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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..825bfc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63048 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63048) diff --git a/old/63048-8.txt b/old/63048-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 392c822..0000000 --- a/old/63048-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3249 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon, by Nelson S. Bond - -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: Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: August 26, 2020 [EBook #63048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANDERERS OF THE WOLF-MOON *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Wanderers of the Wolf Moon - - By NELSON S. BOND - - They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked, - the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had - to build a new life on a hostile world. And the - man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the - bespectacled secretary--whose only adventures - had come through the pages of a book. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Spring 1944. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of the -radio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redhead -named Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand on -Greg's arm. "If I was you," he said, "if I was you, Malcolm, I don't -think I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow." - -Greg said, "Why not?" - -Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering. - -"Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. And -then there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course they -ain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode out -worse storms than this--plenty of times. And in worse crates than the -_Carefree_." - -Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles. -He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, "So it's _that_ bad, eh, -Sparks?" - -"What bad? I just told you--" - -"I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studied -astrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. And -I think I know what we're up against. - -"We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex for -more than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousands -of miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into a -super-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed. -You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal being -whirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?" - -"I don't know what--" began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied his -companion thoughtfully, nodded. "O.Q.," he confessed, "that's it. But -we ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ... -Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And they -ain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family." - -"I won't tell them," said Greg. "I won't tell them unless I have to. -But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?" - -The radioman shrugged. - -"Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will toss -us out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the old -chuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crack -us up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens." - -"And the controls?" - -"As useless," said Sparks, "as a cow in a cyclone." - -"So?" - -"We sit tight," said Sparks succinctly, "and hope." - -Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them, -wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisply -pressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But there -was no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. "Well," he -said, "that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome." - -Sparks stared at him querulously. - -"You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in your -body." - -"Nerves are a luxury I can't afford," replied Greg. "If anything -happens--and if there's time to do so--let me know." He paused at the -door. "Good luck," he said. - -"Clear ether!" said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other man -wonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks, -shaking his head and muttering. - - * * * * * - -Gregory Malcolm climbed down the Jacob's-ladder and strode briskly -through the labyrinthine corridors that were the entrails of the -space yacht _Carefree_. He paused once to peer through a _perilens_ -set into the ship's port plates. It was a weird sight that met his -gaze. Not space, ebony-black and bejewelled with a myriad flaming -splotches of color; not the old, familiar constellations treading -their ever-lasting, inexorable paths about the perimeter of Sol's -tiny universe, but a shimmering webwork of light, so tortured-violet -that the eyes ached to look upon it. This was the mad typhoon of -space-atmospherics through which the _Carefree_ was now being twisted, -topsy-turvy, toward a nameless goal. - -He moved on, approaching at last the quartzite-paned observation -rotunda which was the dining dome of the ship. - -His footsteps slowed as he composed himself to face those within. As -he hesitated in the dimly-lighted passage, a trick of lights on glass -mirrored to him the room beyond. He could see the others while they -were as yet unaware of his presence. Their voices reached him clearly. - -J. Foster Andrews, his employer and the employer of the ten thousand -or more men and women who worked for Galactic Metals Corporation, -dominated the head of the table. He was a plump, impatient little -Napoleon. Opposite him, calm, graceful, serene, tastefully garbed and -elaborately coiffured even here in deep space, three weeks from the -nearest beauty shop, sat his wife, Enid. - -On Andrews' right sat his sister, Maud. Not young, features plain as a -mud fence, but charming despite her age and homeliness simply because -of her eyes; puckish, shrewdly intelligent eyes, constantly aglint with -suppressed humor at--guessed Greg--the amusing foibles and frailties of -those about her. - -She gave her breakfast the enthusiastic attention of one too old and -shapeless to be concerned with such folderol as calories and dietetics, -pausing only from time to time to share smidgeons of food with a -watery-eyed scrap of white, curly fluff beside her chair. Her pet -poodle, whom she called by the opprobrious title of "Cuddles." - -On J. Foster's left sat his daughter, Crystal. She it was who caused -Gregory Malcolm's staid, respectable heart to give a little lurch as -he glimpsed her reflected vision--all gold and crimson and cream--in -the glistening walls. If Crystal was her name, so, too, was crystal her -loveliness. - -But--Greg shook his head--but she was not for him. She was already -pledged to the young man seated beside her. Ralph Breadon. He turned -to murmur something to her as Greg watched; Greg saw and admired and -disliked his rangy height, his sturdy, well-knit strength, the rich -brownness of his skin, his hair, his eyes. - -The sound of his own name startled Greg. - -"Malcolm!" called the man at the head of the table. "Malcolm! Now where -in blazes is he, anyhow?" he demanded of no one in particular, everyone -in general. He spooned a dab of liquid gold from a Limoges preserve -jar, tongued it suspiciously, frowned. "Bitter!" he complained. - -"It's the very _best_ Martian honey," said his wife. - -"Drylands clover," added Crystal. - -"It's still bitter," said J. Foster petulantly. - -His sister sniffed. "Nonsense! It's delightful." - -"I say it's bitter," repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voice -again. "_Malcolm!_ Where _are_ you?" - -"You called me, sir?" said Malcolm, moving into the room. He nodded -politely to the others. "Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... Miss -Andrews ... Mr. Breadon...." - -"Oh, sit down!" snapped J. Foster. "Sit down here and stop bobbing your -head like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it's -bitter." He glared at his sister challengingly. "Where have you been, -anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radio -turret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?" - -Malcolm said, "I don't know, sir." - -"Fine! Fine!" Andrews rattled on automatically before the words -registered. Then he started, his face turning red. "Eh? What's that? -Don't know! What do you mean, you don't know? I pay you to--" - -"There's no transmission, sir," said Greg quietly. - -"No trans--nonsense! Of course there's transmission! I put a million -credits into this ship. Finest space-yacht ever built. Latest equipment -throughout. Sparks is drunk, that's what you mean! Well, you hop right -up there and--" - - * * * * * - -Maud Andrews put down her fork with a clatter. "Oh, for goodness sakes, -Jonathan, shut up and give the boy time to explain! He's standing -there with his mouth gaping like a rain-spout, trying to get a word in -edgewise! What's the trouble, Gregory?" She turned to Greg, as Jonathan -Foster Andrews wheezed into startled silence. "_That?_" - -She glanced at the quartzite dome, beyond which the veil of iridescence -wove and cross-wove and shimmered like a pallid aurora. - -Greg nodded. "Yes, Miss Andrews." - -Enid Andrews spoke languidly from the other end of the table. - -"But what is it, Gregory? A local phenomenon?" - -"You might call it that," said Greg, selecting his words cautiously. -"It's an ionized field into which we've blasted. It--it--shouldn't stay -with us long. But while it persists, our radio will be blanketed out." - -Breadon's chestnut head came up suddenly, sharply. - -"Ionization! That means atmosphere!" - -Greg said, "Yes." - -"And an atmosphere means a body in space somewhere near--" Breadon -stopped, bit his lip before the appeal in Malcolm's eyes, tried to pass -it off easily. "Oh, well--a change of scenery, what?" - -But the moment of alarm in his voice had not passed unnoticed. Crystal -Andrews spoke for all of them, her voice preternaturally quiet. - -"You're hiding something, Malcolm. What is it? Is there--danger?" - -But Greg didn't have to answer that question. From the doorway a harsh, -defiantly strident voice answered for him. The voice of Bert Andrews, -Crystal's older brother. - -"Danger? You're damn right there's danger! What's the matter with -you folks--are you all deaf, dumb and blind? We've been caught in a -space-vortex for hours. Now we're in the H-layer of a planet we can't -even see--and in fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds we may all be -smashed as flat as pancakes!" - -The proclamation brought them out of their chairs. Greg's heart sank; -his vain plea, "Mr. Andrews--" was lost in the medley of Crystal's -sudden gasp, Enid Andrews' short, choking scream, J. Foster's bellowing -roar at his only son. - -"Bert--you're drunk!" - -Bert weaved precariously from the doorway, laughed in his father's face. - -"Sure I'm drunk! Why not? If you're smart you'll get drunk, too. The -whole damn lot of you!" He flicked a derisive hand toward Greg. "You -too, Boy Scout! What were you trying to do--hide the bad news from -them? Well, it's no use. Everybody might as well know the worst. We're -gone gooses ... geeses ... aw, what the hell! Dead ducks!" He fell -into a chair, sprawled there laughing mirthlessly with fear riding the -too-high notes of his laughter. - -J. Foster turned to his secretary slowly. His ire had faded; there was -only deep concern in his voice. - -"Is he telling the truth, Malcolm?" - -Greg said soberly, "Partly, sir. He's overstating the danger--but -there is danger. We are caught in a space-vortex, and as Mr. -Breadon realized, the presence of these ionics means we're in the -Heaviside-layer of some heavenly body. But we may not crack up." - -Maud Andrews glanced at him shrewdly. - -"Is there anything we can do?" - -"Not a thing. The officers on the bridge are doing everything possible." - -"In that case," said the older woman, "we might as well finish our -breakfast. Here, Cuddles! Come to momsy!" She sat down again. Greg -looked at her admiringly. Ralph Breadon stroked his brown jaw. He said, -"The life-skiffs?" - -"A last resort," said Greg. "Sparks promised he'd let me know if it -were necessary. We'll hope it's not--" - -But it was a vain hope, vainly spoken in the last, vain moment. For -even as he phrased the hopeful words, came the sound of swift, racing -footsteps up the corridor. Into the dining dome burst Hannigan, eyes -hot with excitement. And his cry dispelled Greg's final hopes for -safety. - -"Everybody--the Number Four life-skiff--_quick_! We've been caught in a -grav-drag and we're going to crash!" - - - II - -Those next hectic moments were never afterward very clear in Greg -Malcolm's memory. He had a confused recollection of hearing Sparks' -warning punctuated by a loud, shrill scream which he vaguely identified -as emanating from Mrs. Andrews' throat ... he was conscious of feeling, -suddenly, beneath his feet the sickening, quickening lurch of a ship -out of control, gripped by gravitational forces beyond its power to -allay ... he recalled his own voice dinning in his ears as, incredibly, -with Sparks, he took command of the hasty flight from the dining dome -down the corridor to the aft ramp, up the ramp, across girdered beams -in the super-structure to the small, independently motored rocket-skiff -cradled there. - -He was aware, too, of strangely disconnected incidents happening around -him, he being a part of them but seeming to be only a disinterested -spectator to their strangeness. Of his forcing Maud Andrews toward -the door of the dome ... of her pushing back against him with all the -weight of her body ... of her irate voice, "Cuddles! I forgot him!" -Then the shrill excited yapping of the poodle cradled against her as -they charged on down the corridor. - -J. Foster waddling beside him, tugging at his arm, panting, "The -officers?" and his own unfelt assurance. "They can take care of -themselves. It's a general 'bandon ship." Enid Andrews stumbling over -the hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly and -bodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excited -body hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying, -"'Tina!" ... and Hannigan's reply, "Your maid? I woke her. She's in the -life-skiff." Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middle -of the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, sure -nausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness beneath their feet. - -Then the life-skiff, the clang of metal as Hannigan slammed the -port behind the last of them, the fumbling for a lock-stud, the -quick, grateful pant of the miniature hypos, and a weird feeling of -weightlessness, rushingness, hurtlingness as his eardrums throbbed and -his mouth tasted brassy and bloody with the fierce velocity of their -escape. - -Sense and meaning returned only when all this ended. As one waking from -a nightmare dream, Greg Malcolm returned to a world he could recognize. -A tiny world, encased within the walls of a forty-foot life-skiff. A -world peopled too scantily. Andrews, his wife and sister, his son and -daughter; 'Tina Laney, the maid; Breadon, Hannigan, young Tommy O'Doul, -the cabin-boy (though where he had come from, or when, Greg did not -know). And himself. In a life-skiff. In space. - -Somewhere in space. He looked through the _perilens_. What he saw then -he might better never have seen. For that shimmering pink-ochre veil -had wisped away, now, and in the clean, cold, bitter-clear light of a -distant sun he watched the death-dive of the yacht _Carefree_. - -Like a vast silver top, spinning heedlessly, wildly, it streaked toward -a mottled gray and green, brown and dun, hard and crushing-brutal -terrain below. Still at its helm stood someone, for even in that last -dreadful moment burst from its nose-jets a ruddy mushroom of flame that -tried to, but could not, brake the dizzy fall. - -For an instant Greg's eyes, stingingly blinded and wet, thought they -glimpsed a wee black mote dancing from the bowels of the _Carefree_; a -mote that might be another skiff like their own. But he could not be -sure, and then the _Carefree_ was accelerating with such violence and -speed that the eye could see it only as a flaming silver lance against -the ugly earth-carcase beneath, and then it struck and a carmine bud of -flame burst and flowered for an instant, and that was all.... - -And Greg Malcolm turned from the _perilens_, shaken. - -Hannigan said, "It's over?" and Greg nodded. - -Hannigan said, "The other skiffs? Did they break free, or were they -caught?" - -"I don't know. I couldn't see for sure." - -"You must have seen. Are we the only ones?" - -"I couldn't see for sure. Maybe. Maybe not." - -Then a body scrambled forward, pressing through the tightness of other -huddled bodies, and there was a hand upon his elbow. "I'll take over -now, Malcolm." - - * * * * * - -It was Ralph Breadon. Gregory looked at him slowly, uncomprehendingly -at first. His hand was reluctant to leave the guiding-gear of the -small ship which was, now, all that remained to them of civilization -and civilization's wondrous accomplishments. He had not realized until -this moment that for a while ... for a short, eager, pulse-quickening -while ... on his alertness, in his hands, had depended the destinies -of ten men and women. But he knew, suddenly and completely, that it -was for this single moment his whole lifetime had waited. It was for -this brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greater -than knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, had -studied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That he -might be fitted to command when all others failed. And now-- - -And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm, -mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And the -man at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman, -trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong.... - -"Very well, sir," he said. And he turned over the controls. - -What happened then was unfortunate. It might just as well have happened -to Malcolm, though afterward no one could ever say with certainty. -However that was, either by carelessness or malfortune or inefficiency, -once-thwarted disaster struck again at the little party on the -life-skiff. At the instant Breadon's hand seized the controls the skiff -jerked suddenly as though struck with a ponderous fist, its throbbing -motors choked and snarled in a high, rising crescendo of torment that -lost itself in supersonic heights, and the ship that had been drifting -easily and under control to the planet beneath now dipped viciously. - -The misfortune was that too many huddled in the tiny space understood -the operation of the life-skiff, and what must be done instantly. And -that neither pilot was as yet in control of the ship. Breadon's hand -leaped for the Dixie rod, so, too, did Malcolm's--and across both their -bodies came the arm of Sparks Hannigan, searching the controls. - -In the scramble someone's sleeve brushed the banks of control-keys. The -motors, killed, soughed into silence. The ship rocked into a spin. Greg -cried out, his voice a strange harshness in his ears; Breadon cursed; -one of the women bleated fearfully. - -Then Breadon, still cursing, fought all hands from the controls but his -own. And the man was not without courage. For all could see plainly, -in the illumined _perilens_, how near to swift death that moment of -uncertainty had led them. The skiff, which an instant before had been -high in the stratosphere of this unknown planet ... or satellite -or whatever it might be ... was now flashing toward hard ground at -lightning speed. - - * * * * * - -Only a miracle, Greg knew, could save them now. An impulse spun his -head, he looked at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Just -a hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, the -maid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in her -nether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out. - -Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performed -that miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ... -a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His face -twisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled taut -and bloodless away from his teeth. "Hold tight, folks! We're going to -bounce--" - -Then they struck! - -But they struck glancingly, as Breadon had hoped, and planned for, -and gambled on. They struck and bounced. The frail craft shivered -and groaned in metal agony, jarred across harsh soil, bounced again, -settled, nosed over and rocked to a standstill. Somewhere forward -something snapped with a shrill, high _ping!_ of stress; somewhere aft -was the metallic flap-clanging of broken gear trailing behind them. But -they were safe. - -Breath, held so long that he could not remember its inhalation, escaped -Greg's lungs in a long sigh. "Nice work, Mr. Breadon!" he cried. "Oh, -nice work!" - -But surprisingly, savagely, Breadon turned on him. - -"It would have been _better_ work, Malcolm, if you'd kept your damned -hands off the controls! Now see what you've done? Smashed up our skiff! -Our only--" - -"He didn't do it!" piped the shrill voice of Tommy O'Doul. "You done it -yourself, Mr. Breadon. Your sleeve. It caught the switch." - -"Quiet!" Breadon, cheeks flushed, reached out smartly, stilled -the youngster's defense with a swift, ungentle slap. "And you, -Malcolm--after this, do as you're told, and don't try to assume -responsibilities too great for you. All right, everybody. Let's get out -and see how bad the damage is." - -Instinctively Greg had surged a half step forward as Breadon silenced -the cabin boy. Now old habit and common-sense halted him. He's -overwrought, he reasoned. We're all excited and on edge. We've been to -Bedlam. Our nerves are shot. In a little while we'll all be back to -normal. - -He said quietly, "Very well, Mr. Breadon." And he climbed from the -broken skiff. - - * * * * * - -Hannigan said, "Looks bad, don't it?" - -"Very," said Malcolm. He fingered a shard of loose metal flapping like -a fin from the stern of the skiff. "Not hopeless, though. There should -be an acetylene torch in the tool locker. With that--" - -"You ought to of poked him," said Hannigan. - -"What? Oh, you mean--?" - -"Yeah. The kid was right, you know. He done it." - -"His sleeve, you mean. Well, it was an accident," said Greg. "It could -have happened to anyone. And he made a good landing. Considering -everything. Anyhow--" Again he was Gregory Malcolm, serious-faced, -efficient secretary. "Anyhow, we have been thrust into an extremely -precarious circumstance. It would be silly to take umbrage at a man's -nervous anger. We must have no quarreling, no bickering--" - -"Umbrage!" snorted Sparks. "Bickering! They're big words. I ain't sure -I know what they mean. I ain't exactly sure they mean _anything_." He -glanced at Greg oddly. "You're a queer jasper, Malcolm. Back there -on the ship, I figured you for a sort of a stuffed-shirt. Yes-man to -the boss. And then in the show-down, you come through like a movie -hero--for a little while. Then you let that Breadon guy give you the -spur without a squawk--" - -Malcolm adjusted his plasta-rimmed spectacles. He said, almost -stubbornly, "Our situation is grave. There must be no bickering." - -"Bickering your Aunt Jenny! What do you call that?" - -Sparks jerked a contemptuous thumb toward the group from which they -were separated. Upon disembarking, only Greg and Sparks had moved to -make a careful examination of their damaged craft. The others, more -or less under the direction of Breadon, were making gestures toward -removing certain necessaries from the skiff. Their efforts, slight and -uncertain as they were, had already embroiled them in argument. - -The gist of their argument, so far as Greg Malcolm could determine, was -that everyone wanted "something" to be done, but no two could agree as -to just what that something was, and no one seemed to have any bursting -desire to participate in actual physical labor. - -J. Foster Andrews, all traces of his former panic and confusion fled, -was planted firmly, Napoleonically, some few yards from the open port -of the life-skiff, barking impatient orders at little Tommy O'Doul -who--as Greg watched--stumbled from the port bearing a huge armload of -edibles. - -'Tina, the maid, was in a frenzy of motion, trying to administer to the -complaints and demands of Mrs. Andrews (whose immaculate hair-do had -suffered in the frenetic minutes of their flight) and Crystal Andrews -(who knew perfectly well there were sweaters in the life-skiff) and -Miss Maud (who wanted a can of prepared dog-food and a can-opener -immediately, and look at poor Cuddles, momsy's 'ittle pet was _so_ -hungry)! - -Bert Andrews was sulkily insisting that it was nonsense to leave the -warmth and security of the skiff anyway, and he wished he had a drink, -while the harassed, self-appointed commander of the refugee corps was -shouting at whomever happened, at any given moment, to capture his -divided and completely frantic attention. His orders were masterpieces -of confusion, developing around one premise that the castaway crew -should immediately set up a camp. Where, how, or with what nonexistent -equipment, Breadon did not venture to say. - -"You see what I mean?" demanded Sparks disgustedly. - - * * * * * - -Greg Malcolm saw. He also saw other things. That their landing-spot, -while excellent for its purpose, was not by any manner of means an -ideal campsite. It was a small, flat basin of sandy soil, rimmed by -shallow mountains. His gaze sought these hills, looked approvingly on -their greenness, upon the multitude of dark pock-marks dotting them. -These caves, were they not the habitations of potential enemies, might -well become the sanctuaries of spacewrecked men. - -He saw, also, a thin ribbon of silver sheering the face of the northern -hills. His gaze, rising still skyward, saw other things-- - -He nodded. He knew, now, where they were. Or approximately. There was -but one planet in the solar system which boasted such a phenomenon. The -apparent distance of the Sun, judged by its diminished disc, argued -his judgment to be correct. The fact that they had surged through an -atmospheric belt for some length of time before finally meeting with -disaster. - -"Titan," he said. "Hyperion possibly. But probably Titan." - -Sparks' gaze, following Greg's upward, contracted in an expression of -dismay. - -"Dirty cow! You mean that's where we are?" - -"I believe so. There's Saturn, our mother planet, looming above us as -large as a dinner plate. And the grav-drag here is almost Earth norm. -Titan has a 3,000 mile diameter. That, combined with the Saturnian -tractile constant, would give us a strong pull." - -Sparks wailed, "But Titan! Great morning, Malcolm, nobody ever comes -to Titan! There ain't no mines here, no colonies, no--" He stopped -suddenly, his eyes widening yet farther. "And, hey--this place is -_dangerous_! There are--" - -"I know it," said Greg swiftly, quietly. "Shut up, Sparks. No use -telling the others. If they don't guess it themselves, what they don't -know won't alarm them. We've got to do something, though. Get ourselves -organized into a defensive community. That's the only way--" - -Ralph Breadon's sharp, dictatorial voice interrupted him. "Well, -Malcolm, stop soldiering and make yourself useful!" - -And J. Foster, not to have his authority usurped, supplemented the -order. "Yes, Malcolm, let's get going! No time for