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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..043a3a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61843 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61843) diff --git a/old/61843-h.zip b/old/61843-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b6e5532..0000000 --- a/old/61843-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61843-h/61843-h.htm b/old/61843-h/61843-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index f81ddf0..0000000 --- a/old/61843-h/61843-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1207 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Exit from Asteroid 60, by D. L. James. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Exit From Asteroid 60, by D. L. James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Exit From Asteroid 60 - -Author: D. L. James - -Release Date: April 16, 2020 [EBook #61843] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EXIT FROM ASTEROID 60 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>EXIT FROM ASTEROID 60</h1> - -<h2>By D. L. JAMES</h2> - -<p>Strange things were happening on Echo, weird<br /> -Martian satellite. But none stranger than<br /> -the two Earthlings who hurtled into the<br /> -star-lanes from its deep, hidden core.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Winter 1940.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Echo is naturally magnetic, probably more so than any other -planetoid—and Neal Bormon cursed softly, just to relieve his feelings, -as that magnetism gripped the small iron plates on the soles of the -rough boots with which the Martians had provided him. Slavery—and -in the twenty-ninth century! It was difficult to conceive of it, but -it was all too painfully true. His hands, inside their air-tight -gauntlets, wadded into fists; little knots of muscle bulged along his -lean jaw, and he stared at the darkness around him as if realizing it -for the first time. This gang had plenty of guts, to shanghai men from -the Earth-Mars Transport Lines. They'd never get by with it.</p> - -<p>And yet, they had—until now. First, Keith Calbur, and then himself. Of -course, there had been others before Calbur, but not personal friends -of Neal Bormon. Men just disappeared. And you could do that in the -Martian spaceport of Quessel without arousing much comment—unless you -were a high official. But when Calbur failed to show up in time for a -return voyage to Earth, Bormon had taken up the search.</p> - -<p>Vague clews had led him into that pleasure palace in Quessel—a joint -frequented alike by human beings and Martians—a fantasmagoria of -tinkling soul-lights; gossamer arms of frozen music that set your -senses reeling when they floated near you; lyric forms that lived -and danced and died like thoughts. Then someone had crushed a bead -of reverie-gas, probably held in a Martian tentacle, under Bormon's -nostrils, and now—here he was on Echo.</p> - -<p>He gave an angry yank at the chain which was locked around his left -wrist. The other end was fastened to a large metal basket partly filled -with lumps of whitish-gray ore, and the basket bobbed and scraped along -behind him as he advanced. Of the hundred or more Earthmen, prisoners -here on Echo, only seven or eight were within sight of Bormon, visible -as mere crawling spots of light; but he knew that each was provided -with a basket and rock-pick similar to his own. As yet he had not -identified anyone of them as Keith Calbur. Suddenly the metallic voice -of a Martian guard sounded in Bormon's ears.</p> - -<p>"Attention. One-seven-two. Your basket is not yet half filled, your -oxygen tank is nearly empty. You will receive no more food or oxygen -until you deliver your quota of ore. Get busy."</p> - -<p>"To hell with you!" fumed Bormon—quite vainly, as he well knew, for -the helmet of his space suit was not provided with voice-sending -equipment. Nevertheless, after a swift glance at the oxygen gauge, he -began to swing his rock-pick with renewed vigor, pausing now and then -to toss the loosened lumps of ore into the latticed basket. On Earth, -that huge container, filled with ore, would have weighed over a ton; -here on Echo its weight was only a few pounds.</p> - -<p>Neal Bormon had the average spaceman's dread of oxygen shortage. And -so, working steadily, he at last had the huge basket filled with -ore—almost pure rhodium—judging by the color and weight of the lumps. -Nearby, a jagged gash of light on the almost black shoulder of Echo -indicated the location of that tremendous chasm which cut two-thirds -of the way through the small asteroid, and in which the Martians had -installed their machine for consuming ore.</p> - -<p>Locating this gash of light, Bormon set out toward it, dragging the -basket of ore behind him over the rough, rocky surface.</p> - -<p>The ultimate purpose of that gargantuan mechanism, and why this side of -the planetoid apparently never turned toward the sun, were mysteries -with which his mind struggled but could not fathom.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Presently, having reached the rim of the abyss, with only a narrow -margin of oxygen left, he commenced the downward passage, his iron-shod -boots clinging to the vertical wall of metallic rock, and as he -advanced this magnetic attraction became ever more intense. The blaze -of lights before him grew brighter and seemed to expand. Dimly, two -hundred yards over his head, he could glimpse the opposite wall of the -chasm like the opposing jaw of an enormous vise.</p> - -<p>He joined the slow-moving stream of workers. They were filing past a -guard and out on a narrow metal catwalk that seemed to be suspended—or -rather poised—by thin rods in close proximity to a spacious disk -which extended from wall to wall of the chasm. They moved in absolute -silence. Even when tilted ore-baskets dumped a ton or more ore into the -gaping orifice in the center of the disk, there was still no sound—for -Echo, small and barren of native life, lacked even the suggestion of a -sound-carrying atmosphere.</p> - -<p>And that weird soundlessness of the action around him brought a giddy -sense of unreality to Neal Bormon. Only the harsh, mechanical voice of -the Martian guard, intoning orders with cold and impersonal precision, -seemed actually real.</p> - -<p>"Attention. One-seven-two. Dump your ore...."</p> - -<p>These Earthmen were apparently known by numbers only. Bormon's own -number—172—was on a thin metal stencil stretched across the outer -surface of the glass vision plate of his helmet; he couldn't forget it.</p> - -<p>He obeyed the Martian's order. Then he noticed that men with empty -baskets were moving along a curved ramp, like a corkscrew, which led to -a different level, whether above or below he could not possibly tell -without a distinct mental effort.</p> - -<p>He decided it was to a lower level as he moved onward, for the huge -disk lost its circularity and became like the curving wall of a -cylinder, or drum, down the outside of which the ramp twisted. Fresh -ore was also being brought from this direction. And seeming to extend -out indefinitely into blackness was a misty shaft, like the beam of a -searchlight. Presently the ramp gave way to a tunnel-like passage.</p> - -<p>Flexible metal-sheathed tubes dangled from the ceiling. These tubes -were labeled: OXYGEN, WATER, NUTRIENT.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bormon, patterning the actions of those he observed around him began to -replenish his supply of these three essentials to life. His space suit -was of conventional design, with flasks in front for water and nutrient -fluid, and oxygen tank across the shoulders. By attaching the proper -tubes and opening valves—except the oxygen inlet valve, which was -automatic—he soon had his suit provisioned to capacity.</p> - -<p>He had just finished this operation when someone touched his arm. He -glanced up at the bulky, tall figure—an unmistakable form that even a -month's sojourn on Echo had not been able to rob of a certain virility -and youthful eclat.</p> - -<p>For a moment they stared into each other's eyes through the vision -plates of their helmets and Bormon was struck dumb by the change, the -stark and utterly nerve-fagged hopelessness expressed on Keith Calbur's -features.</p> - -<p>Then Calbur tried to grin a welcome, and the effect was ghastly!</p> - -<p>For a moment his helmet clicked into contact with Bormon's.</p> - -<p>"Neal," he said, his voice sounding far away, "so they got you, too! We -can't talk here.... I'm pretty well shot. Lived in this damn walking -tent for ages. No sleep, not since they took me.... Some powder, drug, -they put in the nutrient fluid—it's supposed to take the place of -sleep—and you can't sleep! Only it doesn't.... You come along with me."