Unaware of Jet’s encounter with Mr Webster, Lemmy, Mitch and I were, of course, still crossing the Argyre Desert in the Martian sphere, hoping to locate Jet in the land truck.
We had been going for about half an hour when Mitch, who was lying on the floor, showed signs of waking up. He opened his eyes and looked into my face as I bent over him.
“Doc,” he complained, “what’s happened to the heating system in this ship?”
“So far as I know,” I said, taken aback, “it doesn’t carry one.”
“What are you talking about? All the ships carry heating systems. We’d better get one of the engineers over to look at it. And quick, before we all freeze to death.”
It dawned on me then that Mitch thought he was back in the Discovery and that we were still coasting towards Mars.
“There’s nothing wrong with the heating system, Mitch,” I told him. “It’s you that’s cold.”
“Cold,” he said, shivering, “that’s putting it mildly. My inside feels like it’s frozen solid.”
“Mitch,” I asked, “do you know who I am?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he said. “What’s the matter? What are you wearing your suit for, Doc?”
“Lemmy and I have to, Mitch,” I replied evasively.
He looked at me strangely and began to climb to his feet. Obviously the effort it cost him was considerable. He breathed very heavily and moved incredibly slowly.
“Now don t attempt to walk,” I protested. “Lie down again.”
“I’ll get up if I want to,” said Mitch defiantly. “How do I come to be lying on the floor, anyway. And what’s happened to the bunks and the cabin? It looks all different. Where am I? What . . .” He began to breathe very heavily now.
“Doc--my chest,” he cried. “It feels all tight. I can’t breathe.”
“Lemmy,” I called urgently, “come over here--quick, Mitch is returning to normal but he can’t breathe the atmosphere in here.”
“Oh blimey,” said Lemmy, as he came over to my side, “and we’ve got no suit for him.”
“That oxygenised chamber upstairs. Harding,” I yelled, “open the door to the upper cabin.”
Almost immediately die door in the pillar swung open and, between us, Lemmy and I managed to get Mitch upstairs and lay him on the floor. It wasn’t long before the Australian began to breathe more easily and normally, but, before we could get him to the upper cabin he had virtually lost consciousness.
However, I felt that the immediate danger was past which was just as well, for Lemmy, who had gone back downstairs while I examined Mitch, called to me to say he had seen one of the land trucks just below us on the desert.
“Only one?” I asked him.
“That’s all I can see.”
“Halt the ship then, Lemmy. I’ll be right down.”
“Yes, mate.”
We were both extremely puzzled by the disappearance of the second land caravan and all attempts to raise the occupant of the vehicle over which we were hovering failed. I decided that the only way to find out whether it was Jet or McLean on the desert below was to go down and see.
The moment we landed, Lemmy and I, clad in our space suits, went outside. First we walked round to the front of the land truck and looked into the driving cabin but there was nobody in it.
“Whoever’s in that truck,” said Lemmy, “must be in the living quarters.”
“Then we’d better let ourselves in,” I decided.
A few minutes later we were in the airlock.
But, to our amazement, the cabin when we entered it was empty. There was no sign of anybody. There was nothing for it but to go back to the sphere and continue in the direction in which we had been travelling in the hope of overtaking the other truck which, we could now only conclude, must contain both Jet and McLean.
But, just as we were about to embark, I noticed the tracks of another machine leading from the front of the land truck in which we had expected to see Jet. Lemmy and I walked over and examined them carefully. The marks in the ground had not been made by tractors. They were much smoother, as though made by little spheres some foot or more in diameter.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back. We’ll fly just a few hundred feet above the ground and follow these trails.”
Before long I noticed down below a strange vehicle, not unlike those we had seen in the city of Lacus Solis. And apparently, it must have seen us, too, for, as we approached it and hovered above, the thing came to a standstill.
Lemmy was not too happy about dropping down to investigate but I persuaded him that no more than two people could possibly be in the vehicle and, if one of them should turn out to be Jet, we would have, at most, only one Martian or conditioned Earthman to contend with.
But, as it turned out, we had hardly set foot on the ground when I heard the joyful voice of Jet in my radio earpiece. A few minutes later he and his companion had joined us inside the sphere.
After we had been introduced to Webster and all that had happened since we had lost contact with each other had been explained, I told Jet of Mitch’s partial recovery. Webster at once asked to see the engineer so I took him upstairs. After questioning Mitch for several minutes, Webster and I returned to the lower cabin.
“Well?” I asked as soon as we had gone downstairs.
“This isn’t a bad case. Nothing like as bad as those two fellows at the control panels there. He’s almost back to normal. Have you any recollection of his being influenced a second time?”
“By that noise, you mean?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes, I have. When we took this sphere from Lacus Solis that noise came on and Mitch and Dobson and Harding all fell asleep.”
“Then that was it. Had he been handled properly then he could have been completely normal by now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“While he is in that sleeping state, it is possible to penetrate deep down into a subject’s mind. Tell him he’s in Africa and when he wakes up he’ll believe it. That, Doctor Matthews, is the Martian method. On the other hand, put him to sleep now, tell him all that has happened to him since the time his memory failed him and, when he wakes up, he’ll remember everything.”
