can
muster would never force an entrance.”

“You have not heard then?” exclaimed
the other in surprise.
“No—certainly not, if you have been
on outpost—for I just learned it myself.
There is a rumor that Havenner
lied when he said that he killed
Turgan, the Kildare and Damis, the
renegade—the curse of Tubain rest
on him—on Mars. It is said that
they not only escaped death but have
returned to Earth armed with the
weapons of the red planet. Havenner
is with Glavour now and no one
knows what the outcome will be.
Since Tubain is at hand, doubtless
nothing will be done until he arrives.
That is the reason why Tubain altered
his course and came down so
far away instead of directly overhead.
He hopes thus to elude the
Martian weapons if the Earthmen
really have them.”

“Surely that is a lie!” cried Damis.

“We hope that it is, yet Havenner
would have been slain without mercy
had he admitted that he left Mars
without slaying or capturing Turgan
and Damis. Many believe that it
is true.”

“Is Glavour in the council room?”
asked Damis. “I have a message.”

“It would be better for you to defer
the message if it be ill news until
Tubain arrives, brother, for Glavour
is enraged beyond measure at all of
us. He threatens to sacrifice us at
the next games and he may do so
unless Tubain alters the decree. He
has not loved us since Damis broke
his arm a month ago.”

“Nevertheless, I will deliver my
message,” replied Damis. “While it
may not please him, it is essential
that he get it before Tubain arrives.”

“Good luck go with you, brother,”
replied the Nepthalim with a shrug
of his shoulders. “The temper of the
Viceroy of God is an uncertain quality
at best. He is in his seraglio.”

Damis saluted the messenger
and made his way toward the
inner portion of the palace where
the women whom the lustful Viceroy
had dragged into his harem
were kept. He had no plausible excuse
for passing the guards into this
forbidden portion of the palace, but
that was a matter which caused him
small worry. There were few of the
secrets of the palace which were not
well known to Damis, who had at
one time been major domo of the
building. There were some well
known to him, the existence of
which was not even suspected by the
majority of the Sons of God.

As he neared the seraglio, he
turned off to his right and passed
through a maze of little-used passages
until he halted before what
was apparently a blank wall. Casting
a rapid glance around to ensure
himself that there was no one in
sight, he touched a hidden catch and
a portion of the wall swung inward,
opening a way before him. He entered
a passage built in the thickness
of the wall and lighted with radium
bulbs. The door closed softly behind
him. He removed his sandals lest
even their quiet tread should betray
him and on bare feet crept forward.

The passage bent and twisted as it
[112]
followed the walls until Damis knew
that he was in one of the walls of the
seraglio. Praying that it would work
noiselessly, he slid open a panel of
stone and found himself looking
through a semi-transparent hanging
into the sacred precincts of the
seraglio itself. Glavour stood facing
him, his heavy face drawn up in
a scowl of rage. Damis noted with
satisfaction that one of the Viceroy’s
arms was supported by a silk scarf
and that he made no attempt to use
it. With a pale face, Havenner stood
before his ruler.

“The word has been brought to
me from a source which I trust
as much as I do your own word,
Havenner,” Glavour was saying. “I
tell you, I do not believe your story.
If Damis and Turgan were dead, the
Terrestrials would not see them
alive again on Earth. Neither would
they have weapons of which we
know nothing. One of our observers
admits that he saw a space ship land
a few hours ago, coming from the
direction of Mars. You failed in
your mission, Havenner, and on you
I pronounce the doom. I sentence
you to the twilight of the gods.”

“I appeal to Tubain from that sentence!”
cried the equerry with dry
lips.

“Your appeal shall be noted and
laid before him at the proper time,”
replied the Viceroy savagely; “yet,
by the time he arrives, it will be too
late. Ho, Guards! Take him away.”

Havenner turned as though to resist,
but six of the huge Jovians answered
the Viceroy’s call. Two of
them grasped him by the arms and
started to lead him from the room.

“I appeal!” cried Havenner again.
“I brought back the maiden whom I
was sent to fetch, and for that reason
I made no failure. To bring her was
the principal item of my orders.”

Glavour’s face grew purple with
rage.

“And who sent the message to Tubain
which resulted in the orders
which he sent me?” he demanded
savagely. “It was sent by one of
your henchmen and by your orders.
You slew the sender before I could
question him, but I know whose orders
he obeyed. Take him away!”