</p> - -<p>The darkness swallowed them up. Bormon had thrown his rock-pick into -his empty basket. And now, by keeping one hand in contact with Calbur's -basket, as it bobbed and jerked on ahead, he was able, even in the inky -blackness, to keep from straying aside.</p> - -<p>After seemingly interminable groping and stumbling, Calbur's light -flashed on. They had entered a pocket in the rocks, Bormon realized, a -small cavern whose walls would prevent the light from betraying their -presence to the guard.</p> - -<p>Calbur threw himself exhaustedly down, signifying that Bormon should -do likewise, and with their helmets touching, a strange conversation -ensued.</p> - -<p>Bormon explained, as well as he was able, his presence there.</p> - -<p>"When you didn't show up, Keith, in time to blast for Earth," he said, -"all we could do was to report your absence to the space police. But -they're swamped; too many disappearances lately. Moreover, they're -trying to relocate that stream of meteoric matter which wrecked a -freighter some time back. They know something is in the wind, but -they'll never guess this! For weeks they've had the patrol ship, -<i>Alert</i>, scouting around Mars. So, after making the run to Earth and -back to Mars—I had to do that, you know—I got back in Quessel again -and commenced to pry around, sort of inviting the same thing to happen -to me that had happened to you—and here we are."</p> - -<p>"We're here for keeps, looks like," answered Calbur grimly, his voice -having lost part of that overtone of strained nerves. "A man doesn't -last long, so the other prisoners say, two months at the most. These -Marts use Earthmen because we're tougher, here at least, and last -longer than Marts.... Hell, what wouldn't I give for a smoke!"</p> - -<p>"But the purpose, Keith? What's the scheme?"</p> - -<p>"I thought you knew. Just Marts with fighting ideas—a crowd backed by -wealthy, middle-class Martians who call themselves Lords of Conquest. -They're building ships, weapons. First, they're going to take over -Mars from the present government, which is friendly to Earth, and then -they're going to subdue Earth."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Calbur had switched off his light, as a matter of precaution, and his -voice came to Bormon from a seemingly far distant point—a voice from -out of the darkness, fraught with fantastic suggestion.</p> - -<p>"Ships? You say they're building ships? Where?" Bormon asked, his own -voice reverberating harshly within the confines of his helmet.</p> - -<p>"In a cavern they've blasted out near the south magnetic pole of Mars. -You know that's an immense, barren region—lifeless, cold—bordered on -the north by impenetrable reed thickets. They need rhodium in large -quantities for hull alloys and firing chambers. That's why they're -mining it, here on Echo."</p> - -<p>"They'll never get it to Mars," Bormon declared quickly. "Every -freighter is checked and licensed by the joint governments of Earth and -Mars."</p> - -<p>"They won't?" Calbur laughed, distantly. "Listen, Neal—every crateful -of ore that's dumped into their machine, here on Echo, gets to Mars -within a few hours. And it isn't carried by ships, either!"</p> - -<p>"You mean—?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't get the answer, myself, until I'd been here for some time. -You see, Echo is just a gob of metal—mostly magnetite, except for -these granules of rhodium—forty miles in diameter, but far from round. -Then there's that chasm, a mammoth crack that's gaped open, cutting -the planetoid almost in half. The whole thing is magnetic—like a -terrestrial lodestone—and there's a mighty potent field of force -across that gap in the chasm. The walls are really poles of a bigger -magnet than was ever built by Martians or human being. And of what does -a big magnet remind you?"</p> - -<p>After a moment of thought, Bormon replied, "Cyclotronic action."</p> - -<p>There was a short silence, then Calbur resumed. "These Marts shoot the -ore across space to the south magnetic pole of Mars. A ground crew -gathers it up and transports it to their underground laboratories. As -a prisoner explained it, it was simple; those old-time cyclotrons used -to build up the velocity of particles, ions mostly, by whirling them -in spiral orbits in a vacuum-enclosed magnetic field. Well, there's a -vacuum all around Echo, and clear to Mars. By giving these lumps of ore -a static charge, they act just like ions. When the stream of ore comes -out of the machine, it passes through a magnetic lens which focuses it -like a beam of light on Mars' south pole. And there you have it. Maybe -you saw what looked like a streak of light shooting off through the -chasm. That's the ore stream. It comes out on the day side of Echo, and -so on to Mars. They aim it by turning the whole planetoid."</p> - -<p>"Hm-m-m, I understand, now, why it's always dark here—they keep this -side of Echo facing away from Mars and the sun."</p> - -<p>"Right," said Calbur. "Now we'll have to move. These Marts are -heartless. They'll let you die for lack of oxygen if you don't turn in -baskets of ore regularly. But we'll meet here again."</p> - -<p>"Just give me time to size things up," Bormon agreed. The effects of -the reverie-gas was wearing off and he was beginning to feel thoroughly -alive again and aware of the serious situation which confronted them. -"Don't let it get you down, Keith," he added. "We'll find a way out."</p> - -<p>But his words expressed a confidence that the passing of time did not -justify.</p> - -<p>Again and again he filled his ore-basket, dragged it to the hungry -mouth of that prodigious mechanism in the abyss, and in return he -received the essentials for continued life.</p> - -<p>During this time he formed a better idea of conditions around him. Once -he wandered far from the Martian's headquarters, so far that he nearly -blinded himself in the raw sunlight that bombarded the day side of the -tiny planetoid. Again, he was strangely comforted with the discovery -of a small space ship anchored deep in the abyss although he was not -permitted to go near it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He soon found that nothing was to be expected of the horde of Earthmen -who slaved like automatons over the few miles of Echo immediately -adjacent to the chasm's rim. The accumulative effect of the drug seemed -to render them almost insensible of existence.</p> - -<p>But with Calbur, who had served for a shorter time, it was different.</p> - -<p>"Keith, we've got to tackle one of the Mart guards," Bormon told him, -during one of their conferences in the cave. "We'll take its ray-tubes, -fight our way to that ship they've cached in the chasm below the -cyclotron power plant, and blast away from here."</p> - -<p>"How?" asked Calbur. "If you make a move toward one, it'll burn you -down—I've seen it happen!"</p> - -<p>"Listen, I've spent hours figuring this out. Suppose one of us were to -stay here in this cave, helmet-light on, and near enough to the opening -so that his light would show dimly on the outside. Wouldn't a Mart -guard be sure to come along to investigate?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, practically sure," agreed Calbur, but with no great interest. -Hour by hour he was sinking closer to that animate coma which gripped -the other Earthmen. "But what would that get you? If you lose too much -time, you'll be cut off from rations."</p> - -<p>"I know, but suppose also that one of us—I, for instance—was hiding -in the rocks above the cave, with a big chunk of ore, ready to heave it -down on the Mart?"</p> - -<p>Calbur seemed to be thinking this over, and for a moment there was -silence.</p> - -<p>"When shall we try it?" he demanded suddenly, and there was a note of -eagerness and hope in his voice. "It's simple enough. It might actually -work."</p> - -<p>"Right now! If we put it off, it'll soon be too late."</p> - -<p>They discussed details, laying their plans carefully, Bormon prudently -refraining any suggestion that this move was one born of sheer -desperation on his part.</p> - -<p>Everything settled, Calbur moved up near the opening, so that his -helmet-light could be dimly seen from outside the cave. Bormon, -dragging his ore-basket, climbed up in the rocks directly over the -entrance, and presently found concealment that suited him. Near at -hand he placed a loose chunk of rock which on Earth would have weighed -perhaps eighty pounds. The trap was set.