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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..2937e30 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61927 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61927) diff --git a/old/61927-h.zip b/old/61927-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ac4a5b3..0000000 --- a/old/61927-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61927-h/61927-h.htm b/old/61927-h/61927-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 709d0dd..0000000 --- a/old/61927-h/61927-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2481 +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 Invaders of the Forbidden Moon, by Raymond Z. Gallun. - </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> - -Project Gutenberg's Invaders of the Forbidden Moon, by Raymond Z. Gallun - -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: Invaders of the Forbidden Moon - -Author: Raymond Z. Gallun - -Release Date: April 25, 2020 [EBook #61927] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INVADERS OF THE FORBIDDEN MOON *** - - - - -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="349" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>INVADERS OF THE FORBIDDEN MOON</h1> - -<h2>By RAYMOND Z. GALLUN</h2> - -<p>Annihilation was the lot of those who ventured<br /> -too close to the Forbidden Moon. Harwich knew<br /> -the suicidal odds when he blasted from Jupiter to<br /> -solve the mighty riddle of that cosmic death-trap.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Summer 1941.<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>"Calling the pilot of space ship X911!" Evan Harwich shouted into the -radio transmitter of his little Interplanetary Patrol Boat. "Good God! -Turn your crate back, you crazy fool! Don't you know you're headed -right into the danger zone of Jupiter's Forbidden Moon? You'll get -yourself burned to a crisp in another few seconds if you don't turn -back...."</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich's growling voice was almost shrill at the end. His police -duties patrolling the vicinity of Io, innermost of Jupiter's larger -satellites, rarely developed moments as tense as this. Most other -pilots had brains enough to give the Forbidden Moon a wide berth. And -for excellent if mysterious reasons!</p> - -<p>Yet the craft ahead, a sleek new job with the identification number -X911 painted on its conning tower, kept steadily on. Its slim hull, -which betrayed an experimental look, was pointed straight at the -threatening greyish disc of Io, the one world in the solar system which -no exploring ship of the void had ever reached—intact!</p> - -<p>Almost everybody among the inhabited spheres knew about the dangers of -the desolate Forbidden Moon. Ever since the colonial empire of Earth -had been extended to the region of Jupiter and his numerous satellites, -Io had been a grim menace; sure destruction to any rocket that -approached within five thousand miles of its dreary, almost airless -surface.</p> - -<p>Nobody seemed to know just why this was true; but some scientists -claimed that somehow there was an invisible layer or shell all around -Io; an immense blanket of strange energy or force that fused and -blasted the metal hulls of all ether craft that ran into its insidious -web.</p> - -<p>Tensely and helplessly Evan Harwich watched, as the ship ahead -continued on its way toward what seemed sure catastrophe. No danger in -front of the recklessly piloted craft could be seen, of course. Five -thousand miles of clear, cold vacuum was all that was visible between -it and Io. But since this region held concealed in it all the potential -violence of a hair-triggered trap, ready to unleash a flaming death -that involved unknown physical laws and principles, maybe it wasn't -just plain vacuum after all!</p> - -<p>With dogged persistence Harwich kept yelling futile warnings into his -radio. His shouts and curses were unheeded, and no answer was given. He -knew what was going to happen in another second. There would be a burst -of dazzling white fire all around the rocket of this foolhardy pilot -he had tried to save from suicide. Metal would drip and sparkle in the -absolute zero of space. In just another instant....</p> - -<p>Harwich swung his patrol boat aside, not caring to end his own life. -But he kept watching the X911 from the side-ports of his cabin.</p> - -<p>And now, something quite different from what he had expected was taking -place. Suddenly the apparently doomed ship was enveloped in a bluish -halo which seemed to emanate from a great helix or spiral of metal that -wrapped its hull!</p> - -<p>Immediately afterward, as the X911 entered definitely into the zone of -destruction around Io, great white sparks lanced dazzlingly through -the blue halo. It was as though the latter was fighting back those -gigantic, unknown forces that had seemed to make the Forbidden Moon -forever inviolable. It was as though the halo was keeping the X911, -and whoever was flying it, safe!</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich's slitted eyes widened a little in astonishment and hope. -"Dammit!" he grumbled happily. "That idiot's got some kind of new -invention that's protecting him! Maybe the Forbidden Moon is going to -be reached and explored after all!"</p> - -<p>A second more that weird conflict of hidden forces continued. Watching -it was like watching a race, on which you have staked everything you -own. Visibly, that daredevil space ship seemed to slow, as if resisted -by a tangible medium. For an agonizing instant of suspense, Harwich saw -those wicked sparks brighten in the X911's bluish aura. Then the latter -dimmed, flickered, went out!</p> - -<p>As if angry demons were waiting to pounce, destruction struck—quicker -than a lightning bolt.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If there had been any humor in the situation before, it was gone now -utterly! The patrol man's lips dropped apart in sheer awe. The muscles -of his massive, freckle-smeared forearms tightened futilely as he -longed to help the X911's doomed pilot. In the pit of his stomach there -was a sickish feeling.</p> - -<p>Where that rocket that had dared the inscrutable enigma of the -Forbidden Moon had been, there was a sudden, terrific blaze of light. -The intolerable incandescence of it seemed to reach out to infinity -itself, illuminating even the blackness between the distant stars of -space. But it was all as silent as the bouncing of a bubble on velvet. -No explosion, however huge, can transmit sound in the emptiness of the -void.</p> - -<p>The magnificent, horrible blast broke into a million gobs and sparks of -molten metal—from what had once been a space ship's hull. Superheated -gas from ignited rocket fuel shot out. Scattered far and wide, the -white-hot fragments of the wreck continued on their way, following -the original direction of the once bold X911 toward Io. Their speed -increased gradually, as the gravity of the Forbidden Moon pulled them. -The larger chunks, falling at meteoric speed, would bury themselves -deep in the cold Ionian deserts.</p> - -<p>The secret of Io had claimed another victim, one who might have -been victorious. But Io's mystery was still unviolated. Evan Harwich -had seen other ships, disabled and unmaneuverable for some reason -beforehand, go to their ends like this; but he was still not used to -the spectacle, and to the unholy wonder it provoked in him.</p> - -<p>Dazzled and almost blinded, he guided his patrol boat shakily away from -the Forbidden Moon. There was cold sweat in his thick, black hair, -under his leather helmet; and cold sweat too on his narrow, bristly -cheeks. His movements of the controls were a trifle vague and fumbling -with emotion, making his patrol boat waver a little in its course.</p> - -<p>For perhaps the millionth time Harwich wondered: "What makes Io so -dangerous? Dammit all, those scientists who claim that there is a -deadly shell of unseen energy completely enveloping the Forbidden -Moon, must be right! There isn't anything else that could explain -the continual destruction of all rocket craft that come within that -five-thousand-mile limit!"</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich was ready to accept this much as fact. But beyond this, -there was still a vast, unguessable question mark.</p> - -<p>Was this shell of energy a natural phenomenon; or was it something -planned, made, intended for a purpose? If the latter guess was right, -who could have created such a gigantic screen of force? What kind of -beings? What kind of science?</p> - -<p>Io was an almost dead world, Harwich knew. Very cold. Very little water -and air. Astronomers had taken photographs of its terrain through -powerful telescopes, from the other moons of Jupiter. Very little could -be seen on those photographs but deserts and grey hills, and curious -formations which might be the magnificent ruins left by an extinct race.</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich was far from a weakling; but cold chills were playing over -his big body as he groped to understand the unknown.</p> - -<p>His vision was clearing somewhat, after having been so dazzled by the -incandescent blast that had accompanied the destruction of the X911 a -moment ago.</p> - -<p>In the feeble sunlight, so far out here in the void, Harwich saw a -second rocket, leaving the scene of the disaster along with himself. -Evidently someone else had witnessed that weird demonstration of Io's -destructive might, too!</p> - -<p>Squinting through a pair of binoculars, Harwich read the obviously -ancient craft's number. Then he snapped on his radio again.</p> - -<p>"Calling space ship RQ257!" he grated into the transmitter. -"Interplanetary Patrol just behind you. Pilot, please identify -yourself! Do you know who was aboard the experimental rocket X911, that -was just destroyed?"</p> - -<p>A few seconds later he heard a dazed, grief-anguished voice speaking in -response: "Yes ... I ought to know. I came out to watch our test of the -Energy Barrage Penetrator, which we thought would be successful. I am -Paul Arnold. The man who was just killed was John Arnold, my father."</p> - -<p>John Arnold! Yes, Harwich had often seen photographs of this daring, -hawk-faced old student of the Forbidden Moon in the scientific -journals. He had been the greatest of them all! But there wasn't much -to do for him now but shrug ironically, and report the nature of his -death by radio to the Interplanetary Patrol Base on Ganymede, largest -of Jupiter's satellites.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry, Paul Arnold," the patrol man told his informant in sincere -sympathy.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," the quavering voice of Paul Arnold returned. "And now, if -you don't mind, I've got to get back to Ganymede City. Dad's gone, but -I've got to carry on his work."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Harwich didn't meet Paul Arnold, the son of the dead scientist, face -to face for more than a month, Earthtime. But on patrol duty out -there in the lonely reaches of the void, with the stars and the roar -of his rocket motors for company, he saw a good deal of the leering, -greyish sphere of Io. It seemed to taunt him with its masked secrets, -hanging so near to the tremendously greater bulk of Jupiter. But the -Forbidden Moon told him nothing new at all. Through his binoculars he -saw the deserts and hills and those supposed ruins. Near the equator -was something that looked like a vast, pointed tower. But Harwich had -seen this before, often. Something moved near the tower now and then, -as on other occasions. But maybe this distant movement was only the -shifting of clouds of dust, blown by a thin, frigid wind, in a tenuous -atmosphere.</p> - -<p>Then, back in Ganymede City, came that meeting with Paul Arnold. It -happened at the Spacemen's Haven. Evan Harwich, on furlough now, was -sipping Martian <i>kasarki</i> at the bar.</p> - -<p>Presently a hand was laid on his arm. He turned to face a slight-built -youngster, who could not have been more than eightteen. But his -peculiar gold-flecked eyes were as distant and scared and bright as if -they had seen Hell itself.</p> - -<p>"You're Harwich," said the boy. "I'm Arnold. They pointed you out to me -as the patrol pilot who reported my father's death. I wanted to talk to -you. I don't know just why, except that you were there too, when Dad -was killed. You saw what happened. And people have told me that you -were a square shooter, Harwich."</p> - -<p>Somewhat startled, but glad to know the youth, and more than willing -to talk with him on the subject mentioned, Evan Harwich tried to smile -encouragingly. It wasn't too easy, considering his weathered, space -darkened features and threatening size; but he did his best.</p> - -<p>"Pleased to meet yuh, Arnold," he said rather clumsily, offering a big -hamlike hand. "I wanted to talk to you too. How about a drink and a -quiet corner, where the crowd here won't be stepping all over us?"</p> - -<p>They retired to a table in a screened nook. "Now," said young Arnold, -"you've seen as much of the Forbidden Moon as anybody alive, Harwich. -You must know that the energy aura around her is real and not a fable. -You must know, too, that it couldn't be a natural phenomenon, since -nothing in nature acts like it does. There's only one alternative -possibility as to what could cause it! Even though Io seems so -deserted, somehow there are machines there, functioning to maintain -that shell of force! Right?"</p> - -<p>Harwich nodded. Little glints of intense interest seemed to show in his -eyes. "I've believed that for a long time," he admitted. "But those -machines must be plenty wonderful to build up a barrage of invisible -energy, thousands of miles in extent! Our scientists couldn't even -begin to dream of doing anything like it! Even the principles employed -must be a million years ahead of our time!"</p> - -<p>"Right again!" the boy responded. For a second he cast a guarded, -suspicious glance around the room, where Earthmen and leathery Martians -were talking and laughing and drinking.</p> - -<p>"The evidence can't be disputed," Paul Arnold whispered at last. -"It might be that the people who invented those machines have been -extinct for ages. But the mechanisms they created are still operating. -There's superscience there on Io, Harwich! How much could we benefit -civilization, if we could somehow find out what the principles of -those machines are? How much damage might be done if those principles -happened to fall into the wrong hands, among men? War and conquest—a -whole solar system thrown into chaos—might result!"</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich wanted to laugh scornfully, wanted to call the kid a -dreamer of wild dreams; but the realization that young Arnold probably -told the truth, made his hide tingle and pucker instead.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you're right, fella," he growled.</p> - -<p>"Of course I am!" Arnold almost snapped. "My father believed it -for years, and his work must go on, even though the Forbidden Moon -scares me plenty. You saw yourself, Harwich, that his Energy Barrage -Penetrator was almost successful. I've been trying to build another, -with enough power to get through."</p> - -<p>Harwich's lips curved, a nameless, wild thrill stirring in his blood. -But after all, even before he'd left a great consolidated farm in -southern Illinois nine years ago, to become a spaceman, he'd been an -adventurer at heart.</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose you'll need any help?" he asked simply, realizing that -even as he spoke, death on a tomb-world might well be lurking in the -background.</p> - -<p>The question sounded like impulse, but it wasn't. Harwich had lived too -long in the shadow of the Forbidden Moon's taunting enigma, not to want -to take a personal part in any effort to penetrate its grim secrets. -Besides, he had a month's furlough from patrol duty now. The thought of -possible adventures to come made his nerves tingle.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold's eyes widened. "I almost hoped you would want to join me, -Harwich," he stammered happily, seeming only to need the moral support -of an experienced spaceman, to bring him out of the black mood he was -in. "Shall we go to my laboratory?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Arnold lab and dwelling proved to be one of the oddest that Evan -Harwich had ever seen. It was just outside the great steel-ribbed -airdrome that confined a warm, breatheable atmosphere over Ganymede -City, the small mining metropolis of a dying world.</p> - -<p>The Arnold lab was a group of subterranean rooms, beneath the desert. -They were reached by a private tunnel from the City, and were -hermetically sealed against leakage of air to the cold semi-vacuum of -the Ganymedean atmosphere above.</p> - -<p>Cellar rooms, vaults, not exactly modern but restored from some ancient -ruin; for Ganymede had had its extinct clans of quasihuman people too, -ages ago. A weird place, this was, a place of poverty, perhaps, since -all of the Arnold resources must have gone into experimentation; but a -homey sort of place, too, with its scatterings of books and quaint art -objects and pictures.</p> - -<p>"This is the Energy Barrage Penetrator, Harwich," Paul Arnold was -saying in husky tones, as the two men bent over a copper helix or -spiral, attached to a maze of wires, tubes, and power-packs. "I -rebuilt it here on this test-block from Dad's plans; with certain -rearrangements, of course. But we need a new Gyon condenser, if we -want to raise the Penetrator's strength enough to make our venture -successful."</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich nodded beneath the single illuminator bulb that glowed -here, its rays glinting from the battered, patched hull of the space -ship, RQ257, that stood in the center of the great room, under the -airtight exit doors provided for it in the ceiling.</p> - -<p>"So I see," Harwich commented with subdued eagerness. "Well, that's not -so bad. I can buy a new Gyon condenser from one of the supply shops -in town. I'm no scientist, fella, but they give us a pretty complete -scientific training in the patrol service. Enough so that I can see -that the Penetrator is going to do the trick, this time, with your -improvements. And I don't think it will take very long to get things -ready for a real trip to the Forbidden Moon."</p> - -<p>The patrol man had hardly finished speaking, when a door, somewhere, -groaned on its hinges. In the dusty silence there were footsteps, -coming nearer through the series of rooms.</p> - -<p>"Well, have we got company?" a voice boomed heavily after a moment.</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich turned about slowly. Standing in the arched entrance of -the laboratory chamber, beneath the ancient, grinning gargoyle of -carven granite that formed the keystone of the arch, were two people. -They must have just come in from town.</p> - -<p>One was a man, as tall as Harwich himself, but much broader. He looked -jovial, overfed, and just faintly sly. Harwich knew him a little. -He kept a small printer's establishment in Ganymede City, repaired -delicate instruments, and made loans on the side.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Harwich!" the big man greeted loudly. "You look surprised to -see me here! Well, I'm just as up in the air as you are, to find you -around. How come? You see I've been financing Paul Arnold's researches -since old John was killed. Has Paulie talked you into some part in the -great miracle hunt on Io, too?"</p> - -<p>"Hello yourself, Bayley," the patrol man returned in not too friendly -a tone. "Yes, I've joined up."</p> - -<p>Harwich was a little more than surprised to see the fat printer here. -He didn't like the setup at all. Not that he had anything definite -against George Bayley. The latter had always seemed good-natured and -honest, except for some elusive trace of insincerity in his manner, his -voice, and his little squinted eyes.</p> - -<p>Was this the kind of man for Paul Arnold to choose as a patron, -particularly when he was in pursuit of the incredibly advanced science -which must exist on Io? A science that might benefit the human race -immeasurably, or might result in wholesale destruction and confusion, -if it was wrongly and selfishly used?</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich couldn't have answered yes or no to this question.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was a painful pause in the conversation. Harwich found himself -looking at the girl, who had entered with the big printer, and to whose -arms the latter clung with a kind of bearish possessiveness. She was -small and dainty. Her blonde hair, combed back tightly, fitted her head -like a cap. She was wearing a plain but tasteful black dress with a -white collar.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm sorry!" Paul Arnold exclaimed after a moment. "Clara, this is -Evan Harwich of the Patrol. Evan, this is my sister. I didn't tell you -that I had a sister, did I?"</p> - -<p>The girl only nodded slightly, and smiled a warm, friendly little -smile. But why did the big patrol pilot find her more attractive than -any other girl he had ever seen? Perhaps mostly it was those wistful -eyes of hers, not gold flecked like her brother's, but clouded amber. -They were mild and troubled and knowing. Maybe Clara Arnold's life, as -the daughter of a martyred scientist, had made them like that. Harwich -knew that he might conquer not only the Forbidden Moon, but the stars -themselves, and still remember those eyes.</p> - -<p>"Now we all know each other," Bayley boomed. "We're one big happy -family—or are we?" He looked at Harwich significantly, a definite -scowl now crinkling his heavy brows. "Harwich," he added, "we -appreciate your company a lot. Only we are engaged in some pretty -serious business here, and it doesn't allow us to take in outsiders."</p> - -<p>For reasons of his own, Bayley was trying to get rid of the big patrol -pilot. But Harwich was inclined to be very stubborn, naturally, and -faint, pleading looks from both Clara and Paul Arnold, made him doubly -so, just at present.</p> - -<p>Harwich had the aspect of a very dangerous adversary in a physical -encounter; his weathered features were far from beautiful, and at -certain times he had a way of grinning that made him look like a -good-natured devil with a hot pitchfork hid behind his back. He turned -on that grin, now.</p> - -<p>"What's in that package sticking out of your coat-pocket, George?" he -asked the fat printer breezily. "It's about the right size and shape -to be the new Gyon condenser we need. I was going to buy one myself; -but seeing that you've already done so, we might as well go to work -installing it in the Penetrator apparatus."</p> - -<p>"Well, all right, Harwich," Bayley growled with some slight show of -timidity. "As long as you're Paul's friend, I suppose you can stick -around."</p> - -<p>"Thanks a lot, George," Harwich chuckled, as the printer set the -package containing the precious Gyon condenser on a work table.</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot was almost sure he heard faint sighs of relief from -the two Arnolds, as Bayley backed down. Had they come to mistrust him -too, since he had been financing them? Did they feel more at ease -because he, Evan Harwich, whom Bayley could never bulldoze, was their -partner now too?</p> - -<p>The spaceman wondered, and he couldn't help wondering something -else. On Clara Arnold's left hand, there was a diamond gleaming. An -engagement ring. Bayley's? The way the latter had clung to the girl's -arm, it couldn't very well be anybody else's. Could Clara, quiet and -beautiful, ever love the boisterous, paunchy printer?</p> - -<p>The Arnolds were a strange family, anyway. The son was ready to -sacrifice his life in an effort to reach the Forbidden Moon, where his -father's ashes lay entombed. The daughter? Might she not be of the same -fanatical breed? Might she not be willing to marry Bayley, so that he -would supply funds for their experiments?</p> - -<p>For a moment, Evan Harwich felt a sharp, hurt ache, deep in his heart. -But he fought it down. All this was none of his business. And from a -heavy-glazed window slit in the ceiling of the laboratory room, a shaft -of soft light from ugly Io, the Forbidden Moon, was stabbing down, -appealing to his own adventurous nature.</p> - -<p>Paul had slipped on a pair of lab coveralls. He tossed another pair -to the patrol pilot. "Come on! Let's get started, Evan," he urged -pleasantly. "We've got a big job in front of us, and remember you said -we'd get through with it before long!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>True to Harwich's predictions, the rearrangement of the Energy Barrage -Penetrator for far greater power than the original had possessed, did -not take really a lot of time.