day-dreaming, my -man. We want action!" - -Sparks said, "Maybe you'll get it now, fatty!" under his breath, and -looked at Malcolm hopefully. But his companion merely nodded, moved -forward toward the others, quietly obedient to the command. - -"Yes, sir," he said. - -Hannigan groaned and followed him. - - - III - -Breadon said, "All right, Tommy, dump them here. I have a few words to -say." He glanced about him pompously. "Now, folks, naturally we want -to get away from here as soon as possible. Therefore I delegate you, -Sparks, to immediately get a message off. An SOS to the nearest space -cruiser." - -Hannigan grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. He took his time -answering. He spat thoughtfully on the ground before him, lifted his -head. He said, "A message, huh?" - -"That's what I said." - -"And what'll I send it with?" drawled Sparks. "Tom-toms?" - -Breadon flushed darkly. - -"I believe the life-skiff was equipped with a radio? And theoretically -you are a radio operator?" - -"Finest radio money can buy!" interpolated J. Foster Andrews proudly. -"Put a million credits into the _Carefree_. Best equipment throughout." - -Sparks looked from one to another of them, grinned insolently. "You're -both right. I _am_ a radio operator, and there _was_ a radio. But we -crashed, remember? On account of some dope's sleeve got caught in the -master switch--" - -"That will do!" snapped Breadon angrily. He stared at the bandy-legged -little redhead. "You mean the radio was broken?" - -"It wasn't helped none. The tubes was made out of glass, and glass -don't bounce so good." - -Greg Malcolm said thoughtfully, "Sparks, can't you fix it?" - -"Well, mebbe. But not in five minutes. Maybe not in five years. I won't -know till I get going on it." - -Breadon frowned. - -"I'll handle this, Malcolm," he crisped. Again to the radioman, "Well, -you get to work on it immediately. And as soon as you get it fixed, -send out an SOS advising the patrol where we are--" - -"Speaking of which," insinuated Sparks, "where are we?" - -Breadon glared at him wrathfully. - -"Why--why on one of the satellites of Saturn, of course. Any fool can -see that!" - -"O.Q. But does any fool know which one? Or shall I tell you it's Titan? -And when you know that, then what? Titan wasn't named that on account -of it was a pimple. It's a big place. What'll I tell the Patrol? _SOS. -Stranded in the middle of we-don't-know-where, somewhere on Titan, -maybe._ They'll be hunting for us till we've got whiskers down to our -knees." - -Breadon's irate look vanished. He looked stricken. He said, "I--I don't -know. We have a compass--" - -Once again it was Gregory Malcolm who entered into the conversation. He -had been toying, almost absentmindedly, with a funnel taken from the -skiff's stores. Into this he had poured a small portion of water; his -right forefinger was pressed to the bottom of the tube, closing it. He -said, "I can answer part of that question now. Enough to cut the search -in half, anyway. We're in the northern hemisphere of the satellite." - -Maud Andrews looked at him sharply as if noticing him for the first -time in her life. - -"How," she asked, "did you know that, Malcolm?" - - * * * * * - -Greg said, "Watch this." He released his finger at the base of the -funnel gently, carefully, taking care not to shake it. The captured -water swirled and trickled through the opening. Greg said, "Notice the -direction in which the water whirlpools? Clockwise. On the northern -hemisphere of any normally revolving heavenly body, water released -from a basin, funnel, container of any sort, swirls in that direction. -In the southern hemisphere it swirls counter-clockwise. Maybe you've -noticed in bathtubs, or--" - -Breadon said impatiently, "Never mind the speeches, Malcolm. A very -clever bit of reasoning--if it's true. Do you think you can figure out -our exact latitude and longitude from that?" - -Greg met his gaze levelly. - -"Not from that," he said, "nor from anything else. Perhaps you've -forgotten that latitude and longitude are artificial inventions of -man's, based in one case on an imaginary 'equator,' and in the other on -an arbitrarily appointed 'line,' like Greenwich. - -"But I believe I can approximate our position and state it in such a -way as to cut to a minimum the time of any search that might be made -for us. That is, if a space patrol ever comes close enough to get -within range of Sparks' radio." - -"When," said Sparks, "and if I get it fixed." - -"When," said Malcolm confidently, "you get it fixed." - -Breadon gave in with as good grace as he could muster. - -"Well, all right," he conceded grudgingly. "We'll let that rest for -now. Meanwhile, it is apparent that we can't escape Titan--or wherever -we are--immediately. That being the case, our first task will be to set -up a camp. This is as good a spot as any. We'll stay right here by the -ship. We'll use the ship to sleep in at nights--" - -Greg coughed apologetically. "Mr. Breadon--" - -"Well, what now? More funnels, Malcolm?" - -"If you'll excuse me, sir--I don't believe it wise to make camp here. -Nor to use the skiff for sleeping purposes." - -"And why not, my man?" That was J. Foster. - -"The conservation of what little fuel and power, we have, for one -thing," said Greg. "Mr. Breadon's idea of using the skiff to sleep in -was undoubtedly based on the plan of using the heating units. That -we must not do. The time may come when we will need the skiff again, -badly. We must save its fuel and electro-motors. - -"And as for making camp here beside the ship--" - -He hesitated. Crystal Andrews, her voice a trifle edged, as had been -that of her father, prodded him for reply. - -"Well?" she demanded. "Go on, Malcolm!" - -"It wouldn't be safe, Miss. This is an exposed and vulnerable spot. -Titan has--dangerous denizens." The words came reluctantly. "It would -be much safer to take refuge in the hills. In one of those caves up -there." - -Crystal gasped, "Caves! Us--living in a cave! Ridiculous!" J. Foster -echoed her words vehemently. Breadon laughed curtly; Mrs. Andrews -made a gesture of repugnance with a slim, pale, exquisitely manicured -hand. Bert Andrews snorted. Of the tycoon's family, only Maud Andrews -showed any inclination to heed the secretary's suggestion. Her old eyes -glinted shrewdly; her head made the ghost of a pleased nod. - - * * * * * - -But others more openly approved his plan. The maid, 'Tina, watching -Malcolm with curious attentiveness, nodded and said, "That is wise. -I have heard tales about Titan and its--its denizens." Tommy O'Doul -grinned delightedly. He said, "Caves! Boy, caves! Old-time stuff, huh, -Greg?" And Sparks Hannigan had said, "That's right, folks! And it's -past noon now. Might as well get going right away so's we can get -settled before dark. Right, Greg?" - -And yet again there was the counter-play, the balance of Breadon's -wealth, Breadon's name and Breadon's accustomed authority to the calm, -sane logic of the slim young secretary. Breadon's curt laugh changed to -something definitely antagonistic; his words sheered the muttering like -a keen blade. - -"Very interesting, Malcolm! But wholly impractical and completely -absurd. We will remain here. And now--" He glanced at the high-riding -sun. "And now I think we should eat before setting up our camp. Tommy, -Hannigan--bring the electro-stove from the skiff. 'Tina, prepare lunch. -We'll pursue a more intelligent discussion of our situation on full -stomachs. Malcolm, bring cases from the skiff. We'll build a rough -table out here in the open." - -He scowled impatiently, authoritatively about the strangely silent -group. - - - IV - -At that moment Gregory Malcolm realized what he must do. It was not -a pleasant realization. Greg Malcolm was an easy-going, a peaceful, -a placid man. The secretarial type. Sparks had called him a--what -was it?--a "stuffed shirt." Never, save in rare moments of dreamful -imagining, had Greg ventured to impress his opinions, his will, upon -the desires of fellow men. - -But he, of all those now surrounding him, seemed to understand, fully -and completely, the crisis which now faced their refugee group. And -he--it was made apparent to him by the pompousness of Foster Andrews, -by the mulish petulance of Bert Andrews, by the aloof hauteur of -Crystal and Mrs. Andrews, by the suicidal "orders" just given by Ralph -Breadon--he alone was, in this moment of need, capable of deciding the -destinies of the Earth-exiles. - -J. Foster Andrews had the acumen and common-sense to lead them--but -he had not the requisite knowledge. Breadon had the training, the -space-experience--but he lacked solid horse-sense, and his decisions -were too strongly flavored by his own savor of self-importance. Yet -if they, ten humans, were to exist for a week ... a month ... a -year ... until help reached them, someone must command. And he, Gregory -Malcolm, was the only one capable of taking into his hands the reins of -rulership. - -It was a knowledge at once heady, intoxicating and frightening. -But--there it was! It had to be faced. And Greg moved, grimly but -methodically, to the accomplishment of that which he deemed necessary. -He halted the radioman with a gesture. - -"Wait a minute, Sparks! Tommy, wait! 'Tina!" And he faced Breadon -firmly. "We are not going to do that, Mr. Breadon," he said. "It would -not be wise. We are not going to do it." - -Breadon's brown features darkened with swift anger. - -"What? What's this?" - -And J. Foster Andrews waddled forward, puffing irate astonishment. -"Here, here, Malcolm! What do you mean? This is--hrrumph!--blasted -impertinence, sir! Insubordination!" - -Malcolm held his ground, his pale cheeks oddly flushed. - -"We are not going to do these things," he repeated slowly, definitely. -"Breadon--" It did not occur to him that unconsciously he had abandoned -the respectful, formal "Mr." which heretofore he had never ommitted. -"Breadon, your orders clearly indicate that you have not in any way -grasped the full implications of our plight. - -"I have already warned that we should not make needless use of our -limited fuel and power reserves. Yet you've told Tommy to bring the -electro-stove. I have hinted that there are dangerous antagonists on -Titan, yet you wish boldly to tempt attack by cooking and eating here -on this exposed plain in broad daylight. Common sense should advise you -of the folly of eating what few food stores we hold in reserve, yet you -calmly command the preparation of a full and wasteful meal." - -He did not make mention of the other, perhaps irrelevant but -nonetheless rankling detail. That never once had Breadon offered -to help in these doings, nor had any member of the Andrews clan -volunteered to assist; that the physical labor had arbitrarily been -assigned to those of lesser caste--himself, Hannigan, young Tommy, -'Tina. - -"Therefore," he continued doggedly, "I, for one, am refusing to obey -your orders. I do so because I must. Call it 'insubordination' if you -wish, Andrews--" The older man spluttered incoherently, mauve-jowled. -"--but I would call it the 'will-to-exist.' The law of survival. I mean -to survive on this unknown, hostile planet. That can't be done if we -squander resources as Breadon apparently means to." - - * * * * * - -A moment of tight silence answered his outburst. A slow, awkward -movement stirred through the little group. It was, Greg sensed, a -movement of alignment. He could sense, rather than see, the unconscious -coalition of his sympathizers behind him; could see, without sensing, -the outraged drawing-together of the Andrews husband and wife, _fille_ -and _fils_, beside Breadon. One there was whose bright, intent eyes -were clouded with uncertainty. Maud Andrews. Then, as if irresistibly -drawn by the bonds of blood, she too looked to Breadon as her spokesman. - -Breadon's voice was a thick flame of wrath. - -"So that's the way it is, eh, Malcolm! Well, this had to come sooner or -later. Might as well have it over with right now. Get the glasses off, -my pale young friend! One leader is all we'll have around here!" - -He stepped forward, bigger, browner, heavier than Malcolm. There was -a rustle behind Greg; Sparks had stepped to his side, was pressing -something into his hand. - -"This'll make him behave, Greg." - -"Put it away!" said Greg coldly. "We'll have better use for -firearms later on. I'll handle this the way Breadon wants." Slowly, -painstakingly, he removed his plasta-rimmed glasses, slipped them -in a lucite case, slid the case into a pocket, removed his trimly -cut double-breasted business coat, handed it to the grumbling little -redhead. - -"But look--" growled Sparks. Then stopped. There was a newness about -Greg Malcolm that stopped him. With the goggles removed, he thought -dimly, Malcolm's eyes looked different. Less soft and meeky-mosey. They -were like--sort of like chunks of grey flint. And Greg wasn't as skinny -as he had looked, now that you saw him with his coat off. He was lean, -yes--but there was a greyhound whippiness to his leanness; a tight, -spring-coiled sort of strength. - -"Well?" said Greg. "You're ready, Breadon?" - -Breadon's answer was a sudden, rushing charge. One of the women gasped; -there came the whipping splat of flesh striking flesh, then all noises -muted save the sound of two men meeting in face-to-face conflict. -Breadon's left jarred Greg back, his right swung wide and hard to put a -swift end to the dispute-- - -But found no target. For leanly, deftly, with pantherlike swiftness, -Greg was out from under the blow; his own left, probing sharply, -flicked once ... twice ... again into his antagonist's face, jarring -Breadon, shocking, stunning him, halting his bull-like rush and jolting -him back on his heels. - -Maddened, Breadon whirled, seeking this will-o-the-wisp whose jabbing -lefts stung like salt in an open