</p> - -<p>He settled himself to wait. His own light was, of course, extinguished. -Far off he could see crawling blobs of luminance as guards and human -workers moved slowly over the surface of Echo. Otherwise stygian -darkness surrounded him. But he had chosen a position which, he hoped, -would not be revealed by the light of any Martian bent on investigating -the cave.</p> - -<p>There were, he had learned, actually less than a score of Martians -here on Echo; about half of them stayed around that cyclotronic -ore-hurler in the chasm. They depended on secrecy, and were in constant -communication, by ether-wave, with spies not only on Earth and Mars but -among the personnel of the space police itself. These spies were in a -position to warn them to shut down operations in case the ore stream -through space attracted notice and was in danger of being investigated. -It was all being conducted with true Martian insidiousness.</p> - -<p>Thus Bormon's thoughts were wandering when, at last, he became aware -that a Martian guard was approaching. His cramped muscles suddenly grew -tense. His heart began to pound; it was now or never—and he must not -fail!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Martian, reeling along rapidly on the mechanical legs attached -to its space armor, appeared to suspect nothing. It approached amid -a rosette of light which seemed to chase back the shadows into a -surrounding black wall. It had evidently seen the gleam of Calbur's -helmet-light, for it was heading directly toward the mouth of the cave -above which Bormon crouched.</p> - -<p>The moment for action arrived. Tense as a tirhco spring, Bormon leaped -erect, hurled the jagged lump of rock down on the rounded dome of the -Martian's armor. Then, without pausing to ascertain the result, he -grasped the rim of his ore-basket and swinging it in a wide arc before -him, leaped downward—</p> - -<p>For a moment Martian, basket and Earthman were in a mad tangle. Bormon -realized that the Martian had been toppled over, and that one of its -ray-tubes was sending out a coruscating plume of fire as it ate into -the rocks. The moment seemed propitious to Bormon!</p> - -<p>Hands gripping and searching desperately, he found the oddly-shaped -clamp that bound the two halves of the Martian's space armor -together—and released it.</p> - -<p>There was a hiss of escaping gas. Abruptly those metal handlers ceased -to thrash about....</p> - -<p>Bormon, thrilling with success, rose to his feet, turned off the -Martian's ray-tube just as Calbur, delayed with having to drag his -ore-basket, through the rather narrow opening, dashed into view.</p> - -<p>There was no need for words. Bormon handed him a ray-tube.</p> - -<p>Within a matter of seconds, each had burned through a link of the chain -around his wrist. They were free from those accursed baskets! Calbur -secreted the weapon in a pouch of his space suit, then swiftly they set -to work, for their next move had been carefully planned.</p> - -<p>Opening the armor fully, they began to remove the dead Martian, puffed -up like a kernel of pop-corn by the sudden loss of its air pressure.</p> - -<p>Having cleared the armor, Bormon climbed inside—space suit and -all—folding up like a pocket knife so as to resemble somewhat the -alien shape it was intended to hold, and tested the semi-automatic -controls. Everything appeared to be in working order. Assuring himself -of this as well as his knowledge of Martian mechanics would permit, he -crawled out again to help Calbur.</p> - -<p>Calbur was scrambling to collect ore. And under their combined efforts -one of the baskets was presently filled—for the last time, Bormon -fervently hoped!</p> - -<p>Again he entered that strange conveyance, the Martian's armor, and -after some experimental manipulation of the push-button controls, -managed to get the thing upright on its jointed, metal legs and start -it moving awkwardly in the direction of the chasm.</p> - -<p>Behind him came Calbur, dragging the basket of ore—for lacking a -disguise such as Bormon's, he must have some excuse for returning to -the cabin, and he had wrapped the chain around his wrist to conceal -the fact that it had been severed.</p> - -<p>Bormon, in the narrow confines of his armor, disconnected the -mechanical voder used by its deposed owner, for all Martians are -voiceless.</p> - -<p>His greatest fear was that one of the Martian guards would attempt to -communicate with him. This would disclose the imposture immediately, -since he would be unable to reply. For all Martian communication, even -by ether-wave, is visual—the medium being a complicated series of -symbols based on their ancient sign language, the waving of tentacles, -which no human brain has ever fully understood. The means of producing -these conventionalized symbols was a tiny keyboard, just below an oval, -silvery screen, and as Bormon sent his odd conveyance stalking down the -side of the chasm, toward that sweeping disk which he now knew to be -formed by the ends of two cyclotronic D-chambers facing each other, he -kept one eye on this silvery screen, but it remained blank.</p> - -<p>He moved on down past the catwalk to the lower ramp. Here he must pass -close to a Martian guard.</p> - -<p>But this Martian seemed to give him no attention whatever.</p> - -<p>Reaching a point opposite the ship, Bormon stepped from the ramp. Still -that oval screen remained blank. No Martian was apparently paying -enough attention to him to question his movements.</p> - -<p>Again he caused the armor to advance slowly, picking his way along the -rock surface. He reached the ship.</p> - -<p>For a moment he was hidden behind the hull. One glance sent his hopes -plunging utterly. Neither of the two fuel caps were clamped down, which -could mean but one thing—the ship's tanks were empty!</p> - -<p>It was a stunning blow. No wonder the Martians felt safe in leaving the -ship practically unguarded. After a moment, anger began to mount above -Bormon's disappointment. He would start to kill off Martians! If he and -Calbur couldn't get away from Echo, then he'd see that at least some -of these Marts didn't either. He might even wipe them all out. Calbur, -too, had a ray-tube.</p> - -<p>But what of Calbur? Quickly Bormon moved from behind the ship. Calbur -was loitering on the ramp, ore-basket empty, evidently on the point of -making a break to join him.</p> - -<p>Frantically, Bormon focused the ether-wave on Calbur's helmet, hurling -a warning.</p> - -<p>"Stay where you are. It's a washout! No fuel...."</p> - -<p>He began moving across the rocks toward the power-plant. That was the -most likely spot to commence—more Marts close at hand. He'd take them -by surprise.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he was cold, calculating, purposeful. After all, there wasn't -much chance of wiping them all out—and yet he might. He should strike -at a vital point, cripple them, so as to give Calbur and the others a -chance in case he only managed to kill a few before passing out of the -picture.</p> - -<p>A glittering neutrochrome helix on top of the power-plant gave him a -suggestion. Why not destroy their communications, fix things so they -couldn't call for help from Mars?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Abruptly he realized something was wrong. That silver oval six inches -from his face was flashing a bewildering complexity of symbols. -Simultaneously the Martian on the ramp began to move quickly and -questioningly toward him.</p> - -<p>The moment had arrived. Bormon swung the metal handler bearing the -ray-tube into line and pressed the firing button....</p> - -<p>Amid a splatter of coruscating sparks the Martian went down.</p> - -<p>"Number one!" growled Bormon. Everything now depended on prompt action -and luck—mostly luck! As quickly as possible he heeled around, aimed -at the helix on the power-plant. It swayed slowly as that pale blue -shaft ate into its supports, then drifted away.</p> - -<p>He had lost sight of Calbur. Absolute silence still reigned, but on -airless Echo that silence was portentous. Along the rim of the chasm he -could see the glitter of Martian armor against the blackness of space. -The alarm had been given. But for the moment he was more concerned -with the imminent danger from those who tended the intricate controls -in the power-plant, and the guard at the far end of the catwalk. This -guard was protected by the catwalk itself and the stream of Earthmen -slaves still moving uncomprehendingly along it. Bormon sent his space -armor reeling forward, intent on seeking shelter behind the bulk of the -power-plant.