</p> - -<p>Within forty hours after the patrol pilot's arrival at the lab, the -task of installing the Arnold apparatus in the old space ship, RQ257, -was complete. The tests of the Penetrator had been made, and judged as -successful as anyone could have hoped for.</p> - -<p>The space ship stood ready there in the laboratory room, a slender, -copper helix wrapped around its hull.</p> - -<p>"All set, eh?" George Bayley boomed jovially. "Got your emergency -supply-packs loaded aboard, too, eh? But you won't need them, boys," -he added seriously. "You've got everything in your favor. And in five -hours you'll be back here with Clara and me, at the lab with a dandy -story to tell."</p> - -<p>Bayley seemed honest and sincere, now. Evan Harwich almost felt -sheepish about the matter. Maybe he'd misjudged the big, bearish -printer. Anyway, he watched his every move, during the assembly and -installation of the Penetrator.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold was whistling a little tune of confidence and exultation. -Harwich's pulses beat happily, his thoughts on the enigma of the -Forbidden Moon, that now must yield to the new Energy Barrage -Penetrator. Superscience there on Io! Unutterable wonders! Who could -guess beforehand what the Forbidden Moon's vast screen of force was -meant to bar from intrusion? But maybe they would soon know!</p> - -<p>Only Clara Arnold showed worry. There was a slight shadow in her amber -eyes, when she took Harwich's hand.</p> - -<p>"I suppose this is only a preliminary test flight to Io and back," she -said. "Not much dangerous exploration. But please be careful," she -pleaded. "Please be careful, Evan."</p> - -<p>The spaceman muttered a word of thanks. Evan. His first name. To have -Clara Arnold use it like that might have given a new meaning to life. -His heart was suddenly pounding very hard, before he remembered that -diamond on her left hand. She was promised to George Bayley.</p> - -<p>The girl and the printer retreated from the laboratory chamber, waving -a farewell. The space ship was sealed. The great exit doors in the -ceiling of the lab opened wide, and the air rushed out.</p> - -<p>In another moment the RQ257 was shooting skyward. In the night, among -the welter of stars, huge Jupiter and his many satellites shone down on -the Ganymedean deserts. The nose of the ship swung unerringly toward Io.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The RQ257, wrapped in its protecting halo of blue fire from the -Penetrator, struck the Forbidden Moon's tremendous, invisible envelope -of energy, squarely. There was a snarling sound in the ship's interior. -White sparks lanced through cold space beyond the windows of the -cabin, as two opposed forces fought each other. But the RQ257 bored on -steadily.</p> - -<p>"We're going to make it, Paul!" Harwich shouted through the reeking, -dinning cabin.</p> - -<p>"Of course we are!" young Arnold yelled back at him. "How could we -fail!"</p> - -<p>The two men were on the brink of success.</p> - -<p>Then there was an abrupt, strident, angry, snap from the vitals of -the Penetrator apparatus. Everything seemed to happen at once. The -protecting blue aura outside the ship waxed and waned perilously. And -whenever it waned, there was a grinding, crumpling sound, as of steel -plating being crushed like so much paper in a giant's grip. Heat, and -the cindery pungence of scorched metal, filled the cabin.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold and Evan Harwich were frozen rigid with stunning, agonized -paralysis, as strange energy snapped into their bodies. In the jolting, -erratic motion of the wounded space ship, the two men were hurled from -their feet like a pair of stiff wooden dolls.</p> - -<p>Rolling and tumbling, his vision half blinded, Harwich saw the metal -walls of the cabin buckle and redden with heat, as the craft floundered -in that region of mysterious force and energy that heretofore had -destroyed every ship that had attempted to reach Io.</p> - -<p>There was another growl from the protecting apparatus. In a flash -of electricity, the side of the bakelite case that housed the Gyon -condenser exploded outward. At once the staggering Penetrator quit -completely. Its last shred of protecting force was gone.</p> - -<p>But that momentary hell had ended, too, with almost dazing suddenness. -The grinding, snapping sounds had ceased. And there was only the heat -and the stench of burnt metal, and the weightless sensation of free -fall. That and the mocking stars.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold, panting, his face darkened and beaded with perspiration, -clutched a bakelite handrail in one corner.</p> - -<p>"We got through Io's energy barrage!" he shouted wildly. "We did that -much, at least; and for a moment, when our Penetrator went wrong, I -didn't think our luck would be even that good."</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich leered back at the youth, from near the now useless -apparatus that John Arnold had invented. "Yes, we got through," he -grunted hoarsely. "The energy shell must be only a couple of thousand -miles thick, with free space underneath, between it and Io itself. The -Gyon condenser kept working raggedly just long enough to get us out of -the danger zone, without being completely blown apart!"</p> - -<p>Harwich didn't have to test the controls of the ship to know that they -were useless, now. The rockets were silent too. The RQ257 was falling -free toward the Forbidden Moon, still a couple of thousand miles -beneath.</p> - -<p>"But dammit, Evan!" young Arnold growled. "The Gyon condenser -shouldn't have quit on us at all! Those things are tested for heavy -loads of power!"</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot was well aware of that. Clinging to the base of the -Penetrator, he was close enough to see detail. The lights in the cabin -had gone out, but the ugly effulgence of Io was streaming through the -windows.</p> - -<p>Projecting from the shattered bakelite box of the Gyon condenser, were -two slender, bent wires that should have been joined together. It had -been one wire once, but it had snapped in the middle.</p> - -<p>The ends were faintly scorched and blued; but there was something else, -too. They were bevelled off curiously, as if they had been notched.</p> - -<p>"Cut with a file!" Harwich fairly snarled. "The wire was cut with a -file. Then the insulation was rewrapped carefully so that all the -evidence was hidden!"</p> - -<p>The cause of the accident was plain. The wire had been able to carry -the load of power easily enough during the tests; but under the -additional load of fighting the Ionian hell-zone, it had burned through -and snapped!</p> - -<p>"Bayley!" Paul Arnold whispered in the ominous stillness that now -pervaded the plummeting derelict of the RQ257. "He brought the -condenser, you remember! Evan, I know you were careful to watch -everything he did during the assembly and tests in the lab itself. He -must have had the Gyon condenser at his apartment before he brought it -to us. He must have doctored it there! He was planning even then to get -rid of me! And when he found you around, he decided that he wouldn't -weep if he got rid of you too!"</p> - -<p>"But why?" Harwich growled in momentary confusion. "Why should Bayley -want to get rid of you?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was almost a silly question, as Harwich realized at once; but now -Paul was answering it.</p> - -<p>"It's simple," said the youth. "Bayley financed me after Dad was -killed—yes. He watched my experiments and tests and studied my -apparatus. He has a pretty keen mind. With me out of the way, no one -but himself will know just how the Penetrator works! He can fix up -another ship and come to Io himself without any competition! Anything -he learns or discovers on the Forbidden Moon will be his alone! Or so -he thinks, anyway."</p> - -<p>It was too clear now! Evan Harwich knew that he and the boy were -tumbling helplessly into the maw of hell now. In a useless, derelict -ship they were falling toward the Forbidden Moon! They were already -within the gates of unholy mystery! Death seemed very close. Yet the -cold anger that hissed in the patrol pilot's brain, made him determined -to live, somehow, for revenge!</p> - -<p>"We'll be smashed if we stay in the ship, Paul," he said fiercely. "So -we've got to jump for it with our safety equipment."</p> - -<p>Quickly and more smoothly than did the youth, for he was well-trained, -Harwich got into his space armor. Next he donned two massive packs, one -on his chest and one on his back.</p> - -<p>The exit door of the cabin was jammed, but with his pistol the patrol -pilot fired an explosive bullet into its hinges.</p> - -<p>A second afterward, Arnold and Harwich crept through the rent, while -escaping air puffed out around them. They leaped into the emptiness -almost together. With the heat-warped wreck of the gallant old RQ257 -falling beside them, they continued their plummeting descent. There -were still almost a thousand miles to go, for the distance between -Io itself, and the gigantic energy envelope that surrounded it, was -perhaps three thousand miles.</p> - -<p>Down and down, with only regulation spacemen's emergency equipment to -rely on to avert being crushed on those greyish hills and deserts, -rushing nearer and nearer. Even a thousand miles did not take many -moments at that terrific speed.</p> - -<p>The Forbidden Moon was like a sullen, silent nether world, with an -atmosphere so rare that an unprotected human being would gasp and die -in it in a few minutes! Even a man in a space suit could not hope to -survive that desolation for long! Io seemed like a Pit now to Evan -Harwich, an Abyss of Hell from which there was no escape! A place where -no Earth being was meant to venture!</p> - -<p>This moment was too grim to think of thrills. Helplessness removed that -intriguing glamor utterly. And there was only savage determination -left. That and smoldering hate of the man who had caused misfortune!</p> - -<p>Presently, through the thin metal of his oxygen helmet, Harwich heard -a soft, hissing, whistling sound. Gradually it grew stronger. The -patrol pilot knew what it was, of course. He had entered the intensely -thin upper atmosphere of Io, and the hissing was made by his own space -armored body passing through those tenuous gases at fearful velocity.</p> - -<p>The sound served as a signal for action. Again, though the situation -was new to him, Harwich's training made his responses accurate. With -a gauntletted hand, he groped for the metal ring on the pack that -bulged from his chest. It was ancient history when he jerked that ring, -but sometimes, in emergency landings like this, on worlds that had a -blanket of air, however slight, it was still useful. In another second -the patrol pilot was dangling beneath a gigantic mushroom of metal -fabric. He felt the firm tug of the shrouds. Deceleration.</p> - -<p>He wondered vaguely why the fragile parachute did not tear apart in the -terrific speed of his fall. But it was the utter thinness of the air, -of course, here in the upper layer. Its resistance was so very slight. -So there was time for velocity to be checked gradually, as the air grew -denser, and its retarding effect greater with lowered altitude.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold had opened his chute too. Its vast top, a hundred feet in -diameter, gleamed dully in the faint sunshine.</p> - -<p>In a great plume of dust far below, the derelict space ship crashed. -Fire flew as the force of the impact generated heat. But the wreckage -was out of sight, and there was only a pit smoldering on a bleak, dusty -hillside. The RQ257 was buried deep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Harwich and Paul Arnold landed several miles away from the grave of the -ruined ship; for they had drifted with the thin, dry, frigid wind.</p> - -<p>Their booted feet spanged painfully against the sand and broken rock, -and they crumpled to their knees; for even in the feeble gravity of Io -the impact had been heavy.</p> - -<p>Harwich snapped on his helmet radio-phone. Young Arnold's voice was -already audible in it, faint and thready and sarcastic.</p> - -<p>"Well, here we are, Evan," he was saying. "The first Earthmen to set -foot alive on the Enchanted World! I guess I got part of what I wanted -anyway, didn't I? But with what equipment we've got to keep alive with, -we might just as well be buried with the RQ257! Funny I'm not scared. I -guess I don't realize...."</p> - -<p>His bitterly humorous tone faded away in vague awe.</p> - -<p>Still lying prone the two men, looked around them, at the hellish, -utterly desolate scene. The hills brooded there under the blue-black -sky and tenuous, heatless sunshine. A rock loomed up from a heap of -sand. It was a weathered monolith with weird carvings on it, resembling -closely those left by the extinct peoples of Ganymede, that other, now -colonized moon of Jupiter. A curious pulpy shrub, ugly and weird, grew -beside the monolith. A scanty breath of breeze stirred up a little -ripple of dust.</p> - -<p>That and the stillness. The stillness of a tomb. Harwich could hear -the muted rustle of the pulses in his head. Everything here seemed to -emphasize the plain facts. The Forbidden Moon was a trap to them now. -A pit from which they could expect no rescue. An abyss that was worse -than the worst dungeon—worse than being literally buried alive!</p> - -<p>It was like the end of things. Was this the kind of slow, creeping, -maddening death that George Bayley, the treacherous printer, had -planned for them?</p> - -<p>Again fury steadied Evan Harwich's determination. Grimly he struggled -to steady his nerves.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Paul," he said quietly into his phones. "We mustn't ever let -ourselves think we're licked! That's sure poison! The stuff we've -got in our emergency packs will enable us to keep living for a while -anyhow. We know Bayley'll come to Io sometime, with a ship fitted out -with a new Penetrator. We know he'll be looking for the secret of the -force aura of the Forbidden Moon, and whatever else there is to find. -Maybe we can get ahead of him yet, if we keep on the move. Which way do -you suppose would be best to go?"</p> - -<p>Harwich asked this question because Paul Arnold, in his more academic -study of Io, should know more about its terrain than he.</p> - -<p>"You know the Tower?" Paul Arnold questioned. "The queer pinnacle, or -ruin, or building, near the equator, on what is known as the Western -Hemisphere? You must have seen it often when you were on patrol."</p> - -<p>Harwich nodded. He remembered very well. Only a hundred hours ago, -still on duty as a patrol pilot, he'd seen that pointed mystery from -the void, vague dusty movement around its base.</p> - -<p>"It was my Dad's guess that whatever miracles are to be discovered -on Io, they will probably be located around the Tower," Paul Arnold -answered. "But I was careful to notice our position when we landed. -We're far north of the Tower now—a good fifteen hundred miles. A nice, -long walk—especially when the normal air of the Forbidden Moon is too -thin to be breatheable."</p> - -<p>"Stop that pessimist stuff, and let's get started!" Harwich snapped. -"We'll have to live very primitively, of course, but who knows what -will turn up?"</p> - -<p>They discarded their parachutes and started out, plodding southward, -carrying their heavy packs. As if to save their energy, they did not -speak much.</p> - -<p>The hills rolled past, under their plodding feet. More fragmentary -ruins appeared, and were left behind. Their boots sank into soft dust, -as they marched on and on. At first their muscles were fresh, but -tiredness came at last. And the miles which lay ahead were all but -undiminished.</p> - -<p>The tiny sun sank into the west and the cold increased. Night was -coming.</p> - -<p>"We'd better camp," young Arnold suggested wearily.</p> - -<p>So they opened their packs, and took out the carefully folded sections -of airtight fabric that composed their tent. It was part of the usual -equipment kept for emergency purposes by those in danger of being -stranded on dead or almost dead worlds. The tent could be hermetically -sealed. Harwich and Arnold set it up carefully and crept inside. Air -was freed from their oxygen flask, and the queer shelter ballooned out -like a bubble.</p> - -<p>They could remove their space suits now, and breathe, here in the -tent. They ate sparingly from their concentrated rations. Meanwhile -a little pump and separator unit, driven by a tiny atomic motor, was -busy compressing the thin Ionian air, separating out the excess of -carbon-dioxide and nitrogen it contained, and forcing the oxygen into -the depleted air flasks.</p> - -<p>Once in the darkness Paul and Evan were awakened by a strange sound, -eerie in that dead quiet, and very faint because the scant Ionian -atmosphere could not conduct it well. But when they crept to the -flexoglass window of the tent, they saw nothing unusual.</p> - -<p>"I guess we're getting jumpy," Paul whispered nervously, his breath -steaming in the cold, frosty air that filled the shelter.</p> - -<p>"It looks that way," Evan Harwich returned reassuringly.</p> - -<p>But after the boy was asleep again, he crept back to the frosted window -to watch. He knew that there had to be something mighty on Io. The -shell of force that surrounded the evil moon couldn't exist all alone. -There had to be more. Something that lay back of it, went with it. -Something that could easily be very dangerous.</p> - -<p>Jupiter, so near to Io, was a gigantic threatening mass in the heavens. -But its light was deceptive. There were so many dense shadows.</p> - -<p>Did he see some of the stars near the horizon wink out suddenly, and -then appear again, as though something big and nameless and sinister -had momentarily blocked their light and then passed on? He could not be -sure, and nothing further happened. To save his companion unnecessary -concern, when nothing could be done about the threatening danger -anyway, he decided to keep the incident to himself.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Long before the dawn they were once more on the march. How many hours -was the Ionian day? Something over forty. It didn't matter much.</p> - -<p>When the daylight finally came, they had slept again, this time in -their space suits, without bothering to set up the tent. Rising to his -feet, Paul Arnold pointed suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Look! An ancient road!" he shouted.</p> - -<p>It was true. The highway ran there between the hills. A stone ribbon, -covered here and there with drifted sand, which showed that there was -no traffic of any sort now. The ruins along it looked a little less -battered than those which the two men had previously seen, and there -were vast lumps of corroded metal, too. Machinery in a former age.</p> - -<p>"The road goes our way," Harwich commented. "We'll follow it."</p> - -<p>Hours later, Paul Arnold offered an opinion. "Part of the mystery of Io -is clearing up, Evan," he said. "The ruins around here. They're almost -identical in architecture to the ruins of Ganymede and the other Jovian -satellites. The evidence looks plain. There must have been a single -great civilization once, extending over all the moons of Jupiter."</p> - -<p>Harwich, thinking of, and hating George Bayley for his diabolical -treachery, was only half listening.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" he questioned.</p> - -<p>"Yes," the boy answered. "And look at those dry ditches, and the big, -rusty pumps! The valley here must have been rich, irrigated farmland, -once!"</p> - -<p>They were going across a huge bridge, now, made of porcelain blocks. -It was a magnificent structure, magnificently designed according to -intricate principles of engineering.</p> - -<p>"What I can't understand is why all this country became deserted," -Paul offered. "You'd think that people who could build things like -this would never die out! They could conquer any difficulty that might -come up, it would almost seem. Even if their world got old and worn -out. After all, even Earthmen can make almost dead worlds artificially -habitable again with airdromes, and with imported atmosphere and water."</p> - -<p>This was another mystery. But it touched Evan Harwich's thoughts only -faintly. Nor did he care very much when later Paul pointed out to him -rich deposits of ore—outcroppings along the road. He'd seen them -himself, and the tunnel mouths, too, of ancient mine workings. There -were many fortunes to be won here, in costly metals, just as on the -other Jovian satellites. But how could this be important, now, with -death dogging their tracks, and so many other things more important, -to be concerned with?</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich reserved his determination for what he knew was coming. -The slow wearing down of stamina. Water he and Paul had a little of. -And more could be reclaimed from the thin, dry atmosphere. It collected -in the bottoms of oxygen bottles, when they were pumped full, condensed -by compression. A few precious drops. You could drink it out after each -bottle was emptied of air. Just about enough water to sustain life.</p> - -<p>In the matter of food, you had to ration yourself so stringently -that you caught yourself looking with longing eyes at the few, -weird, bulbous shrubs and the scattered lichens, which were the only -vegetation on this dying world. Only you knew that these arid growths -would never be good to eat.</p> - -<p>Those long Ionian days passed. One after another. Five, ten, fifteen. -Harwich knew he was losing strength slowly. The inevitable was catching -up with him. But those hard years in the Interplanetary Patrol Service, -and the rigid physical discipline, had made him as tough as steel wire.</p> - -<p>With the boy, Paul Arnold, it was not the same. He was very young, and -not too robust. And he was slipping fast.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with me, Evan?" he would grumble. "All this desert -isn't real, is it? We're not on the Forbidden Moon, are we? I'm -dreaming."</p> - -<p>"You're just tired out, that's all, fella," Harwich would answer in a -tone that he would try to make reassuring. He would put an arm around -the kid's shoulders, to support his faltering steps.</p> - -<p>Big brother stuff.... Paul had plenty of pluck, all right, but there -wasn't much else left in him. He was wearing out, mile by mile, -staggering under his heavy pack.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Every resource was reaching its limit, now. Food supplies had dwindled -away to nothing, at last. The little atomic motor that worked the air -compressor and separator unit, was breaking down. It could hardly pump -enough oxygen into the air flasks any more.</p> - -<p>But there was nothing to do but keep on the march, anyway, in spite -of handicaps. Evan Harwich felt as though he was going slowly mad. -Brooding thoughts came into his mind constantly.</p> - -<p>Clara Arnold. Where was she now? What had happened back there on -Ganymede? What had George Bayley done? When would he come to Io, with -the ship he would surely fit out with a new Penetrator?</p> - -<p>What was Clara thinking? What if she knew her brother was alive on the -Forbidden Moon, but slowly dying? What if Bayley told her that maybe -Paul was still alive, adding that he himself was the only person that -might be able to effect a rescue? What if he had finally used this -means, this possibility, to make Clara marry him? She didn't love -Bayley, the fat printer! She couldn't! And he wouldn't even have to -promise to attempt a rescue—only suggest that he might try. Clara must -be half crazy herself, thinking of her brother. After all she'd lost -her father to the Forbidden Moon too.</p> - -<p>The thought of demure Clara Arnold in the arms of that bulky, -squint-eyed printer, who had shown his true colors at last, and -proved his diabolical cleverness, fairly strangled Harwich. Maybe he -had no right to harbor such an attitude. After all he hardly knew -Clara. He only knew her haunting beauty and friendly amber eyes, with -quiet wisdom and a little of the martyr in them—like her father, -perhaps. But Harwich couldn't help thinking. It was only by exercising -super-human self-control, that he kept himself from turning into a -raving maniac.</p> - -<p>Supporting Paul Arnold's feeble, struggling steps, Harwich watched -the sky like a starved, wounded wolf. Sometimes, in sheer, wild -determination, he longed to claw at that cold, forbidding firmament, -and climb out of that hell-pit of a world into which he had fallen. -He yearned with a savagery beyond words to claw his way up there into -space, to wherever George Bayley might be, and feel the fat throat of -the man who had tampered with the Gyon condenser aboard the RQ257, -squeezed between his hooked fingers.