wound. He growled something that was -never completed, for knuckles bruised the word against his lips. Blood -sprang, saline and hot in his mouth; the taste of it edged his rage to -inchoate blindness, he flailed out recklessly, forgetful of anything he -had previously known about fighting. - -And that was his undoing. Against his bulky charge, Greg could do -nothing but fight the kind of fleeting defensive battle he had learned -in long hours at the gymnasium. A maddened warrior like this was a -different matter, though; he was a vulnerable fighter. - -Calmly and with infinite assurance, Greg stepped inside Breadon's -swinging arms, beneath his faulty guard. His right hand came up once, -sharply, to Breadon's jaw. The big man spluttered pink spray, lifted -his arms. Again Greg lashed out with his left, this time to the belly; -Breadon gasped and his mouth remained open, sagging. - -Like the whipping length of a python, Malcolm threw that lean, -deadly-sure right again--this time squarely to the other man's jaw at -the spot where jawbone meets the ear. The blow cracked in the dull, -astonished silence like the chunk of a heart-biting axe on timber. -Breadon straightened slowly, numbly, in a meaningless reflex. The fire -went out of his eyes; their brownness dulled like sun-faded velvet. -Then he fell. As a tall building might fall. Crumpling ... the knees -folding first, the body sagging, the shoulders, the head helpless and -rolling. In sections. He rolled once and lay still. - -Sparks Hannigan said, "Gawddle-mighty!" His voice was feeble, awestruck. - -Greg Malcolm's fists, falling to his sides, uncoiled reluctantly. As if -they had gripped the fiery baton of his anger, the battle-urge slipped -from him with their unclenching. He drew a deep breath to steady his -ragged breathing, nodded to the wide-eyed 'Tina. - -"Take care of him," he said. "Water. He'll be all right in a minute." -He faced the others, his manner an odd mixture of apology and -aggressiveness. "Breadon said there could be but one in command," he -said. "Let us hope that is definitely settled. For all time. And now I -will ask all of you to help. Our first step will be to strip the skiff -of the equipment we may need and carry it into the hills. In one of -those caves we will make our head-quarters." - -But the fight was to have its aftermath. Crystal Andrews it was who -burst from the little knot before him to kneel at her fiancés side, -taking Breadon's head in her arms, glaring rage and hot defiance at -Greg. - -"With you?" she cried. "With _you_, you--cheap, upstart bully? Not in a -million years! Ralph--Ralph, dear, are you all right? Did he hurt you?" - -She jerked the water-soaked handkerchief from the maid's hands, pressed -its coolness to Breadon's sand-bruised forehead. Breadon's eyes opened, -dazed at first, then full of awareness, sultry, indignant, incredulous. -He moved to get on his feet again. Greg stared at him coldly. - -"Get up if you want to, Breadon. But don't get up fighting!" - -Hannigan chuckled. "He ain't hurt much. Just his conceit. It's punched -full of right and left hand wallops." - -"That will do, Sparks!" snapped Greg. He looked at the others, -replacing his glasses carefully, a vague sorrow in his eyes, defeat -in his voice despite his victory. "You all feel that way? You still -refuse--?" - -Crystal Andrews' cried out, "Talk! Talk! Will you stop talking and go? -Go to the hills if you want to. Leave us in peace. We don't want you -and don't need you. Go to the hills--and good riddance to you!" - -The tiny gimlet of hurt that lay somewhere deep inside of Greg twisted -once more at her words, snapped, became suddenly cold and bitter. His -jaw set. He nodded to Sparks. - -"Very well. If that's your desire. Sparks, there are four of us, six -of them. Take an inventory of all equipment and supplies in the skiff. -We will take exactly four-tenths of everything ... fuel, power units, -food, water ... everything. Get going. I'll help you directly." - -Sparks said, "The radio?" - -"We'll take that. You're the only one capable of repairing it. We'll -save them in spite of themselves. If we can." - -Sparks said, "Aye, sir! Come on, Tommy. 'Tina." He started toward the -crashed skiff. Greg hesitated, feeling the desire to say something, -to make one final plea, not knowing what to say or how to say it, -restrained by the yet cold anger etched on his heart by Crystal's -scorn. Then he too turned to help. A strident voice halted him. - -"Just a moment, young man!" - -"Yes, Miss Andrews?" - -Maud Andrews, Cuddles firmly cradled to her ample bosom, left her -brother's side and marched toward the life-skiff. - -"Tell Sparks to make that a fifty-fifty division," she said. "There -will be five of us in the hills." - - * * * * * - -Enid Andrews bleated faintly. Crystal, still kneeling, stared at her -aunt incredulously. J. Foster Andrews vented his indignation in a -sudden, blustering roar. "Maud! Don't be a blasted idiot! Come back -here this minute!" - -Maud Andrews continued to surge inexorably forward. - -"I'm not," she grunted, "being an idiot! It's you who are, my dear, -fat, dimwitted brother! I'm a selfish, pampered old fool, but I -know common-sense when I hear it, and I know a man when I see one. -Furthermore, silly as you may think it, I have a ridiculous desire to -keep on living. I may have to _work_ to do that, and I'm not overly -fond of work, but if Mr. Malcolm will have me--?" - -"Just plain 'Malcolm,' Miss Andrews," said Greg gravely, gratefully. -"And I'm happy you see it my way." - -"Tut! I'm not doing you a favor, Malcolm! I'm just looking out for -myself, as I always do. Well, Sparks, don't stand there yawping like my -thick-pated brother! What can I do to help?" - -She waddled away. Greg glanced hopefully at those still waiting, -immobile. - -"Won't you--" he began, "Won't the rest of you--" - -The eyes that met his were glacial. Bert Andrews, thick-lipped and -bridling, snarled disdain. "The hell with you, Malcolm! The sooner you -get out of here, the better!" - -Greg said, "We'll let you know where to find us. If you should--should -need us, just call." - -"We won't need you." That was Crystal, coldly. - -"I hope you won't," said Greg. "I sincerely hope you won't...." - - - V - -Sparks Hannigan came out grinning. He said, "This one looks like the -business, Greg. Plenty of room. Dry and warm. It's even got a natural -fluevent so's we can have a fireplace inside." - -Greg nodded, pleased. - -"Sounds good. I was beginning to think we'd never find a suitable cave. -This one's within easy reach of that spring, too; that solves the fresh -water problem. Well, we might as well get settled. Getting toward -evening." - -'Tina glanced at the sky, surprised. "So soon? I didn't know it had -taken us so long. It seems as if only a few hours ago it was noon." - -"It was," grinned Greg. "Titan's days are shorter than Earth's. Its -diameter is only about 3,000 miles. By Earth measurements you'd say -Titan had a sixteen hour day." - -"And the 'day,'" grumbled Sparks, "ain't none too bright at that. On -account of we're so far from the Sun." - -"You haven't seen the worst of it. Right now we're on the Sun side -of Saturn. We revolve about our primary once every 500-odd hours. -Since Saturn is so large, when we are to the lee of it, it eclipses -us entirely. So for about five days every Titan 'month' we suffer a -complete blackout. - -"And that--" Greg sobered. "That is another reason the others should -dig into a good warm cave. It gets plenty cold during that eclipse -period. An open camp on an exposed plain--" He shook his head. - -Maud Andrews said, "I can't understand why this satellite is habitable -at all. I was under the impression that Saturn is a frozen planet." - -"It is. Its surface temperature is approximately 300° below zero, -Fahrenheit. But the warmth of its numerous satellites is one of the -astonishing discoveries made by the early space explorers, fifty -or sixty years ago. Scientists have not yet explained the matter -satisfactorily. Some say the tremendous mass of Saturn, the waves of -atmospherics set up by its swirling motion and the 'grindstone' of -its ring, form an electronic barrier-shield for the satellites. Still -others believe that frigid Saturn acts as a gigantic mirror or solar -reflector for its children." - -"But Greg--" That was Tommy O'Doul. "Why ain't there any colonies -here if the climate's O.Q.? Men live on Venus, where it's hot as -billy-be-hanged, and on Uranus, which is nothing but a ball of ice, and -on a bunch of cold, airless asteroids--" - -"Economics, Tommy. The simple, single dictator of mankind's every -venture. Venus has valuable vegetation, Uranus and the asteroids have -important metals that can't be duplicated in Earth's laboratories, -the asteroids have rare ore deposits. There is not--or at least there -has not as yet been discovered--anything native to Titan that cannot -be mined or made elsewhere more cheaply, more easily. Some day man's -ever-expanding frontiers will claim this satellite as a colony, too. -But now that the entire universe is open to man, the human race can -increase a millionfold and _still_ allow every soul more _lebensraum_ -than he can possibly use." - -Sparks Hannigan gazed at him admiringly. - -"It's stoo-pendous!" he said. - -"Titan? Not any more so than--" - -"Not Titan. You. You know everything, don't you? Pal--" Sparks -shook his head. "I sure had you figgered wrong. I thought you was a -soft-soaping dope. So then you got us off the _Carefree_ onto the -skiff, cooled Breadon like a herring, declared yourself _It_ and made -us like it--" - -Greg said, "Nonsense! I just happened to--Oh, nonsense! Shall we go -into our new home?" But he flushed. - -By evening--Titan's short, grey shadowed evening, the only logical -unit of duration by which they could live so long as they remained -captive here--their new cave home began to take on some semblance of -lived-inness. - -Vegetation was abundant on the hillsides. Sparks and Tommy had -gathered heaps of dry faggots while Greg built a crude stone fireplace -underneath the fluevent Sparks had reported; shortly thereafter the -women had a cheerful blaze crackling on the hearth, and mingled with -its grateful warmth was the odor of a savory stew, welcome scent to -the nostrils of five who had worked long and hard in gathering the -vegetables that had gone into that potage. - -"Eat nothing," Greg had warned, "dig nothing that does not show signs -of having been eaten, dug or picked by wild animals. Later we can make -chemical analysis of dubious foods to determine their edibility. For -the present we will depend on the most certain test, the acceptance by -other flesh-and-blood creatures." - -He had also permitted that a single can of bouillon concentrate be used -in the stew. "For flavoring. There is so little food in reserve that -we must save it against the cold, dark days when we can't get out to -gather supplies. Later on we'll have fresh meat." - -He looked thoughtfully at Cuddles, sniffing, yapping excitedly by the -fireplace, and Maud Andrews, with a swift, maternal gesture, swept the -poodle into her arms and glared at him belligerently. - -"Oh, no you don't! You'll eat _me_ first!" - -"I wasn't thinking of that," said Greg indignantly. "I had something -else in mind. A poodle, eh? Hmmm!" - -'Tina and young Tommy came into the cave, arms full of fresh and -fragrant ferns which they dumped beside a wall. Greg, glancing at -them, could not curb his astonishment at the overwhelmingly sudden -change that had come over 'Tina. During the _Carefree's_ cruise, during -the years he had worked for old J. Foster, he had seen the girl a -thousand times--but never, he discovered now, really _seen_ her before! -Always she had been a dim, dusty figure in the background. A foil for -the spoiled, immaculate perfection of Enid Andrews, the glittering, -heart-stopping beauty of Crystal. - -Now, viewed as a woman and a comrade, he was aware that she was -lovely herself. Slim as a rush, and yielding-strong as that same wild -water-flower; dark-eyed; hair as the Martian midnight with live lights -glinting in it, too, as the stars glinted over the Martian deserts; -soft, white hands, graceful but capable-- - -But here! he thought, what nonsense was this? He had work to do. And -this was no time for weaving poetic cadences about a girl who was -practically a total stranger! - -Now she laughed, gaily, her very laughter seeming to burst from a heart -happy with newfound freedom. And she said, "It was just as you said, -Greg. We found the ferns down by the spring. Did we bring enough of -them?" - -Greg said, "Enough for tonight. They'll make comfortable beds. Later on -Sparks and I will build real beds for all of us. Thank goodness there -was a tool-chest on the skiff. You folks ready to eat?" - -Hannigan lifted his nose from the fireplace. - -"Ready! _I_ been ready for a half hour, and my stummick's been ready -for a week!" - -And somehow it didn't seem at all surprising to Greg that Maud -Andrews should be the one who, sleeves rolled up, face flushed with -hearth-heat, warmth and good fellowship, seized the ladle, beat on the -side of the pot vigorously and bawled, in what was far from a wealthy -socialite's cultured tone, "Come and get it! Come and get it!" - - * * * * * - -So, somehow, the first day was over ... and the second day, too ... -and a week of Titan's sixteen hour days slid past so quickly that Greg -could not truly say where they had disappeared. - -Duties, chores, at first chaotic became matters of mere routine as -one or another of the little band took them on his own shoulders. -Maud Andrews, who on the second day bluntly and surprisingly startled -everyone with the pronunciamento that henceforth there would be, "--no -more of this 'Miss Andrews' stuff; call me 'Aunt Maud'; I'm old enough -to have