The guards started to drag the
luckless equerry from the presence
of the Viceroy, but Havenner made a
final appeal for his life.

“I will confess, Viceroy of God,”
he cried. “No message was sent to
Tubain. I dared not send such a message
lest such orders would be returned
as I caused to be given to you.
I coveted the maiden for myself and
I took this means of getting her. I
had a false message delivered to you
which would prevent you from taking
her before Tubain arrived. In
reward for my services as spy on
you, I planned to ask that she be
given to me. I surrender all claims
to her, Glavour. Spare my life and
you may have her.”

For a moment Glavour could not
speak for rage.

“So you have been the spy who has
reported my every doing and my
every secret council to Tubain!” he
gasped. “But for you, I would long
ago have conquered Venus and Mercury
and declared myself independent
of the Jovian overlord. In time
I might have even overthrown him,
but every move was known to him
before I made it. Not once, but a
dozen times, would you go through
the twilight were Tubain not at
hand. Niton, it is my order that the
twilight be as slow as our instruments
will allow. Give him time to
learn to suffer and to pray for the
blessing of death at my hand. Take
him away!”

The struggling Havenner was removed
by the guards despite his efforts
at resistance and his cries for
mercy. Glavour stared after him for
a moment and an evil gleam came
into his eyes.

[113]
“Sonom!” he called sharply.

A guard entered the room and saluted.

“Sonom, bring me the Daughter of
Man, Lura!” cried the Viceroy.
“When you have brought her here,
post guards at all doors and see that
no one is admitted under any circumstances
until Tubain himself arrives
and demands admittance.”

The guard hesitated.

“Your Excellency,” he faltered,
“the orders from Tubain were—”

“False rumors given out by the
traitor, Havenner, who has now gone
to the twilight of the gods,” interrupted
the Viceroy. “By the crown
of Tubain, do I need to repeat my
orders? I am Viceroy of the Earth
and am supreme until Tubain revokes
my rank. Obey my orders!”

The guard saluted and withdrew.
Glavour licked his thick
lips in anticipation and strode restlessly
back and forth across the
room. Inside the hangings, Damis’
face hardened and he drew his dagger
from under his robe. The door
opened and Sonom returned, dragging
Lura after him. The face of
the Earth-girl was pale and drawn,
yet, when she saw Glavour, her head
rose in an expression of defiance.
Sonom saluted the Viceroy and left
the room, the massive door clanging
shut behind him. Glavour stared at
the girl with an evil leer on his heavy
countenance.

“I have learned, Daughter of
Man,” he said slowly, “of how you
seduced one of my servants from his
duty to me and caused him to forge
an order from the great Tubain in
order that he might keep you for his
own pleasure. For a time the stratagem
succeeded, but now my eyes are
open. When I first looked upon your
face and form I swore to myself that
you should be the solace of my leisure
hours. Now the time is come. I
was minded once to honor you as
Hortan once honored a Terrestrial
and let you amuse yourself by sitting
on a throne, but your treachery
has changed my intention. Not even
as an accepted concubine shall you
rank, but only as a slave to be used as
a toy and tossed to one of my guards
when I am tired of you. Come
hither!”

Lura made no move to obey the
order, and Glavour with an oath
stepped toward her, his one good
arm outstretched in a grasping gesture.
Lura did not move until his
hand almost closed on her arm and
then she sprang back. Her hand
sought the bosom of her robe and
the Viceroy recoiled as a glittering
dagger flashed in the air.

“Back, Jovian!” cried Lura in
ringing tones. “Think you that the
daughter of a king of men is to be a
toy for your base Jovian passions?
The point of this dagger is poisoned
so that one touch through your skin
will mean death. One step nearer
and I will strike!”

The Viceroy hesitated for a moment
and then drew from his
robe a short thick tube. Lura correctly
interpreted the gesture.

“Raise that tube and I will bury
the blade in my own body!” she
cried. “I know that you have the
power to clasp me in your arms, but
it will be a corpse which you clasp.”

She lowered the knife until the
point rested against the skin of her
throat. The slightest pressure would
cause it to penetrate her skin and
bring about her almost instant death.
Glavour watched her like a cat, the
tube ready in his hand. With a grim
laugh he threw the tube from him
and walked a few steps away. Lura
lowered the knife. As she did so,
Glavour turned with a movement so
swift that the eye could hardly follow
it. His eyes caught Lura’s and
she straightened back her head, powerless
against his will, caught as she
was, momentarily off her guard.

