Ann’s head was close to his as she bent down and he could see the happy, excited flush on her cheeks as she checked the number.
“Oh, Jeff,” she said breathlessly, “how wonderful!”
The needle was pointing squarely at the numerals, .005. It was all over.
He signaled Dexter excitedly.
“Dex,” he shouted, “it worked! Can you hear me?”
There was a short pause. Then: “Sure I can hear you. Congratulations. You’ll be the big shot of Allied Research now for sure.”
Jeff didn’t miss the bitterness in his partner’s voice. Bill Dexter was a good enough scientist, but he had a peculiar streak in him. He resented other people’s good luck, and he had the idea that he had been shelved away in an unimportant spot because he lacked the right connections.
“I suppose,” he went on, “you’ll clear out of here fast enough now that your luck has turned.”
“That won’t be up to me,” Jeff said. “Anyway the altoscope hasn’t really been proven yet. I want to make quite a few more tests before I consider it right. Maybe this was just a fluke.” He felt annoyed at himself for practically apologizing to Dexter for his own success.
“I’m sure it’s no fluke,” Dexter said, after a moment. “You aren’t the kind who makes mistakes. Great scientists never do. They leave them for suckers like me who haven’t an uncle or brother on the Council.”
HIS voice went off with a click. Jeff signaled him again, but the set was dead. He turned to find Ann regarding him with a worried little smile.
“Dexter sounded rather bitter,” she said.
“I know. It’s too bad he has to take it this way, but that isn’t my fault.” Ann turned away and said quietly, “I’ll be glad to get away from here for one reason.”
“What’s that?”
“Dexter.”
“I thought you two got along all right,” Jeff said with a puzzled frown. His face hardened swiftly and he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Did he ever give you any trouble?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Ann said. She shrugged and tried to smile. “May be I’m just being a silly woman, but he looks at me sometimes with that arrogant smile of his and I feel—oh, I don’t know how to say what I mean.”
“I know,” Jeff said. “We’ll be gone soon, but if he ever bothers you I’ll break him over my knee.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything to you about it,” Ann said. “You’ve got enough on your mind without worrying about your temperamental wife. Now go on with your work. I’ll fix you some lunch.”
Jeff was busy recording the results of the experiment when Dexter walked in. He was a big man with, wide shoulders and wavy blond hair. His blue eyes were slightly mocking as he nodded to Jeff.
“Feel pretty good I imagine,” he said. “No more of this life for you.”
“I feel good,” Jeff said evenly, “but not because I may get a little more comfortable job through this work of mine. I’m thinking about the additional safety this device will bring to space navigation. If it saves one life it’ll be well worth the time and labor I’ve spent on it.”
“Hear, hear,” Dexter said jeeringly. “Save that for the banquets when you get to Earth.”
He sauntered over to the lab bench and studied the gleaming instrument with an odd look in his eye. His attention was centered on the red needle that indicated the temperature.
“I’ve got to hand it to you at that,” he said finally. “It’s a neat piece of work.”
“Thanks,” Jeff said dryly.
Dexter poked an inquisitive finger at the needle, but Jeff caught his wrist before he could touch it.
“What’s the matter?” Dexter demanded. “Do you think I’m a saboteur?”
“No,” Jeff said, “but that needle is charged with almost five thousand volts of electricity.”
Dexter dropped his hand back to his side with an almost frightened gesture.
“Hell of a thing to leave exposed,” he said.
“I had to,” Jeff said patiently. “When it goes onto a space ship, naturally it will be insulated or covered with glass. But I’ve had so many checks and alterations to make that I didn’t bother about it now.”
“How do you work on it if it’s charged?” Dexter asked.
“I use an insulated screwdriver to remove it,” Jeff said.
He was silently wondering what was behind Dexter’s questioning. Dexter had never displayed any interest in his work; in fact, he had been almost contemptuous of the labor Jeff had put into it. Now his sudden interest seemed suspicious.