</p> - -<p>He almost reached that protection. But suddenly sparks plumed around -him, and his armor slumped forward—one leg missing. He fell, -fortunately, just within the shelter of the power-plant.</p> - -<p>Desperately he struggled to open the armor, so as to get the ray-tube -in his own hand. But when he finally crawled forth it was to face three -Martians grouped around him, their weapons—six in number—unwaveringly -centered on him.</p> - -<p>"Earthman," said the mechanical speaker coldly inside his helmet, "you -have killed a Martian."</p> - -<p>And then, with true Martian decisiveness and cruelty, they pronounced -inhuman judgment on him.</p> - -<p>"We in our kindness shall not immediately demand your life as forfeit. -You shall wander unhindered over Echo, dying slowly, until your oxygen -is gone. Do not ask for more; it is sealed from you. Do not again enter -the chasm; it is death to you. Now go."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hours later Bormon was indeed wandering, hopeless as a lost soul, -over nighted Echo, awaiting the consummation of his sentence, which -now seemed very near. Already his oxygen gauge indicated zero and -he was face to face with the "dying slowly" process promised by the -Martians—the terrible death of suffocation.</p> - -<p>Now, as things began to seem vague and unreal around him, Bormon was -drawing near that hidden cave where he and Calbur had often met for -like a final flash of inspiration had come the thought that here, if -anywhere, he would find Calbur.</p> - -<p>It was strange, he reflected, how the life in a man forces him on and -on, always hoping, to the very end. For now it seemed that the most -important thing in the universe was to find Calbur.</p> - -<p>He had husbanded the last of his oxygen to the utmost. But panting, -now, for breath, he opened the valve a fraction of a turn and staggered -on in the darkness. And suddenly, dimly as in a dream, he knew that at -last he had found Calbur....</p> - -<p>And Calbur was doing a queer thing. Gauntleted hands moving hastily in -the chalky radiance cast by his helmet-light, he was tossing chunks of -rhodium from his filled ore-basket—</p> - -<p>Then their helmets clicked together, and he heard Calbur's voice, -faint, urgent:</p> - -<p>"Climb in the basket! I'll cover you with ore so they won't see you. -I'll drag you in. Well get your tank filled—I swear it!"</p> - -<p>The next instant, it seemed, Bormon felt himself being tumbled into the -ore-basket. Chunks of ore began pressing down lightly on his body. Then -the basket commenced to pitch and scrape over the rocks.</p> - -<p>But his lungs were bursting! Could he last? He had to. He couldn't fool -Calbur by passing out—not now. Something like destiny was working, and -he'd have to see it through.</p> - -<p>Something was tapping on his helmet. Bormon opened his eyes, and light -was trickling down between the chunks of ore. No longer was there any -scraping vibrations. Something, metallic, snakelike, was being pressed -into his hand.</p> - -<p>And then Bormon remembered. The oxygen tube! With a final rallying -of forces only partly physical, he managed to stab the tube over the -intake of his tank. The automatic valve clicked and a stream of pure -delight swept into his lungs!</p> - -<p>For a time he lay there, his body trembling with the exquisite torture -of vitality reawakening, slowly closing the helmet-valve to balance the -increase of pressure in the tank.</p> - -<p>Suddenly that snakelike tube was jerked away from between the chunks of -ore, and again the basket began a scraping advance.</p> - -<p>Bormon's new lease on life brought its problems. What was about to -happen? In a moment, now, Calbur would be ordered by the guard to -dump his ore. They wouldn't have a chance, there on the catwalk. For -Bormon's abrupt reappearance would bring swift extinction, probably to -both.</p> - -<p>The basket stopped. They had reached the ore-dump. Calbur's head and -shoulders appeared. Behind the vision plate in his helmet there was a -queer, set expression on his thin face. He thrust the ray-tube into -Bormon's hands.</p> - -<p>Bormon sprang erect, leaped from the basket. For a moment he stared -around, locating the guard at the end of the catwalk. As yet the guard -appeared not to have noticed anything unusual. But where was Calbur?</p> - -<p>"Attention. One-six-nine. Dump your ore," ordered the guard, coldly, -mechanically.</p> - -<p>Something seemed to draw Bormon's eyes into focus on his own number -stencil. One-six-nine, he read. Calbur's number! And then, suddenly, he -realized the dreadful, admirable thing Keith Calbur had done....</p> - -<p>For Calbur had leaped through the ore-chute, into the cyclotron's -maelstromic heart! Despairing, he had chosen a way out. He had -forfeited his life so that Bormon could take his place.</p> - -<p>"Dump your ore," repeated the Martian guard, coldly.</p> - -<p>"To hell with you!" snarled Bormon, and blasted with the tube.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="294" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He missed the Martian. Still weakened by the ordeal he had just passed -through, and overwrought as an effect of Calbur's last despairing -act, his aim was not true. Nevertheless, that coruscating shaft was -fraught with far-reaching consequence. Passing three feet to the left -of the Martian, it snapped two of the rods which braced the catwalk in -position over the cyclotron drum. Thus released at the far end, the -metal ribbon—for the catwalk was little more than that—curled and -twisted like a tirhco spring, pitching Bormon, as from a catapult, -straight along the path so recently chosen by Calbur.</p> - -<p>Destiny had indeed provided them both with a strange exit from Echo, -for in that split second Bormon realized that he was being hurled -squarely into the gaping orifice of the cyclotron.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Far out in the vacuity between Echo and Mars, Captain Dunstan sat in -his cabin aboard the Patrol Ship <i>Alert</i>—most powerful and, therefore, -speediest craft possessed by the Earth-Mars Space Police.</p> - -<p>On his desk lay two jagged pieces of ore, whitish-gray in color, which -he had been examining.</p> - -<p>His speculations were interrupted by the sudden bursting open of the -cabin door. An officer, spruce in gray uniform and silver braid, -entered hurriedly, his face flushed with excitement.</p> - -<p>"Captain Dunstan, the most extraordinary thing has happened! We've just -picked up two men—two men drifting with the meteoric stream, and in -space suits—and they're alive!"</p> - -<p>Captain Dunstan rose slowly. "Alive, and adrift in space? Then it's the -first such occurrence in the history of space travel! Who are they?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, sir. So far we've got only one out of his suit. But I -have reason to believe they're the men recently reported as missing by -the E.M.T. Lines. He babbled something about Echo—that there's hell to -pay on Echo. I imagine he means Asteroid No. 60. But—"</p> - -<p>"Lead the way," said the captain, stepping quickly toward the doorway. -"There's something mighty queer going on."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And so, by a lucky break, Neal Bormon found himself snatched from death -and aboard the <i>Alert</i>, arriving there by a route as hazardous and -strange as was ever experienced by spaceman.</p> - -<p>And no less strange and unexpected came the knowledge of Keith Calbur's -arrival there ahead of him.</p> - -<p>Bormon, who was last to be drawn in by the grapple-ray and helped out -of his space suit by the willing hands of the <i>Alert's</i> crew, was still -capable of giving an understandable account of things; although Calbur, -until the effects of the Martian drug wore off, would be likely to -remain in his somewhat neurotic condition of bewilderment.</p> - -<p>"These Marts," said Bormon, after a great deal of explaining on both -sides, "don't know that you have discovered their stream of ore. They -won't know it until their communications have been repaired."</p> - -<p>Captain Dunstan nodded. "That explains why we were able, on this -occasion, to approach the meteoric stream without its immediate -disappearance. But I cannot understand," he confessed, "how two men -could have passed through such an apparatus as you describe, and remain -alive."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I can offer a possible explanation," said an officer whose -insignia was that of Chief Electrobiologist. "If, as we suspect, this -Martian invention is founded on the old and well-known cyclotronic -principle, then we have nothing but reciprocal interaction of electric -fields and magnetic fields. And these fields, as such, are entirely -harmless to living organisms, just as harmless as gravitational fields. -Moreover, any static charge carried by the bodies of these men would -have been slowly dissipated through the grapple-ray with which they -were drawn out of the ore stream."