“Throw down your knife,” said
[114]
Glavour’s voice slowly. Lura struggled
to raise the weapon against herself,
but she could not. Slowly her
fingers relaxed and the weapon clattered
on the floor. Still holding her
eyes with his own, Glavour stepped
forward until his huge splayed foot
rested on the weapon. He averted his
gaze and swiftly picked it up. Lura
gave a scream of horror and strove
to fly, but the heavy door was barred
against her. Glavour placed the
weapon in a cabinet on the wall
which he locked and then turned to
her, an expression of triumph on his
face.

“It is useless, Daughter of Man, to
struggle against the will of the Sons
of God,” he said mockingly. “What
we desire is ours. Come to me.”

Lura’s face showed an expression
of loathing as she looked at the huge
misshapen monstrosity before her.
The Viceroy forgot the momentary
satisfaction of his triumph in his
rage at her attitude. With a growl
of anger he grasped at her. Lura
avoided his rush and ran along the
side of the room, Glavour in pursuit.
He cornered her at last and she
stopped with her back to the tapestry
with which the room was hung.
Glowering in his triumph, Glavour
approached and reached out his
hand to seize her. His huge paw descended,
but before it touched her
shoulder a hand with fingers of steel
reached through the hangings and
grasped his wrist.

When Sonom had dragged
Lura into the room, Damis
inserted the point of his dagger into
the tapestry and started to cut a slit
through which he could enter the
room. The keen-edged knife cut for
a few inches readily enough and
then stopped. Damis withdrew the
blade and examined the stuff before
him. An expression of dismay
crossed his face, for the material was
crisscrossed with stellanium wires,
set six inches apart. Each juncture
was braised together and the whole
made a web through which he could
not force his way. Cautiously he exerted
his strength. The keen blade
hewed through the first of the stellanium
strands, but Damis held his
breath as the wire parted. It seemed
impossible that the ting of parting
metal which sounded like a thunderclap
in his ears would not be heard
by the Viceroy. He knew that there
must be an entrance into the room
through the hangings and he made
his way cautiously forward, testing
the draperies from time to time with
his knife.

When Lura laid her dagger
against her breast and threatened to
end her life, it took all of Damis’
self-control to keep from crying out
and striving to force his way into the
room by sheer strength. He knew
the toughness of stellanium well
enough to realize the impossibility
of even his enormous strength tearing
apart a webbing of it. The certainty
that Glavour would not push
matters far enough to rob himself of
his prey aided him to restrain his
ardor and to pursue his systematic
search.

He came at last to a corner where
his knife met with no resistance as
it made its way through the silken
stuff on the walls. Swiftly he cut a
slit through which he could rush.
As he parted the material, Lura
rushed past him and stood with her
back to the wall to await the oncoming
Viceroy. Damis raised his hand
and stood ready. As Glavour’s huge
paw descended on Lura’s shoulder
Damis’ hand shot out. Still holding
the wrist of the Viceroy in a grip of
steel, he emerged from his hiding
place, tearing off the black wig and
beard which disguised him.

“Damis!” cried Lura in wonder
and delight as she saw him.

Glavour stared with unbelieving
eyes for a moment and then
a hoarse cry of alarm burst from his
[115]
lips. Desperately he strove to release
his wrist from the Nepthalim’s grip,
but to no avail. He disengaged his
crippled arm from the scarf which
supported it and groped under his
robe for a weapon. Lura cried out in
warning, but Damis had anticipated
such a move. With a quick effort he
whirled about and drew the Viceroy’s
arm over his shoulder. He bent
forward and exerted his full
strength. The huge bulk of Glavour
rose in the air and pitched forward
over Damis’ shoulder. There was a
crash as he landed on the marble
floor. Quick as a cat, Damis sprang
on him and pinioned down his arms.

“Take his weapons, Lura!” he
cried.

Lura bent over the prostrate form
of the Jovian to take from his belt
the tubes which he habitually carried
there. As she stooped, Glavour
raised one of his huge feet and
struck her with all the force of his
mighty thighs behind the blow.
With a cry of pain, Lura flew halfway
across the room. Damis leaped
to her assistance, forgetting for a
moment the potentialities for destruction
which the Viceroy bore on
his person. A sudden sound made
him whirl about. He bent over Lura
and picked her from the floor. With
her in his arms he leaped to one side
just as a flash of violet light stabbed
through the air. It missed them by
inches. He dropped Lura on a rug
and turned to face Glavour.