“Are you sure?”
“Try it, Doctor, and see.”
“Very well. I’ll have to hypnotise him first, of course.”
“Yes.”
Mitch was so drowsy when I did get to work on him that I found him a very easy subject. I told him of everything that had happened to him, and us, since we had landed on Mars and rescued him from the Flying Doctor. I then let him sleep. When he woke up he was perfectly normal but, of course, it was impossible for me to take him downstairs for he had no space suit.
So, telling him not to worry, I left him there and went below to tell Jet the good news.
“Very well,” said Jet, “he’ll just have to stay where he is until we can find some means of getting him some kind of breathing apparatus.”
“Breathing apparatus?” I queried.
“Yes, Doc. Apparently there are such things--used by the inhabitants of that dome we can see on the horizon. And Webster told me that if we proceeded as far as there we would definitely find out what has happened to Frank Rogers and the rest of the crew who are missing.”
“That is so, Captain Morgan,” said Webster, “but the principal reason for going there was to pick up a sphere. Now we have one we can go straight to your Polar Base.”
“But what about Frank--and the rest of the boys?” asked Jet. “If we don’t go to the dome, how do we know what’s happened to them?”
“I tell you, Captain,” said Webster, “it’s a hundred to one that they are captives of the Martians. You will never get them back now. And if you want to get back to Earth to warn them of the proposed invasion, you have no time to lose.”
“Look,” said Jet firmly, “back there on the desert we made a deal. I would take you back to Earth provided you helped me to f
ind out the things I wanted.”
“Very well,” said Webster reluctantly. “I’ll do what I can. Make for the dome--but don’t blame me if you end up as the crew of Number One almost certainly have already.”
“That’s our lookout,” said Jet. “OK, Lemmy--take off.”
“And if you must go there,” continued Webster, “keep at low level. There’s less chance of our being detected.”
“Dobson, Harding,” called Lemmy, “take the ship up. Maximum height twenty feet, course due east.”
I felt the almost silent motors of the ship spring to life and slowly we rose to just above the ground and began to head towards the strange domed building on the horizon.
Chapter Twenty
When we reached it we landed near what appeared to be its entrance. The dome was about half a mile in diameter and perhaps some two hundred feet tall at its highest point. It was made of some kind of thick, transparent substance.
“Well, now, Captain Morgan,” said Webster, “if you wait here, I’ll go and see what I can find out about Frank Rogers and the rest of his crew and, at the same time, I’ll try and bring back a breathing apparatus for Mitchell.”
“You’re going alone?” asked Jet suspiciously.
“You’d look rather conspicuous in that space suit.”
Jet thought for a moment. “I think it will be best if we come, too,” he said guardedly. “But first, you go into that dome and bring four sets of breathing apparatus back with you. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“How long will it take you to get them?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Right. If you’re not back in that time we shall take off.”
“What? And leave me here?” Webster was almost beside himself. “But you promised you would take me back to Earth with you.”
“Be back in ten minutes, then. Alone.”
Webster left the sphere and the moment he had passed through the door, Jet gave Harding the order to close it.
“What’s the idea, Jet?” asked Lemmy.
“I’m taking no chances,” replied our captain. “We can’t afford to.”
“But how do we find out about Frank and the rest of the crew,” I asked, “if we don’t go with him? Or even if he’s speaking the truth about them when he does get back?”
“Two of us will go with him,” said Jet, “but we’ll put a time limit on our return. And, if we’re not back within that time, you, Lemmy, with Mitch, will take this sphere back to Polar Base, board the Discovery and head for home.”
Webster was back well within the limited time and, as he had promised, brought four sets of breathing apparatus with him. They were so compact that at first I couldn’t believe they would be of any use. But a quick test proved that they were efficient enough. We wore the apparatus round our waists like a belt. From there a tiny, thin tube, no more than an eighth of an inch in diameter, was carried up into our mouths and fixed to our teeth. Through this came the necessary oxygen supply. They were rather uncomfortable to wear at first but we soon got used to them. We took one of the appliances up to Mitch who put it on and then came downstairs.
“Are you ready now, Mr Morgan?” asked Webster impatiently; when Jet explained that he and I would be going with him. “The more time wasted, the less chance we have of getting away.”
“All right, Lemmy,” said Jet. “If we’re not back in an hour, you know what to do.”
“Yes, mate,” said Lemmy. “And good luck.”
“Take care of yourself,” said Mitch, now, apparently, his normal self again.
We left the sphere and walked towards the airlock.
“What happens if this apparatus gives out on us, Webster,” I asked.
“It shouldn’t,” he replied. “It should last for forty-eight hours of continuous use but, in any case, you need wear it for only a few minutes.”
He was right. We soon reached the large airlock which was entered by a circular door some six feet in diameter. Once inside, the door closed, we passed through another and then Webster told us that we could take off our masks. I did so and found the atmosphere perfectly breathable.