“I see,” Dexter said.
He yawned and glanced at his watch.
“I think I’ll grab a nap,” he said. “Where’s Ann?”
“She’s fixing lunch,” Jeff said. He glanced up at Dexter and added, “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Dexter said. He grinned at Jeff and sauntered out.
JEFF sat before the bench for several moments after he’d gone, a worried frown on his face. He knew Dexter’s type pretty well, and it was a type he didn’t care for. In his years here he had carefully avoided trouble with the man, but he felt now that Dexter had something on his mind. His questions about the altoscope might indicate just a normal curiosity, but . . .
Jeff shrugged and tried to concentrate on his work. The designs and specifications for the altoscope were locked securely in the vault and he was suddenly glad that he had taken that precaution.
He worked, then, until Ann came in to tell him lunch was ready.
Dexter didn’t show up for lunch but when they were finishing he appeared in the doorway with a paper in his hand. He was grinning sardonically.
“Sorry to interrupt your little chat,” he said, “but this flash just came through from Earth.”
“What is it?” Ann asked.
“Seems a squadron of Martian ships are passing this way today. The Chief wants you to go up on reconnaissance, get their number and description.”
“Where were they sighted from?” Jeff asked.
“The belt asteroid group saw them go by at 2369 on a Northwest course,” Dexter said.
Jeff frowned and looked at his watch. He made a quick mental calculation. The Martian ships would be passing overhead in a few minutes.
“Are you sure of the time?” he asked Dexter.
Dexter reddened slightly.
“You can call back and check my figures, if you like,” he said stiffly.
“I was just asking,” Jeff said. “Did the chief ask for me particularly?”
“If you think I’m lying,” Dexter said with sudden anger, “why don’t you say so? I’m giving you the dope as I got it. The chief evidently doesn’t trust me anymore for a routine assignment. Well, he can go to hell if he doesn’t like my work. And that goes for you too.”
“No one has said anything about your work,” Jeff said quietly. “You’re doing all the talking, Dexter.” He stood up and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Is the ship ready?”
“Yes,” Dexter said. “She’s all set.”
“I’ll have to hurry, then,” Dexter said. He bent quickly and kissed Ann. “I’ll be back in a hour or so.”
When he straightened he saw that Dexter was staring at him with hard cold eyes; but he turned and walked from the room before Jeff could say anything to him.
Ann said, “Do you have to go, Jeff? I’ve got a funny feeling—call it a woman’s intuition—that something might happen to you. Why don’t you tell Dexter to go?”
“Because it’s my job,” Dexter said. He smiled down at his wife. “And I wouldn’t worry about your premonitions. As the wife of a scientist, you should be ashamed of such ideas.”
“I don’t care,” Ann said. “My hunches have a way of turning out right.”
Jeff kissed her again and mussed her hair with his hand.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said.
OUTSIDE, the mechanic had readied the single-seater for
an immediate blast-off.
“She’s ready to go, Mr. Moran,” he said, smiling.
“Thanks,” Jeff said.
He ascended the mooring tower and climbed into the small sleek ship. He checked the controls carefully but quickly and then signaled to the ground for power.
The noise of the compressing motors hummed in his ears for an instant and the ship was hurled from the tower with a hissing roar.
Jeff braced himself as the ship cleaved through the thin atmosphere and blasted out into the void. He climbed quickly, gaining altitude and then he started a slow wide circle, watching the fore and rear visi-screens for the first sight of Martian ships.
They should be coming into sight any second. He wondered fleetingly if there was any significance behind their flight. Relations between Earth and Mars were ostensibly cordial, but any unusual operations in the void were carefully checked by both Powers.
Maybe things were heading for a flare-up. Jeff had a certain satisfaction in the thought that if trouble did break his alto scope would be an important addition to the fighting forces of Earth.