mothered every last one of you!", set herself up as cook, thus -freeing 'Tina to take care of the multitude of other household--or -cave-hold--duties. And an excellent cook she turned out to be, -performing miracles with the odd, variegated samples of produce brought -to her by the rest of the group. - -Her once-aroused suspicion flared again when Greg casually requested, -one day, permission to take Cuddles for a little run in the woods. She -clucked to her pet, turned him over to Greg, but watchfully. - -"I don't know what you have in mind, Greg Malcolm. But if you come back -here with any sinister looking pieces of meat and no Cuddles--" - -"I'm hoping to come back," confessed Greg, "with both meat _and_ -Cuddles. He's a poodle, isn't he? Well, he's always been a lap-dog -to you, but I have an idea maybe his heritage will overcome his -habits when I get him out into the woods. The poodle, in its earliest -beginnings, used to be a hunting dog, you know. It was bred and trained -especially for that purpose. Of course his nose may have been ruined by -being pampered, but--" - -"My Cuddles," exclaimed Aunt Maud, "a hunting dog!" She looked -horrified. - -Greg said slyly, "I hope so. He wouldn't be the first member of this -party to prove his true worth beneath a thin veneer of civilization." - -Aunt Maud's cheeks were red, but it might have been the warmth of the -fire. And maybe the wood-smoke made her eyes shine like that, too. She -pushed Greg roughly. - -"Oh, run along!" she ordered. "But mind you bring him back unchanged!" - -"Okay, Auntie," Greg said. - -Greg brought him back, but not unchanged. For the poodle had, -amazingly, reverted to type, once set on the trail of wild game. Greg -carried back to the dinner table two small creatures, one vaguely -resembling a squirrel, one definitely allied to the rabbit family, -plunked them proudly before his companions. - -"Don't give me credit. It was the pup. He's a humdinger. You should -have seen him tree that squirrel--or whatever it is! And that -rabbit-thing--he went scrambling halfway down a warren after it! Didn't -you, Slewfoot?" - -The dog yerped happily. Aunt Maud moaned. - -"Slewfoot! Oh, my gracious! Cuddles, come here to momsy-womsy wight -away! Did nassy-mans call him--" - -Cuddles made no move to obey. Greg whistled, and the dog looked up. -"Okay, Slewfoot. Go to momma!" And the dog pranced over to Aunt Maud. -Greg grinned. "I think he likes his new name better," he said. - -Slewfoot yerped again in an ecstasy of approval. - - * * * * * - -And so, gradually, life became easier and smoother and happier for -the quintet of cave-dwellers. Beds took the place of piled ferns, the -woodpile towered toward the cave roof against the days of dark and cold -which, according to Greg's computations, might be expected within the -next week or so, food was varied and plentiful, and a needed food was -supplied when Tommy O'Doul marched triumphantly home with a bawling kid -in his arms. - -Sparks glared at him. - -"Hey, youngster, what did you tote that home for? We ain't got no room -for pets. And that thing ain't ripe to be et yet." - -Tommy said, "I had to bring it. It was the only way I could make its -mom follow me. See?" - -And sure enough, a few yards away, anxiously eying its captive -offspring, was a mother goat. Or something like a goat, anyway. Sparks -caught on them. A flying tackle and the camp had corraled its first -head of livestock. And from then on there was milk. - -And there were songs in the evening, and card games and stories and -compensations for the long, hard tasks of the daytime. Sparks labored -on his radio set, though without too much hope. "Smashed to hell and -gone, Greg. The tubes is the wust part. I could jockey the wires -around. But glass--" - -Greg looked thoughtful. "I wonder," he said. "I wonder? Well--do what -you can with the metallic parts." - -So they waited and worked, and in some dim corner of their minds -continued to hope for the release which all in some vague fashion -expected might come "some day." And their camaraderie was great and -wholesome, but there was a single subject they never mentioned. The -other quintet on the plain below. From their hillside eyrie they -could see the other camp, but by common consent they made no effort to -approach Breadon's followers. They had offered assistance and it had -been refused. They could do nothing more, now, unless-- - -The unless came sooner than they expected. In the still of the night -it came in the dark, multi-mooned Saturnian night, when Greg and his -comrades were all asleep in their bunks. - -Greg woke with a strained feeling that he could not at first identify. -He only knew, as a newly awakened sleeper dimly knows, that something -was amiss. - -Then, as he listened, he heard it again. The sound of a firing rifle. -And the thin, muted whisper of a cry from the clearing below. A voice -lifted in dismay. - -With a start he was on his feet. - -"Sparks!" - -Hannigan bounced from his blankets like a redheaded ball of rubber. He -was on his feet, scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, even -before he knew he was awake. - -"Smatta? Whuzzup, Greg? Smatta?" - -"Below!" roared Greg. "The party in the valley--they're in trouble of -some kind! Get your gun and come on!" - - - VI - -The others were awake now. Young Tommy was aquake with excitement. He -made a headlong dash for the dry niche wherein were stored the arms of -the cave-dwellers, came back dragging three rifles, handed one to Greg -and another to Hannigan. - -"Let's get going, Greg!" he yelped. "Golly Moses, what do you think it -is? Animals, maybe? Or people? Gosh, let's get going!" - -Greg took the spare rifle from him firmly. - -"_We'll_ go; _you_ stay." Then, in swift contrition as the lad's face -fell measurable inches. "Someone must guard the cave while we're gone, -Tommy. 'Tina, build up the fire and put a kettle on. Aunt Maud--" - -The old woman nodded grimly. - -"I know. We'll have hot water ready. And bandages if you need 'em. Run -along!" - -How they ever got down that mountain-side so quickly was ever afterward -a mystery to Greg. It was not exactly a painless descent; their -progress was a series of runs, falls and buttock-bruising slides. The -footing, in broad daylight, was precarious at best; with only sallow -Saturn and the aura of the Rings to illumine their way, it is a wonder -they ever reached the plain whole, in a single piece. - -To add to their frenetic haste, in their ears there rang the constant -challenge of gunfire. Crimson flashes lit the flatsward below, once a -whining slug, miserably aimed, made both of them duck instinctively -as it shrilled somewhere over their heads, _spanged!_ against a rock -behind them, went ricochetting off into the darkness. - -For now they were on level ground, and mingled with the rattle of arms -there was another sound, the purling whimper of tongueless, inhuman -things astir and hungry. Greg had once heard, on Earth, the furtive -night-passage of a jackal tribe; the soft, half plaintive mewlings, the -incessant scrape of scrabbling paws, the ammoniac stench of unwashed -bodies. He thought of this now, sharply, as he heard these mutterings, -smelled these rank odors, strained his eyes to determine contours in -the darkling night. - -Hannigan complained, "You see 'em, Greg? It's dark as a whale's gut. I -can't see nothing. What'll we fire at? Are our folks out in the open or -in the skiff? We might hit _them_ if--" - -Greg said, "We'll know in a minute." As they moved forward he tugged -from his belt the weapon he had been holding in reserve; the one such -weapon found amongst the stores of the life-skiff; one he dared use but -infrequently because once its charge was exhausted he had no way of -replenishing it. "We should be near enough now. Spot 'em quick and fire -while there's light!" - -He jerked the trigger of the Haemholst flame pistol. A writhing -streamer of ochre speared from its muzzle, lighting the plain with a -hot and eerie effulgence. Like a fiery dart it blazed into the heart of -the pack surrounding the life-skiff. By its lingering gleam Greg saw, -with stomach-churning repulsion, the creatures which attacked. - -Neither men nor wolves were they, but a cruel parody on each. Lean, -hair-matted beast-things running on four legs, semi-human of feature -but with loose lips snarling back from yellow fangs; fingered paws -long-clawed; indescribably evil and filthy; the more inhuman because -they embodied so many physical attributes of Man. - -Their pack must have numbered three score, ranging from gray-pelted old -ones to skinny, ragged pups. Apparently they had surprised the plateau -party in the open, allowing them no time to remove their precious -campstuffs, because the ground about, around and before the skiff was -littered with a refuse of clothing, blankets, supplies and equipment, -cases and scraps of food. - -It was for this last that the wolf-men had attacked, because even as -the ochre beam found their midst, they were scrambling hungrily about -the campsite, avidly gobbling all edible scraps they could nose out. -A few more aggressive ones scented richer victuals; these it was who, -despite the sporadic fire from within the skiff, snuffled, clawed and -clamored at the port. - - * * * * * - -Until the heat-beam struck them. That put an end to their hunger and -their blood-lust. Like any wild woodland animal, they had no fear -of firearms; they had no experience with them. Bullets that struck, -killed; wolf-men untouched by bullets had no way of associating hurt -with a sharp burst of sound and a strange, unfamiliar powder-scent. - -But light--light that burned the hair and scorched the flesh; light -that spared not one of them, but spread to dose all with its heatful -pain--that was something different! As the beam struck and spread, -snuffings changed to bestial screams of fear and pain. Those nearest -the beam's focal point felt no pain; they died instantly, charred -hulks that crisped and sank, shapeless, to the ground. And from these -strangely altered, swiftly dead companions the others fled, howling -in shrill alarm. Their footsteps were the dry patter of leaves on -shale; they broke and ran wildly for the nether hills, tonguing shrill -ululations of hurt. - -Then the door of the skiff opened cautiously; dim light was a sliver, a -crack, an oblong. And the voice of J. Foster Andrews quavered through -the darkness to their ears. It sounded shrill and afraid. - -"Malcolm--is that you?" - -Sparks snorted derisively. "Ain't that awful?" he demanded. "Is that -you!" He raised his voice. "Hell, no, it ain't him! It's the Gray -Lensman. Who'd you think?" - -"Shut up, Sparks!" Greg said, "Hold your fire, the wolf-things are -gone. We're coming in!" - -A few moments later, he and Hannigan were standing within the -life-skiff. - - * * * * * - -Gregory Malcolm was twenty-six years old. For more than eight years -he had been training himself to undergo any and all emotions without -change of expression. That was, in his opinion, a prime requisite -for a man whose vocation lay in a subordinate position. Now he was -grateful for learning that self-control, and hoped his features were as -granitelike as he tried to make them. He hoped his eyes did not mirror -the astonishment, the shock, the numb dismay he felt when he first -glanced about the interior of that cabin, and at those who stood before -him. - -It was incredible that in one short week--one very short Titanian -week--so great a change could have been wrought in this haughty -quintet. _His_ followers were weathering the storm of catastrophe -without faltering, without any relaxation of civilized standards. But -Breadon's-- - -He studied them, his quietude concealing the sudden heartsickness he -knew, his spectacles hiding the swift light of horror in his eyes. The -men had not shaved, it was clear, since their crash-landing. Five day -stubble lay frostily on the jowls of J. Foster Andrews, blackly on the -cheeks of his son and son-in-law to-be. - -Nor did slovenliness end there. Beneath the beard-growth, the skin -of the men looked dirty, dingy, sallow, as if they had not washed -for days. Their clothes were equally soiled and sorry. Greg saw that -J. Foster's nails were dull and broken and grubby as the nails of a -stevedore. - -He rallied himself with an effort. These were men. They had been -working hard, laboring. They could not stay immaculate. They had been -in a fight. - -Then he looked at the women, and knew that he made excuses vainly. It -was even more disillusioning to see what had happened to Mrs. Andrews -and Crystal in so short a time. - -Enid Andrews, fashion-plate of two continents, one of Earth's -smartest-dressed women, thrice-named by fashion authorities as Best -Dressed Woman in the Solar Confederation, hobbled sloppily about on -scuffed slippers, the heel of one of which had broken off and not been -replaced, so that her posture sagged like a bag of meal, split at a -side-seam and sifting awkwardly away. Her once elaborate coiffure was a -bird's-nest of tangled braids which hung unbraided, curls that sagged -limply; hastily adjusted pins and combs clung insecurely to locks that, -once pearl-silver, were now clay-crusted gray. - -Crystal--glamorous, pulse-stirring Crystal--was in no better plight. -Her gorgeous ash-gold hair was pulled severely back from a forehead -which, Greg discovered, was not nearly so broad and smooth and high -as he had imagined; the artificial color had rubbed from her cheeks, -leaving them lustreless and sullen; her lips--ever rich, ripe, -full--were pale and harsh-thin and her mouth had tight, argumentative -lines at the corners. Her eyes were dark-rimmed, weary, haggard. She -was, thought Greg with shocked comprehension, a tired girl. - -They were all tired. Tired and beaten and dejected. All but Breadon -who, even now, was