I now expected Webster to open the far door so that we could step into the enclosed area we had glimpsed from outside. But, instead, we turned to a door in the right of the wall, opened it and found ourselves in a long, well-lit tunnel which sloped gently downwards. It was from here that the air, which contained a strong smell of ozone, was coming.
“Where are we now?” Jet asked.
“Inside the wall on which the dome rests. Deep down underground is the factory. Its workers are all conditioned types but it is run by unconditioned men like myself. I’ll lead the way.”
We followed Webster for about a quarter of a mile before we came to another door. Passing through it we found ourselves in a long gallery. One side was walled, the other was open. Down below was a huge shop full of machines and men tending them.
“What’s this place?” I asked.
“It’s one of the assembly shops,” explained Webster. “We have to pass through it to get to the main control room.”
He led us farther along the gallery and down a flight of steps. As we passed between the lines of men, working at their machines, hardly any of them turned to look at us.
“Don’t talk to anybody if you can help it,” Webster cautioned us.
We walked the whole length of the factory and paused before a massive door.
“Where does this lead to?” whispered Jet.
“This is the main control room,” said Webster. “It is in constant touch with Lacus Solis and, if there’s any news to be had about Rogers and his crew, we’ll get it here.”
“I see.”
“Now remember, both you and Doctor Matthews are new personnel who landed here only a couple of days ago.
You are condition-resisting types and I’m showing you over the place. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” agreed Jet
“Then let’s go in.”
We entered the room to find a man seated at a large table. Before him was a televiewer screen on which the whole factory could be seen. He was manipulating the controls and as we entered, the various close-ups of different workers passed before his eyes.
The Controller, for that’s all I could think he was, turned in his swivel seat to greet us as we came in. “Oh, hullo, there, Bill,” he said to Webster. “Thought you were out on the Mare.”
“I was, but I was called over to HQ and told to bring these gentlemen over here and show them a few things. They’re newly up from Earth and haven’t quite got used to the idea yet.”
“Welcome to the fold, gentlemen,” said the Controller cordially. “You have my deepest condolences. Where did they pick you up?”
“From London,” Jet told him.
“London? It’s not the habit of the spheres to drop down on populated districts.”
“Well, not London exactly,” said Jet, “Hampstead Heath.”
“I would have thought even that would have been a little too crowded.”
“Well, it was late at night and it was foggy,” I put in.
“They weren’t the only ones,” said Webster.
“I know,” replied the Controller. “Four more arrived in Lacus Solis this morning. I was talking to them a few minutes ago.”
“Talking to them?” asked Jet. “Were their names Rogers and Grimshaw?”
“That’s right,” went on the Controller, quite unconcerned. “Good subjects, too, by all accounts. Three of them grade two types--capable of being put into the deepest sleep. Would you care to see them?”
Before we could reply the Controller turned a switch below the televiewer screen and, quite suddenly, we saw the images of Frank Rogers and Grimshaw. They were seated in chairs.
“There they are,” said the Controller. “Undergoing their initial training. Learning to obey orders by remote control.”
Jet could only gasp.
“In a few
days,” went on the Controller, “they’ll be coming to work here. By then they’ll be used to my voice and to doing exactly as I tell them. Rogers,” he said sharply, “stand up.”
I looked at the screen in fascinated horror as Frank left his chair and stood to attention.
“Can you hear me, Rogers?” asked the Controller.
“I can hear you,” said Rogers in a flat voice, remarkably like that of Whitaker’s.
“Are you prepared to take my orders and act on them?”
“Orders must be obeyed without question at all times,” replied Frank without hesitation.
“Very good,” said the Controller. “Sit down, Rogers. Now, Grimshaw.”
Grimshaw stood up. “I can hear you,” he said.
“Turn it off,” demanded Jet.
“What are your orders?” repeated Grimshaw mechanically.
“Turn it off,” said Jet angrily, turning to the Controller. “Do you hear?”
He approached the man as though about to attack him, but I and Webster quickly grasped his arm and dragged him back.
“What are you getting so excited about?” asked the Controller.
“Where is Frank?” I demanded. “How far away from here is he?”
“Too far for you to get at, Doctor Matthews. You can give up all hope of trying to rescue him.”
It came as a great shock to find that the Controller knew my name but I hope I didn’t betray the fact as I said, as calmly as I could: “What makes you think I want to?”
“You can’t fool me--either of you. I know that neither Rogers nor any of the men with him came to this planet in a Martian sphere.”
“What?” said Webster flabbergasted. “How do you know?”
“Not fifteen minutes before you came in here a warning that men from Earth had landed on the planet was put out over the intercommunication system. Apparently two of them took a sphere from Lacus Solis. The other is still out in Argyre Desert somewhere and a search for him has already begun. It seems they know about the proposed invasion of Earth. Don’t you gentlemen?” said the Controller, deliberately. There was no mistaking his meaning.
The cat was out of the bag now and there was no denying it. Webster appealed to his superior. “Now, Sam,” he said, “what you say is true. But you are an Earthman yourself and so am I.”
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