He sat up in his seat as a single ship appeared in fore screen but it turned out to be a lumbering Venusian freighter. It passed him on his port side, a couple of thousand miles away. He acknowledged its signal automatically and then settled back to wait. But his face was creased with a worried frown. Was it possible that he had missed the Martian ships?
They were overdue by now and still the void was completely empty. Finally, after another ten minutes, he signaled the asteroid belt. It took him another five minutes to get in touch with their operator.
“Hello,” he said, when he got a go-ahead, “this is Jeff Moran from Venus, station 9. Am I coming through?”
“Getting you fine, but a little interference,” the operator said. “Where the hell are you?”
“About twenty thousand miles out,” Jeff answered.
“Well, no wonder!” The operator’s voice in his ears sounded surprised. “What can I do for you?”
“I want a check on the time you sighted the Martian flight,” Jeff said.
There was a pause and then the operator said, “You’re on a wild goose chase, Moran. We haven’t sighted any Martian squadrons for the last three weeks.”
“What!” Jeff exclaimed. His frown deepened. “Are you sure of that? We got a report from the chief that a Martian flight passed your base heading this way at 2369.”
“Something’s screwy, then,” the operator said. “I’ve been on here all day and I haven’t heard a word about it. Why don’t you check with the chief?”
“Okay, I will,” Jeff said.
HE CUT the circuit and signaled Headquarters. Colonel Walker, chief of the meteorology staff on Venus, answered.
Jeff wasted no time.
“Colonel,” he snapped, “did you send a message to base 9 about a half hour ago concerning a group of Martian ships?”
“Who’s talking?” Colonel Walker asked irritably.
“This is Moran, Jeff Moran, of 9.”
“Oh. No, I sent no message to you today. What was that about Martian ships?’
Jeff didn’t bother to answer. He broke the connection and sat motionless for an instant, his brain spinning frantically. Dexter had lied to him. But why?
There was only one answer and it sent a wave of fear through him.
Not for himself. For Ann.
If Dexter was planning to get him out of the way it could only be for one reason. He intended to make his own escape in the emergency ship at the base. And Jeff knew that Dexter wasn’t planning to leave alone.
With all the strength in his arms he swung the ship back toward the base in a steep dive. But suddenly he felt a heavy constriction about his lungs, and then he was fighting desperately for breath.
He glanced at the oxygen meter and saw that its needle was pointing squarely at zero.
He was still minutes from the base and his air supply was gone. Already he could feel his legs growing numb and before his eyes there was a flickering maze of blackness.
Recklessly he plunged the ship toward the base. He was off the directional beam that would lead him to the tower, but he didn’t have the time to reset his course.
He knew that he had, at best, about a minute left. And he had to get to the ground within that time. His legs ached with a dull steady pain and his hands on the controls were sluggish. His mouth opened and closed frantically as he fought for air.
Dimly he heard the whine of friction the ship made as it sliced into the atmosphere of the planet. He was flashing down at full speed for a head-on crash.
With his last atom of strength he groped for the repulsion rocket switch. The ground raced toward him on the fore visi-screen at a speed his eyes couldn’t register.
He snapped the switch shut and his head snapped forward as the repulsion rockets suddenly roared into life, checking the hurtling speed of the ship. His safety belt almost cut through his body as he was flung forward with the tremendous velocity of the ship.
Twenty feet from the ground the ship came to a dead stop—then it dropped to the hard rocky earth with a jarring crash.
Jeff unbuckled his safety strap and staggered to the door. For a moment he feared the buckling of the frame had hopelessly jammed the hatch, trapping him in the ship. But it was only his own weakness. His fingers clawed desperately at the handle and finally it swung open.
A reviving draft of air blew into his face as he stumbled out of the ship. He sucked air gratefully into his laboring lungs and his head began to clear.
He was about a hundred yards from the base laboratory. With a prayer on his lips he began to run . . .
THE front door of the small building was open and the living room was empty. He crossed the floor with rapid strides and flung open the laboratory door.