On the Jovian’s face was an expression
of fiendish triumph. In his
hand was a short black tube which
he aimed with deliberate slowness at
the crouching Nepthalim. Damis
shifted his gaze from the Viceroy’s
eyes and concentrated it on the muscles
of his wrist. Glavour’s grip
tightened and Damis leaped to one
side as the violet light again stabbed
the air. With an oath, Glavour swung
the deadly ray in an arc trying to
reach the Nepthalim, but Damis
moved like a cat. Once, as the ray
almost touched him, he sprang high
in the air and let it sweep by under
him. With each movement he came
nearer to the Viceroy. Slowly the
violet began to lose its intensity of
color. Glavour dropped it and
reached for a second tube. Before he
could draw one, Damis was on him.

CHAPTER VII
The Deluge

Few of the Sons of God and
none of the Nepthalim, save Damis,
could match the brute strength
of the Viceroy. As Damis rushed,
Glavour sidestepped and caught the
Nepthalim’s arm in a bone-crushing
grasp. Damis made no effort to break
the grip, but with his free hand he
gripped the wrist of Glavour’s crippled
arm. With a quick effort he
twisted it and the Viceroy gave a
shriek of pain as the newly knit bone
gave way and his arm fell, dangling
and useless. Damis caught his sound
arm in a powerful grip and twisted
slowly on his wrist. Gradually Glavour’s
fingers relaxed and Damis’
arm was free. His hands shot up and
gripped Glavour about the throat
just in time to shut off the cry for
help which was forming on his thick
lips. The two giants strove silently
for mastery in the struggle which
meant life for the victor and death
for the vanquished. The expression
in Damis’ eyes was one of confident
mastery, but the face of the Jovian
showed something that was strangely
akin to fear. Even when he was
whole, Glavour had found that his
strength was no match for the power
that lay in Damis’ graceful limbs.
With one of the Viceroy’s arms useless,
the issue was a foregone conclusion.

Glavour’s face gradually grew
purple and his eyes started out of
their sockets. His tongue protruded
horribly from his opened jaws. He
grew weaker until it was only Damis’
grip which kept him from falling to
[116]
the ground. Then Damis broke his
silence and spoke slowly and distinctly
into the dying Viceroy’s ears.

“I was loyal to you, Glavour,”
he said, “despite your brutality
and sensuality which sickened me,
until you strove to add to your already
crowded seraglio the maiden
whom I had chosen. As a Nepthalim,
you thought I had no right which
you need respect and I would tamely
submit to whatever you chose to do.
You forgot that in my veins run the
best blood of Earth and the proudest
blood of Jupiter. Hortan was a Mildash
of Jupiter, a rank to which you
could never aspire. I restricted your
efforts and proved to you a thing
which I long have known, that, man
to man, I am your superior.

“Even then you might have won
back my loyalty had I not learned
how my father and my mother came
to their death. It has always been
given out that they went to Jupiter
on a summons from Tubain, but I
know the truth. They died under
the knife of a cowardly assassin, under
your knife, Glavour. Then it was
that I swore that it would be my
hand that would strike you down.
When you raised your hand against
me, you were Viceroy of the Earth
and your power was secure, for the
conspiracy against you had no hope
of success. What is the situation
now? You are beleaguered in your
palace, holding only the ground
your few feeble weapons cover.
Even this ground you hold only on
the sufferance of the Earthmen.
Listen to what I say, for I wish your
last moments to be bitter ones. On
the hill east of the city sit two weapons
of a type and a power unknown
to both Earth and Jupiter. They are
the deadly black ray weapons of
Mars. Ah, you tremble! You have
good cause. One of them is trained
on this palace while the other
searches the heavens, ready to blast
into powder the fleet of Tubain when
it appears. And who, think you,
brought this about, Glavour? It was
I, Damis, the Nepthalim, the ‘half-breed
bastard’ whom you despised.
My only regret is that I cannot send
you to the twilight of the gods as
you sent that other arch-traitor,
Havenner. Are your last moments
pleasant, Glavour? I am increasing
the pressure slowly so that you will
have time to think, to think of the
Earthmen you have given to sacrifice
and torture, to think of your ruler,
Hortan, dying under your knife, to
think of the doom which is about to
overcome your race. Think, Glavour,
for your time for thought is short.”