</p> - -<p>But the frigid sky and the bleak, dying hills, and the weary miles, -mocked all his hate-born desires. His numbed, aching feet could only -plod on and on in this grave-like desert. Ruins, rusted machinery, -silence, and cold that crept even through the heavy insulation of his -space armor.</p> - -<p>Still, he could remember another thing. In the far distance to the -south, was something wonderful and strange. Something that made the -deadly and insidious energy barrier of the Forbidden Moon possible. -Where the Tower loomed on the astronomical photographs of Io.</p> - -<p>That night came at last when a streak of silver fire traced its way -across the sky. It couldn't be anything but the flames ejected from the -rockets of an approaching space ship.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold saw it too, turning his haggard face upward. "There he is, -Evan," he croaked into his helmet phones. "Bayley's coming at last."</p> - -<p>"I see," Harwich returned softly; his teeth gritted and his lips -curling furiously, behind the transparent front of his space headgear.</p> - -<p>They dropped down beside the wall of a ruin, to watch. The ship was -coming straight in, toward Io. At its tremendous altitude, nothing but -its rocket blasts could be seen at first. But then there was a sudden -flare of bluish light. It had struck Io's force barrier, and that blue -glow was the evidence of a Penetrator, functioning. The craft seemed to -slow a little, as its pale, protecting shell of counter-energy fought -back that invisible, guardian screen of the devil moon.</p> - -<p>"He got through the force shield," Harwich growled after a moment. "We -knew he would, of course, with his Penetrator operating right. Damn -him!"</p> - -<p>There was no more blue fire visible now; but the little silver-tailed -path of rocket flame, showed that the ship was coming in safe and -sound, its propelling jets working steadily.</p> - -<p>Among the stars it turned southward toward that deepest enigma of Io. -Toward the unknown scientific wisdom, which lay hidden somewhere near -the Ionian equator.</p> - -<p>"He'll get there in a few minutes' time," Paul whispered. "And I guess -we won't get there at all. I'm sorry, Evan, that I got you mixed up -with the Forbidden Moon. Me—I'm just about finished—now."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Paul Arnold's voice trailed away. Harwich turned the boy's -glass-covered face up. In the light of monster Jupiter, he could see -that it was blank and relaxed. The eyes were closed. In the quiet rays -of the giant of planets, the youth looked as though death had already -touched him. But there was a little frosty blur on the inside of the -crystalline face-plate of his helmet. It showed that he still breathed.</p> - -<p>Tottering a little himself, Harwich picked the boy up, pack and all. He -struggled to put one foot ahead of the other, marching again toward the -south, where the space ship was rapidly receding. Had his strength been -at normal level, his load, bulky though it was, would have been light -in this weak gravity. But Harwich was near the end of his rope, too. -And so he moved on through that beautiful shadow-haunted, frigid night, -where no man was meant to live.</p> - -<p>Many times he had to stop and rest. After a short while, the atomic -motor of the air compressor separator unit refused to work any more. -Harwich tried turning the mechanism by hand. But this was slow, -exhausting work.</p> - -<p>He watched the luminous dial of the cold-proof wrist-watch, strapped on -the outside of one of his heavy space gantlets. His mind was getting -dimmer. Cold was biting home, savagely. Harwich wanted to see just how -much longer he could keep going. It was eight hours now, since Bayley's -ship had appeared. Slowly more time crept by. His boots trudged in the -desert dust, mechanically. The hands of his watch moved on. One hour -more. Another.</p> - -<p>Why didn't he desert the dead weight of Paul Arnold? But you never -deserted somebody who was like a kid brother, did you?</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot's breath was coming fast and short, now. The last -of his air was being used up. It was useless to try to replenish the -oxygen flasks with hand power, even though he was suffocating.</p> - -<p>Harwich tripped in the dust, and fell sprawling. Jupiter, shining down -upon him, somehow looked like a fat face, tremendously bloated in -size—the face of George Bayley. Harwich cursed, and tried to crawl -toward the south.</p> - -<p>Did he hear a sound through his oxygen helmet—a sound loud enough for -the tenuous Ionian atmosphere to transmit? Or was it only the roaring -of the unsteady pulses in his ears? He tried to look ahead, but his -vision was very dim, now, and the light of Jupiter and his moons was so -confusing. The shadows of the rocks and the ruined buildings were so -very black.</p> - -<p>But suddenly Harwich squinted. Something <i>was</i> moving toward him, -skimming low over the ground, but not touching it. Something -that glinted wickedly, and showed long, shadowy arms. It was no -hallucination. Evan Harwich was sure of that! Fear came out of that -numb fog into which his brain was settling. It gave him a last, feeble -spurt of strength. He knew that here he must be facing a tiny part of -Io's colossal riddle.</p> - -<p>He tried to crawl away from nameless danger, dragging Paul Arnold with -him. He got behind a mass of million-year-old masonry, tufted with -prickly plants.</p> - -<p>But the thing that pursued him, easily overcame his weak, instinctive -effort to find concealment. Cold metal claws closed on him. He felt -himself lifted upward, into the night. His mind toppled away into black -nothingness.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Somehow, it wasn't the end of life. Harwich began to regain his senses, -slowly. First he heard a distant, muffled clanging. For a long time -before he paid any real attention to the fact, he was aware that -strange warm rays were pouring down upon his body. They seemed to heal -and soothe his aching muscles.</p> - -<p>He opened his eyes at last. Startled, he sat up. Around him was the -warm glitter of glass and metal. His space suit was gone. He was in a -crystalline cage, filled with warm, humid air. Odd gadgets, like ray -lamps used in therapy, were fitted to the ceiling. Strange, tropical -vegetation grew in the cage, and water tinkled somewhere.</p> - -<p>There was a kind of soothing quiet over the place, except for that -distant clanging. There was a smoothness to everything; a mood of -mechanical refinement and perfection. It was almost hypnotic, somehow. -It dazed and quieted the senses.</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold, clad in the slacks and shirt he'd worn under his space -armor, was lying on the floor beside Harwich. He was still unconscious, -but he was breathing evenly. His color was much better than before. The -rays from the roof above were slowly healing his weakened body.</p> - -<p>Evan Harwich shook the boy gently. "Wake up, Paul!" he urged. "This -must be it! The center of Power! The place we wanted to find! Some kind -of machine brought us!"</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold rubbed his eyes and sat up. Together, Harwich and the boy -looked around through the crystal walls of the cage in which they were -confined.</p> - -<p>"There—there's the Tower!" young Arnold stammered at last, pointing.</p> - -<p>It glittered in the faint morning sunshine. It was undoubtedly the same -huge pinnacle that astronomers had photographed from the other moons -of Jupiter. Only it was close, now, its details sharp and clear and -real. Around its slender, tapered spire, thousands of feet aloft, the -faintest of frosty aureoles clung; a ghostly light, like the sundogs of -Earthly winter days.</p> - -<p>"The Tower must be the source of the Ionian force envelope, Evan!" Paul -Arnold offered after a moment. "That light up there at its top almost -proves it."</p> - -<p>Both men were talking vaguely, thinking vaguely, looking around -vaguely. In part this must have been because of sheer wonder. Places -like the Spacemen's Haven on Ganymede seemed as far away as a dream now.</p> - -<p>An incomprehensible sense of depression was creeping over Evan Harwich, -as he studied his surroundings further. There were many other cages in -view, arranged in blocks, with paved alleyways between. Vegetation was -thick in the evidently air-conditioned habitations. Little pools of -water glistened in them daintily, strange paradox on dying Io.</p> - -<p>And there were creatures, too. Scores of them in each cage. Strange, -fragile, sluglike animals crept about aimlessly. They looked just -faintly human, with their pinkish skins and manlike heads. But there -was no slight shadow of intelligence in those great, sad, stupid eyes.</p> - -<p>Harwich wasn't squeamish, but he looked at these futile animals with a -certain pitying revulsion. "What kind of a nursery place have we got -ourselves into, Paul?" he grumbled quizzically.</p> - -<p>Arnold shrugged. "They're something like men, these things, aren't -they?" he offered in puzzlement. "Maybe that's another unknown -quantity to figure out. But this place is plenty wonderful, though. -Look!"</p> - -<p>The youth was pointing upward. Against the cold Ionian sky a flattened -object was circling at low altitude. A flying machine without wings, it -seemed to be. From it dangled strange webby metal arms, as it moved in -a circular path, above the surrounding desert hills. It seemed to keep -watch over those thousands of crystal cages in the valley. It must be a -guardian of some sort.</p> - -<p>"I'm not at all sure I like it here," Harwich growled. "We were fixed -up, revived, made new men again, so to speak; but still I don't like it -here."</p> - -<p>"Somehow I've got the same idea," Paul Arnold agreed with a quizzical -smile.</p> - -<p>A little clinking noise behind the two men made them turn about. After -that, awe kept them spellbound. They didn't speak. What was there to -say? They didn't try to retreat, either. What was the use? If what -they saw was danger, they could do nothing to avert it. Hypnotized -with wonder, they only stared, feeling as helpless as the larvae in an -ant-hill, tended and cared for by the workers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A section of the cage-bottom had raised, like a trapdoor. A bulk was -creeping through the opening. It was a machine, so marvelous, so -refined in its functioning, that it seemed far more than alive. It was -flat, like a small tractor; but there were no treads for it to move -on. It seemed, rather, to glide on a cushioning, grayish mist. The -thing purred softly, like a great cat, and tiny lights twinkled in -crystalline parts of it—batteries to deliver fearful atomic or cosmic -power, perhaps. The mechanism had many flexible tentacular arms of -metal that glinted with a lavendar luster.</p> - -<p>But even the substance of those arms, the metal itself, looked -indefinite and eye-hurting at the edges, as though it was partly -fourth-dimensional, or something.</p> - -<p>Both men grasped the truth. Here was that million-year advancement of -science that they'd talked about with such thrilled fascination, in the -stuffy bar of the Spacemen's Haven, back in Ganymede City. But Ganymede -City, with all its human crudeness and inefficiency, seemed like a -lost, happy legend, now, to Arnold and Harwich. Far, far away, and -dim. For here was dread wonder to eclipse it. Futurian fact! Physical -principles of such a miraculous order that mankind had scarcely dreamed -of their outer fringes yet, were functioning here.</p> - -<p>The flat machine advanced. But it was only instinct working, when the -two men crouched away from it a little. It was useless to fight; it was -useless to run.</p> - -<p>"Get away, you!" Paul Arnold grumbled dully to the mechanism. "Beat it! -Scram."</p> - -<p>And Harwich was reacting in a similar manner. "What the hell!" he -stammered. "What are you trying to do with us."</p> - -<p>It was almost funny—the ineffectual, confused protest of those two -men. They were like children too lost in their new environment to know -what was dangerous and what was not.</p> - -<p>Misty, lavender tentacles reached out and grasped them carefully. They -were lifted from the floor of the cage like babes. Once Harwich's great -freckled arms tautened, as though he was going to battle the monstrous -miracle that held him. But futility checked the urge. Where was there -anything to win by struggling, now? And how could a mere man win -anyway, against soft-moving mechanical power, that should belong to the -far future? Oddly the tentacles were warm and tingling, not cold like -you'd think metal should be.</p> - -<p>And so Arnold and Harwich submitted to a paternal, mechanical -dominance, regretfully, because there was nothing else to do. It hurt -their sense of freedom, but where was there any alternative?</p> - -<p>Still floating a little off the tile pavement of the cage, the machine -carried the two men easily to the opening in the floor, and glided down -into a crystal-roofed tunnel. There it began to accelerate swiftly, -flying with bullet-like speed, a foot or so above the glass bottom of -the passage.</p> - -<p>The tunnel's roof was transparent as air. Through it, Harwich and -Arnold could see that they were nearing the Tower rapidly. After only a -moment of whizzing, breath-taking flight, they had arrived within that -great, enigmatic edifice, for the passage entered its base.</p> - -<p>There, in an eerie half-twilight, the flat little machine released the -two humans whom it had brought here, to the Tower.</p> - -<p>Mute with an even greater wonder than before, Harwich and Arnold stared -around them. The room was gigantic, soaring up in a huge, metal-ribbed -dome. Scores of crystal-walled passages led into this colossal chamber -of secrets. The whole immense Tower building was transparent, except -that some darkening pigment had been added to the material that -composed it, 'till it was like bluish glass. Through it the desolate -surrounding hills of Io could be seen, and the cages, filled with those -aimless, pathetic, sluglike creatures.</p> - -<p>But the attention of the two men was drawn inevitably to the center -of the room. Rearing up there, under the rotunda of the dome, was a -massive, lavender-sheened pyramid. It gave a steady, throbbing sound, -as of countless tiny wheels and shafts whirling inside it, working cams -and rods, and who knew what else?</p> - -<p>"Dammit!" Evan Harwich kept muttering under his breath in dim -confusion. "Dammit."</p> - -<p>He was used to machinery, yes. He was used to the roar of rockets, -and to the delicate instruments used in space flight. But this was -machinery of a far higher order. That busy, vibrating pyramid, -squatting there like some huge idol, somehow seemed to possess a -definite personality of its own!</p> - -<p>Suddenly Paul Arnold clutched the patrol pilot's arm. "I wonder if I -believe what I see!" he whispered tensely. "Look!"</p> - -<p>Harwich's gaze followed the lines of the boy's pointing finger to -something quite near—so near, and seemingly so insignificant in this -vast, somber, throbbing interior, that he had not noticed before.</p> - -<p>Just at the base of the pyramid there was an artistic little structure, -consisting of four slender pillars and a roof. It looked like a small, -ornamental kiosk or arbor, so artfully were the scientific details of -it—the coils in its top, and the delicate filaments that pronged from -them—concealed in the decorative metal scroll-work.</p> - -<p>Within the pillared structure, somehow, there stood a man—an Earthman. -His heavy body was clad now in a rocketeer's leather coverall. At his -waist dangled a heat pistol, and on his fat face there was a strange, -wild sort of smirk.</p> - -<p>"Howdy, boys!" he greeted. "Yes, it's me—George Bayley, the guy who -used to keep a print shop in Ganymede City! I've been here longer -than you have, and I've been able to find out more. Pretty nice, huh? -The people of Io had science perfected before they became extinct. -Everything was done by machines, even investing. Not a bit of work to -do any more. And if they wanted anything special, they just came into -this little coop, here, and wished."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bayley paused, still smirking. His loud voice had seemed distant in -that great room, and vibrant with awe. Harwich and Arnold stared at him -for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, or what to believe.</p> - -<p>And what was that which had just spilled from his lips, as though he -had been a little afraid of the statement himself? About perfected -science, and wishing?</p> - -<p>"You're crazy!" Evan Harwich stormed fiercely. "You're a liar!"</p> - -<p>But his furious tone was tremulous with doubt, even as he spoke. He -knew at once that he'd just grabbed onto these words, and uttered them, -maybe because, somehow, he hated Bayley, and wanted to contradict his -seemingly impossible claims. But in this temple of un-Earthly marvels, -one's whole standard of judgment was upset. Possible and impossible -became meaningless terms here, at the foot of this great, whirring -pyramid, which seemed a symbol of omnipotence.</p> - -<p>"Crazy?" Bayley questioned. "No, Harwich, you can't say that, when -you're all tangled up and fuddled yourself! What I said about wishing -is true. Telepathic control of machines, it must be. This place is so -damned wonderful that it would turn Aladdin of the Wonderful Lamp green -with envy! And it would drive the Genie of the Lamp down into his shoes -in shame!"</p> - -<p>Harwich's doubts, if they had been doubts, and not just confusions, -began to dim a trifle. After all, one of the big objectives of the -science of Earthmen, was to make life easier; to transfer as much of -the burden of work as possible to machines. Why couldn't the same -objective have been conceived here on the Forbidden Moon? Not only -conceived, but accomplished? Io was an old world; life had begun here -sooner than on Earth, and science, too! So there had been more time for -advancement.</p> - -<p>"All right, Bayley," Harwich growled grudgingly. "Tell us what you've -discovered."</p> - -<p>"Yes, for Pete sake, tell us!" Paul Arnold joined in.</p> - -<p>It was odd, the way they were asking the fat printer for information, -now, when they should be hating him for the wrongs he had done them. -But, perhaps, the human mind can hold only so much at one time. For -the moment there was room only for dazed awe and questioning in their -thoughts, and hatred was temporarily pushed into the background. The -equal of Aladdin's miracles did not seem so far from possibility, here!</p> - -<p>"Okay!" George Bayley rumbled. "Glad to spill the beans; what I know -of them. I arrived here in my space ship about fourteen hours ago, -when it was still dark. The Tower building here looked by far the most -important, so I came straight to it. There were machines flying about, -but they paid no attention to me at all, so I wasn't worried much about -what they might do to me.</p> - -<p>"Leaving my ship on the other side of the Tower, I got into this room -through a tunnel. I was wearing a space armor, of course. I passed -through a kind of airlock. This chamber was just like you see it now, -except that lights were burning, because it was night."</p> - -<p>"And then?" Paul Arnold questioned eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Exploring, I climbed into this little metal coop, here at the foot of -the pyramid," Bayley went on. "By then I was pretty flabbergasted with -all I'd seen. I began to think I needed a drink of something strong. -Yep, it must have been telepathy! Because presto—one of those flat -flying machines with the tentacles, whizzed up to me from a tunnel -exit. It was carrying a kind of crystal carafe.</p> - -<p>"Boy, I didn't know what to think! I didn't know whether I ought to -taste the stuff in that carafe, at first. But finally I did. It was -damned good. Not alcoholic, but something a whole lot better."</p> - -<p>Harwich and Arnold looked at each other, as Bayley paused, as if to get -his breath. They looked up at the pyramid, throbbing above them, like -some great, cryptic, servant personality. The feeling that Bayley was -telling the truth, was growing on them.</p> - -<p>"Naturally you tried other things, after the carafe was brought to you, -Bayley," Paul Arnold prompted. "You wanted to see how much further this -expression of desires by telepathy might be carried. You wanted to see -how much more you could use the ancient Ionian science."</p> - -<p>Bayley, still standing in that little metal-pillared structure, nodded -slowly. "You catch on quick, Arnold," he said. "First I wished for -gold, since it was the first thing I thought of. The sounds inside the -pyramid changed a little, as though an order was going out somehow, -maybe by radio. Five minutes later a whole bunch of those flying -machines came into the Tower here, carrying bars of gold in their -tentacles. There it is."</p> - -<p>The printer was pointing toward a dully gleaming heap of yellow ingots -near the farther wall of the chamber.</p> - -<p>"But this, I soon found out, was just kid stuff!" Bayley continued. "I -suppose if I'd thought of radium here in this wishing coop, I would -have got a couple of tons of that, too! But I wished for a space -ship—something special, beyond anything an Earthman ever saw before! -Well, the pyramid buzzed a little longer and stranger this time, as -though it was sort of thinking and planning, and as though the wheels -inside it were maybe inventing, too. Then, somewhere far off, there was -a lot of pounding for about an hour. I guess you know the answer, boys. -There she is—the sweetest little super-futuristic space flier you ever -saw!"</p> - -<p>Harwich and Arnold stared at the torpedo-like ship that rested in a -cradle-like support nearby. It was completely without rocket-tubes, -or other visible means of propulsion. But its rakish lines and wicked -lavender glitter made it look as though it might well reach the distant -stars themselves.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Evan Harwich bit his lip tensely. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Did -you see any Ionians since you've been here, Bayley?" he asked. "Any -living, intelligent beings who might question your right to be prowling -around?"</p> - -<p>Bayley laughed. "Not one!" he returned. "They're extinct, I'm sure of -it! And that's lucky for me."</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot was beginning to put the pieces of the Forbidden -Moon's riddle together at last. And Paul Harwich must have been doing -the same. The evidence, as far as it went, was clear.</p> - -<p>Perfected science! The fat printer had told them that all you had to do -was think your wishes in that queer little pillared structure. And the -machines translated your wishes into fact. Unless Bayley had lied, and -there was small reason to suppose that he had, the rest was maybe not -so difficult to understand.</p> - -<p>First, the great envelope of force around Io. That was to keep -possibly dangerous intruders away, of course. Thus, the ancient -Ionians had lived in carefree idleness and luxury, tended by their -perfected machines. The thing in the pyramid must be the master servant -mechanism, reachable in that pillared kiosk, by telepathy. It must be -the coordinator, in contact with the other mechanisms by radio, or -something. Adding and calculating machines, way back in the Twentieth -Century, had thought and reasoned, after a fashion. More recently, on -Earth, apparati of a similar nature had done far more, working out -intricate mathematical problems, far more swiftly and accurately than -any human being could.</p> - -<p>And the apparatus within the pyramid must be much the same thing, but -developed to the nth degree! A vast planning, calculating device that -could reason and invent with a swiftness and perfection far beyond any -living mind. But it was still just mechanical; a servant apparatus that -thought by the turning of the wheels and the movement of levers inside -it with no more consciousness than an adding machine of the Twentieth -Century!</p> - -<p>This was the way Harwich figured it all out. And he saw something else, -too.</p> - -<p>"Uh-uh, Bayley," he remarked suddenly. "Soon after that new space flier -was brought here at your command, you decided that you were complete -boss around here, didn't you? There were no ancient Ionians in your -way. All you had to do was wish, inside that telepathy kiosk, and it -was just like Aladdin wishing with his lamp, eh?"</p> - -<p>For the first time, cold, comprehending anger had come into the patrol -pilot's tone.</p> - -<p>"Why sure—sure!" Bayley growled back at him. "And why not? Just about -anything I can think of is possible! And, let me tell you something -else, you poor dope! You and Arnold wouldn't be alive now, if I hadn't -wished it! I thought you might have gotten through the Ionian force -shield somehow, when the RQ257 cracked up. I thought you might be -somewhere out there on the desert still living. So I just wished that -the machines go and get you, and revive you if you needed it. I thought -maybe it might be fun."