</p> - -<p>This explanation appeared to satisfy the captain. "You say," -he questioned, addressing Bormon, "that there are other men on -Echo—Earthmen being used as slaves?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, more than a hundred."</p> - -<p>Captain Dunstan's mouth became a fighting, grim line. He gave several -swift orders to his officers, who scattered immediately.</p> - -<p>Somewhat later, Bormon found his way into the surgery where Calbur -lay—not sleeping yet, but resting peacefully.</p> - -<p>Assuring himself of this, Bormon, too, let his long frame slump down on -a near-by cot—not to sleep, either, but to contemplate pleasantly the -wiping-up process soon to take place on Echo, and elsewhere.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Exit From Asteroid 60, by D. L. 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L. James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Exit From Asteroid 60 - -Author: D. L. James - -Release Date: April 16, 2020 [EBook #61843] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EXIT FROM ASTEROID 60 *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - EXIT FROM ASTEROID 60 - - By D. L. JAMES - - Strange things were happening on Echo, weird - Martian satellite. But none stranger than - the two Earthlings who hurtled into the - star-lanes from its deep, hidden core. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Winter 1940. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Echo is naturally magnetic, probably more so than any other -planetoid--and Neal Bormon cursed softly, just to relieve his feelings, -as that magnetism gripped the small iron plates on the soles of the -rough boots with which the Martians had provided him. Slavery--and -in the twenty-ninth century! It was difficult to conceive of it, but -it was all too painfully true. His hands, inside their air-tight -gauntlets, wadded into fists; little knots of muscle bulged along his -lean jaw, and he stared at the darkness around him as if realizing it -for the first time. This gang had plenty of guts, to shanghai men from -the Earth-Mars Transport Lines. They'd never get by with it. - -And yet, they had--until now. First, Keith Calbur, and then himself. Of -course, there had been others before Calbur, but not personal friends -of Neal Bormon. Men just disappeared. And you could do that in the -Martian spaceport of Quessel without arousing much comment--unless you -were a high official. But when Calbur failed to show up in time for a -return voyage to Earth, Bormon had taken up the search. - -Vague clews had led him into that pleasure palace in Quessel--a joint -frequented alike by human beings and Martians--a fantasmagoria of -tinkling soul-lights; gossamer arms of frozen music that set your -senses reeling when they floated near you; lyric forms that lived -and danced and died like thoughts. Then someone had crushed a bead -of reverie-gas, probably held in a Martian tentacle, under Bormon's -nostrils, and now--here he was on Echo. - -He gave an angry yank at the chain which was locked around his left -wrist. The other end was fastened to a large metal basket partly filled -with lumps of whitish-gray ore, and the basket bobbed and scraped along -behind him as he advanced. Of the hundred or more Earthmen, prisoners -here on Echo, only seven or eight were within sight of Bormon, visible -as mere crawling spots of light; but he knew that each was provided -with a basket and rock-pick similar to his own. As yet he had not -identified anyone of them as Keith Calbur. Suddenly the metallic voice -of a Martian guard sounded in Bormon's ears. - -"Attention. One-seven-two. Your basket is not yet half filled, your -oxygen tank is nearly empty. You will receive no more food or oxygen -until you deliver your quota of ore. Get busy." - -"To hell with you!" fumed Bormon--quite vainly, as he well knew, for -the helmet of his space suit was not provided with voice-sending -equipment. Nevertheless, after a swift glance at the oxygen gauge, he -began to swing his rock-pick with renewed vigor, pausing now and then -to toss the loosened lumps of ore into the latticed basket. On Earth, -that huge container, filled with ore, would have weighed over a ton; -here on Echo its weight was only a few pounds. - -Neal Bormon had the average spaceman's dread of oxygen shortage. And -so, working steadily, he at last had the huge basket filled with -ore--almost pure rhodium--judging by the color and weight of the lumps. -Nearby, a jagged gash of light on the almost black shoulder of Echo -indicated the location of that tremendous chasm which cut two-thirds -of the way through the small asteroid, and in which the Martians had -installed their machine for consuming ore. - -Locating this gash of light, Bormon set out toward it, dragging the -basket of ore behind him over the rough, rocky surface. - -The ultimate purpose of that gargantuan mechanism, and why this side of -the planetoid apparently never turned toward the sun, were mysteries -with which his mind struggled but could not fathom. - - * * * * * - -Presently, having reached the rim of the abyss, with only a narrow -margin of oxygen left, he commenced the downward passage, his iron-shod -boots clinging to the vertical wall of metallic rock, and as he -advanced this magnetic attraction became ever more intense. The blaze -of lights before him grew brighter and seemed to expand. Dimly, two -hundred yards over his head, he could glimpse the opposite wall of the -chasm like the opposing jaw of an enormous vise. - -He joined the slow-moving stream of workers. They were filing past a -guard and out on a narrow metal catwalk that seemed to be suspended--or -rather poised--by thin rods in close proximity to a spacious disk -which extended from wall to wall of the chasm. They moved in absolute -silence. Even when tilted ore-baskets dumped a ton or more ore into the -gaping orifice in the center of the disk, there was still no sound--for -Echo, small and barren of native life, lacked even the suggestion of a -sound-carrying atmosphere. - -And that weird soundlessness of the action around him brought a giddy -sense of unreality to Neal Bormon. Only the harsh, mechanical voice of -the Martian guard, intoning orders with cold and impersonal precision, -seemed actually real. - -"Attention. One-seven-two. Dump your ore...." - -These Earthmen were apparently known by numbers only. Bormon's own -number--172--was on a thin metal stencil stretched across the outer -surface of the glass vision plate of his helmet; he couldn't forget it. - -He obeyed the Martian's order. Then he noticed that men with empty -baskets were moving along a curved ramp, like a corkscrew, which led to -a different level, whether above or below he could not possibly tell -without a distinct mental effort. - -He decided it was to a lower level as he moved onward, for the huge -disk lost its circularity and became like the curving wall of a -cylinder, or drum, down the outside of which the ramp twisted. Fresh -ore was also being brought from this direction. And seeming to extend -out indefinitely into blackness was a misty shaft, like the beam of a -searchlight. Presently the ramp gave way to a tunnel-like passage. - -Flexible metal-sheathed tubes dangled from the ceiling. These tubes -were labeled: OXYGEN, WATER, NUTRIENT. - - * * * * * - -Bormon, patterning the actions of those he observed around him began to -replenish his supply of these three essentials to life. His space suit -was of conventional design, with flasks in front for water and nutrient -fluid, and oxygen tank across the shoulders. By attaching the proper -tubes and opening valves--except the oxygen inlet valve, which was -automatic--he soon had his suit provisioned to capacity. - -He had just finished this operation when someone touched his arm. He -glanced up at the bulky, tall figure--an unmistakable form that even a -month's sojourn on Echo had not been able to rob of a certain virility -and youthful eclat. - -For a moment they stared into each other's eyes through the vision -plates of their helmets and Bormon was struck dumb by the change, the -stark and utterly nerve-fagged hopelessness expressed on Keith Calbur's -features. - -Then Calbur tried to grin a welcome, and the effect was ghastly! - -For a moment his helmet clicked into contact with Bormon's. - -"Neal," he said, his voice sounding far away, "so they got