As he finished, Damis thrust
back on the Viceroy’s chin
with a sudden effort. There was a
dull crack as Glavour’s neck broke
and Damis gently lowered the inert
bulk to the floor. He felt a touch on
his arm as he straightened up. He
whirled like a cat and Lura shrank
back with a frightened gesture. Damis
opened his arms and in an instant
the Earth-girl was folded in
them.

“Is my father safe?” was her first
question.

“Safer by far than we are,” exclaimed
Damis with a sudden pang
of anxiety. He glanced at the time-recording
device on the wall. Three-quarters
of an hour had passed since
he had first entered the Viceregal
palace. If the estimates of Tubain’s
arrival which he had heard were correct,
the Jovian fleet should be almost
most overhead. “Come,” he cried to
Lura, “we have no time to lose if we
escape before the palace and all in it
are destroyed. Where did Havenner
land his ship?”

“In the yard west of the palace,”
she replied.

“Pray that it is still there,” said
Damis. “We can reach it through
the path by which I entered this
room. Come quickly.”

With Lura at his heels, he passed
[117]
through the rent in the tapestry and
entered the secret passage through
the walls. The way twisted and
turned interminably, but finally he
paused before a door. Before opening
it he slid back a panel which
opened a peep-hole and looked out.

“The ship is there,” he whispered
in a voice of relief. “There is only
one guard over it that I can see.
Why didn’t I think to bring Glavour’s
weapons? I’ll have to try to
catch him by surprise. When I open
the door, run straight for the space
ship as though you were trying to
escape from me. Don’t try to dodge
the guard, keep right on for the ship.
As soon as I overpower the guard,
get in the ship and hold your hand
on the starting lever. When I get on
board, throw in the power at a low
rate. We don’t want to rise rapidly
enough to get out of easy control.
Do you understand?”

“Yes, Damis,” she whispered.

He watched until a sudden shout
drew the attention of the sentry
momentarily away from the ship
he was guarding. A confused sound
of cheering came from the palace
and the sentry looked toward the
western heavens. A moment of gazing
and he raised his voice in a raucous
shout of joy. Instantly Damis
swung open the door.

Lura sped out like a frightened
deer with Damis in close pursuit.
The attention of the sentry was fixed
on some distant object in the sky
and he did not see the oncoming pair
until Lura was only a few yards
from him. The sound of her footsteps
attracted his attention and he
glanced down at her. An expression
of surprise came over his heavy features
and he reached for a weapon.
His gesture was never finished, for
Damis’ fist caught him under the ear
and he dropped in his tracks. Damis
looked in the direction in which the
sentry had been staring and a cry
broke from his lips.

“The fleet of Tubain!” he cried.

A thousand yards in the air and a
scant five miles to the west was a
clump of half a dozen Jovian space
flyers. Massed behind them were a
hundred more. They were approaching
with tremendous velocity.

Damis gave a mighty bound and
leaped through the airlock of the
ship. Hardly had he cleared the door
than Lura pulled down the starting
lever. The ship flew up from the
ground. Hardly had it left its ways
than a momentary flash came from
the hill east of the palace. The air
grew black around them and a cold
as of interstellar space penetrated
their very bones. In an instant the
ship had flashed up into the sun
above the zone of influence of the
Martian weapon. The shouting from
the palace was suddenly stilled. Damis
looked down, but nothing could
be seen save a pall of intense blackness
over the ground where the
building stood.

“The port motor, Lura!” cried Damis.
The Jovian fleet was approaching
so rapidly that a collision with
the nearest flyer seemed inevitable.
There was a roar from the air as
Lura threw in the port blast with its
maximum power. Damis was hurled
against the side of the ship.

From the hill where the Martian
weapons had been placed came a
second flash of light and a beam of
jetty blackness shot through the air.
An edge of it brushed the ship for
an instant and Lura stiffened. A terrible
cold bit through the flyer and
the side where the Martian ray had
touched crumpled into powder. The
ship sped on, and the friction of the
air and the bright rays of the sun
dissipated the extreme cold. Through
the terrific storm which was raging,
the black ray stabbed again and
again. Back and forth it played and
ship after ship of the Jovians was
momentarily caught in the beam.
When the beam passed on there was
[118]
nothing left of the ship save a cloud
of dust which the terrific wind dissipated
in all directions.