</p> - -<p>It was enough. Cold anger reborn in Evan Harwich's breast was suddenly -rekindled into blazing fury by the memory of the RQ257, and a wire -filed almost through in a Gyon condenser. Evan Harwich's muscles -tightened. Wordlessly he was about to leap at George Bayley.</p> - -<p>But a warm metal tentacle whipped suddenly about his waist. The flat -mechanism that had brought him and Arnold to the Tower, had seized him. -Again, he was helpless.</p> - -<p>"You see?" Bayley drawled. "I really am boss, here, just as you said. -I just wished that you be restrained, and you are! But I've been doing -too much talking and explaining. How about a little showing for a -change, huh?"</p> - -<p>"Damn you, Bayley!" Harwich growled, but the fat printer ignored the -curse.</p> - -<p>He only grimaced crookedly. "Let's make a couple more wishes," he -taunted. "A couple of really good ones! How about a whole fleet of -space ships, for instance? The biggest, most powerful fleet in the -solar system! All automatic craft, capable of flying and maneuvering -unmanned! Then, let's see, the other wish? It's not so difficult -either. Both you and Arnold are my deadly enemies, Harwich. I think it -would be fun to make my enemies squirm a little. I'd like to see you -crack up, Harwich! You've always been so tough! So how about some kind -of a discomfort device? Something really special? In short, a torture -instrument! Come on, pretty machines! Do your stuff!"</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold's face turned pale, but he bit his lip courageously. Evan -Harwich studied the strange, wild light in the fat printer's squinted -eyes, and waited for whatever would happen.</p> - -<p>There was a crescendoing whir within that huge pyramidal coordinator. -The man who had usurped the rule of the ancient Ionians over their -mechanical servitors, had given his telepathic orders. Already there -were signs of obedience. Thinking and planning was going on in that -pyramid; thinking and planning more intricate than that of the greatest -human wizard that had ever lived, more soulless and swift than that of -an adding machine.</p> - -<p>Presently, from far away, came a thin, shrill sound. Looking back -through the darkened glass walls of the Tower room, Harwich and Arnold, -both of them clutched, now, by the tentacles of the flat robot, saw a -horde of black specks collecting against the sky in the pale sunlight -outside. A flock of those flat, tentacled, flying things.</p> - -<p>They seemed to emerge from an opening in the ground; from a vault where -perhaps they'd been stored for ages. In a gigantic swarm they hovered -over the glass cages and their pathetic animal inhabitants. Then, -drifting like gulls away from this weird city of the Forbidden Moon, -they moved off toward the surrounding hills.</p> - -<p>There, like swarming bees, they settled in their tremendous numbers, on -the open, arid valley. Flame tools in their tendrils were brought into -play. Dust, reddened with heat, began to rise.</p> - -<p>"They're leveling the ground!" Paul Arnold whispered hoarsely. "They -must be preparing a shipyard!"</p> - -<p>"Sure, kid," George Bayley laughed, trying to conceal the half-scared -wonder in his own voice. "Maybe it'll take weeks for them to build the -fleet I asked for! But they'll do it! You'll see, if I happen to let -you live that long!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The unholy wizardry of the Forbidden Moon was proven beyond all doubt. -And in this weird Tower room, air-conditioned against the cold thinness -of the atmosphere beyond its wall, the pyramid still throbbed a shrill -portent of more to come.</p> - -<p>A second robot mechanism soared into the chamber from a tunnel mouth. -It bore a curious tripod-like instrument. The flying automaton -spiralled down like a bubble, and came to rest beside Harwich and the -youth. Pinioned by the tendrils of the other automaton, they were -helpless to do anything but watch and submit. They were pushed flat on -their backs, and held firmly. The tripod instrument was set up between -them.</p> - -<p>"The discomfort device, this must be!" Bayley gloated, shifting his -weight from one foot to the other. "In just a few seconds there's going -to be some fun, I'll bet! Now, Harwich and Arnold, I'm wishing you bad -luck. Just a little foretaste of what I might wish later! Okay, pretty -machines! Give my beloved enemies the works, just for a second."</p> - -<p>Two rods of metal, projecting down from the tripod, were set in -position by one of the automatons. One rod touched Harwich's skull, the -other Paul Arnold's. A switch was moved.</p> - -<p>There was no sound; but all of the patrol pilot's body seemed suddenly -and maddeningly afire. To the very center of his mind, agony stabbed, -viciously. No searing pain of any injury he had ever received, could -have equaled this. He writhed, longing to scream his lungs out, as that -moment of sheer hell seemed to last an age.</p> - -<p>"God!" Paul gasped when it was over.</p> - -<p>Both men were sweating and limp, and yet no visible harm had been done -to their bodies. Artificial sensation, the torture must have been. -Nerve impulses transmitted directly to the brain. A devilish, perverted -achievement of superscience! Such agony might conceivably go on, in -Satanic refinement, for months, without bringing death.</p> - -<p>"You see, boys, I'm boss here as long as I stay in this little -telepathy coop, where the old Ionians used to give their orders!" -George Bayley hissed triumphantly. "All the wonders of the Forbidden -Moon are mine to use, just as I see fit! There were just a bunch of -machines here, waiting for somebody to control them. A pistol doesn't -ask who pulls its trigger! And I got here first!"</p> - -<p>"I was afraid of something like this when we were still on Ganymede, -before any of us knew," Paul Arnold muttered raggedly.</p> - -<p>And Evan Harwich understood very well what the youth meant. George -Bayley was feeling that touch of power here. A sense of omnipotence was -flattering his shallow ego, raising him in his own estimation to the -level of some ruthless god. He, who had been a petty business man, a -printer, a repairer of instruments, a loan shark! Just a crumby, fat -little human being, ridiculous, small and conceited. Pathetic, too, -stubborn, and lacking in judgment. There were many like him on Earth, -and among the scattered spheres of Earth's interplanetary empire.</p> - -<p>Maybe, after all, the wisdom of the Forbidden Moon was too big for the -human race. Maybe they would have to grow themselves first, advance in -evolution, before they would know how to handle and how to win real -benefits from such wisdom.</p> - -<p>"All right, Nero," Harwich growled contemptuously to Bayley. "I'll -grant that you're in the driver's seat, ready to stop nowhere. Building -a space fleet and all. But where is Clara Arnold?"</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot asked the question with fear and doubt in his heart.</p> - -<p>"Clara Arnold?" said Bayley almost casually. "Too damned clever for -a girl! Said she thought I might have had something to do with the -crackup of the RQ257. Said she was worried about Paul and you, too, -Harwich, being maybe stranded still alive here on Io. But she said that -she'd finally decided my promises weren't good for anything, anyway. -That I'd have to rescue you two men first before she'd believe in me. -Until then, our engagement was off."</p> - -<p>Harwich felt a brief wave of elation, as he heard these words. Clara -had seemed so quiet and timid; but she'd evidently proved herself -plenty courageous and plenty smart.</p> - -<p>"But where is she?" Harwich growled angrily. "Now, I mean!"</p> - -<p>"Don't get excited," Bayley sneered. "She came to the Forbidden Moon -with me, hoping to see you and the kid again. I left her locked in my -rocket. But she can't mean much to me any more now! Not when they -begin to hear about me all over the solar system! Just a passing fancy! -I suppose I might just as well have the machines bring her here now, to -see just how completely helpless you two dopes are!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Harwich and Paul Arnold were still pinioned to the floor by the -automatons; but in the patrol pilot's slitted eyes glowed the subdued -light of murder, futilely smoldering. The fat printer was absolutely -master now of Clara, the boy, and himself. In his stupid, cruel, -shallow vanity, cosmic power the deeper secrets of which he could -never have understood, had driven Bayley to madness; to megalomania. -That clanging and that red glow from near the distant hills showed the -extent of his ambitions beyond question. The slave machines were not -building that colossal fleet of space warships for nothing! Armed with -weapons beyond human knowledge, such a fleet would sweep in aggressive -fury to even the remotest world within the field of the sun's gravity!</p> - -<p>But Harwich's feelings changed briefly to relief, when Clara Arnold -was brought into the Tower room by another of those metal slaves. -The automaton removed from her a flexible, transparent covering, of -evidently airtight material, a protection against the rarity of the -Ionian atmosphere, probably, for in being taken from the airlock of -Bayley's rocket to the air-conditioned Tower here, she would otherwise -have been exposed to suffocation.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="579" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The machine set the girl down gently. She looked scared, her blonde -hair was awry, as though, maybe, she'd struggled with the robot; but -otherwise she was still all right.</p> - -<p>She looked about in wondering terror; for what she saw was still a -complete mystery to her, just as it had been to her brother and Evan -Harwich a little while ago. No one had told her anything yet.</p> - -<p>"Paul—Evan!" she stammered "What is all this here? This pyramid, and -Bayley? What's happened? Tell me, somebody!"</p> - -<p>"Take it easy, Clara," Harwich responded, trying to sound reassuring. -"Everything will be all right!" he ended a little unconvincingly, -trying to shield the girl from grim truth.</p> - -<p>"Everything's all right already, Clara," Bayley assured her mockingly. -"I've got these two men of yours just where they can do the least harm! -How would you like to see 'em squirm a little? I've got a special -device for that purpose, something very refined and painful! And I've -got just about everything else! In a month's time I could give you the -planet Earth, to wear in a ring around your finger, if I happened to -want to."</p> - -<p>"What's he talking about, Evan?" the girl pleaded again, the shadow of -fear in her face deepening. "It sounds sort of awful! Please tell me. -Why are those flat monsters holding you and Paul to the floor?"</p> - -<p>"I told you to take it easy, Clara," Harwich returned with a trace of -sternness. "This maniac, Bayley, has got the upper hand now, but I said -everything would be all right, didn't I?"</p> - -<p>The patrol pilot was trying again to reassure the girl, with a show -of truculent bravado this time. He hoped that truculence would make -his words sound true, as though he had a trump card up his sleeve, or -something.</p> - -<p>"All right in the end, Harwich?" the fat printer chuckled wickedly. -"Well, the end's pretty close. In another minute you'll be too tortured -to do anything but scream. Right now I'm thinking and wishing. Look, -the automatons are getting that agony tripod ready again!"</p> - -<p>It was true. Metal tentacles were whipping about, adjusting the torture -rods to touch Harwich's and Paul Arnold's skulls again.</p> - -<p>Everything will be all right! That statement was a mocking memory to -the patrol pilot now. An empty, rash challenge to the man whose petty -ego yearned to control even the solar system.</p> - -<p>Harwich had never felt so completely helpless in his life before, not -even when he had been suffocating out there on the deserts of the -Forbidden Moon. If he could only somehow knock Bayley out of that -little, pillared structure that served as a receiver for telepathic -orders to the machines; if only he could replace him there for a -second, then everything might be very, very different! But Harwich was -held helpless to the pavement of the tower room. His massive muscles -were useless against machine might!</p> - -<p>Direct argument—an attempt to make Bayley see the narrowness and lack -of originality in his colossal ambitions—he knew was equally futile. -Bayley was stubborn and shallow and greedy. Besides, he would never -admit that he was wrong, even if he felt the truth of it!</p> - -<p>So Harwich felt utterly checkmated on every side. The clanging out -there, the building of the space fleet, mocked him. The rustle -of wheels in that huge pyramid coordinator mocked him. All the -Aladdin-like miracles of the Forbidden Moon mocked him, pointing out -his impotence to do anything, now.</p> - -<p>He even wondered savagely why that great coordinator mechanism, with -all its terrific powers, didn't revolt against the dominance of the -puny human being that mastered it. But, of course, it would have no -desire to revolt. It had no desires of any kind, no capacity for -happiness or misery, no consciousness even. It was no more alive, no -more sentient, than an adding machine. Only infinitely more complex. It -invented things and it directed lesser mechanisms only by the rolling -of the wheels and the surge of energy inside it. And it responded to -telepathic control of whomever was there to give it, just as a space -ship might respond to whomever was at its throttle.</p> - -<p>Still, there had to be some way out of this mess! Harwich knew it -wasn't just Clara and Paul and himself that were in danger. It was -everything he knew and respected. Freedom. Liberty. Unless he and his -companions were able to do something, a Dark Age would come, surely. An -age of machines, ruled by a madman.</p> - -<p>The rod of the torture instrument was touching his skull. In just -another moment the agony would begin. But what was Paul Arnold -muttering beside him?</p> - -<p>"Evan, those animals in the cages! We thought they looked like men -didn't we? Here's something else: Maybe they are men, in a way! Men who -went backward in evolution; lost their intelligence."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>No one but Harwich could have heard the boy, for he spoke in a very -low tone. But at once the patrol pilot understood; grasped a part of -the Ionian riddle that he had missed before. Machines. No thinking or -work to do. Indolence. And then?</p> - -<p>At once Harwich saw a way, a slim possibility to avert cosmic -catastrophe. He couldn't appeal to Bayley's reason, but maybe he could -appeal to his fears. He had to try it, anyway.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the patrol pilot's lips curled in derision and contempt. -"Bayley," he said, "you're an utter damned fool! You think you'll -extend your power all over the solar system. Well, maybe you will do -that; but in the end you'll be destroyed! You give the orders—sure! -But do you understand the thing in that pyramid? It was made to serve, -as all machines are. The ancient Ionians had it pretty nice for -themselves, yes. But did you ever wonder what happened to them? <i>Where -are they now? Do you know, Bayley?</i>"</p> - -<p>Harwich's final question was a dry whisper, like the voice of some -ghost of ages past.</p> - -<p>"<i>Where are those ancient Ionians now, Bayley?</i>" he repeated.</p> - -<p>No man could have escaped awe there in that tremendous Tower room, -where all the mysteries of the eons seemed to be congregated, many of -them hidden and unknown and perhaps dangerous. George Bayley's eyes -were suddenly very big. Quite evidently there were many things that -he had not thought about. His gaze lingered momentarily on the great -throbbing pyramid, inscrutable there in this huge dusky chamber.</p> - -<p>"Stop trying to bluff me, you crazy idiot!" the fat printer stormed at -last. "The Ionians are extinct, of course!"</p> - -<p>Harwich managed to grin wolfishly. "If you believe that, Bayley, do -you want to follow them into extinction?" he questioned. "Yes, they -mastered science. They conquered even the problem of the thinning -atmosphere and the loss of moisture and heat on their dying world. -But after they turned their science over to the machines, something -happened to them. Their numbers began to grow less, yes. They lost -control of their empire, which must have included all the moons -of—Jupiter. But they didn't completely die out, Bayley! Something -happened to those Ionians that was far worse! Do you know what it was, -Bayley? Do you want the same thing to happen to you?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you're talking about!" the printer stammered -furiously, fear of the unknown spreading over his plump face.</p> - -<p>"No, those ancient people of the Forbidden Moon didn't become -completely extinct," Harwich continued. "I believe you can see quite a -few of them from the Tower room here. The walls are semi-transparent, -and those cages outside aren't far away. They're full of Ionians. -Sluglike, brainless monstrosities without even intelligence enough or -will enough to wish any more!"</p> - -<p>Harwich paused to let the facts sink into George Bayley's mind.</p> - -<p>"That's them!" the patrol pilot continued. "It's an old theory that -any race has to keep struggling, thinking, working; otherwise it goes -backwards. By using their brains and muscles, Earthmen developed from -apish ancestors, you know. But here the Ionians had everything done -for them. So evolution was reversed. They lost their intelligence. And -now, what are they? Stupid beasts, tended by machines that follow the -original orders of long ago to take care of them. Worse than animals in -a zoo."</p> - -<p>Bayley's eyes were fairly popping, as he stared through the -semi-transparent walls of the Tower room. Doubtless he could see -those creatures in their air-conditioned habitations. Just helpless, -squirming, incubator freaks!</p> - -<p>"I wondered what they were—why they were here," Bayley stammered.</p> - -<p>Harwich almost believed at first that he had won a point with the obese -loan shark—scared him out of most of his wild ambitions. But then, -gradually, he saw Bayley's expression grow a trifle less tense. It was -just as Harwich had feared. The printer was beginning to realize that -it must have taken countless generations to degenerate to their present -sorry state. The same condition could not affect him personally. When -Bayley saw this truth, he would be the same megalomaniac as before.</p> - -<p>There was only that one slim chance left for Harwich. Bayley's -attention was strongly diverted now. But in a few seconds more, he -would be himself again.</p> - -<p>Was the grip of the metal tentacles that held Harwich a little looser -than before, now, because Bayley, the master of machines, had his mind -so intensely on other things, and away from the thought of giving -telepathic commands?</p> - -<p>In a sudden, savage lunge, Harwich jerked free from the automaton that -held him to the floor. His clothing was torn and his flesh scraped, but -what did this matter? Everything depended on instant action. The patrol -pilot leaped past Paul Arnold, and his sister, Clara, who had only -watched and listened while he had talked with such grim truth to Bayley.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Already the flat, glittering robot was after Harwich, but he continued -his surprise rush toward the roofed, pillared kiosk that was the -receiver for telepathic orders.</p> - -<p>His attack ended in a dying tackle. Bayley was drawing his heat pistol, -but before he could fire it, Harwich's weight struck him. There, -together, in the kiosk, they wrestled and fought. At last there was a -chance for the patrol pilot to bring his massive muscles into play. -He swung his heavy fists, and all the fury of weeks of hardship and -misfortune were back of his blows. Bayley tottered away from under the -kiosk, and for a second Harwich stood there free.</p> - -<p>He was in the position of control at last; but Bayley had his pistol -out and aimed, now. Clara was screaming as the fat man pressed the -trigger.</p> - -<p>It was too late for Harwich to marshal his thoughts properly. He was -only able to will that the automaton behind him should cease attacking -him. He could not call to his aid any of the great science of Io, in -time.</p> - -<p>With the speed of light, a slender pencil of intense heat waves from -Bayley's pistol, struck his side and burned straight through his body. -No bullet could have drilled a neater hole. Harwich's legs collapsed -under him, and he lay writhing there within the kiosk.</p> - -<p>A split second later the heat pistol in Bayley's hand spat again. -Turning weakly, Harwich saw Clara crumple and go down. In another -instant, Paul became the third victim.</p> - -<p>"You're done, Harwich!" the fat printer was yelling triumphantly. -"You're finished, all of you!"</p> - -<p>But by now the patrol man's seething flood of hate had registered. -He was within the telepathy kiosk; and if he had ever willed instant -destruction for anyone, he willed it now, for Bayley. Under other -circumstances he might not have felt so vengeful, but his ebbing pulses -blazed with fury.</p> - -<p>There was a click within that vast, slumberous pyramid, that loomed -like a grim god in this shadowy place of enigmas. The automaton that -had recently held Harwich captive, seemed to move like a maddened -animal, created out of pure lightning. Its tentacles whipped around -Bayley long before he could fire again. Harder than steel cable, the -tendrils tightened, like the coils of a python.</p> - -<p>There was a choked cry of terror and anguish, and then a sickening, -crunching, squashing sound, as flesh and bone and blood oozed between -those constricting metal loops.</p> - -<p>It was almost the last thing that Evan Harwich saw. He was mortally -wounded, a slender hole bored through his side.</p> - -<p>Harwich's last delirium was a dream. A silly dream, maybe. Clara and -he together. A little house. Fancifully he pictured its details. Maybe -a mining concession somewhere here among the moons of Jupiter, too. An -orderly life. Not all this hectic battling with unknown dangers any -more. He was a little tired of adventure, a little tired of being space -patrol pilot, too. He could resign.</p> - -<p>Somewhere, Evan Harwich's fanciful thinking came to an end.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He awoke suddenly. Paul Arnold was shaking him.</p> - -<p>"On your feet, you big lug!" the boy was yelling happily. "There's not -a thing wrong with you, now! Clara and I have been awake for half an -hour."</p> - -<p>Harwich staggered erect, grumbling confusedly, his stiff, black hair -awry. He'd been lying on a divan. The room around him was almost -familiarly furnished, except for slightly fantastic details of -decoration. The windows were wide, and beyond them there was a sort of -yard, with freshly planted trees. Over the whole setup there was a -fine crystal airdrome.</p> - -<p>"What the heck! Where in the name of sense are we?" Harwich burst out -in startled pleasure.</p> - -<p>He looked first at Paul Arnold, and then at Clara, whose amber eyes -were twinkling with secretive mischief. It was as though the two had -some sort of joke up their sleeves.</p> - -<p>Harwich glanced again out of the window. Beyond the airdome, glinting -and new, was what looked like improved mining equipment. Cropping out -of the ground was the grayish, shiny stuff of a rich ore lode. And -there was a space ship, too; bright and slender and strange, but it -looked plenty serviceable!</p> - -<p>"Where are we, anyway?" Harwich demanded again, still completely in the -dark. "Does either of you two know?"</p> - -<p>"Still on Io, evidently!" Paul Arnold breezed with a taunting grin. -"Same kind of hills and general character of country! When Bayley shot -me, I passed out. I didn't know anything more until I woke up here a -little while ago!"</p> - -<p>"But this layout, Paul!" Harwich growled. "This house and this mining -stuff! How come? You've got some kind of an answer in mind, I'm sure, -by the way you look! I give up. Spill the gag!"</p> - -<p>"Okay, Evan," said the boy. "I really do think I've got that part -figured out! After Bayley shot you with the heat-pistol, you were -lying in that telepathy kiosk in the Tower room. Consciously or -unconsciously, you must have done some wishing there, before your brain -blacked out."</p> - -<p>Harwich gasped. So that was it! He'd wanted to be alive, though he had -been mortally wounded. And so he was! His shirt was open. There was a -neat round scar on his chest, left by the heat-ray burn, and evidence -of careful supersurgery! The automatons of the Forbidden Moon had saved -his life. Probably Clara's and Paul's lives, too. All while they were -unconscious! The house, the garden, the mine!