eyeing Greg defiantly, as if challenging him to -comment on their condition. He said, bitterly, "Thank you, Malcolm. It -was a most magnanamous gesture, coming down from your hilltop castle to -rescue us." - - * * * * * - -Greg said nothing. He was looking about the interior of the cabin, -noticing with incredulous disfavor the way it had been abused, -littered, left uncleaned. Ashes, dirty dishes, scraps of cloth and -paper, fragments of cartons and dirt tracked in from outside.... - -But Hannigan was not bound by Greg's compunctions. He spoke his mind -frankly, staring at the five skiff-dwellers with obvious contempt in -his eyes. - -"If you'd ask me," he said, "it's damn near time somebody come down and -rescued you. Not from wolves, neither. From yourselves. You all look -like you'd been drug through the butt end of a wringer." - -"Well, we have," began Bert Andrews savagely. "We have been through--" - -"Shut up, you fool!" Breadon cut short his plaint viciously; blustered -defiance that was in itself an apology. "We've been busy making a camp -around here. We haven't had time to--" - -Sparks drawled, "Bud, we been busy making a camp, too, in a place which -wasn't already equipped with furnishings, like your'n. And I think we -done a better job of it. And in between times, we found time to shave -and bathe once in a while." - -Andrews flushed and said stiffly, "There is a need of being provident -with water. Our supply is limited--" - -Greg said, "What? You mean you've been using the water reserve from the -life-skiff?" - -Enid Andrews answered. Excitedly. Volubly. Almost at the point of -tears. She wrung her hands, and Greg could not help noticing the -anomaly of those at once dirty and gem-bedecked fingers. - -"We have. Oh, we have. There's no other water anywhere around here. -Nor food. We've been living on concentrates ... sickening, horrible -stuff...." - -"That's not true!" flamed Breadon. "We did have other food. I made -bread. I caught small game. I put out traps. There would have been -plenty of food except for the wolf-men who raided tonight. They broke -our stove ... stole my reserves...." - -"Which," mocked Sparks, "you conveniently left out for them to sniff -and come a-running after? Why don't you call it a day, Breadon? Admit -you're nothing but a cocky Earthlubber at heart and--" - -"Why, you little whippersnapper!" Breadon took a swift step forward. -But Greg had heard enough. He laid a restraining hand on the -socialite's arm. His voice was as soothing, as pleading, as he could -make it. - -"Haven't we had enough of that already? Look here, Breadon, let's let -bygones be bygones. We've had our little quarrel, now let's act like -sane and sensible humans. - -"You're not situated here any too well. You've admitted you're not -near a water supply. The terrain is open to attack, as is proven by -tonight's incident. You've been, well--let's say 'unlucky.' - -"On the other hand--we've been lucky. We've got a nice, warm cave -large enough to house all ten of us easily. We have soft beds and -good food and fresh milk; safety and good fellowship. With some of -the things you have in here--those upholstered chairs, for instance; -what remains of your equipment and supplies, we could make a veritable -paradise of our cave. - -"So what do you say? Let's cast in our lots together. Make it one big, -happy family?" - - * * * * * - -J. Foster looked at him thoughtfully. Enid Andrews began to cry softly. -Crystal glanced at Ralph, then at Greg, than at Breadon again. Bert -Andrews stroked his chin. He said, "It sounds good--" - -Breadon interrupted. - -"There's just one thing, Malcolm," he said curtly. "We'll accept -your--your overtures of friendship on one condition. That you'll -step down from the high horse you've been riding lately, come to the -realization that you're not cock-o'-the-walk around these parts." - -Greg said gravely, "If you mean that our community shall be a society -in which all share and share alike, I am in complete agreement with -you." - -"That's what I mean," said Breadon. "Of course, we all recognize that -there must be leadership. As our oldest man, our most important member, -Mr. Andrews is that logical leader. I can assure you, acting as his -lieutenant--" - -"No!" said Sparks loudly. "It's the same old thing in a different -package, Greg. He wants to be boss, else he won't play. The answer -is--comets to you, Breadon. We're doing all right the way we are; -you're making a mess of your affairs. As far as I'm concerned, you can -stay here and stew in your own gravy!" - -He turned toward the door. Greg said, "Wait, Sparks. I'll be right with -you." And he, too, nodded at Breadon. "I fear Sparks is right, Breadon. -You haven't learned your lesson yet. We're going back where we belong. -We're glad to have been of some small service to you. If you ever need -us again, just call. Meanwhile, my offer remains open. If you should -ever decide to join us on _our_ terms--" - -A loud and cheerful voice interrupted him. A voice from outside, -bellowing gay greeting, "Ahoy, you in there! Open the door!" - -Sparks said, "Aunt Maud! What's she--?" and pulled the door open. In -the oblong, against the slow gray dawn now crawling above the hilltops, -stood Aunt Maud, a huge grin on her face, a tremendous bowl in her -stalwart arms. From the bowl rose a tantalizing aroma. She waddled in, -plunked it on the nearest desk. - -"Thought you folks might be sort of hungry after a scrap," she grinned. -"Watched it from the cave. Nice, cozy place to watch a fight from. Saw -morning was coming on, so I brought you down some breakfast. - -"Sister--" She glanced at the sallow-cheeked Enid shrewdly. "You -look sort of peaked. You too, Crystal. You look older, honey. Well, -Greg--ready? We'd better be running along. 'Tina's got our breakfast -almost ready. Fruit juice and porridge and pancakes with butter and -sugar-syrup. Sounds good, eh? Well, 'bye, folks!" - -And by main force she herded the two men swiftly out of the skiff. -Outside, moving toward the hill, Sparks turned on her pettishly. - -"Now, what did you go and do that for, Aunt Maud--you've gummed up -everything! Greg was telling 'em off; just beginning to make 'em listen -to reason--" - -Aunt Maud grinned and winked broadly at Greg. - -"Sparks, are all radiomen as dumb as you, or do you hold the -championship? Greg could talk from now to doomsday and not get anywhere -with that outfit. I _know_. They're my own haughty, independent, -pigheaded flesh and blood. - -"But that stew I brought them--" She chuckled and rolled her eyes -delightedly. "Now, that's a _real_ argument. The best their bellies -ever listened to. Just wait and see!" - - - VII - -The truth of her statement was exhibited very soon. That very -afternoon, in fact. The dim Titanian sun was settling toward the -westward hilltops, and Greg was just putting the finishing touches to -a crude grist-mill he was rigging for the women, when there came the -scrape of hesitant footsteps up the rocky pathway. - -Hannigan had been away since breakfast time, making a survey of the -natural resources within easy distance of their cave. Greg thought it -was the radioman returning. - -"Hi!" he shouted over his shoulder, without looking back. "Any luck? -What did you find?" Then, as no voluble, profane, fantastic answer -was forthcoming, he turned around. His eyes momentarily betrayed his -astonishment. "Oh! Hello, Andrews!" he said. - -Bert Andrews shuffled uncomfortably. His gaze held a curious mixture -of wistfulness, reluctance and expectancy. He said, in a voice that -was a trifle too breathlessly nonchalant, "Hello, Malcolm. Just taking -a little stroll, so I thought I might drop up and see--see how you're -making out." He glanced about him, obviously impressed. "Not so bad," -he said. "Not bad at all! That's the cave, I suppose? See you have -things pretty well straightened out. What's that?" - -Greg's gaze followed his nod to the crosswork which was suspended -directly above the cave-mouth; a latticework of steel, firmly -wire-lashed, secured by a rope, the stretch of which dipped into the -cave itself. - -"Barrier-shield," explained Greg. "Hangs on a pulley. We can drop it -from inside. In case of attack, you see. Slides down that groove into -the channel cut in the ground, holds tight there." He grunted. "That's -one of the reasons we don't have any honest-to-John furniture in our -home. We had too many other important uses for the metal." - -"Clever," said Andrews. "Ingenious. I--er--got to thinking over what -you said this morning, Malcolm, after you left. You were right. For a -group of civilized people we let ourselves get into sorry shape." - -He rubbed his chin reflectively. Greg noticed for the first time that -his face was no longer dark with beard; that though his clothes were -still dirty, he had made an effort to straighten them, dust them. The -skin of his face, though, was pink and sore; chafed. - -Greg said, "What in the world did you shave with, Bert? A cross-cut -saw?" - -Andrews said defensively, "The electric razor won't work. The dry-cells -are exhausted, and we can't use D. C. without wasting fuel. There -wasn't a honed blade aboard the skiff. I used my pocket-knife. It--" he -confessed ruefully, "It wasn't very sharp." - -Greg said, "Hannigan mounted carborundum sheets on a lathe wheel and -put edges on a couple steak knives for us. I'll let you have one before -you go back. Hey, there he is now! What's the story, Sparks?" - -Hannigan came into the clearing at a trot. He was excited. He said, -"Sweet Christmas cow, Greg, you know what I run across? A--What's this? -Company?" - -The eager, interested look fled from Bert Andrews' eyes. He said -stiffly, "I--I guess I'll be running along now, Malcolm. See you again." - - * * * * * - -He turned, his shoulders very stiff. Too stiff to be convincing. Greg -glanced at him appraisingly, motioned the radioman to keep his mouth -shut, called after the young Andrews. - -"Don't go yet, Bert. We're just getting ready for dinner." - -"Dinner?" The young man spun like a top. Then he recalled his dignity. -"Oh--dinner! Why, I guess ours is almost ready, too. 'Bye--" - -"We'd be glad to have you stay," said Greg levelly, striving to keep -the amusement out of his voice. "I think there's a roast tonight. -Something that looks like a young suckling pig, can't exactly tell, -though, till we taste it. These Titanian animals are different. Then -there's a salad and potatoes and beans, a fruit compote, and I think -'Tina baked a pie today." - -Andrew's eyes widened as his lips twitched. "I--I wouldn't want to be -any trouble," he said faintly. - -"No trouble at all," said Greg. Then, unable longer to restrain -himself, "But of course if you think they'll be expecting you--?" - -"No, I'll stay!" blurted Andrews hastily. "Thanks. I can wash up -somewhere?" - -"Inside. Ask Aunt Maud for soap. She's the custodian of that." Then, -as the young man disappeared into the cave hurriedly, Greg grinned at -Hannigan. "One!" he said. - -"You want to hear about what I seen?" demanded the redhead. "Listen, it -was terrific! Great big marsh, full of the damnedest life-forms and -craziest vegetation anybody ever met up with. Hot, too! Steamy, like -the Grand Marshes of Venus, only not quite as stinking--" - -He stopped, annoyed. "One what? You ain't listening to a word I'm -saying. Don't you want to hear?" - -"Later, Sparks," said Greg. "Right now I'm wondering how long it will -take the others to fall in line." - - * * * * * - -It didn't take long. The citadel of stubbornness had been undermined -the night of the attack, it toppled with Bert Andrews' "friendly -visit"--from which, some time later, he staggered home glassy-eyed with -an overdose of wild roast, hot vegetables, crisp greens and luscious -fruits, succulent berry pie--and it crashed, violently, the next day. - -Bert Andrews brought his dad up the hill, presumably to confer with -Malcolm on a future mutual defensive system; the two of them lingered -for lunch--and after lunch old J. Foster, with the blunt directness -which accounted for his success in Earth's business world, sat back, -grunted comfortably, and said, "That's the first meal I've enjoyed -since I was a pup in Service! Malcolm, you win! I'm sick and tired of -this squabbling, and of our hand-to-mouth existence down there. Is -there room for me in this cave of yours?" - -It was no moment for gloating triumph. Greg said, "Yes, sir." - -"Then I'm moving in. And so is my wife. What do you want me to do?" - -Greg said, "Hannigan and I were planning to break ground for a small -farm this afternoon, but this is more important. We'll go down with you -and help you move up your personal things. How about--" he hesitated -briefly "--how about Crystal? And Breadon?" - -"I don't know," said J. Foster unhappily. "But if they're smart, -they'll quit kicking against the pricks, too." - -They were smart. When Andrews and his son, accompanied by Hannigan, -Tommy and Greg, appeared at the skiff to move the Andrews' property, -when Andrews told them bluntly that he and Enid and Bert were casting -their lot in with the cave-dwellers, there was a moment of sultry -silence, fraught with reluctance, anger, recrimination--then Breadon -bowed to the inevitable. Not with good grace, but with grudging -agreement he said, "Very well. If that's the way you want it, Mr. -Andrews. If we're welcome up there, Malcolm--?" - -Greg said, "You are welcome, Breadon. I told you that a week ago." -And promptly forgot Breadon and Breadon's surliness as he realized -that Crystal, too, had been shamed into a recollection of her feminine -duty to herself. Somewhere she had found cosmetics, and somehow she -had managed to clean and press out a fawn-colored desert sun-suit. -Once again, ash-blonde hair combed back to a shoulder-length veil of -shimmering loveliness, pale golden skin fresh and creamy and fragrant -beneath the sheer silk of her abbreviated costume, she was the -glamorous, crystal-lovely Crystal of more leisured days. A woman at -once lovely, challenging and--desirable. - -Thus the nation divided against itself was united. And thus began the -second phase of the refugees' struggle to exist against staggering odds -on the lonely, hostile moon of Saturn. - - - VIII - -Amazingly, the period of readjustment was not long, nor was it arduous. -It was accomplished briefly, surely, in a series of emphatic object -lessons. There was Enid Andrews, for instance. On her first afternoon -in the cave she called 'Tina to her side, ordered the beautification of -her face, her hair, her nails, and with a sigh of relief surrendered to -the ministrations of the younger girl. - -Greg, witness to this, frowned. But he motioned for silence when Aunt -Maud would have made some irate comment. - -That evening, by former agreement, Enid washed the dinner dishes. When -'Tina stepped forward to dry them, Greg stopped her. - -"Sit down, 'Tina. Mrs. Andrews will dry them." - -Enid started, gasped, stared at the huge pile appalled. 