Damis glanced at the Earth below
him. It seemed to be flying past the
ship at a velocity which he could
hardly comprehend. He made his
way against the pressure of the
movement to the control levers and
strove to check the speed. As the
Earth ceased to revolve beneath
them, the wind rose to a terrible
force.

“What has happened, Damis?”
shrieked Lura in his ear.

“I don’t know,” he shouted in reply.
“I am trying to keep away from
the neighborhood of the palace for a
while until the Jovian fleet is destroyed.
Toness and your father
might not be able to tell us from one
of Tubain’s ships and they might
turn the ray on us.”

He bent over the control levers
of the ship, but they refused
to obey his touch. The stern motor
still roared with enough force to
keep them three thousand feet above
the ground, but none of the side motors
responded to the controls. The
ship was helpless and was tossed
about, a plaything of the terrific
wind which howled through the
heavens. Damis watched the ground
below them.

“Look, Lura!” he cried.

They swept over the site of the
palace. The black ray was no longer
playing on it, but the whole palace
glistened like crystal.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Frost!” he shouted. “The Martian
weapon did its work well.
Everything in that palace is frozen.
In the name of Tubain!”

The Jovian ejaculation had burst
from his lips, unbidden, at the sight
which met his gaze. Racing over the
land was a solid wall of water, hundreds
of feet high and moving with
enormous speed. On toward the palace
it swept. Below they could see
the Earthmen on the hill striving to
fly, but there was no place of safety.
The oncoming wall of water was
higher by a hundred feet than the
top of the hill and it was the highest
bit of land for many miles.

Nearer and nearer came the water
until with a roar and a crash which
they could plainly hear in the crippled
space ship, it swept over the hill
and the palace, burying them under
a hundred feet of brine.

“Father!” cried Lura in anguish.

Damis made his way across the
ship and folded her in his arms.

“He was chosen as one of the lives
needed to buy the freedom of the
Earth,” he murmured to her. “It is
hard, for I loved him as a father; but
it was the end which he would have
chosen. He died at the head of his
followers battling for freedom.”

“What happened, Damis?”
asked Lura an hour later as
she looked down on the seething tumult
of water under them.

“As nearly as I can figure out, the
Jovian fleet approached the palace
from the west at a low elevation. In
order to destroy them, we could not
use the Martian weapon normal to
the Earth’s surface as they commanded
us, but were forced to use it
tangentially. The enormous counter
reaction to the stream of force of almost
incredible intensity which was
shot at Tubain’s flyers, had to be absorbed
in some way. The weapon
could not take it up as it was anchored
to the center of gravity of the
earth. As a result, the force was
translated into one of increased rotation.
The Earth must be spinning
on its axis at fully twice its former
rate. Both the air and the water had
too much inertia to follow the accelerated
motion of the land, so the
wind blew a gale and the oceans left
their beds and swept over the land.
Everything must have been swept to
destruction before this flood.”

“And all our labor and sacrifice[119]
has been useless,” cried Lura. “We
have freed a world at the cost of the
lives of its inhabitants.”

“The world is not lost, sweetheart,”
he cried as he clasped her to
him. “The floods will not have overwhelmed
the mountains and some
men and animals will have escaped.
The waters will subside in a few
weeks as they take up the new rotation
of the Earth. By His will, we
are spared for the labor of building
a new world. As soon as the land
again appears above the waters, we
will land and assemble those who
have been spared. The fleet of Jupiter
has been destroyed and we need
fear no fresh attack for ages, perhaps
never. Unhampered, we will
build a new world and try to avoid
the mistakes of the old one.

“Look, Damis!” exclaimed Lura in
a hushed tone.

From the spray and mist below
them leaped a living bridge of colored
light. Above the sun it arced
its way into the heavens in the direction
in which they knew Mars lay.

“It is His promise,” whispered
Damis reverently, “that henceforth
the planets will live in peace and
amity and that nevermore will the
Jovians be allowed to invade us.”

(The End.)

Transcriber’s Note:
This e-text was produced from Astounding Stories
December 1931 and January 1932 issues. Extensive research did not
uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication
was renewed.