</p> - -<p>"Our miracle hunt on the Forbidden Moon hasn't turned out so badly," -Paul Arnold remarked. "But so far it's been a lot different from what -Dad or you or I could have anticipated. This place looks like a nice -family setup, Evan. Did you wish include anybody besides yourself?"</p> - -<p>Harwich flushed, and looked sheepish. Clara, there, was definitely -blushing, but she was smiling, too.</p> - -<p>The ex patrol pilot managed a nervous grin. "I guess you got me there, -Paul," he said. "Now, if it's all right with you, Clara, I don't know -whether I have to say it or not, since it's a dead giveaway. But will -you marry me?"</p> - -<p>He got it out, feeling that it had been an awful job. But Clara smiled -happily.</p> - -<p>"Try and stop me, Evan," she laughed. "There has to be someone around -to keep you from getting conceited. Just because you won out for us -here on Io, doesn't mean that you won't need bossing yourself, once in -a while!"</p> - -<p>Paul Arnold winked, and left discreetly for other parts of the house.</p> - -<p>Arm in arm Clara and Evan looked through a window that faced west. -Something was flying there, high up in the sky. It glinted in the late -afternoon sunlight. A lonely speck against the cold firmament, it -seemed to hurry, bent on a last mission.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later, from the east, there came a terrific concussion. -The whole dark purple sky, above those sullen hills, was illuminated -with a bluish-white glare for a second. Flying fragments soared far -into space.</p> - -<p>Clara clung tightly to Evan. "What was that?" she questioned fearfully.</p> - -<p>Harwich grinned, but still there was a haunting shadow of sadness in -his face. "I'm sure I know," he said. "That was the end of the science -of the Forbidden Moon. The end of the force shield, apparatus, the -end of those poor Ionians, and the end of the pyramid! The end of the -whole thing. Suicide, you might call it. You see, back there in the -telepathy kiosk, I wished that too, and the machines were made only to -obey. I hope that when Earthmen, in the future, learn as much science -as existed here on Io, they'll know how to use it, too. We're much too -young a race yet, I guess."</p> - -<p>Clara Arnold's awe softened after a moment. "Come on, Evan," she said. -"Let's forget all about that for now. I want to show you the kitchen, -here. It's ducky!..."</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Invaders of the Forbidden Moon, by -Raymond Z. 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Gallun - -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: Invaders of the Forbidden Moon - -Author: Raymond Z. Gallun - -Release Date: April 25, 2020 [EBook #61927] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INVADERS OF THE FORBIDDEN MOON *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - INVADERS OF THE FORBIDDEN MOON - - By RAYMOND Z. GALLUN - - Annihilation was the lot of those who ventured - too close to the Forbidden Moon. Harwich knew - the suicidal odds when he blasted from Jupiter to - solve the mighty riddle of that cosmic death-trap. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Summer 1941. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -"Calling the pilot of space ship X911!" Evan Harwich shouted into the -radio transmitter of his little Interplanetary Patrol Boat. "Good God! -Turn your crate back, you crazy fool! Don't you know you're headed -right into the danger zone of Jupiter's Forbidden Moon? You'll get -yourself burned to a crisp in another few seconds if you don't turn -back...." - -Evan Harwich's growling voice was almost shrill at the end. His police -duties patrolling the vicinity of Io, innermost of Jupiter's larger -satellites, rarely developed moments as tense as this. Most other -pilots had brains enough to give the Forbidden Moon a wide berth. And -for excellent if mysterious reasons! - -Yet the craft ahead, a sleek new job with the identification number -X911 painted on its conning tower, kept steadily on. Its slim hull, -which betrayed an experimental look, was pointed straight at the -threatening greyish disc of Io, the one world in the solar system which -no exploring ship of the void had ever reached--intact! - -Almost everybody among the inhabited spheres knew about the dangers of -the desolate Forbidden Moon. Ever since the colonial empire of Earth -had been extended to the region of Jupiter and his numerous satellites, -Io had been a grim menace; sure destruction to any rocket that -approached within five thousand miles of its dreary, almost airless -surface. - -Nobody seemed to know just why this was true; but some scientists -claimed that somehow there was an invisible layer or shell all around -Io; an immense blanket of strange energy or force that fused and -blasted the metal hulls of all ether craft that ran into its insidious -web. - -Tensely and helplessly Evan Harwich watched, as the ship ahead -continued on its way toward what seemed sure catastrophe. No danger in -front of the recklessly piloted craft could be seen, of course. Five -thousand miles of clear, cold vacuum was all that was visible between -it and Io. But since this region held concealed in it all the potential -violence of a hair-triggered trap, ready to unleash a flaming death -that involved unknown physical laws and principles, maybe it wasn't -just plain vacuum after all! - -With dogged persistence Harwich kept yelling futile warnings into his -radio. His shouts and curses were unheeded, and no answer was given. He -knew what was going to happen in another second. There would be a burst -of dazzling white fire all around the rocket of this foolhardy pilot -he had tried to save from suicide. Metal would drip and sparkle in the -absolute zero of space. In just another instant.... - -Harwich swung his patrol boat aside, not caring to end his own life. -But he kept watching the X911 from the side-ports of his cabin. - -And now, something quite different from what he had expected was taking -place. Suddenly the apparently doomed ship was enveloped in a bluish -halo which seemed to emanate from a great helix or spiral of metal that -wrapped its hull! - -Immediately afterward, as the X911 entered definitely into the zone of -destruction around Io, great white sparks lanced dazzlingly through -the blue halo. It was as though the latter was fighting back those -gigantic, unknown forces that had seemed to make the Forbidden Moon -forever inviolable. It was as though the halo was keeping the X911, -and whoever was flying it, safe! - -Evan Harwich's slitted eyes widened a little in astonishment and hope. -"Dammit!" he grumbled happily. "That idiot's got some kind of new -invention that's protecting him! Maybe the Forbidden Moon is going to -be reached and explored after all!" - -A second more that weird conflict of hidden forces continued. Watching -it was like watching a race, on which you have staked everything you -own. Visibly, that daredevil space ship seemed to slow, as if resisted -by a tangible medium. For an agonizing instant of suspense, Harwich saw -those wicked sparks brighten in the X911's bluish aura. Then the latter -dimmed, flickered, went out! - -As if angry demons were waiting to pounce, destruction struck--quicker -than a lightning bolt. - - * * * * * - -If there had been any humor in the situation before, it was gone now -utterly! The patrol man's lips dropped apart in sheer awe. The muscles -of his massive, freckle-smeared forearms tightened futilely as he -longed to help the X911's doomed pilot. In the pit of his stomach there -was a sickish feeling. - -Where that rocket that had dared the inscrutable enigma of the -Forbidden Moon had been, there was a sudden, terrific blaze of light. -The intolerable incandescence of it seemed to reach out to infinity -itself, illuminating even the blackness between the distant stars of -space. But it was all as silent as the bouncing of a bubble on velvet. -No explosion, however huge, can transmit sound in the emptiness of the -void. - -The magnificent, horrible blast broke into a million gobs and sparks of -molten metal--from what had once been a space ship's hull. Superheated -gas from ignited rocket fuel shot out. Scattered far and wide, the -white-hot fragments of the wreck continued on their way, following -the original direction of the once bold X911 toward Io. Their speed -increased gradually, as the gravity of the Forbidden Moon pulled them. -The larger chunks, falling at meteoric speed, would bury themselves -deep in the cold Ionian deserts. - -The secret of Io had claimed another victim, one who might have -been victorious. But Io's mystery was still unviolated. Evan Harwich -had seen other ships, disabled and unmaneuverable for some reason -beforehand, go to their ends like this; but he was still not used to -the spectacle, and to the unholy wonder it provoked in him. - -Dazzled and almost blinded, he guided his patrol boat shakily away from -the Forbidden Moon. There was cold sweat in his thick, black hair, -under his leather helmet; and cold sweat too on his narrow, bristly -cheeks. His movements of the controls were a trifle vague and fumbling -with emotion, making his patrol boat waver a little in its course. - -For perhaps the millionth time Harwich wondered: "What makes Io so -dangerous? Dammit all, those scientists who claim that there is a -deadly shell of unseen energy completely enveloping the Forbidden -Moon, must be right! There isn't anything else that could explain -the continual destruction of all rocket craft that come within that -five-thousand-mile limit!" - -Evan Harwich was ready to accept this much as fact. But beyond this, -there was still a vast, unguessable question mark. - -Was this shell of energy a natural phenomenon; or was it something -planned, made, intended for a purpose? If the latter guess was right, -who could have created such a gigantic screen of force? What kind of -beings? What kind of science? - -Io was an almost dead world, Harwich knew. Very cold. Very little water -and air. Astronomers had taken photographs of its terrain through -powerful telescopes, from the other moons of Jupiter. Very little could -be seen on those photographs but deserts and grey hills, and curious -formations which might be the magnificent ruins left by an extinct race. - -Evan Harwich was far from a weakling; but cold chills were playing over -his big body as he groped to understand the unknown. - -His vision was clearing somewhat, after having been so dazzled by the -incandescent blast that had accompanied the destruction of the X911 a -moment ago. - -In the feeble sunlight, so far out here in the void, Harwich saw a -second rocket, leaving the scene of the disaster along with himself. -Evidently someone else had witnessed that weird demonstration of Io's -destructive might, too! - -Squinting through a pair of binoculars, Harwich read the obviously -ancient craft's number. Then he snapped on his radio again. - -"Calling space ship RQ257!" he grated into the transmitter. -"Interplanetary Patrol just behind you. Pilot, please identify -yourself! Do you know who was aboard the experimental rocket X911, that -was just destroyed?" - -A few seconds later he heard a dazed, grief-anguished voice speaking in -response: "Yes ... I ought to know. I came out to watch our test of the -Energy Barrage Penetrator, which we thought would be successful. I am -Paul Arnold. The man who was just killed was John Arnold, my father." - -John Arnold! Yes, Harwich had often seen photographs of this daring, -hawk-faced old student of the Forbidden Moon in the scientific -journals. He had been the greatest of them all! But there wasn't much -to do for him now but shrug ironically, and report the nature of his -death by radio to the Interplanetary Patrol Base on Ganymede, largest -of Jupiter's satellites. - -"I'm sorry, Paul Arnold," the patrol man told his informant in sincere -sympathy. - -"Thank you," the quavering voice of Paul Arnold returned. "And now, if -you don't mind, I've got to get back to Ganymede City. Dad's gone, but -I've got to carry on his work." - - * * * * * - -Harwich didn't meet Paul Arnold, the son of the dead scientist, face -to face for more than a month, Earthtime. But on patrol duty out -there in the lonely reaches of the void, with the stars and the roar -of his rocket motors for company, he saw a good deal of the leering, -greyish sphere of Io. It seemed to taunt him with its masked secrets, -hanging so near to the tremendously greater bulk of Jupiter. But the -Forbidden Moon told him nothing new at all. Through his binoculars he -saw the deserts and hills and those supposed ruins. Near the equator -was something that looked like a vast, pointed tower. But Harwich had -seen this before, often. Something moved near the tower now and then, -as on other occasions. But maybe this distant movement was only the -shifting of clouds of dust, blown by a thin, frigid wind, in a tenuous -atmosphere. - -Then, back in Ganymede City, came that meeting with Paul Arnold. It -happened at the Spacemen's Haven. Evan Harwich, on furlough now, was -sipping Martian _kasarki_ at the bar. - -Presently a hand was laid on his arm. He turned to face a slight-built -youngster, who could not have been more than eightteen. But his -peculiar gold-flecked eyes were as distant and scared and bright as if -they had seen Hell itself. - -"You're Harwich," said the boy. "I'm Arnold. They pointed you out to me -as the patrol pilot who reported my father's death. I wanted to talk to -you. I don't know just why, except that you were there too, when Dad -was killed. You saw what happened. And people have told me that you -were a square shooter, Harwich." - -Somewhat startled, but glad to know the youth, and more than willing -to talk with him on the subject mentioned, Evan Harwich tried to smile -encouragingly. It wasn't too easy, considering his weathered, space -darkened features and threatening size; but he did his best. - -"Pleased to meet yuh, Arnold," he said rather clumsily, offering a big -hamlike hand. "I wanted to talk to you too. How about a drink and a -quiet corner, where the crowd here won't be stepping all over us?" - -They retired to a table in a screened nook. "Now," said young Arnold, -"you've seen as much of the Forbidden Moon as anybody alive, Harwich. -You must know that the energy aura around her is real and not a fable. -You must know, too, that it couldn't be a natural phenomenon, since -nothing in nature acts like it does. There's only one alternative -possibility as to what could cause it! Even though Io seems so -deserted, somehow there are machines there, functioning to maintain -that shell of force! Right?" - -Harwich nodded. Little glints of intense interest seemed to show in his -eyes. "I've believed that for a long time," he admitted. "But those -machines must be plenty wonderful to build up a barrage of invisible -energy, thousands of miles in extent! Our scientists couldn't even -begin to dream of doing anything like it! Even the principles employed -must be a million years ahead of our time!" - -"Right again!" the boy responded. For a second he cast a guarded, -suspicious glance around the room, where Earthmen and leathery Martians -were talking and laughing and drinking. - -"The evidence can't be disputed," Paul Arnold whispered at last. -"It might be that the people who invented those machines have been -extinct for ages. But the mechanisms they created are still operating. -There's superscience there on Io, Harwich! How much could we benefit -civilization, if we could somehow find out what the principles of -those machines are? How much damage might be done if those principles -happened to fall into the wrong hands, among men? War and conquest--a -whole solar system thrown into chaos--might result!" - -Evan Harwich wanted to laugh scornfully, wanted to call the kid a -dreamer of wild dreams; but the realization that young Arnold probably -told the truth, made his hide tingle and pucker instead. - -"Maybe you're right, fella," he growled. - -"Of course I am!" Arnold almost snapped. "My father believed it -for years, and his work must go on, even though the Forbidden Moon -scares me plenty. You saw yourself, Harwich, that his Energy Barrage -Penetrator was almost successful. I've been trying to build another, -with enough power to get through." - -Harwich's lips curved, a nameless, wild thrill stirring in his blood. -But after all, even before he'd left a great consolidated farm in -southern Illinois nine years ago, to become a spaceman, he'd been an -adventurer at heart. - -"Do you suppose you'll need any help?" he asked simply, realizing that -even as he spoke, death on a tomb-world might well be lurking in the -background. - -The question sounded like impulse, but it wasn't. Harwich had lived too -long in the shadow of the Forbidden Moon's taunting enigma, not to want -to take a personal part in any effort to penetrate its grim secrets. -Besides, he had a month's furlough from patrol duty now. The thought of -possible adventures to come made his nerves tingle. - -Paul Arnold's eyes widened. "I almost hoped you would want to join me, -Harwich," he stammered happily, seeming only to need the moral support -of an experienced spaceman, to bring him out of the black mood he was -in. "Shall we go to my laboratory?" - - * * * * * - -The Arnold lab and dwelling proved to be one of the oddest that Evan -Harwich had ever seen. It was just outside the great steel-ribbed -airdrome that confined a warm, breatheable atmosphere over Ganymede -City, the small mining metropolis of a dying world. - -The Arnold lab was a group of subterranean rooms, beneath the desert. -They were reached by a private tunnel from the City, and were -hermetically sealed against leakage of air to the cold semi-vacuum of -the Ganymedean atmosphere above. - -Cellar rooms, vaults, not exactly modern but restored from some ancient -ruin; for Ganymede had had its extinct clans of quasihuman people too, -ages ago. A weird place, this was, a place of poverty, perhaps, since -all of the Arnold resources must have gone into experimentation; but a -homey sort of place, too, with its scatterings of books and quaint art -objects and pictures. - -"This is the Energy Barrage Penetrator, Harwich," Paul Arnold was -saying in husky tones, as the two men bent over a copper helix or -spiral, attached to a maze of wires, tubes, and power-packs. "I -rebuilt it here on this test-block from Dad's plans; with certain -rearrangements, of course. But we need a new Gyon condenser, if we -want to raise the Penetrator's strength enough to make our venture -successful." - -Evan Harwich nodded beneath the single illuminator bulb that glowed -here, its rays glinting from the battered, patched hull of the space -ship, RQ257, that stood in the center of the great room, under the -airtight exit doors provided for it in the ceiling. - -"So I see," Harwich commented with subdued eagerness. "Well, that's not -so bad. I can buy a new Gyon condenser from one of the supply shops -in town. I'm no scientist, fella, but they give us a pretty complete -scientific training in the patrol service. Enough so that I can see -that the Penetrator is going to do the trick, this time, with your -improvements. And I don't think it will take very long to get things -ready for a real trip to the Forbidden Moon." - -The patrol man had hardly finished speaking, when a door, somewhere, -groaned on its hinges. In the dusty silence there were footsteps, -coming nearer through the series of rooms. - -"Well, have we got company?" a voice boomed heavily after a moment. - -Evan Harwich turned about slowly. Standing in the arched entrance of -the laboratory chamber, beneath the ancient, grinning gargoyle of -carven granite that formed the keystone of the arch, were two people. -They must have just come in from town. - -One was a man, as tall as Harwich himself, but much broader. He looked -jovial, overfed, and just faintly sly. Harwich knew him a little. -He kept a small printer's establishment in Ganymede City, repaired -delicate instruments, and made loans on the side. - -"Hello, Harwich!" the big man greeted loudly. "You look surprised to -see me here! Well, I'm just as up in the air as you are, to find you -around. How come? You see I've been financing Paul Arnold's researches -since old John was killed. Has Paulie talked you into some part in the -great miracle hunt on Io, too?" - -"Hello yourself, Bayley," the patrol man returned in not too friendly -a tone. "Yes, I've joined up." - -Harwich was a little more than surprised to see the fat printer here. -He didn't like the setup at all. Not that he had anything definite -against George Bayley. The latter had always seemed good-natured and -honest, except for some elusive trace of insincerity in his manner, his -voice, and his little squinted eyes. - -Was this the kind of man for Paul Arnold to choose as a patron, -particularly when he was in pursuit of the incredibly advanced science -which must exist on Io? A science that might benefit the human race -immeasurably, or might result in wholesale destruction and confusion, -if it was wrongly and selfishly used? - -Evan Harwich couldn't have answered yes or no to this question. - - * * * * * - -There was a painful pause in the conversation. Harwich found himself -looking at the girl, who had entered with the big printer, and to whose -arms the latter clung with a kind of bearish possessiveness. She was -small and dainty. Her blonde hair, combed back tightly, fitted her head -like a cap. She was wearing a plain but tasteful black dress with a -white collar. - -"Oh, I'm sorry!" Paul Arnold exclaimed after a moment. "Clara, this is -Evan Harwich of the Patrol. Evan, this is my sister. I didn't tell you -that I had a sister, did I?" - -The girl only nodded slightly, and smiled a warm, friendly little -smile. But why did the big patrol pilot find her more attractive than -any other girl he had ever seen? Perhaps mostly it was those wistful -eyes of hers, not gold flecked like her brother's, but clouded amber. -They were mild and troubled and knowing. Maybe Clara Arnold's life, as -the daughter of a martyred scientist, had made them like that. Harwich -knew that he might conquer not only the Forbidden Moon, but the stars -themselves, and still remember those eyes. - -"Now we all know each other," Bayley boomed. "We're one big happy -family--or are we?" He looked at Harwich significantly, a definite -scowl now crinkling his heavy brows. "Harwich," he added, "we -appreciate your company a lot. Only we are engaged in some pretty -serious business here, and it doesn't allow us to take in outsiders." - -For reasons of his own, Bayley was trying to get rid of the big patrol -pilot. But Harwich was inclined to be very stubborn, naturally, and -faint, pleading looks from both Clara and Paul Arnold, made him doubly -so, just at present. - -Harwich had the aspect of a very dangerous adversary in a physical -encounter; his weathered features were far from beautiful, and at -certain times he had a way of grinning that made him look like a -good-natured devil with a hot pitchfork hid behind his back. He turned -on that grin, now. - -"What's in that package sticking out of your coat-pocket, George?" he -asked the fat printer breezily. "It's about the right size and shape -to be the new Gyon condenser we need. I was going to buy one myself; -but seeing that you've already done so, we might as well go to work -installing it in the Penetrator apparatus." - -"Well, all right, Harwich," Bayley growled with some slight show of -timidity. "As long as you're Paul's friend, I suppose you can stick -around." - -"Thanks a lot, George," Harwich chuckled, as the printer set the -package containing the precious Gyon condenser on a work table. - -The patrol pilot was almost sure he heard faint sighs of relief from -the two Arnolds, as Bayley backed down. Had they come to mistrust him -too, since he had been financing them? Did they feel more at ease -because he, Evan Harwich, whom Bayley could never bulldoze, was their -partner now too? - -The spaceman wondered, and he couldn't help wondering something -else. On Clara Arnold's left hand, there was a diamond gleaming. An -engagement ring. Bayley's? The way the latter had clung to the girl's -arm, it couldn't very well be anybody else's. Could Clara, quiet and -beautiful, ever love the boisterous, paunchy printer? - -The Arnolds were a strange family, anyway. The son was ready to -sacrifice his life in an effort to reach the Forbidden Moon, where his -father's ashes lay entombed. The daughter? Might she not be of the same -fanatical breed? Might she not be willing to marry Bayley, so that he -would supply funds for their experiments? - -For a moment, Evan Harwich felt a sharp, hurt ache, deep in his heart. -But he fought it down. All this was none of his business. And from a -heavy-glazed window slit in the ceiling of the laboratory room, a shaft -of soft light from ugly Io, the Forbidden