'Tina said, -"But there are so many of them, Greg. Ten of us--" - -"You have done extra work today," said Greg suavely, "to earn your -rest. Mrs. Andrews is in your debt. She must work out her obligation. -We have," he continued pointedly, "no servants or masters here. -Courtesies must be repaid in kind." - -Only twice more did the lessons have to be repeated; once when Bert -Andrews gluttonously devoured an entire berry pie and was made to spend -the next lunch-hour picking fruit for another; again when Breadon -carelessly fouled the spring by washing in it, and in penance was -required to construct a clay-and-stone dam below the spring, that in -the future the community might have adequate bathing facilities; after -that everyone understood that he had his alloted share of work, that -the work must be done, that meals, warmth, comfort and safety could be -earned only by sweat and toil. - -And gradually the rude cave dwelling began to take on the semblance of -a home. During the short days at their disposal before Titan, pursuing -its cosmic rounds, plunged into the umbra of its gigantic mother -planet, every member of the refugee corps worked feverishly to prepare -and fortify for the dark days to come. - -It was well that they did so, for when the darkness descended, ensued a -bleakness even more terrifying than Greg had anticipated. The eclipse -of Titan by its parent was no mild, momentary phenomenon like the -eclipsing of Earth by Luna; it was a five day cessation of all heat and -light. - -With the darkness came sweeping, icy winds, gales monstrously violent, -and incredible cold. From a sky black and terrible came the snow, five -inches of it in an hour, eight feet of it in a day. It was alarming at -first. Then Greg and all of them realized that the very ferocity of -the storm was their salvation! Were there to be this frightful cold -_without_ snow, not all the fires of Gehenna, not all the clothing and -blankets in the universe, could have protected them. But the snow, -dropping like a sodden, white blanket, choked and filled the mouth of -their cave, piled thicker and thicker, enswaddling them in a fleecy -comfort that kept out the bone-brittling blasts. - -Then they thanked the foresight that had led them to build up a -roof-touching fuel reserve, a store of fresh produce and game, for they -could not leave their refuge. They were snowbound until Titan left the -shadow of Saturn and the warmth should again melt their prison walls. - -But those days were not days of idleness; they were days of -accomplishment. The women, under 'Tina's guidance, ripped apart -unneeded goods salvaged from the skiff's stores--tarpaulins, extra -bedding and napery, carpeting, drapes--and restitched them into more -needed, more practical articles of wearing and household apparel. - - * * * * * - -Breadon and Greg, laying aside a mutely-acknowledged hostility, -pooled their knowledge and ingenuity in an effort to ascertain their -whereabouts on the satellite. Neither had studied mathematics closely, -a fact each now bewailed. But they had a few books on astrogation, -taken from the skiff, and they had determination and intelligence. -Utilizing some of their precious, dwindling store of forged metal, they -constructed a crude but--they believed--reasonably accurate sextant -with which, when the darkness was gone, they hoped to take celestial -readings that would aid their computations. - -In the making of this, Greg was forced to sacrifice something that -had been for almost ten years as much a part of him as his arms and -legs. His spectacles. Strangely, he did not miss them much after the -first day. Their purpose had been mainly to protect him from eyestrain -and headaches in a confined vocation that required much reading. But -here on Saturn's satellite, health improved by hard labor, Greg had -experienced no headaches. He was, in fact, almost disgustingly healthy. -He could tell by the straining of his clothes at throat and chest and -waist-band that he was gaining weight; his appetite had improved and -when night came, he did not have to read himself to sleep. - -Young Tommy took upon himself the task of chronicling their exile. -His method, though extravagantly romantic as befitted his years -and enthusiasm for this adventure, was nonetheless efficient. He -laboriously scraped smooth a wide portion of the cave-wall; on this -he inscribed a calendar, a log, and a map of such portions of the -satellite as they had so far explored. - -Meanwhile Sparks Hannigan fretted over his damaged radio set. An -accomplished bug-pounder, he took little time to get the wiring -rearranged. The replacement of metal parts was a tougher problem, but -it, too, he solved with the aid of their acetylene torch. - -One final job, however, stopped him cold. He shook his head when he -spoke of it to Malcolm. - -"The tubes, Greg. It just ain't no use. We can't operate the radio -less'n we got tubes, and ours is gone. I guess I'm just wasting my -time." - -Greg said, "Isn't there a type of radio that works without tubes? -Operates on a crystal, or something?" - -Sparks said, "Yeah. But it ain't got no power. We got to get a message -plumb off the satellite, out into space where it can be picked up by a -Space Patrol cruiser. Or the Saturn lightship." - -"And that's impossible? Suppose you had glass?" - -"Can you make it?" scoffed Sparks. - -"Maybe," said Greg. "Glass was accidentally discovered in the first -place, you know, by Phoenician sailors who built a fire on a sandy -beach wherein was imbedded raw chunks of natron. We might be able to do -the same." - -Sparks shook his head glumly. "O.Q. So that gives us glass. We still -got to blow it, and figger out some way of sucking the air out, and -winding filaments. Oh, understand, I ain't saying we can't _do_ it, -Greg. But it'll take years." - -Greg nodded soberly. - -"Well, we'll overlook no bets. Sparks--tell you what to do. You go -ahead and build one of those simple 'crystal' sets, just in the event -that someday a scout ship or exploration plane should come within our -range. Andrews is an important man, you know. Earth won't dismiss him -casually as 'Lost in Space.' We'll also, as soon as the Sun comes back, -clear a wide swath in the plain below us and construct a huge SOS sign -of wood and underbrush that will be visible by day and can be set afire -by night. - -"Then, if we should ever hear the signal of a scout ship, we'll hope -they see our marker." - -"If!" grunted Sparks. - -"What's that?" - -"Skip it!" said Hannigan. "I was just making book against myself." - - * * * * * - -So Greg maintained an optimism before the others, an optimism he did -not entirely feel himself. Always he talked of the day they would leave -Titan, but sometimes he wondered if that day would ever come. - -And truth to tell, there were periods when he almost hoped that day -would not ever come! For here, a thousand million miles from the Earth -that had borne him, Gregory Malcolm had finally come into the rulership -that, on Earth, he could never win, but that here was his by right of -greater strength and knowledge. - -He gazed about him, musing, and saw a cavern bright with candles that -_he_ had taught the womenfolk to render from the fats of wild beasts, -warm with a flame _he_ had kindled and nurtured, comfortable with -furnishings _he_ had constructed to their purpose. He saw nine men and -women, a half dozen of whom had been his "superiors" aforetime, but who -now looked to him for guidance, protection and leadership. - -His mind's eye pierced the rock walls of the cavern and gazed, -marveling, at the cosmos as viewed from desolate Titan. When these -snows melted he could stand upon the hillside beneath the flaming -moons of Saturn, beneath the never-ending wonder of Saturn's massive, -multi-colored Rings, and say with Defoe's ancient castaway that here -he, indeed, was monarch of all he surveyed. - -This was his ordained fate; this was his brave, new world; these people -were his subjects. And he was, for howsoever brief or long a time, an -Emperor. And the white, the whirling stars--these were his empire! - -Perhaps he was not the only one of that group who saw this truth. For -there was more than mere grudging lip-service in the changed attitude -of Andrews and his wife and son. Bert Andrews was a changed boy. His -wilfulness had vanished; his allegiance to Greg was ardent. Maud -Andrews' affection for Greg was an obvious thing. She saw to it that he -was first fed, first clothed, first taken care of in all things; hers -was an attitude of fierce maternalism, springing from a breast that had -never known motherhood. - -And--and there was another strange thing, too. A thing of singing -glory that Greg could scarce believe, even though its truth was -exhibited to him in a thousand little ways. - -Crystal Andrews! - -A great change had come upon Crystal Andrews since the loss of the -_Carefree_. Of the old Crystal, only one part remained. Her blindingly -radiant beauty. Her selfishness, her coldness, had fled, had been -banished as her accustomed languidness had been banished by the -obligation of labor. - -Daily her attitude toward Greg grew more intimate. From aloofness she -melted into acceptance, acceptance faded and became approval. Approval -waxed as transpiring events proved time and again Greg's wisdom and his -right to rule; there came upon the girl an eagerness to be the first to -do whatever he suggested. - -This was good, and as it should be. But there was something else, too; -something deeper. At first Greg could not understand it, then gradually -its meaning became clear even to his wholly-masculine mind. The sudden -glance ... the lingering touch of hand against hand as they chanced -to pass one another ... the host of unnecessary little questions that -brought them into contact a dozen times a day ... the sweeping flush -when he, looking up unexpectedly, met her gaze. All these and other -things. The lithe, sure, free, but overwhelmingly feminine allure of -her body, shoulder brushing his as they sat before the fireplace in the -long evenings. The slow caress of her voice when she spoke his name. -The moment of swift alarm--a torpid snake that had somehow wriggled -into the cavern, toward the warmth of the fire--and Crystal in his -arms for all too short a moment. And drawing away reluctantly when the -"danger" was past. - - * * * * * - -He should have known from these things. Or from the amused glances of -Sparks Hannigan, or the increased surliness of Ralph Breadon, or from -the sudden loss of gaiety on the part of 'Tina. - -"What's the matter with you, 'Tina? Don't you feel well lately?" - -Her eyes avoiding his. "I'm all right, Greg. It's nothing." - -"But you don't sing any more. You're sure you're well? There's nothing -I can do for you?" - -"No." Her voice low. "No, thank you." - -"But I want you to be happy. Look, 'Tina--let's you and me play -cribbage tonight like we used to? We haven't had a game for weeks. How -about it?" - -"Oh, Greg--would you like to? Really?" - -Her dullness slipping away from her like a dropped cape; her voice -throbbingly eager. Then another voice at his elbow, a throaty, -heart-stirring voice. "Oh, Greg--me, too? May I play? Will you teach me -the game?" - -Greg turned, smiling. "Why, of course. We'll get Sparks and make it a -four-handed game. Eh, 'Tina?" - -But 'Tina drew back, her eyes hurt again and distant. Her voice faint. -"N-no, Greg. You and Crystal. I don't think I want to...." - -Which Greg could not understand. But gradually, out of his confusion -and miscomprehension, one truth came clear. And with its coming there -was a sudden singing in his heart, a fire in his veins. He loved -Crystal Andrews. And Crystal Andrews loved him! - - * * * * * - -Then one day they woke to find the floor of the cave glistening darkly -with a pool of water. The snow was melting from the mouth of the cave. -When they attacked the weakened snowbank with shovels and brooms, -laughing and fighting their way clear of the white barrier, they -discovered that the dark days had ended, that once again the sky of -Titan was silver-blue and bright, that already the warmth had turned -the snow mantle to chuckling rivulets that ran merrily down the hills, -leaving fresh green in its wake. The miracle of Titan's "winter" had -passed, and the land would again be theirs for three warm weeks. - -Greg's brain was afire with a hundred projects. A viaduct to carry -water into the cavern during the next cold period. They had had to -depend on melted snow this time. A study of the stars with their new -sextant. The clearing of ground for the gigantic signal. He turned to -the others enthusiastically. - -"We've got to work now, folks, as we never worked before! Tommy, I -want you to get right to work on that new viaduct we were talking -about. Andrews, your first job will be to replenish the wood supply. -Try the west woods, that's the best timber. 