you, too! We -can't talk here.... I'm pretty well shot. Lived in this damn walking -tent for ages. No sleep, not since they took me.... Some powder, drug, -they put in the nutrient fluid--it's supposed to take the place of -sleep--and you can't sleep! Only it doesn't.... You come along with me." - -The darkness swallowed them up. Bormon had thrown his rock-pick into -his empty basket. And now, by keeping one hand in contact with Calbur's -basket, as it bobbed and jerked on ahead, he was able, even in the inky -blackness, to keep from straying aside. - -After seemingly interminable groping and stumbling, Calbur's light -flashed on. They had entered a pocket in the rocks, Bormon realized, a -small cavern whose walls would prevent the light from betraying their -presence to the guard. - -Calbur threw himself exhaustedly down, signifying that Bormon should -do likewise, and with their helmets touching, a strange conversation -ensued. - -Bormon explained, as well as he was able, his presence there. - -"When you didn't show up, Keith, in time to blast for Earth," he said, -"all we could do was to report your absence to the space police. But -they're swamped; too many disappearances lately. Moreover, they're -trying to relocate that stream of meteoric matter which wrecked a -freighter some time back. They know something is in the wind, but -they'll never guess this! For weeks they've had the patrol ship, -_Alert_, scouting around Mars. So, after making the run to Earth and -back to Mars--I had to do that, you know--I got back in Quessel again -and commenced to pry around, sort of inviting the same thing to happen -to me that had happened to you--and here we are." - -"We're here for keeps, looks like," answered Calbur grimly, his voice -having lost part of that overtone of strained nerves. "A man doesn't -last long, so the other prisoners say, two months at the most. These -Marts use Earthmen because we're tougher, here at least, and last -longer than Marts.... Hell, what wouldn't I give for a smoke!" - -"But the purpose, Keith? What's the scheme?" - -"I thought you knew. Just Marts with fighting ideas--a crowd backed by -wealthy, middle-class Martians who call themselves Lords of Conquest. -They're building ships, weapons. First, they're going to take over -Mars from the present government, which is friendly to Earth, and then -they're going to subdue Earth." - - * * * * * - -Calbur had switched off his light, as a matter of precaution, and his -voice came to Bormon from a seemingly far distant point--a voice from -out of the darkness, fraught with fantastic suggestion. - -"Ships? You say they're building ships? Where?" Bormon asked, his own -voice reverberating harshly within the confines of his helmet. - -"In a cavern they've blasted out near the south magnetic pole of Mars. -You know that's an immense, barren region--lifeless, cold--bordered on -the north by impenetrable reed thickets. They need rhodium in large -quantities for hull alloys and firing chambers. That's why they're -mining it, here on Echo." - -"They'll never get it to Mars," Bormon declared quickly. "Every -freighter is checked and licensed by the joint governments of Earth and -Mars." - -"They won't?" Calbur laughed, distantly. "Listen, Neal--every crateful -of ore that's dumped into their machine, here on Echo, gets to Mars -within a few hours. And it isn't carried by ships, either!" - -"You mean--?" - -"I didn't get the answer, myself, until I'd been here for some time. -You see, Echo is just a gob of metal--mostly magnetite, except for -these granules of rhodium--forty miles in diameter, but far from round. -Then there's that chasm, a mammoth crack that's gaped open, cutting -the planetoid almost in half. The whole thing is magnetic--like a -terrestrial lodestone--and there's a mighty potent field of force -across that gap in the chasm. The walls are really poles of a bigger -magnet than was ever built by Martians or human being. And of what does -a big magnet remind you?" - -After a moment of thought, Bormon replied, "Cyclotronic action." - -There was a short silence, then Calbur resumed. "These Marts shoot the -ore across space to the south magnetic pole of Mars. A ground crew -gathers it up and transports it to their underground laboratories. As -a prisoner explained it, it was simple; those old-time cyclotrons used -to build up the velocity of particles, ions mostly, by whirling them -in spiral orbits in a vacuum-enclosed magnetic field. Well, there's a -vacuum all around Echo, and clear to Mars. By giving these lumps of ore -a static charge, they act just like ions. When the stream of ore comes -out of the machine, it passes through a magnetic lens which focuses it -like a beam of light on Mars' south pole. And there you have it. Maybe -you saw what looked like a streak of light shooting off through the -chasm. That's the ore stream. It comes out on the day side of Echo, and -so on to Mars. They aim it by turning the whole planetoid." - -"Hm-m-m, I understand, now, why it's always dark here--they keep this -side of Echo facing away from Mars and the sun." - -"Right," said Calbur. "Now we'll have to move. These Marts are -heartless. They'll let you die for lack of oxygen if you don't turn in -baskets of ore regularly. But we'll meet here again." - -"Just give me time to size things up," Bormon agreed. The effects of -the reverie-gas was wearing off and he was beginning to feel thoroughly -alive again and aware of the serious situation which confronted them. -"Don't let it get you down, Keith," he added. "We'll find a way out." - -But his words expressed a confidence that the passing of time did not -justify. - -Again and again he filled his ore-basket, dragged it to the hungry -mouth of that prodigious mechanism in the abyss, and in return he -received the essentials for continued life. - -During this time he formed a better idea of conditions around him. Once -he wandered far from the Martian's headquarters, so far that he nearly -blinded himself in the raw sunlight that bombarded the day side of the -tiny planetoid. Again, he was strangely comforted with the discovery -of a small space ship anchored deep in the abyss although he was not -permitted to go near it. - - * * * * * - -He soon found that nothing was to be expected of the horde of Earthmen -who slaved like automatons over the few miles of Echo immediately -adjacent to the chasm's rim. The accumulative effect of the drug seemed -to render them almost insensible of existence. - -But with Calbur, who had served for a shorter time, it was different. - -"Keith, we've got to tackle one of the Mart guards," Bormon told him, -during one of their conferences in the cave. "We'll take its ray-tubes, -fight our way to that ship they've cached in the chasm below the -cyclotron power plant, and blast away from here." - -"How?" asked Calbur. "If you make a move toward one, it'll burn you -down--I've seen it happen!" - -"Listen, I've spent hours figuring this out. Suppose one of us were to -stay here in this cave, helmet-light on, and near enough to the opening -so that his light would show dimly on the outside. Wouldn't a Mart -guard be sure to come along to investigate?" - -"Yes, practically sure," agreed Calbur, but with no great interest. -Hour by hour he was sinking closer to that animate coma which gripped -the other Earthmen. "But what would that get you? If you lose too much -time, you'll be cut off from rations." - -"I know, but suppose also that one of us--I, for instance--was hiding -in the rocks above the cave, with a big chunk of ore, ready to heave it -down on the Mart?" - -Calbur seemed to be thinking this over, and for a moment there was -silence. - -"When shall we try it?" he demanded suddenly, and there was a note of -eagerness and hope in his voice. "It's simple enough. It might actually -work." - -"Right now! If we put it off, it'll soon be too late." - -They discussed details, laying their plans carefully, Bormon prudently -refraining any suggestion that this move was one born of sheer -desperation on his part. - -Everything settled, Calbur moved up near the opening, so that his -helmet-light could be dimly seen from outside the cave. Bormon, -dragging his ore-basket, climbed up in the rocks directly over the -entrance, and presently found concealment that suited him. Near at -hand he placed a loose chunk of rock which on Earth would have weighed -perhaps eighty pounds. The trap was set. - -He settled himself to wait. His own light was, of course, extinguished. -Far off he could see crawling blobs of luminance as guards and human -workers moved slowly over the surface of Echo. Otherwise stygian -darkness surrounded him. But he had chosen a