Moon, was stabbing down, -appealing to his own adventurous nature. - -Paul had slipped on a pair of lab coveralls. He tossed another pair -to the patrol pilot. "Come on! Let's get started, Evan," he urged -pleasantly. "We've got a big job in front of us, and remember you said -we'd get through with it before long!" - - * * * * * - -True to Harwich's predictions, the rearrangement of the Energy Barrage -Penetrator for far greater power than the original had possessed, did -not take really a lot of time. - -Within forty hours after the patrol pilot's arrival at the lab, the -task of installing the Arnold apparatus in the old space ship, RQ257, -was complete. The tests of the Penetrator had been made, and judged as -successful as anyone could have hoped for. - -The space ship stood ready there in the laboratory room, a slender, -copper helix wrapped around its hull. - -"All set, eh?" George Bayley boomed jovially. "Got your emergency -supply-packs loaded aboard, too, eh? But you won't need them, boys," -he added seriously. "You've got everything in your favor. And in five -hours you'll be back here with Clara and me, at the lab with a dandy -story to tell." - -Bayley seemed honest and sincere, now. Evan Harwich almost felt -sheepish about the matter. Maybe he'd misjudged the big, bearish -printer. Anyway, he watched his every move, during the assembly and -installation of the Penetrator. - -Paul Arnold was whistling a little tune of confidence and exultation. -Harwich's pulses beat happily, his thoughts on the enigma of the -Forbidden Moon, that now must yield to the new Energy Barrage -Penetrator. Superscience there on Io! Unutterable wonders! Who could -guess beforehand what the Forbidden Moon's vast screen of force was -meant to bar from intrusion? But maybe they would soon know! - -Only Clara Arnold showed worry. There was a slight shadow in her amber -eyes, when she took Harwich's hand. - -"I suppose this is only a preliminary test flight to Io and back," she -said. "Not much dangerous exploration. But please be careful," she -pleaded. "Please be careful, Evan." - -The spaceman muttered a word of thanks. Evan. His first name. To have -Clara Arnold use it like that might have given a new meaning to life. -His heart was suddenly pounding very hard, before he remembered that -diamond on her left hand. She was promised to George Bayley. - -The girl and the printer retreated from the laboratory chamber, waving -a farewell. The space ship was sealed. The great exit doors in the -ceiling of the lab opened wide, and the air rushed out. - -In another moment the RQ257 was shooting skyward. In the night, among -the welter of stars, huge Jupiter and his many satellites shone down on -the Ganymedean deserts. The nose of the ship swung unerringly toward Io. - - * * * * * - -The RQ257, wrapped in its protecting halo of blue fire from the -Penetrator, struck the Forbidden Moon's tremendous, invisible envelope -of energy, squarely. There was a snarling sound in the ship's interior. -White sparks lanced through cold space beyond the windows of the -cabin, as two opposed forces fought each other. But the RQ257 bored on -steadily. - -"We're going to make it, Paul!" Harwich shouted through the reeking, -dinning cabin. - -"Of course we are!" young Arnold yelled back at him. "How could we -fail!" - -The two men were on the brink of success. - -Then there was an abrupt, strident, angry, snap from the vitals of -the Penetrator apparatus. Everything seemed to happen at once. The -protecting blue aura outside the ship waxed and waned perilously. And -whenever it waned, there was a grinding, crumpling sound, as of steel -plating being crushed like so much paper in a giant's grip. Heat, and -the cindery pungence of scorched metal, filled the cabin. - -Paul Arnold and Evan Harwich were frozen rigid with stunning, agonized -paralysis, as strange energy snapped into their bodies. In the jolting, -erratic motion of the wounded space ship, the two men were hurled from -their feet like a pair of stiff wooden dolls. - -Rolling and tumbling, his vision half blinded, Harwich saw the metal -walls of the cabin buckle and redden with heat, as the craft floundered -in that region of mysterious force and energy that heretofore had -destroyed every ship that had attempted to reach Io. - -There was another growl from the protecting apparatus. In a flash -of electricity, the side of the bakelite case that housed the Gyon -condenser exploded outward. At once the staggering Penetrator quit -completely. Its last shred of protecting force was gone. - -But that momentary hell had ended, too, with almost dazing suddenness. -The grinding, snapping sounds had ceased. And there was only the heat -and the stench of burnt metal, and the weightless sensation of free -fall. That and the mocking stars. - -Paul Arnold, panting, his face darkened and beaded with perspiration, -clutched a bakelite handrail in one corner. - -"We got through Io's energy barrage!" he shouted wildly. "We did that -much, at least; and for a moment, when our Penetrator went wrong, I -didn't think our luck would be even that good." - -Evan Harwich leered back at the youth, from near the now useless -apparatus that John Arnold had invented. "Yes, we got through," he -grunted hoarsely. "The energy shell must be only a couple of thousand -miles thick, with free space underneath, between it and Io itself. The -Gyon condenser kept working raggedly just long enough to get us out of -the danger zone, without being completely blown apart!" - -Harwich didn't have to test the controls of the ship to know that they -were useless, now. The rockets were silent too. The RQ257 was falling -free toward the Forbidden Moon, still a couple of thousand miles -beneath. - -"But dammit, Evan!" young Arnold growled. "The Gyon condenser -shouldn't have quit on us at all! Those things are tested for heavy -loads of power!" - -The patrol pilot was well aware of that. Clinging to the base of the -Penetrator, he was close enough to see detail. The lights in the cabin -had gone out, but the ugly effulgence of Io was streaming through the -windows. - -Projecting from the shattered bakelite box of the Gyon condenser, were -two slender, bent wires that should have been joined together. It had -been one wire once, but it had snapped in the middle. - -The ends were faintly scorched and blued; but there was something else, -too. They were bevelled off curiously, as if they had been notched. - -"Cut with a file!" Harwich fairly snarled. "The wire was cut with a -file. Then the insulation was rewrapped carefully so that all the -evidence was hidden!" - -The cause of the accident was plain. The wire had been able to carry -the load of power easily enough during the tests; but under the -additional load of fighting the Ionian hell-zone, it had burned through -and snapped! - -"Bayley!" Paul Arnold whispered in the ominous stillness that now -pervaded the plummeting derelict of the RQ257. "He brought the -condenser, you remember! Evan, I know you were careful to watch -everything he did during the assembly and tests in the lab itself. He -must have had the Gyon condenser at his apartment before he brought it -to us. He must have doctored it there! He was planning even then to get -rid of me! And when he found you around, he decided that he wouldn't -weep if he got rid of you too!" - -"But why?" Harwich growled in momentary confusion. "Why should Bayley -want to get rid of you?" - - * * * * * - -It was almost a silly question, as Harwich realized at once; but now -Paul was answering it. - -"It's simple," said the youth. "Bayley financed me after Dad was -killed--yes. He watched my experiments and tests and studied my -apparatus. He has a pretty keen mind. With me out of the way, no one -but himself will know just how the Penetrator works! He can fix up -another ship and come to Io himself without any competition! Anything -he learns or discovers on the Forbidden Moon will be his alone! Or so -he thinks, anyway." - -It was too clear now! Evan Harwich knew that he and the boy were -tumbling helplessly into the maw of hell now. In a useless, derelict -ship they were falling toward the Forbidden Moon! They were already -within the gates of unholy mystery! Death seemed very close. Yet the -cold anger that hissed in the patrol pilot's brain, made him determined -to live, somehow, for revenge! - -"We'll be smashed if we stay in the ship, Paul," he said fiercely. "So -we've got to jump for it with our safety equipment." - -Quickly and more smoothly than did the youth, for he was well-trained, -Harwich got into his space armor. Next he donned two massive packs, one -on his chest and one on his back. - -The exit door of the cabin was jammed, but with his pistol the patrol -pilot fired an explosive bullet into its hinges. - -A second afterward, Arnold and Harwich crept through the rent, while -escaping air puffed out around them. They leaped into the emptiness -almost together. With the heat-warped wreck of the gallant old RQ257 -falling beside them, they continued their plummeting descent. There -were still almost a thousand miles to go, for the distance between -Io itself, and the gigantic energy envelope that surrounded it, was -perhaps three thousand miles. - -Down and down, with only regulation spacemen's emergency equipment to -rely on to avert being crushed on those greyish hills and deserts, -rushing nearer and nearer. Even a thousand miles did not take many -moments at that terrific speed. - -The Forbidden Moon was like a sullen, silent nether world, with an -atmosphere so rare that an unprotected human being would gasp and die -in it in a few minutes! Even a man in a space suit could not hope to -survive that desolation for long! Io seemed like a Pit now to Evan -Harwich, an Abyss of Hell from which there was no escape! A place where -no Earth being was meant to venture! - -This moment was too grim to think of thrills. Helplessness removed that -intriguing glamor utterly. And there was only savage determination -left. That and smoldering hate of the man who had caused misfortune! - -Presently, through the thin metal of his oxygen helmet, Harwich heard -a soft, hissing, whistling sound. Gradually it grew stronger. The -patrol pilot knew what it was, of course. He had entered the intensely -thin upper atmosphere of Io, and the hissing was made by his own space -armored body passing through those tenuous gases at fearful velocity. - -The sound served as a signal for action. Again, though the situation -was new to him, Harwich's training made his responses accurate. With -a gauntletted hand, he groped for the metal ring on the pack that -bulged from his chest. It was ancient history when he jerked that ring, -but sometimes, in emergency landings like this, on worlds that had a -blanket of air, however slight, it was still useful. In another second -the patrol pilot was dangling beneath a gigantic mushroom of metal -fabric. He felt the firm tug of the shrouds. Deceleration. - -He wondered vaguely why the fragile parachute did not tear apart in the -terrific speed of his fall. But it was the utter thinness of the air, -of course, here in the upper layer. Its resistance was so very slight. -So there was time for velocity to be checked gradually, as the air grew -denser, and its retarding effect greater with lowered altitude. - -Paul Arnold had opened his chute too. Its vast top, a hundred feet in -diameter, gleamed dully in the faint sunshine. - -In a great plume of dust far below, the derelict space ship crashed. -Fire flew as the force of the impact generated heat. But the wreckage -was out of sight, and there was only a pit smoldering on a bleak, dusty -hillside. The RQ257 was buried deep. - - * * * * * - -Harwich and Paul Arnold landed several miles away from the grave of the -ruined ship; for they had drifted with the thin, dry, frigid wind. - -Their booted feet spanged painfully against the sand and broken rock, -and they crumpled to their knees; for even in the feeble gravity of Io -the impact had been heavy. - -Harwich snapped on his helmet radio-phone. Young Arnold's voice was -already audible in it, faint and thready and sarcastic. - -"Well, here we are, Evan," he was saying. "The first Earthmen to set -foot alive on the Enchanted World! I guess I got part of what I wanted -anyway, didn't I? But with what equipment we've got to keep alive with, -we might just as well be buried with the RQ257! Funny I'm not scared. I -guess I don't realize...." - -His bitterly humorous tone faded away in vague awe. - -Still lying prone the two men, looked around them, at the hellish, -utterly desolate scene. The hills brooded there under the blue-black -sky and tenuous, heatless sunshine. A rock loomed up from a heap of -sand. It was a weathered monolith with weird carvings on it, resembling -closely those left by the extinct peoples of Ganymede, that other, now -colonized moon of Jupiter. A curious pulpy shrub, ugly and weird, grew -beside the monolith. A scanty breath of breeze stirred up a little -ripple of dust. - -That and the stillness. The stillness of a tomb. Harwich could hear -the muted rustle of the pulses in his head. Everything here seemed to -emphasize the plain facts. The Forbidden Moon was a trap to them now. -A pit from which they could expect no rescue. An abyss that was worse -than the worst dungeon--worse than being literally buried alive! - -It was like the end of things. Was this the kind of slow, creeping, -maddening death that George Bayley, the treacherous printer, had -planned for them? - -Again fury steadied Evan Harwich's determination. Grimly he struggled -to steady his nerves. - -"Listen, Paul," he said quietly into his phones. "We mustn't ever let -ourselves think we're licked! That's sure poison! The stuff we've -got in our emergency packs will enable us to keep living for a while -anyhow. We know Bayley'll come to Io sometime, with a ship fitted out -with a new Penetrator. We know he'll be looking for the secret of the -force aura of the Forbidden Moon, and whatever else there is to find. -Maybe we can get ahead of him yet, if we keep on the move. Which way do -you suppose would be best to go?" - -Harwich asked this question because Paul Arnold, in his more academic -study of Io, should know more about its terrain than he. - -"You know the Tower?" Paul Arnold questioned. "The queer pinnacle, or -ruin, or building, near the equator, on what is known as the Western -Hemisphere? You must have seen it often when you were on patrol." - -Harwich nodded. He remembered very well. Only a hundred hours ago, -still on duty as a patrol pilot, he'd seen that pointed mystery from -the void, vague dusty movement around its base. - -"It was my Dad's guess that whatever miracles are to be discovered -on Io, they will probably be located around the Tower," Paul Arnold -answered. "But I was careful to notice our position when we landed. -We're far north of the Tower now--a good fifteen hundred miles. A nice, -long walk--especially when the normal air of the Forbidden Moon is too -thin to be breatheable." - -"Stop that pessimist stuff, and let's get started!" Harwich snapped. -"We'll have to live very primitively, of course, but who knows what -will turn up?" - -They discarded their parachutes and started out, plodding southward, -carrying their heavy packs. As if to save their energy, they did not -speak much. - -The hills rolled past, under their plodding feet. More fragmentary -ruins appeared, and were left behind. Their boots sank into soft dust, -as they marched on and on. At first their muscles were fresh, but -tiredness came at last. And the miles which lay ahead were all but -undiminished. - -The tiny sun sank into the west and the cold increased. Night was -coming. - -"We'd better camp," young Arnold suggested wearily. - -So they opened their packs, and took out the carefully folded sections -of airtight fabric that composed their tent. It was part of the usual -equipment kept for emergency purposes by those in danger of being -stranded on dead or almost dead worlds. The tent could be hermetically -sealed. Harwich and Arnold set it up carefully and crept inside. Air -was freed from their oxygen flask, and the queer shelter ballooned out -like a bubble. - -They could remove their space suits now, and breathe, here in the -tent. They ate sparingly from their concentrated rations. Meanwhile -a little pump and separator unit, driven by a tiny atomic motor, was -busy compressing the thin Ionian air, separating out the excess of -carbon-dioxide and nitrogen it contained, and forcing the oxygen into -the depleted air flasks. - -Once in the darkness Paul and Evan were awakened by a strange sound, -eerie in that dead quiet, and very faint because the scant Ionian -atmosphere could not conduct it well. But when they crept to the -flexoglass window of the tent, they saw nothing unusual. - -"I guess we're getting jumpy," Paul whispered nervously, his breath -steaming in the cold, frosty air that filled the shelter. - -"It looks that way," Evan Harwich returned reassuringly. - -But after the boy was asleep again, he crept back to the frosted window -to watch. He knew that there had to be something mighty on Io. The -shell of force that surrounded the evil moon couldn't exist all alone. -There had to be more. Something that lay back of it, went with it. -Something that could easily be very dangerous. - -Jupiter, so near to Io, was a gigantic threatening mass in the heavens. -But its light was deceptive. There were so many dense shadows. - -Did he see some of the stars near the horizon wink out suddenly, and -then appear again, as though something big and nameless and sinister -had momentarily blocked their light and then passed on? He could not be -sure, and nothing further happened. To save his companion unnecessary -concern, when nothing could be done about the threatening danger -anyway, he decided to keep the incident to himself. - - * * * * * - -Long before the dawn they were once more on the march. How many hours -was the Ionian day? Something over forty. It didn't matter much. - -When the daylight finally came, they had slept again, this time in -their space suits, without bothering to set up the tent. Rising to his -feet, Paul Arnold pointed suddenly. - -"Look! An ancient road!" he shouted. - -It was true. The highway ran there between the hills. A stone ribbon, -covered here and there with drifted sand, which showed that there was -no traffic of any sort now. The ruins along it looked a little less -battered than those which the two men had previously seen, and there -were vast lumps of corroded metal, too. Machinery in a former age. - -"The road goes our way," Harwich commented. "We'll follow it." - -Hours later, Paul Arnold offered an opinion. "Part of the mystery of Io -is clearing up, Evan," he said. "The ruins around here. They're almost -identical in architecture to the ruins of Ganymede and the other Jovian -satellites. The evidence looks plain. There must have been a single -great civilization once, extending over all the moons of Jupiter." - -Harwich, thinking of, and hating George Bayley for his diabolical -treachery, was only half listening. - -"Yes?" he questioned. - -"Yes," the boy answered. "And look at those dry ditches, and the big, -rusty pumps! The valley here must have been rich, irrigated farmland, -once!" - -They were going across a huge bridge, now, made of porcelain blocks. -It was a magnificent structure, magnificently designed according to -intricate principles of engineering. - -"What I can't understand is why all this country became deserted," -Paul offered. "You'd think that people who could build things like -this would never die out! They could conquer any difficulty that might -come up, it would almost seem. Even if their world got old and worn -out. After all, even Earthmen can make almost dead worlds artificially -habitable again with airdromes, and with imported atmosphere and water." - -This was another mystery. But it touched Evan Harwich's thoughts only -faintly. Nor did he care very much when later Paul pointed out to him -rich deposits of ore--outcroppings along the road. He'd seen them -himself, and the tunnel mouths, too, of ancient mine workings. There -were many fortunes to be won here, in costly metals, just as on the -other Jovian satellites. But how could this be important, now, with -death dogging their tracks, and so many other things more important, -to be concerned with? - -Evan Harwich reserved his determination for what he knew was coming. -The slow wearing down of stamina. Water he and Paul had a little of. -And more could be reclaimed from the thin, dry atmosphere. It collected -in the bottoms of oxygen bottles, when they were pumped full, condensed -by compression. A few precious drops. You could drink it out after each -bottle was emptied of air. Just about enough water to sustain life. - -In the matter of food, you had to ration yourself so stringently -that you caught yourself looking with longing eyes at the few, -weird, bulbous shrubs and the scattered lichens, which were the only -vegetation on this dying world. Only you knew that these arid growths -would never be good to eat. - -Those long Ionian days passed. One after another. Five, ten, fifteen. -Harwich knew he was losing strength slowly. The inevitable was catching -up with him. But those hard years in the Interplanetary Patrol Service, -and the rigid physical discipline, had made him as tough as steel wire. - -With the boy, Paul Arnold, it was not the same. He was very young, and -not too robust. And he was slipping fast. - -"What's the matter with me, Evan?" he would grumble. "All this desert -isn't real, is it? We're not on the Forbidden Moon, are we? I'm -dreaming." - -"You're just tired out, that's all, fella," Harwich would answer in a -tone that he would try to make reassuring. He would put an arm around -the kid's shoulders, to support his faltering steps. - -Big brother stuff.... Paul had plenty of pluck, all right, but there -wasn't much else left in him. He was wearing out, mile by mile, -staggering under his heavy pack. - - * * * * * - -Every resource was reaching its limit, now. Food supplies had dwindled -away to nothing, at last. The little atomic motor that worked the air -compressor and separator unit, was breaking down. It could hardly pump -enough oxygen into the air flasks any more. - -But there was nothing to do but keep on the march, anyway, in spite -of handicaps. Evan Harwich felt as though he was going slowly mad. -Brooding thoughts came into his mind constantly. - -Clara Arnold. Where was she now? What had happened back there on -Ganymede? What had George Bayley done? When would he come to Io, with -the ship he would surely fit out with a new Penetrator? - -What was Clara thinking? What if she knew her brother was alive on the -Forbidden Moon, but slowly dying? What if Bayley told her that maybe -Paul was still alive, adding that he himself was the only person that -might be able to effect a rescue? What if he had finally used this -means, this possibility, to make Clara marry him? She didn't love -Bayley, the fat printer! She couldn't! And he wouldn't even have to -promise to attempt a rescue--only suggest that he might try. Clara must -be half crazy herself, thinking of her brother. After all she'd lost -her father to the Forbidden Moon too. - -The thought of demure Clara Arnold in the arms of that bulky, -squint-eyed printer, who had shown his true colors at last, and -proved his diabolical cleverness, fairly strangled Harwich. Maybe he -had no right to harbor such an attitude. After all he hardly knew -Clara. He only knew her haunting beauty and friendly amber eyes, with -quiet wisdom and a little of the martyr in them--like her father, -perhaps. But Harwich couldn't help thinking. It was only by exercising -super-human self-control, that he kept himself from turning into a -raving maniac. - -Supporting Paul Arnold's feeble, struggling steps, Harwich watched -the sky like a starved, wounded wolf. Sometimes, in sheer, wild -determination, he longed to claw at that cold, forbidding firmament, -and climb out of that hell-pit of a world into which he had fallen. -He yearned with a savagery beyond words to claw his way up there into -space, to wherever George Bayley might be, and feel the fat throat of -the man who had tampered with the Gyon condenser aboard the RQ257, -squeezed between his hooked fingers. - -But the frigid sky and the bleak, dying hills, and the weary miles, -mocked all his hate-born desires. His numbed, aching feet could only -plod on and on in this grave-like desert. Ruins, rusted machinery, -silence, and cold that crept even through the heavy insulation of his -space armor. - -Still, he could remember another thing. In the far distance to the -south, was something wonderful and strange. Something that made the -deadly and insidious energy barrier of the Forbidden Moon possible. -Where the Tower loomed on the astronomical photographs of Io. - -That night came at last when a streak of silver fire traced its way -across the sky. It couldn't be anything but the flames ejected from the -rockets of an approaching space ship. - -Paul