Ann was struggling in Dexter’s arms, her face a mask of loathing and terror. She saw Jeff as he stumbled into the room.
“Jeff!” she cried.
Dexter’s back was to Jeff, but he wheeled at Ann’s cry and whipped a ray gun from his belt. He was wearing a rubber space suit and there was a heavy valise on the floor beside him.
“Don’t move!” he panted, glaring at
Jeff. “You got back here but it won’t do you any good. I’m leaving here, you understand? And I’m taking your wife and the plans for the alto scope with me. But you’re not coming! You’re going to stay right here with a dozen holes in your body to keep you company.” Jeff watched him as he spoke and he saw the insanity in the man’s eyes. Dexter was not bluffing. He meant just what he said.
“You thought you were so smart,” Dexter said with a gloating leer, “but I’m holding the high cards now. You should have died out there in space and saved me the trouble of shooting you.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to kill me,” Jeff said quietly. “If I hadn’t called and checked on your phony story about the Martian ships, I wouldn’t have had time to get back here to the base.” He glanced casually about the laboratory and then walked deliberately to the bench that held the altoscope. Every foot of the way he expected a searing bolt from the gun in Dexter’s hand, but it didn’t come.
“Don’t make another move,” Dexter cried, his face working. “I’m not just talking.”
“Yes you are,” Jeff said coolly. “If you’re going to shoot me, go ahead.”
A wild, thousand-to-one possibility had occurred to him, but he had to stall long enough to put it into action.
“I intend to go on working,” he said with his back to Dexter. “If you want to shoot me that’s your business.”
He pulled a pair of rubber gloves onto his hands and picked up a long coil of wire from the bench. Quickly he fastened the wire to the altoscope needle and then picked up a screwdriver.
“I don’t know whether you intend to shoot me or not,” he said quietly. His back hid the screwdriver from Dexter’s eyes as he quickly tied the wire to its steel tip. “But if you’re going to
I wish you’d get it over with.”
“Turn around!” Dexter snarled. “I want to see your face when I blow a hole in your belly.”
“Jeff!” Ann screamed. “He’s going to shoot!”
“Then let him,” Jeff said.
He turned slowly, holding the screwdriver in his hand, Dexter was standing about four feet from Ann, his finger tightening on the trigger of the gun.
“All right,” Dexter suddenly screamed, “you’re begging for it!”
HE RAISED the gun slightly and at that instant Jeff flung himself to one side and hurled the screwdriver at Dexter’s face.
The blast from the gun caught Jeff in the shoulder and he fell to the floor, teeth clenched in pain; but the screwdriver struck Dexter in the face.
A blinding flash lighted the room and Dexter’s scream was that of a soul in hell. His eyes were glazed in death as he sprawled to the floor.
Jeff crawled to one knee and stared at his limp body with grim eyes. The screwdriver he had thrown had been connected to the electrically charged altoscope needle with the coils of wire. It had been charged with over five thousand volts of electricity and Dexter’s space suit had grounded him perfectly. Ann was at Jeff’s side, sobbing.
He put his good arm about her.
“It’s all over,” he whispered. “He got just what he deserved, don’t worry.”
“I’m not thinking of him,” Ann said tearfully. “But you’re hurt.”
“I’ll be all right,” Jeff said.
He forced a weak grin to his lips. “And I’ve got a hunch we’ll be on our way back to Earth before many more hours.”
Ann smiled at him through her tears. “But you don’t believe in hunches.”
“From now on I will,” Jeff said.
PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA
First published in the January 1944 issue of Amazing Stories.
At first Evans swore it was only a mirage—a phantom city. Then horror struck in the night!
CHAPTER I
“WE WILL blast-off for Mars within five minutes,” Captain Malcolm, commander of the Earth observation ship, Astra, said to his assistant, Phillip Evans. “I just received the clearance order from the central tower,” He glanced at the tall, wide-shouldered young man who stood beside him close to the gleaming hull of the Astra. “Are we all set?”
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 194