position which, he hoped, -would not be revealed by the light of any Martian bent on investigating -the cave. - -There were, he had learned, actually less than a score of Martians -here on Echo; about half of them stayed around that cyclotronic -ore-hurler in the chasm. They depended on secrecy, and were in constant -communication, by ether-wave, with spies not only on Earth and Mars but -among the personnel of the space police itself. These spies were in a -position to warn them to shut down operations in case the ore stream -through space attracted notice and was in danger of being investigated. -It was all being conducted with true Martian insidiousness. - -Thus Bormon's thoughts were wandering when, at last, he became aware -that a Martian guard was approaching. His cramped muscles suddenly grew -tense. His heart began to pound; it was now or never--and he must not -fail! - - * * * * * - -The Martian, reeling along rapidly on the mechanical legs attached -to its space armor, appeared to suspect nothing. It approached amid -a rosette of light which seemed to chase back the shadows into a -surrounding black wall. It had evidently seen the gleam of Calbur's -helmet-light, for it was heading directly toward the mouth of the cave -above which Bormon crouched. - -The moment for action arrived. Tense as a tirhco spring, Bormon leaped -erect, hurled the jagged lump of rock down on the rounded dome of the -Martian's armor. Then, without pausing to ascertain the result, he -grasped the rim of his ore-basket and swinging it in a wide arc before -him, leaped downward-- - -For a moment Martian, basket and Earthman were in a mad tangle. Bormon -realized that the Martian had been toppled over, and that one of its -ray-tubes was sending out a coruscating plume of fire as it ate into -the rocks. The moment seemed propitious to Bormon! - -Hands gripping and searching desperately, he found the oddly-shaped -clamp that bound the two halves of the Martian's space armor -together--and released it. - -There was a hiss of escaping gas. Abruptly those metal handlers ceased -to thrash about.... - -Bormon, thrilling with success, rose to his feet, turned off the -Martian's ray-tube just as Calbur, delayed with having to drag his -ore-basket, through the rather narrow opening, dashed into view. - -There was no need for words. Bormon handed him a ray-tube. - -Within a matter of seconds, each had burned through a link of the chain -around his wrist. They were free from those accursed baskets! Calbur -secreted the weapon in a pouch of his space suit, then swiftly they set -to work, for their next move had been carefully planned. - -Opening the armor fully, they began to remove the dead Martian, puffed -up like a kernel of pop-corn by the sudden loss of its air pressure. - -Having cleared the armor, Bormon climbed inside--space suit and -all--folding up like a pocket knife so as to resemble somewhat the -alien shape it was intended to hold, and tested the semi-automatic -controls. Everything appeared to be in working order. Assuring himself -of this as well as his knowledge of Martian mechanics would permit, he -crawled out again to help Calbur. - -Calbur was scrambling to collect ore. And under their combined efforts -one of the baskets was presently filled--for the last time, Bormon -fervently hoped! - -Again he entered that strange conveyance, the Martian's armor, and -after some experimental manipulation of the push-button controls, -managed to get the thing upright on its jointed, metal legs and start -it moving awkwardly in the direction of the chasm. - -Behind him came Calbur, dragging the basket of ore--for lacking a -disguise such as Bormon's, he must have some excuse for returning to -the cabin, and he had wrapped the chain around his wrist to conceal -the fact that it had been severed. - -Bormon, in the narrow confines of his armor, disconnected the -mechanical voder used by its deposed owner, for all Martians are -voiceless. - -His greatest fear was that one of the Martian guards would attempt to -communicate with him. This would disclose the imposture immediately, -since he would be unable to reply. For all Martian communication, even -by ether-wave, is visual--the medium being a complicated series of -symbols based on their ancient sign language, the waving of tentacles, -which no human brain has ever fully understood. The means of producing -these conventionalized symbols was a tiny keyboard, just below an oval, -silvery screen, and as Bormon sent his odd conveyance stalking down the -side of the chasm, toward that sweeping disk which he now knew to be -formed by the ends of two cyclotronic D-chambers facing each other, he -kept one eye on this silvery screen, but it remained blank. - -He moved on down past the catwalk to the lower ramp. Here he must pass -close to a Martian guard. - -But this Martian seemed to give him no attention whatever. - -Reaching a point opposite the ship, Bormon stepped from the ramp. Still -that oval screen remained blank. No Martian was apparently paying -enough attention to him to question his movements. - -Again he caused the armor to advance slowly, picking his way along the -rock surface. He reached the ship. - -For a moment he was hidden behind the hull. One glance sent his hopes -plunging utterly. Neither of the two fuel caps were clamped down, which -could mean but one thing--the ship's tanks were empty! - -It was a stunning blow. No wonder the Martians felt safe in leaving the -ship practically unguarded. After a moment, anger began to mount above -Bormon's disappointment. He would start to kill off Martians! If he and -Calbur couldn't get away from Echo, then he'd see that at least some -of these Marts didn't either. He might even wipe them all out. Calbur, -too, had a ray-tube. - -But what of Calbur? Quickly Bormon moved from behind the ship. Calbur -was loitering on the ramp, ore-basket empty, evidently on the point of -making a break to join him. - -Frantically, Bormon focused the ether-wave on Calbur's helmet, hurling -a warning. - -"Stay where you are. It's a washout! No fuel...." - -He began moving across the rocks toward the power-plant. That was the -most likely spot to commence--more Marts close at hand. He'd take them -by surprise. - -Suddenly he was cold, calculating, purposeful. After all, there wasn't -much chance of wiping them all out--and yet he might. He should strike -at a vital point, cripple them, so as to give Calbur and the others a -chance in case he only managed to kill a few before passing out of the -picture. - -A glittering neutrochrome helix on top of the power-plant gave him a -suggestion. Why not destroy their communications, fix things so they -couldn't call for help from Mars? - - * * * * * - -Abruptly he realized something was wrong. That silver oval six inches -from his face was flashing a bewildering complexity of symbols. -Simultaneously the Martian on the ramp began to move quickly and -questioningly toward him. - -The moment had arrived. Bormon swung the metal handler bearing the -ray-tube into line and pressed the firing button.... - -Amid a splatter of coruscating sparks the Martian went down. - -"Number one!" growled Bormon. Everything now depended on prompt action -and luck--mostly luck! As quickly as possible he heeled around, aimed -at the helix on the power-plant. It swayed slowly as that pale blue -shaft ate into its supports, then drifted away. - -He had lost sight of Calbur. Absolute silence still reigned, but on -airless Echo that silence was portentous. Along the rim of the chasm he -could see the glitter of Martian armor against the blackness of space. -The alarm had been given. But for the moment he was more concerned -with the imminent danger from those who tended the intricate controls -in the power-plant, and the guard at the far end of the catwalk. This -guard was protected by the catwalk itself and the stream of Earthmen -slaves still moving uncomprehendingly along it. Bormon sent his space -armor reeling forward, intent on seeking shelter behind the bulk of the -power-plant. - -He almost reached that protection. But suddenly sparks plumed around -him, and his armor slumped forward--one leg missing. He fell, -fortunately, just within the shelter of the power-plant. - -Desperately he struggled to open the armor, so as to get the ray-tube -in his own hand. But when he finally crawled forth it was to face three -Martians grouped around him, their weapons--six in number--unwaveringly -centered on him. - -"Earthman," said the mechanical speaker coldly inside his helmet, "you -have killed a Martian." - -And then, with true Martian decisiveness and cruelty, they pronounced -inhuman judgment on him. - -"We