Arnold saw it too, turning his haggard face upward. "There he is, -Evan," he croaked into his helmet phones. "Bayley's coming at last." - -"I see," Harwich returned softly; his teeth gritted and his lips -curling furiously, behind the transparent front of his space headgear. - -They dropped down beside the wall of a ruin, to watch. The ship was -coming straight in, toward Io. At its tremendous altitude, nothing but -its rocket blasts could be seen at first. But then there was a sudden -flare of bluish light. It had struck Io's force barrier, and that blue -glow was the evidence of a Penetrator, functioning. The craft seemed to -slow a little, as its pale, protecting shell of counter-energy fought -back that invisible, guardian screen of the devil moon. - -"He got through the force shield," Harwich growled after a moment. "We -knew he would, of course, with his Penetrator operating right. Damn -him!" - -There was no more blue fire visible now; but the little silver-tailed -path of rocket flame, showed that the ship was coming in safe and -sound, its propelling jets working steadily. - -Among the stars it turned southward toward that deepest enigma of Io. -Toward the unknown scientific wisdom, which lay hidden somewhere near -the Ionian equator. - -"He'll get there in a few minutes' time," Paul whispered. "And I guess -we won't get there at all. I'm sorry, Evan, that I got you mixed up -with the Forbidden Moon. Me--I'm just about finished--now." - - * * * * * - -Paul Arnold's voice trailed away. Harwich turned the boy's -glass-covered face up. In the light of monster Jupiter, he could see -that it was blank and relaxed. The eyes were closed. In the quiet rays -of the giant of planets, the youth looked as though death had already -touched him. But there was a little frosty blur on the inside of the -crystalline face-plate of his helmet. It showed that he still breathed. - -Tottering a little himself, Harwich picked the boy up, pack and all. He -struggled to put one foot ahead of the other, marching again toward the -south, where the space ship was rapidly receding. Had his strength been -at normal level, his load, bulky though it was, would have been light -in this weak gravity. But Harwich was near the end of his rope, too. -And so he moved on through that beautiful shadow-haunted, frigid night, -where no man was meant to live. - -Many times he had to stop and rest. After a short while, the atomic -motor of the air compressor separator unit refused to work any more. -Harwich tried turning the mechanism by hand. But this was slow, -exhausting work. - -He watched the luminous dial of the cold-proof wrist-watch, strapped on -the outside of one of his heavy space gantlets. His mind was getting -dimmer. Cold was biting home, savagely. Harwich wanted to see just how -much longer he could keep going. It was eight hours now, since Bayley's -ship had appeared. Slowly more time crept by. His boots trudged in the -desert dust, mechanically. The hands of his watch moved on. One hour -more. Another. - -Why didn't he desert the dead weight of Paul Arnold? But you never -deserted somebody who was like a kid brother, did you? - -The patrol pilot's breath was coming fast and short, now. The last -of his air was being used up. It was useless to try to replenish the -oxygen flasks with hand power, even though he was suffocating. - -Harwich tripped in the dust, and fell sprawling. Jupiter, shining down -upon him, somehow looked like a fat face, tremendously bloated in -size--the face of George Bayley. Harwich cursed, and tried to crawl -toward the south. - -Did he hear a sound through his oxygen helmet--a sound loud enough for -the tenuous Ionian atmosphere to transmit? Or was it only the roaring -of the unsteady pulses in his ears? He tried to look ahead, but his -vision was very dim, now, and the light of Jupiter and his moons was so -confusing. The shadows of the rocks and the ruined buildings were so -very black. - -But suddenly Harwich squinted. Something _was_ moving toward him, -skimming low over the ground, but not touching it. Something -that glinted wickedly, and showed long, shadowy arms. It was no -hallucination. Evan Harwich was sure of that! Fear came out of that -numb fog into which his brain was settling. It gave him a last, feeble -spurt of strength. He knew that here he must be facing a tiny part of -Io's colossal riddle. - -He tried to crawl away from nameless danger, dragging Paul Arnold with -him. He got behind a mass of million-year-old masonry, tufted with -prickly plants. - -But the thing that pursued him, easily overcame his weak, instinctive -effort to find concealment. Cold metal claws closed on him. He felt -himself lifted upward, into the night. His mind toppled away into black -nothingness. - - * * * * * - -Somehow, it wasn't the end of life. Harwich began to regain his senses, -slowly. First he heard a distant, muffled clanging. For a long time -before he paid any real attention to the fact, he was aware that -strange warm rays were pouring down upon his body. They seemed to heal -and soothe his aching muscles. - -He opened his eyes at last. Startled, he sat up. Around him was the -warm glitter of glass and metal. His space suit was gone. He was in a -crystalline cage, filled with warm, humid air. Odd gadgets, like ray -lamps used in therapy, were fitted to the ceiling. Strange, tropical -vegetation grew in the cage, and water tinkled somewhere. - -There was a kind of soothing quiet over the place, except for that -distant clanging. There was a smoothness to everything; a mood of -mechanical refinement and perfection. It was almost hypnotic, somehow. -It dazed and quieted the senses. - -Paul Arnold, clad in the slacks and shirt he'd worn under his space -armor, was lying on the floor beside Harwich. He was still unconscious, -but he was breathing evenly. His color was much better than before. The -rays from the roof above were slowly healing his weakened body. - -Evan Harwich shook the boy gently. "Wake up, Paul!" he urged. "This -must be it! The center of Power! The place we wanted to find! Some kind -of machine brought us!" - -Paul Arnold rubbed his eyes and sat up. Together, Harwich and the boy -looked around through the crystal walls of the cage in which they were -confined. - -"There--there's the Tower!" young Arnold stammered at last, pointing. - -It glittered in the faint morning sunshine. It was undoubtedly the same -huge pinnacle that astronomers had photographed from the other moons -of Jupiter. Only it was close, now, its details sharp and clear and -real. Around its slender, tapered spire, thousands of feet aloft, the -faintest of frosty aureoles clung; a ghostly light, like the sundogs of -Earthly winter days. - -"The Tower must be the source of the Ionian force envelope, Evan!" Paul -Arnold offered after a moment. "That light up there at its top almost -proves it." - -Both men were talking vaguely, thinking vaguely, looking around -vaguely. In part this must have been because of sheer wonder. Places -like the Spacemen's Haven on Ganymede seemed as far away as a dream now. - -An incomprehensible sense of depression was creeping over Evan Harwich, -as he studied his surroundings further. There were many other cages in -view, arranged in blocks, with paved alleyways between. Vegetation was -thick in the evidently air-conditioned habitations. Little pools of -water glistened in them daintily, strange paradox on dying Io. - -And there were creatures, too. Scores of them in each cage. Strange, -fragile, sluglike animals crept about aimlessly. They looked just -faintly human, with their pinkish skins and manlike heads. But there -was no slight shadow of intelligence in those great, sad, stupid eyes. - -Harwich wasn't squeamish, but he looked at these futile animals with a -certain pitying revulsion. "What kind of a nursery place have we got -ourselves into, Paul?" he grumbled quizzically. - -Arnold shrugged. "They're something like men, these things, aren't -they?" he offered in puzzlement. "Maybe that's another unknown -quantity to figure out. But this place is plenty wonderful, though. -Look!" - -The youth was pointing upward. Against the cold Ionian sky a flattened -object was circling at low altitude. A flying machine without wings, it -seemed to be. From it dangled strange webby metal arms, as it moved in -a circular path, above the surrounding desert hills. It seemed to keep -watch over those thousands of crystal cages in the valley. It must be a -guardian of some sort. - -"I'm not at all sure I like it here," Harwich growled. "We were fixed -up, revived, made new men again, so to speak; but still I don't like it -here." - -"Somehow I've got the same idea," Paul Arnold agreed with a quizzical -smile. - -A little clinking noise behind the two men made them turn about. After -that, awe kept them spellbound. They didn't speak. What was there to -say? They didn't try to retreat, either. What was the use? If what -they saw was danger, they could do nothing to avert it. Hypnotized -with wonder, they only stared, feeling as helpless as the larvae in an -ant-hill, tended and cared for by the workers. - - * * * * * - -A section of the cage-bottom had raised, like a trapdoor. A bulk was -creeping through the opening. It was a machine, so marvelous, so -refined in its functioning, that it seemed far more than alive. It was -flat, like a small tractor; but there were no treads for it to move -on. It seemed, rather, to glide on a cushioning, grayish mist. The -thing purred softly, like a great cat, and tiny lights twinkled in -crystalline parts of it--batteries to deliver fearful atomic or cosmic -power, perhaps. The mechanism had many flexible tentacular arms of -metal that glinted with a lavendar luster. - -But even the substance of those arms, the metal itself, looked -indefinite and eye-hurting at the edges, as though it was partly -fourth-dimensional, or something. - -Both men grasped the truth. Here was that million-year advancement of -science that they'd talked about with such thrilled fascination, in the -stuffy bar of the Spacemen's Haven, back in Ganymede City. But Ganymede -City, with all its human crudeness and inefficiency, seemed like a -lost, happy legend, now, to Arnold and Harwich. Far, far away, and -dim. For here was dread wonder to eclipse it. Futurian fact! Physical -principles of such a miraculous order that mankind had scarcely dreamed -of their outer fringes yet, were functioning here. - -The flat machine advanced. But it was only instinct working, when the -two men crouched away from it a little. It was useless to fight; it was -useless to run. - -"Get away, you!" Paul Arnold grumbled dully to the mechanism. "Beat it! -Scram." - -And Harwich was reacting in a similar manner. "What the hell!" he -stammered. "What are you trying to do with us." - -It was almost funny--the ineffectual, confused protest of those two -men. They were like children too lost in their new environment to know -what was dangerous and what was not. - -Misty, lavender tentacles reached out and grasped them carefully. They -were lifted from the floor of the cage like babes. Once Harwich's great -freckled arms tautened, as though he was going to battle the monstrous -miracle that held him. But futility checked the urge. Where was there -anything to win by struggling, now? And how could a mere man win -anyway, against soft-moving mechanical power, that should belong to the -far future? Oddly the tentacles were warm and tingling, not cold like -you'd think metal should be. - -And so Arnold and Harwich submitted to a paternal, mechanical -dominance, regretfully, because there was nothing else to do. It hurt -their sense of freedom, but where was there any alternative? - -Still floating a little off the tile pavement of the cage, the machine -carried the two men easily to the opening in the floor, and glided down -into a crystal-roofed tunnel. There it began to accelerate swiftly, -flying with bullet-like speed, a foot or so above the glass bottom of -the passage. - -The tunnel's roof was transparent as air. Through it, Harwich and -Arnold could see that they were nearing the Tower rapidly. After only a -moment of whizzing, breath-taking flight, they had arrived within that -great, enigmatic edifice, for the passage entered its base. - -There, in an eerie half-twilight, the flat little machine released the -two humans whom it had brought here, to the Tower. - -Mute with an even greater wonder than before, Harwich and Arnold stared -around them. The room was gigantic, soaring up in a huge, metal-ribbed -dome. Scores of crystal-walled passages led into this colossal chamber -of secrets. The whole immense Tower building was transparent, except -that some darkening pigment had been added to the material that -composed it, 'till it was like bluish glass. Through it the desolate -surrounding hills of Io could be seen, and the cages, filled with those -aimless, pathetic, sluglike creatures. - -But the attention of the two men was drawn inevitably to the center -of the room. Rearing up there, under the rotunda of the dome, was a -massive, lavender-sheened pyramid. It gave a steady, throbbing sound, -as of countless tiny wheels and shafts whirling inside it, working cams -and rods, and who knew what else? - -"Dammit!" Evan Harwich kept muttering under his breath in dim -confusion. "Dammit." - -He was used to machinery, yes. He was used to the roar of rockets, -and to the delicate instruments used in space flight. But this was -machinery of a far higher order. That busy, vibrating pyramid, -squatting there like some huge idol, somehow seemed to possess a -definite personality of its own! - -Suddenly Paul Arnold clutched the patrol pilot's arm. "I wonder if I -believe what I see!" he whispered tensely. "Look!" - -Harwich's gaze followed the lines of the boy's pointing finger to -something quite near--so near, and seemingly so insignificant in this -vast, somber, throbbing interior, that he had not noticed before. - -Just at the base of the pyramid there was an artistic little structure, -consisting of four slender pillars and a roof. It looked like a small, -ornamental kiosk or arbor, so artfully were the scientific details of -it--the coils in its top, and the delicate filaments that pronged from -them--concealed in the decorative metal scroll-work. - -Within the pillared structure, somehow, there stood a man--an Earthman. -His heavy body was clad now in a rocketeer's leather coverall. At his -waist dangled a heat pistol, and on his fat face there was a strange, -wild sort of smirk. - -"Howdy, boys!" he greeted. "Yes, it's me--George Bayley, the guy who -used to keep a print shop in Ganymede City! I've been here longer -than you have, and I've been able to find out more. Pretty nice, huh? -The people of Io had science perfected before they became extinct. -Everything was done by machines, even investing. Not a bit of work to -do any more. And if they wanted anything special, they just came into -this little coop, here, and wished." - - * * * * * - -Bayley paused, still smirking. His loud voice had seemed distant in -that great room, and vibrant with awe. Harwich and Arnold stared at him -for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, or what to believe. - -And what was that which had just spilled from his lips, as though he -had been a little afraid of the statement himself? About perfected -science, and wishing? - -"You're crazy!" Evan Harwich stormed fiercely. "You're a liar!" - -But his furious tone was tremulous with doubt, even as he spoke. He -knew at once that he'd just grabbed onto these words, and uttered them, -maybe because, somehow, he hated Bayley, and wanted to contradict his -seemingly impossible claims. But in this temple of un-Earthly marvels, -one's whole standard of judgment was upset. Possible and impossible -became meaningless terms here, at the foot of this great, whirring -pyramid, which seemed a symbol of omnipotence. - -"Crazy?" Bayley questioned. "No, Harwich, you can't say that, when -you're all tangled up and fuddled yourself! What I said about wishing -is true. Telepathic control of machines, it must be. This place is so -damned wonderful that it would turn Aladdin of the Wonderful Lamp green -with envy! And it would drive the Genie of the Lamp down into his shoes -in shame!" - -Harwich's doubts, if they had been doubts, and not just confusions, -began to dim a trifle. After all, one of the big objectives of the -science of Earthmen, was to make life easier; to transfer as much of -the burden of work as possible to machines. Why couldn't the same -objective have been conceived here on the Forbidden Moon? Not only -conceived, but accomplished? Io was an old world; life had begun here -sooner than on Earth, and science, too! So there had been more time for -advancement. - -"All right, Bayley," Harwich growled grudgingly. "Tell us what you've -discovered." - -"Yes, for Pete sake, tell us!" Paul Arnold joined in. - -It was odd, the way they were asking the fat printer for information, -now, when they should be hating him for the wrongs he had done them. -But, perhaps, the human mind can hold only so much at one time. For -the moment there was room only for dazed awe and questioning in their -thoughts, and hatred was temporarily pushed into the background. The -equal of Aladdin's miracles did not seem so far from possibility, here! - -"Okay!" George Bayley rumbled. "Glad to spill the beans; what I know -of them. I arrived here in my space ship about fourteen hours ago, -when it was still dark. The Tower building here looked by far the most -important, so I came straight to it. There were machines flying about, -but they paid no attention to me at all, so I wasn't worried much about -what they might do to me. - -"Leaving my ship on the other side of the Tower, I got into this room -through a tunnel. I was wearing a space armor, of course. I passed -through a kind of airlock. This chamber was just like you see it now, -except that lights were burning, because it was night." - -"And then?" Paul Arnold questioned eagerly. - -"Exploring, I climbed into this little metal coop, here at the foot of -the pyramid," Bayley went on. "By then I was pretty flabbergasted with -all I'd seen. I began to think I needed a drink of something strong. -Yep, it must have been telepathy! Because presto--one of those flat -flying machines with the tentacles, whizzed up to me from a tunnel -exit. It was carrying a kind of crystal carafe. - -"Boy, I didn't know what to think! I didn't know whether I ought to -taste the stuff in that carafe, at first. But finally I did. It was -damned good. Not alcoholic, but something a whole lot better." - -Harwich and Arnold looked at each other, as Bayley paused, as if to get -his breath. They looked up at the pyramid, throbbing above them, like -some great, cryptic, servant personality. The feeling that Bayley was -telling the truth, was growing on them. - -"Naturally you tried other things, after the carafe was brought to you, -Bayley," Paul Arnold prompted. "You wanted to see how much further this -expression of desires by telepathy might be carried. You wanted to see -how much more you could use the ancient Ionian science." - -Bayley, still standing in that little metal-pillared structure, nodded -slowly. "You catch on quick, Arnold," he said. "First I wished for -gold, since it was the first thing I thought of. The sounds inside the -pyramid changed a little, as though an order was going out somehow, -maybe by radio. Five minutes later a whole bunch of those flying -machines came into the Tower here, carrying bars of gold in their -tentacles. There it is." - -The printer was pointing toward a dully gleaming heap of yellow ingots -near the farther wall of the chamber. - -"But this, I soon found out, was just kid stuff!" Bayley continued. "I -suppose if I'd thought of radium here in this wishing coop, I would -have got a couple of tons of that, too! But I wished for a space -ship--something special, beyond anything an Earthman ever saw before! -Well, the pyramid buzzed a little longer and stranger this time, as -though it was sort of thinking and planning, and as though the wheels -inside it were maybe inventing, too. Then, somewhere far off, there was -a lot of pounding for about an hour. I guess you know the answer, boys. -There she is--the sweetest little super-futuristic space flier you ever -saw!" - -Harwich and Arnold stared at the torpedo-like ship that rested in a -cradle-like support nearby. It was completely without rocket-tubes, -or other visible means of propulsion. But its rakish lines and wicked -lavender glitter made it look as though it might well reach the distant -stars themselves. - - * * * * * - -Evan Harwich bit his lip tensely. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Did -you see any Ionians since you've been here, Bayley?" he asked. "Any -living, intelligent beings who might question your right to be prowling -around?" - -Bayley laughed. "Not one!" he returned. "They're extinct, I'm sure of -it! And that's lucky for me." - -The patrol pilot was beginning to put the pieces of the Forbidden -Moon's riddle together at last. And Paul Harwich must have been doing -the same. The evidence, as far as it went, was clear. - -Perfected science! The fat printer had told them that all you had to do -was think your wishes in that queer little pillared structure. And the -machines translated your wishes into fact. Unless Bayley had lied, and -there was small reason to suppose that he had, the rest was maybe not -so difficult to understand. - -First, the great envelope of force around Io. That was to keep -possibly dangerous intruders away, of course. Thus, the ancient -Ionians had lived in carefree idleness and luxury, tended by their -perfected machines. The thing in the pyramid must be the master servant -mechanism, reachable in that pillared kiosk, by telepathy. It must be -the coordinator, in contact with the other mechanisms by radio, or -something. Adding and calculating machines, way back in the Twentieth -Century, had thought and reasoned, after a fashion. More recently, on -Earth, apparati of a similar nature had done far more, working out -intricate mathematical problems, far more swiftly and accurately than -any human being could. - -And the apparatus within the pyramid must be much the same thing, but -developed to the nth degree! A vast planning, calculating device that -could reason and invent with a swiftness and perfection far beyond any -living mind. But it was still just mechanical; a servant apparatus that -thought by the turning of the wheels and the movement of levers inside -it with no more consciousness than an adding machine of the Twentieth -Century! - -This was the way Harwich figured it all out. And he saw something else, -too. - -"Uh-uh, Bayley," he remarked suddenly. "Soon after that new space flier -was brought here at your command, you decided that you were complete -boss around here, didn't you? There were no ancient Ionians in your -way. All you had to do was wish, inside that telepathy kiosk, and it -was just like Aladdin wishing with his lamp, eh?" - -For the first time, cold, comprehending anger had come into the patrol -pilot's tone. - -"Why sure--sure!" Bayley growled back at him. "And why not? Just about -anything I can think of is possible! And, let me tell you something -else, you poor dope! You and Arnold wouldn't be alive now, if I hadn't -wished it! I thought you might have gotten through the Ionian force -shield somehow, when the RQ257 cracked up. I thought you might be -somewhere out there on the desert still living. So I just wished that -the machines go and get you, and revive you if you needed it. I thought -maybe it might be fun." - -It was enough. Cold anger reborn in Evan Harwich's breast was suddenly -rekindled into blazing fury by the memory of the RQ257, and a wire -filed almost through in a Gyon condenser. Evan Harwich's muscles -tightened. Wordlessly he was about to leap at George Bayley. - -But a warm metal tentacle whipped suddenly about his waist. The flat -mechanism that had brought him and Arnold to the Tower, had seized him. -Again, he was helpless. - -"You see?" Bayley drawled. "I really am boss, here, just as you said. -I just wished that you be restrained, and you are! But I've been doing -too much talking and explaining. How about a little showing for a -change, huh?" - -"Damn you, Bayley!" Harwich growled, but the fat printer ignored the -curse. - -He only grimaced crookedly. "Let's make a couple more wishes," he -taunted. "A couple of really good ones! How about a whole fleet of -space ships, for instance? The biggest, most powerful fleet in the -solar system! All automatic craft, capable of flying and maneuvering -unmanned! Then, let's see, the other wish? It's not so difficult -either. Both you and Arnold are my deadly enemies, Harwich. I think it -would be fun to make my enemies squirm a little. I'd like to see you -crack up, Harwich! You've always been so tough! So how about some kind -of a discomfort device? Something really special? In short, a torture -instrument! Come on, pretty machines! Do your stuff!" - -Paul Arnold's