in our kindness shall not immediately demand your life as forfeit. -You shall wander unhindered over Echo, dying slowly, until your oxygen -is gone. Do not ask for more; it is sealed from you. Do not again enter -the chasm; it is death to you. Now go." - - * * * * * - -Hours later Bormon was indeed wandering, hopeless as a lost soul, -over nighted Echo, awaiting the consummation of his sentence, which -now seemed very near. Already his oxygen gauge indicated zero and -he was face to face with the "dying slowly" process promised by the -Martians--the terrible death of suffocation. - -Now, as things began to seem vague and unreal around him, Bormon was -drawing near that hidden cave where he and Calbur had often met for -like a final flash of inspiration had come the thought that here, if -anywhere, he would find Calbur. - -It was strange, he reflected, how the life in a man forces him on and -on, always hoping, to the very end. For now it seemed that the most -important thing in the universe was to find Calbur. - -He had husbanded the last of his oxygen to the utmost. But panting, -now, for breath, he opened the valve a fraction of a turn and staggered -on in the darkness. And suddenly, dimly as in a dream, he knew that at -last he had found Calbur.... - -And Calbur was doing a queer thing. Gauntleted hands moving hastily in -the chalky radiance cast by his helmet-light, he was tossing chunks of -rhodium from his filled ore-basket-- - -Then their helmets clicked together, and he heard Calbur's voice, -faint, urgent: - -"Climb in the basket! I'll cover you with ore so they won't see you. -I'll drag you in. Well get your tank filled--I swear it!" - -The next instant, it seemed, Bormon felt himself being tumbled into the -ore-basket. Chunks of ore began pressing down lightly on his body. Then -the basket commenced to pitch and scrape over the rocks. - -But his lungs were bursting! Could he last? He had to. He couldn't fool -Calbur by passing out--not now. Something like destiny was working, and -he'd have to see it through. - -Something was tapping on his helmet. Bormon opened his eyes, and light -was trickling down between the chunks of ore. No longer was there any -scraping vibrations. Something, metallic, snakelike, was being pressed -into his hand. - -And then Bormon remembered. The oxygen tube! With a final rallying -of forces only partly physical, he managed to stab the tube over the -intake of his tank. The automatic valve clicked and a stream of pure -delight swept into his lungs! - -For a time he lay there, his body trembling with the exquisite torture -of vitality reawakening, slowly closing the helmet-valve to balance the -increase of pressure in the tank. - -Suddenly that snakelike tube was jerked away from between the chunks of -ore, and again the basket began a scraping advance. - -Bormon's new lease on life brought its problems. What was about to -happen? In a moment, now, Calbur would be ordered by the guard to -dump his ore. They wouldn't have a chance, there on the catwalk. For -Bormon's abrupt reappearance would bring swift extinction, probably to -both. - -The basket stopped. They had reached the ore-dump. Calbur's head and -shoulders appeared. Behind the vision plate in his helmet there was a -queer, set expression on his thin face. He thrust the ray-tube into -Bormon's hands. - -Bormon sprang erect, leaped from the basket. For a moment he stared -around, locating the guard at the end of the catwalk. As yet the guard -appeared not to have noticed anything unusual. But where was Calbur? - -"Attention. One-six-nine. Dump your ore," ordered the guard, coldly, -mechanically. - -Something seemed to draw Bormon's eyes into focus on his own number -stencil. One-six-nine, he read. Calbur's number! And then, suddenly, he -realized the dreadful, admirable thing Keith Calbur had done.... - -For Calbur had leaped through the ore-chute, into the cyclotron's -maelstromic heart! Despairing, he had chosen a way out. He had -forfeited his life so that Bormon could take his place. - -"Dump your ore," repeated the Martian guard, coldly. - -"To hell with you!" snarled Bormon, and blasted with the tube. - -He missed the Martian. Still weakened by the ordeal he had just passed -through, and overwrought as an effect of Calbur's last despairing -act, his aim was not true. Nevertheless, that coruscating shaft was -fraught with far-reaching consequence. Passing three feet to the left -of the Martian, it snapped two of the rods which braced the catwalk in -position over the cyclotron drum. Thus released at the far end, the -metal ribbon--for the catwalk was little more than that--curled and -twisted like a tirhco spring, pitching Bormon, as from a catapult, -straight along the path so recently chosen by Calbur. - -Destiny had indeed provided them both with a strange exit from Echo, -for in that split second Bormon realized that he was being hurled -squarely into the gaping orifice of the cyclotron. - - * * * * * - -Far out in the vacuity between Echo and Mars, Captain Dunstan sat in -his cabin aboard the Patrol Ship _Alert_--most powerful and, therefore, -speediest craft possessed by the Earth-Mars Space Police. - -On his desk lay two jagged pieces of ore, whitish-gray in color, which -he had been examining. - -His speculations were interrupted by the sudden bursting open of the -cabin door. An officer, spruce in gray uniform and silver braid, -entered hurriedly, his face flushed with excitement. - -"Captain Dunstan, the most extraordinary thing has happened! We've just -picked up two men--two men drifting with the meteoric stream, and in -space suits--and they're alive!" - -Captain Dunstan rose slowly. "Alive, and adrift in space? Then it's the -first such occurrence in the history of space travel! Who are they?" - -"I don't know, sir. So far we've got only one out of his suit. But I -have reason to believe they're the men recently reported as missing by -the E.M.T. Lines. He babbled something about Echo--that there's hell to -pay on Echo. I imagine he means Asteroid No. 60. But--" - -"Lead the way," said the captain, stepping quickly toward the doorway. -"There's something mighty queer going on." - - * * * * * - -And so, by a lucky break, Neal Bormon found himself snatched from death -and aboard the _Alert_, arriving there by a route as hazardous and -strange as was ever experienced by spaceman. - -And no less strange and unexpected came the knowledge of Keith Calbur's -arrival there ahead of him. - -Bormon, who was last to be drawn in by the grapple-ray and helped out -of his space suit by the willing hands of the _Alert's_ crew, was still -capable of giving an understandable account of things; although Calbur, -until the effects of the Martian drug wore off, would be likely to -remain in his somewhat neurotic condition of bewilderment. - -"These Marts," said Bormon, after a great deal of explaining on both -sides, "don't know that you have discovered their stream of ore. They -won't know it until their communications have been repaired." - -Captain Dunstan nodded. "That explains why we were able, on this -occasion, to approach the meteoric stream without its immediate -disappearance. But I cannot understand," he confessed, "how two men -could have passed through such an apparatus as you describe, and remain -alive." - -"Perhaps I can offer a possible explanation," said an officer whose -insignia was that of Chief Electrobiologist. "If, as we suspect, this -Martian invention is founded on the old and well-known cyclotronic -principle, then we have nothing but reciprocal interaction of electric -fields and magnetic fields. And these fields, as such, are entirely -harmless to living organisms, just as harmless as gravitational fields. -Moreover, any static charge carried by the bodies of these men would -have been slowly dissipated through the grapple-ray with which they -were drawn out of the ore stream." - -This explanation appeared to satisfy the captain. "You say," -he questioned, addressing Bormon, "that there are other men on -Echo--Earthmen being used as slaves?" - -"Yes, more than a hundred." - -Captain Dunstan's mouth became a fighting, grim line. He gave several -swift orders to his officers, who scattered immediately. - -Somewhat later, Bormon found his way into the surgery where Calbur -lay--not sleeping yet, but resting peacefully. - -Assuring himself of this, Bormon, too, let his long frame slump down on -a near-by cot--not to sleep, either, but to contemplate pleasantly the -wiping-up process soon to take place on Echo, and elsewhere. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Exit From Asteroid 60, by D. L. 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