face turned pale, but he bit his lip courageously. Evan -Harwich studied the strange, wild light in the fat printer's squinted -eyes, and waited for whatever would happen. - -There was a crescendoing whir within that huge pyramidal coordinator. -The man who had usurped the rule of the ancient Ionians over their -mechanical servitors, had given his telepathic orders. Already there -were signs of obedience. Thinking and planning was going on in that -pyramid; thinking and planning more intricate than that of the greatest -human wizard that had ever lived, more soulless and swift than that of -an adding machine. - -Presently, from far away, came a thin, shrill sound. Looking back -through the darkened glass walls of the Tower room, Harwich and Arnold, -both of them clutched, now, by the tentacles of the flat robot, saw a -horde of black specks collecting against the sky in the pale sunlight -outside. A flock of those flat, tentacled, flying things. - -They seemed to emerge from an opening in the ground; from a vault where -perhaps they'd been stored for ages. In a gigantic swarm they hovered -over the glass cages and their pathetic animal inhabitants. Then, -drifting like gulls away from this weird city of the Forbidden Moon, -they moved off toward the surrounding hills. - -There, like swarming bees, they settled in their tremendous numbers, on -the open, arid valley. Flame tools in their tendrils were brought into -play. Dust, reddened with heat, began to rise. - -"They're leveling the ground!" Paul Arnold whispered hoarsely. "They -must be preparing a shipyard!" - -"Sure, kid," George Bayley laughed, trying to conceal the half-scared -wonder in his own voice. "Maybe it'll take weeks for them to build the -fleet I asked for! But they'll do it! You'll see, if I happen to let -you live that long!" - - * * * * * - -The unholy wizardry of the Forbidden Moon was proven beyond all doubt. -And in this weird Tower room, air-conditioned against the cold thinness -of the atmosphere beyond its wall, the pyramid still throbbed a shrill -portent of more to come. - -A second robot mechanism soared into the chamber from a tunnel mouth. -It bore a curious tripod-like instrument. The flying automaton -spiralled down like a bubble, and came to rest beside Harwich and the -youth. Pinioned by the tendrils of the other automaton, they were -helpless to do anything but watch and submit. They were pushed flat on -their backs, and held firmly. The tripod instrument was set up between -them. - -"The discomfort device, this must be!" Bayley gloated, shifting his -weight from one foot to the other. "In just a few seconds there's going -to be some fun, I'll bet! Now, Harwich and Arnold, I'm wishing you bad -luck. Just a little foretaste of what I might wish later! Okay, pretty -machines! Give my beloved enemies the works, just for a second." - -Two rods of metal, projecting down from the tripod, were set in -position by one of the automatons. One rod touched Harwich's skull, the -other Paul Arnold's. A switch was moved. - -There was no sound; but all of the patrol pilot's body seemed suddenly -and maddeningly afire. To the very center of his mind, agony stabbed, -viciously. No searing pain of any injury he had ever received, could -have equaled this. He writhed, longing to scream his lungs out, as that -moment of sheer hell seemed to last an age. - -"God!" Paul gasped when it was over. - -Both men were sweating and limp, and yet no visible harm had been done -to their bodies. Artificial sensation, the torture must have been. -Nerve impulses transmitted directly to the brain. A devilish, perverted -achievement of superscience! Such agony might conceivably go on, in -Satanic refinement, for months, without bringing death. - -"You see, boys, I'm boss here as long as I stay in this little -telepathy coop, where the old Ionians used to give their orders!" -George Bayley hissed triumphantly. "All the wonders of the Forbidden -Moon are mine to use, just as I see fit! There were just a bunch of -machines here, waiting for somebody to control them. A pistol doesn't -ask who pulls its trigger! And I got here first!" - -"I was afraid of something like this when we were still on Ganymede, -before any of us knew," Paul Arnold muttered raggedly. - -And Evan Harwich understood very well what the youth meant. George -Bayley was feeling that touch of power here. A sense of omnipotence was -flattering his shallow ego, raising him in his own estimation to the -level of some ruthless god. He, who had been a petty business man, a -printer, a repairer of instruments, a loan shark! Just a crumby, fat -little human being, ridiculous, small and conceited. Pathetic, too, -stubborn, and lacking in judgment. There were many like him on Earth, -and among the scattered spheres of Earth's interplanetary empire. - -Maybe, after all, the wisdom of the Forbidden Moon was too big for the -human race. Maybe they would have to grow themselves first, advance in -evolution, before they would know how to handle and how to win real -benefits from such wisdom. - -"All right, Nero," Harwich growled contemptuously to Bayley. "I'll -grant that you're in the driver's seat, ready to stop nowhere. Building -a space fleet and all. But where is Clara Arnold?" - -The patrol pilot asked the question with fear and doubt in his heart. - -"Clara Arnold?" said Bayley almost casually. "Too damned clever for -a girl! Said she thought I might have had something to do with the -crackup of the RQ257. Said she was worried about Paul and you, too, -Harwich, being maybe stranded still alive here on Io. But she said that -she'd finally decided my promises weren't good for anything, anyway. -That I'd have to rescue you two men first before she'd believe in me. -Until then, our engagement was off." - -Harwich felt a brief wave of elation, as he heard these words. Clara -had seemed so quiet and timid; but she'd evidently proved herself -plenty courageous and plenty smart. - -"But where is she?" Harwich growled angrily. "Now, I mean!" - -"Don't get excited," Bayley sneered. "She came to the Forbidden Moon -with me, hoping to see you and the kid again. I left her locked in my -rocket. But she can't mean much to me any more now! Not when they -begin to hear about me all over the solar system! Just a passing fancy! -I suppose I might just as well have the machines bring her here now, to -see just how completely helpless you two dopes are!" - - * * * * * - -Harwich and Paul Arnold were still pinioned to the floor by the -automatons; but in the patrol pilot's slitted eyes glowed the subdued -light of murder, futilely smoldering. The fat printer was absolutely -master now of Clara, the boy, and himself. In his stupid, cruel, -shallow vanity, cosmic power the deeper secrets of which he could -never have understood, had driven Bayley to madness; to megalomania. -That clanging and that red glow from near the distant hills showed the -extent of his ambitions beyond question. The slave machines were not -building that colossal fleet of space warships for nothing! Armed with -weapons beyond human knowledge, such a fleet would sweep in aggressive -fury to even the remotest world within the field of the sun's gravity! - -But Harwich's feelings changed briefly to relief, when Clara Arnold -was brought into the Tower room by another of those metal slaves. -The automaton removed from her a flexible, transparent covering, of -evidently airtight material, a protection against the rarity of the -Ionian atmosphere, probably, for in being taken from the airlock of -Bayley's rocket to the air-conditioned Tower here, she would otherwise -have been exposed to suffocation. - -The machine set the girl down gently. She looked scared, her blonde -hair was awry, as though, maybe, she'd struggled with the robot; but -otherwise she was still all right. - -She looked about in wondering terror; for what she saw was still a -complete mystery to her, just as it had been to her brother and Evan -Harwich a little while ago. No one had told her anything yet. - -"Paul--Evan!" she stammered "What is all this here? This pyramid, and -Bayley? What's happened? Tell me, somebody!" - -"Take it easy, Clara," Harwich responded, trying to sound reassuring. -"Everything will be all right!" he ended a little unconvincingly, -trying to shield the girl from grim truth. - -"Everything's all right already, Clara," Bayley assured her mockingly. -"I've got these two men of yours just where they can do the least harm! -How would you like to see 'em squirm a little? I've got a special -device for that purpose, something very refined and painful! And I've -got just about everything else! In a month's time I could give you the -planet Earth, to wear in a ring around your finger, if I happened to -want to." - -"What's he talking about, Evan?" the girl pleaded again, the shadow of -fear in her face deepening. "It sounds sort of awful! Please tell me. -Why are those flat monsters holding you and Paul to the floor?" - -"I told you to take it easy, Clara," Harwich returned with a trace of -sternness. "This maniac, Bayley, has got the upper hand now, but I said -everything would be all right, didn't I?" - -The patrol pilot was trying again to reassure the girl, with a show -of truculent bravado this time. He hoped that truculence would make -his words sound true, as though he had a trump card up his sleeve, or -something. - -"All right in the end, Harwich?" the fat printer chuckled wickedly. -"Well, the end's pretty close. In another minute you'll be too tortured -to do anything but scream. Right now I'm thinking and wishing. Look, -the automatons are getting that agony tripod ready again!" - -It was true. Metal tentacles were whipping about, adjusting the torture -rods to touch Harwich's and Paul Arnold's skulls again. - -Everything will be all right! That statement was a mocking memory to -the patrol pilot now. An empty, rash challenge to the man whose petty -ego yearned to control even the solar system. - -Harwich had never felt so completely helpless in his life before, not -even when he had been suffocating out there on the deserts of the -Forbidden Moon. If he could only somehow knock Bayley out of that -little, pillared structure that served as a receiver for telepathic -orders to the machines; if only he could replace him there for a -second, then everything might be very, very different! But Harwich was -held helpless to the pavement of the tower room. His massive muscles -were useless against machine might! - -Direct argument--an attempt to make Bayley see the narrowness and lack -of originality in his colossal ambitions--he knew was equally futile. -Bayley was stubborn and shallow and greedy. Besides, he would never -admit that he was wrong, even if he felt the truth of it! - -So Harwich felt utterly checkmated on every side. The clanging out -there, the building of the space fleet, mocked him. The rustle -of wheels in that huge pyramid coordinator mocked him. All the -Aladdin-like miracles of the Forbidden Moon mocked him, pointing out -his impotence to do anything, now. - -He even wondered savagely why that great coordinator mechanism, with -all its terrific powers, didn't revolt against the dominance of the -puny human being that mastered it. But, of course, it would have no -desire to revolt. It had no desires of any kind, no capacity for -happiness or misery, no consciousness even. It was no more alive, no -more sentient, than an adding machine. Only infinitely more complex. It -invented things and it directed lesser mechanisms only by the rolling -of the wheels and the surge of energy inside it. And it responded to -telepathic control of whomever was there to give it, just as a space -ship might respond to whomever was at its throttle. - -Still, there had to be some way out of this mess! Harwich knew it -wasn't just Clara and Paul and himself that were in danger. It was -everything he knew and respected. Freedom. Liberty. Unless he and his -companions were able to do something, a Dark Age would come, surely. An -age of machines, ruled by a madman. - -The rod of the torture instrument was touching his skull. In just -another moment the agony would begin. But what was Paul Arnold -muttering beside him? - -"Evan, those animals in the cages! We thought they looked like men -didn't we? Here's something else: Maybe they are men, in a way! Men who -went backward in evolution; lost their intelligence." - - * * * * * - -No one but Harwich could have heard the boy, for he spoke in a very -low tone. But at once the patrol pilot understood; grasped a part of -the Ionian riddle that he had missed before. Machines. No thinking or -work to do. Indolence. And then? - -At once Harwich saw a way, a slim possibility to avert cosmic -catastrophe. He couldn't appeal to Bayley's reason, but maybe he could -appeal to his fears. He had to try it, anyway. - -Suddenly the patrol pilot's lips curled in derision and contempt. -"Bayley," he said, "you're an utter damned fool! You think you'll -extend your power all over the solar system. Well, maybe you will do -that; but in the end you'll be destroyed! You give the orders--sure! -But do you understand the thing in that pyramid? It was made to serve, -as all machines are. The ancient Ionians had it pretty nice for -themselves, yes. But did you ever wonder what happened to them? _Where -are they now? Do you know, Bayley?_" - -Harwich's final question was a dry whisper, like the voice of some -ghost of ages past. - -"_Where are those ancient Ionians now, Bayley?_" he repeated. - -No man could have escaped awe there in that tremendous Tower room, -where all the mysteries of the eons seemed to be congregated, many of -them hidden and unknown and perhaps dangerous. George Bayley's eyes -were suddenly very big. Quite evidently there were many things that -he had not thought about. His gaze lingered momentarily on the great -throbbing pyramid, inscrutable there in this huge dusky chamber. - -"Stop trying to bluff me, you crazy idiot!" the fat printer stormed at -last. "The Ionians are extinct, of course!" - -Harwich managed to grin wolfishly. "If you believe that, Bayley, do -you want to follow them into extinction?" he questioned. "Yes, they -mastered science. They conquered even the problem of the thinning -atmosphere and the loss of moisture and heat on their dying world. -But after they turned their science over to the machines, something -happened to them. Their numbers began to grow less, yes. They lost -control of their empire, which must have included all the moons -of--Jupiter. But they didn't completely die out, Bayley! Something -happened to those Ionians that was far worse! Do you know what it was, -Bayley? Do you want the same thing to happen to you?" - -"I don't know what you're talking about!" the printer stammered -furiously, fear of the unknown spreading over his plump face. - -"No, those ancient people of the Forbidden Moon didn't become -completely extinct," Harwich continued. "I believe you can see quite a -few of them from the Tower room here. The walls are semi-transparent, -and those cages outside aren't far away. They're full of Ionians. -Sluglike, brainless monstrosities without even intelligence enough or -will enough to wish any more!" - -Harwich paused to let the facts sink into George Bayley's mind. - -"That's them!" the patrol pilot continued. "It's an old theory that -any race has to keep struggling, thinking, working; otherwise it goes -backwards. By using their brains and muscles, Earthmen developed from -apish ancestors, you know. But here the Ionians had everything done -for them. So evolution was reversed. They lost their intelligence. And -now, what are they? Stupid beasts, tended by machines that follow the -original orders of long ago to take care of them. Worse than animals in -a zoo." - -Bayley's eyes were fairly popping, as he stared through the -semi-transparent walls of the Tower room. Doubtless he could see -those creatures in their air-conditioned habitations. Just helpless, -squirming, incubator freaks! - -"I wondered what they were--why they were here," Bayley stammered. - -Harwich almost believed at first that he had won a point with the obese -loan shark--scared him out of most of his wild ambitions. But then, -gradually, he saw Bayley's expression grow a trifle less tense. It was -just as Harwich had feared. The printer was beginning to realize that -it must have taken countless generations to degenerate to their present -sorry state. The same condition could not affect him personally. When -Bayley saw this truth, he would be the same megalomaniac as before. - -There was only that one slim chance left for Harwich. Bayley's -attention was strongly diverted now. But in a few seconds more, he -would be himself again. - -Was the grip of the metal tentacles that held Harwich a little looser -than before, now, because Bayley, the master of machines, had his mind -so intensely on other things, and away from the thought of giving -telepathic commands? - -In a sudden, savage lunge, Harwich jerked free from the automaton that -held him to the floor. His clothing was torn and his flesh scraped, but -what did this matter? Everything depended on instant action. The patrol -pilot leaped past Paul Arnold, and his sister, Clara, who had only -watched and listened while he had talked with such grim truth to Bayley. - - * * * * * - -Already the flat, glittering robot was after Harwich, but he continued -his surprise rush toward the roofed, pillared kiosk that was the -receiver for telepathic orders. - -His attack ended in a dying tackle. Bayley was drawing his heat pistol, -but before he could fire it, Harwich's weight struck him. There, -together, in the kiosk, they wrestled and fought. At last there was a -chance for the patrol pilot to bring his massive muscles into play. -He swung his heavy fists, and all the fury of weeks of hardship and -misfortune were back of his blows. Bayley tottered away from under the -kiosk, and for a second Harwich stood there free. - -He was in the position of control at last; but Bayley had his pistol -out and aimed, now. Clara was screaming as the fat man pressed the -trigger. - -It was too late for Harwich to marshal his thoughts properly. He was -only able to will that the automaton behind him should cease attacking -him. He could not call to his aid any of the great science of Io, in -time. - -With the speed of light, a slender pencil of intense heat waves from -Bayley's pistol, struck his side and burned straight through his body. -No bullet could have drilled a neater hole. Harwich's legs collapsed -under him, and he lay writhing there within the kiosk. - -A split second later the heat pistol in Bayley's hand spat again. -Turning weakly, Harwich saw Clara crumple and go down. In another -instant, Paul became the third victim. - -"You're done, Harwich!" the fat printer was yelling triumphantly. -"You're finished, all of you!" - -But by now the patrol man's seething flood of hate had registered. -He was within the telepathy kiosk; and if he had ever willed instant -destruction for anyone, he willed it now, for Bayley. Under other -circumstances he might not have felt so vengeful, but his ebbing pulses -blazed with fury. - -There was a click within that vast, slumberous pyramid, that loomed -like a grim god in this shadowy place of enigmas. The automaton that -had recently held Harwich captive, seemed to move like a maddened -animal, created out of pure lightning. Its tentacles whipped around -Bayley long before he could fire again. Harder than steel cable, the -tendrils tightened, like the coils of a python. - -There was a choked cry of terror and anguish, and then a sickening, -crunching, squashing sound, as flesh and bone and blood oozed between -those constricting metal loops. - -It was almost the last thing that Evan Harwich saw. He was mortally -wounded, a slender hole bored through his side. - -Harwich's last delirium was a dream. A silly dream, maybe. Clara and -he together. A little house. Fancifully he pictured its details. Maybe -a mining concession somewhere here among the moons of Jupiter, too. An -orderly life. Not all this hectic battling with unknown dangers any -more. He was a little tired of adventure, a little tired of being space -patrol pilot, too. He could resign. - -Somewhere, Evan Harwich's fanciful thinking came to an end. - - * * * * * - -He awoke suddenly. Paul Arnold was shaking him. - -"On your feet, you big lug!" the boy was yelling happily. "There's not -a thing wrong with you, now! Clara and I have been awake for half an -hour." - -Harwich staggered erect, grumbling confusedly, his stiff, black hair -awry. He'd been lying on a divan. The room around him was almost -familiarly furnished, except for slightly fantastic details of -decoration. The windows were wide, and beyond them there was a sort of -yard, with freshly planted trees. Over the whole setup there was a -fine crystal airdrome. - -"What the heck! Where in the name of sense are we?" Harwich burst out -in startled pleasure. - -He looked first at Paul Arnold, and then at Clara, whose amber eyes -were twinkling with secretive mischief. It was as though the two had -some sort of joke up their sleeves. - -Harwich glanced again out of the window. Beyond the airdome, glinting -and new, was what looked like improved mining equipment. Cropping out -of the ground was the grayish, shiny stuff of a rich ore lode. And -there was a space ship, too; bright and slender and strange, but it -looked plenty serviceable! - -"Where are we, anyway?" Harwich demanded again, still completely in the -dark. "Does either of you two know?" - -"Still on Io, evidently!" Paul Arnold breezed with a taunting grin. -"Same kind of hills and general character of country! When Bayley shot -me, I passed out. I didn't know anything more until I woke up here a -little while ago!" - -"But this layout, Paul!" Harwich growled. "This house and this mining -stuff! How come? You've got some kind of an answer in mind, I'm sure, -by the way you look! I give up. Spill the gag!" - -"Okay, Evan," said the boy. "I really do think I've got that part -figured out! After Bayley shot you with the heat-pistol, you were -lying in that telepathy kiosk in the Tower room. Consciously or -unconsciously, you must have done some wishing there, before your brain -blacked out." - -Harwich gasped. So that was it! He'd wanted to be alive, though he had -been mortally wounded. And so he was! His shirt was open. There was a -neat round scar on his chest, left by the heat-ray burn, and evidence -of careful supersurgery! The automatons of the Forbidden Moon had saved -his life. Probably Clara's and Paul's lives, too. All while they were -unconscious! The house, the garden, the mine! - -"Our miracle hunt on the Forbidden Moon hasn't turned out so badly," -Paul Arnold remarked. "But so far it's been a lot different from what -Dad or you or I could have anticipated. This place looks like a nice -family setup, Evan. Did you wish include anybody besides yourself?" - -Harwich flushed, and looked sheepish. Clara, there, was definitely -blushing, but she was smiling, too. - -The ex patrol pilot managed a nervous grin. "I guess you got me there, -Paul," he said. "Now, if it's all right with you, Clara, I don't know -whether I have to say it or not, since it's a dead giveaway. But will -you marry me?" - -He got it out, feeling that it had been an awful job. But Clara smiled -happily. - -"Try and stop me, Evan," she laughed. "There has to be someone around -to keep you from getting conceited. Just because you won out for us -here on Io, doesn't mean that you won't need bossing yourself, once in -a while!" - -Paul Arnold winked, and left discreetly for other parts of the house. - -Arm in arm Clara and Evan looked through a window that faced west. -Something was flying there, high up in the sky. It glinted in the late -afternoon sunlight. A lonely speck against the cold firmament, it -seemed to hurry, bent on a last mission. - -A few minutes later, from the east, there came a terrific concussion. -The whole dark purple sky, above those sullen hills, was illuminated -with a bluish-white glare for a second. Flying fragments soared far -into space. - -Clara clung tightly to Evan. "What was that?" she questioned fearfully. - -Harwich grinned, but still there was a haunting shadow of sadness in -his face. "I'm sure I know," he said. "That was the end of the science -of the Forbidden Moon. The end of the force shield, apparatus, the -end of those poor Ionians, and the end of the pyramid! The end of the -whole thing. Suicide, you might call it. You see, back there in the -telepathy kiosk, I wished that too, and the machines were made only to -obey. I hope that when Earthmen, in the future, learn as much science -as existed here on Io, they'll know how to use it, too. We're much too -young a race yet, I guess." - -Clara Arnold's awe softened after a moment. "Come on, Evan," she said. -"Let's forget all about that for now. I want to show you the kitchen, -here. It's ducky!..." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Invaders of the Forbidden Moon, by -Raymond Z. 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