'Tina, see what these short -'winters' do to the vegetation, will you? I don't imagine they're dead. -Nature has ways of counteracting its own excesses. I believe we'll find -the vegetation here on Titan is phenomenally hardy. But see, anyway. - -"Aunt Maud--you and Enid set out those traps we made during the dark -spell. We'll have a hot stew tonight. Breadon, suppose you and Sparks -and I go down to the plain and start planning our signal system? -Crystal--" - -Crystal was at his side, her hand on his arm. "I'm going with you, -Greg." - -"What? But they need you--Oh, all right!" - -He smiled. Behind him Aunt Maud snorted and disguised the snort with -a rattling cough. 'Tina looked at him oddly for a moment before she -turned obediently toward where last week there had been a vegetable -patch. Her eyes were hurt. Greg could not understand why. - -It was not until he was halfway down the hill that he remembered he -had promised to let her help with the sign project. Of course it was -too late to do anything about it then. Besides, Crystal's feet were -unsteady on the melting path. She needed his arm about her for support. -And her hair had a tantalizing fragrance all its own.... - - - IX - -It took all of the men, working steadily from dawn to dusk every day, -two full weeks to construct the signal. When it was done, Greg looking -down upon it from their hilltop eyrie, gazed upon it with approval and -found it good. - -Across the mile-wide flatness of the plain they had heaped huge piles -of branches, faggots, brush, forming the letters "S O S." Green, they -stood out boldly; withered and faded, their brownness would be equally -clear. - -Hannigan was pleased with his share of the work, too. - -"--wire," he finished, "from the bottom of the 'S' to the cave. We just -about had enough, too. Anyhow, if the ship should happen to come at -night instead of in the daytime, all we got to do is push the switch, -and a spark'll jump in the tinder. Send the whole signal up in flame in -less time than you can say 'integral calculus.'" He frowned. "If," he -added, "a ship comes at all. Which of course I couldn't say yes or no." - -"It will come," said Greg absently. He said it because it was the thing -to say; as a matter of habit. He was not even thinking of his words. -He was thinking, now that this project had been accomplished, of other -things. Of a silo that must be built. They had nine head of livestock -now, due to Tommy O'Doul's persistence. The beasts would have to be -provided with winter quarters. One goat in the cave had not been so -bad, last month. But nine goats--Perhaps, he thought, that small cave -next to ours. If we could dig into it through the west wall ... make a -small opening.... - -His lack of concentration brought a false conclusion from the third man -in the group. Ralph Breadon stirred restively. - -"You should say," he insinuated, "if Malcolm _wants_ a ship to come!" - -The words penetrated Greg's thoughts of the future slowly. He turned a -blank, questioning look on the other. - -"Eh?" - -"I merely said," repeated Breadon, "that one could not condemn a man in -your position for showing lack of enthusiasm in a rescue party." - -Greg stared at him thoughtfully. - -"Just what do you mean by that, Breadon?" - -Breadon shrugged. - -"Isn't it fairly obvious? Two short months ago you were a nobody. A -secretary without background, position or authority. Today you're the -demigod of Titan. Sir Boss. I don't complain; I merely comment. You -have everything a man could ask for. Authority ... security ... a -woman...." - -The last jolted Malcolm out of his apathy. He took a swift step -forward, gripped Breadon's lapels with a fist grown heavier, rougher, -with labor. - -"If you mean Crystal, Breadon--" - -Breadon stood his ground. "Let go of me, Malcolm. I'm not going to -fight you again. Of course I mean Crystal. It's perfectly obvious -that you and she--Oh, hell, man! Don't be a hypocrite! After all, when -people live as intimately as we do, in one little cave...." - - * * * * * - -Greg felt dark anger welling up within him like a gall-tinctured -flood. Rage not that Breadon should say this thing, but that there -should be cause for his thinking it. He choked, thickly, "Damn you, -Breadon--there's not a thing wrong between Crystal and me. I love her, -yes. And Crystal loves me. We've only been waiting till this big job -was finished--" - -"Then if I were you," retorted Breadon wearily, "I wouldn't wait any -longer. Or is it another case of the king being incapable of doing -wrong? Anyhow, I think you understand what I mean now. Two months ago -a marriage between you and Crystal Andrews would have been ridiculous. -Today--" - -He shrugged again. Greg glared at him wrathfully, impotently, for a -long moment. Then he spun on his heel, led the way down the hill to -the cave. Sparks scurried along behind him anxiously. "Now, look, -Greg--don't do nothing you might regret--" - -"Shut up! I'll handle this!" - -At the cave he called all the settlers before him. They came from their -tasks, surprised, wondering. He wasted no time. He broached the subject -boldly. - -"Because we ten are marooned here on a desert satellite," he said -savagely, "without a clergyman, there is no reason we must abandon all -the rights and privileges of civilized society. Human emotions have a -habit of enduring. I think it is no secret that Crystal Andrews and I -have fallen in love. I intend, therefore, to marry her as soon as it -can be arranged. - -"Crystal--" He turned to the girl. "Do I speak for you as well as for -myself?" - -The girl nodded and stepped forward into the circle of his arm. "You -know you do, Greg." - -J. Foster Andrews looked pleased. He said, "That's fine, son. But who's -going to do the marrying?" - -"You are. As owner of the _Carefree_, you were also its commander. I -think the space code would permit your acting in capacity of justice." -Greg's anger melted. "I'm not being very formal about this, sir. -Perhaps I should ask for your permission." - -"You have it, my boy! And now--" Archly. "When will -the--hrrumph!--happy event take place?" - -Greg looked at Crystal questioningly. "Next week?" she said, "I'll have -to have a little time, Greg." - -"That's it, then," said Greg. "Next week. When the dark period comes." - - * * * * * - -The little group broke up, then. One by one they murmured words of -congratulation and approval to their leader and his bride-to-be and -drifted away. Finally Crystal went back into the cave, and Greg was -left alone with 'Tina, who alone of all the group, had so far said -nothing. He went to her. - -"You haven't told me you're happy, 'Tina." - -She turned slowly. - -"Shall I say so, Greg?" - -"I want you to. Why do you act so strangely toward me, 'Tina? Do you -dislike me? You used to--" - -"I'm happy," she cried suddenly. "Now I've said it. You want me to. -Are you satisfied? Why don't you let me alone, Greg? Must I like or -dislike you? You have one woman? Must you--" She broke from his side, -raced forward to the edge of the hill, stared blindly down into the -plain. Greg moved after her, worried. "What is it, 'Tina? You're _not_ -happy! Are you lonely? Why don't you get married, too? Sparks ... or -Breadon...." - -He stopped, his gaze over her shoulder settling on something in the -valley beneath. A thing incredible to behold, but that was ... yes, -_was_.... - -"'Tina!" he gasped. - -At the tone of his voice she spun swiftly, anxiously. "What is it, -Greg?" - -"Look! Down there! A--a human!" - - - X - -"More gruel, Marberry?" asked Aunt Maud solicitously. "Can you eat -another spoonful?" She glared at those who ringed the reclining -spaceman belligerently. "Why don't you let him alone?" she demanded. -"Greg Malcolm, I thought you had better sense! The man's weak and -sick!" - -Marberry's eyes were like charred pockets, but he summoned a weak smile. - -"I'm all right," he said. "There isn't much more to tell. We managed -to cut free from the _Carefree_ just before she crashed. Four of us. -Lipstead, Hawkins, Craeburn and myself. Our skiff cracked up in a -mountain gorge. Craeburn was killed, and Lipstead broke his leg. But we -fixed it up in splints, and he got by. - -"When the snow came--" He shut his eyes momentarily, as though to rid -them of a persistently evil vision. "When the snow came we almost died. -We ran short on fuel, and the skiff leaked. Then the electro-stove ran -down, and we had to eat cold, canned food. - -"Even so, we pulled through. But when it got warm again, Hawkins said -we mustn't spend another winter in the skiff. We had to find a cave in -the mountains, he said. So we abandoned the ship and started moving. It -was then that they caught us." - -Breadon, who had entered late, asked, "Who?" - -"Natives of Titan," Greg capitulated briefly. "He described 'em to -us before you came in. Savages. Cannibals. Humanoid, but no culture. -Funny physical make-up, like the Uranians. Don't feel the cold at all. -Murdering devils. From what he says, we're lucky they haven't found us -before this." - -Breadon said, "Cannibals!" and looked sallow. The supine man continued -weakly. - -"We had to leave Lipstead behind. He couldn't run. He drew a gun on -us, threatened to kill us all if we didn't leave him. We heard his gun -afterward. He must have got a half dozen of them before--before they -got him. - -"Then Hawkins and me split up. It was the only way, he said. One of us -might be lucky. I--I guess I was. They followed him instead of me. And -all the time--" His voice raised feverishly. "And all the time, we was -only about ten miles from here! If we'd only known--" - -Aunt Maud would stand for no more. She bustled between the invalid and -his listeners, shooed them away angrily. "Run along, now. This man -needs sleep and quiet. Go 'way!" - - * * * * * - -But later, as Marberry slept the sleep of exhaustion, Greg called a -council of war. - -"Ten miles," he said soberly. "If those creatures are only ten miles -from here, we can expect an attack almost any day. Or moment. From -now on, we must keep a watch at all times. No one must leave the cave -alone." - -Hannigan said, "You reckon they'll find us, Greg? Titan's a big hunk of -dirt." - -"They're savages. Savages can follow the faintest trails of wild -animals, let alone the spoor of a frightened, sick man. They'll be -here." - -Hannigan said, "There's one good hunk of news in the whole sorry mess. -Marberry said him and his companions sent out radio SOS calls for three -solid weeks. Till their radio run dry. Maybe somebody picked up one of -them calls. Maybe there's help on the way right now." - -"Radio. Speaking of radio, Sparks, how about that crystal receiving set -you were working on? Is it finished?" - -Sparks smiled sourly. - -"Finished your sainted sandals! It's all washed up. Listen to this!" - -He stepped to the hodge-podge of wires and coils on which he had been -laboring, adjusted it. From its diaphragm came dismal sounds. Squawks, -squeals, quavering vibrations. - -"Static," said Breadon. - -"Double it," gloomed Hannigan, "and add a thousand. The worst kind of -static. An electrical disturbance field." - -Greg frowned. "But that can't be, Sparks. There's no electricity around -here. No generating plants or--" - -"It can't be," snorted Sparks, "but it is. I don't know what makes it -act thataway. Maybe it's the H-layer of this cockeyed satellite. Sun -spots, maybe. Whatever it is, it sure gums up my machine." He stared at -the tiny set helplessly. - -Greg stirred himself. - -"Well, then we'll have to look forward to fighting this battle without -hope of assistance. Andrews, I want you and Tommy to inspect the -cave-mouth barrier immediately, see that it's in perfect shape and -reinforce it. Ralph, you and Sparks drive the livestock into the small -cave so they'll be hidden. 'Tina, the fuel reserve?" - -"Complete, Greg." - -"Good! I'm going out to stand the first watch. If you need me, I'll -be--" - -At that moment a small figure, bristle-haired with excitement, came -scampering into the cave. - -"Greg!" cried Tommy O'Doul. "Greg--they're down there! On the plain. I -seen them. And I--I think they seen me, too! They're heading up this -way!" - - * * * * * - -A half hour later, Greg, flanked by a tight-jawed little band of -compatriots, crouched in the bottle-mouth of an altered cavern. - -The short time that had elapsed since Tommy O'Doul gave the alarm had -been minutes of swift preparation. What little of water, food and -supplies could be brought into the cave had been hustled in by eager -hands. The stock had been herded into the small, adjoining cave, and -boulders had been rolled against the cave mouth. The metal grill had -been dropped before the mouth of their own cave; it was behind this -they now crouched, through this that Greg looked out upon a lead-gray -sky and green hills. - -"There's one thing," said Greg. "One break in our favor. It's starting -to get darker, and it's barely afternoon. We must be dipping into the -penumbra of Saturn. In a little while the darkness should come, and the -gales and the cold." - -Hannigan said, "That ain't no break for us. Marberry said they didn't -feel heat and cold." - -"I know. But they can't prevent the snow falling. If it comes down like -it did during the last dark spell, we will have an eight-foot fall of -ice between us and our attackers." - -Andrews looked at the sky anxiously. - -"But until it snows, Greg?" - -"We fight!" said Greg grimly. - -Bert Andrews, who had wriggled forward on his belly to the furthermost -ell of the bottle-neck, ducked back hastily, twisted his head over his -shoulder. - -"Then we fight now!" he rasped. "Here they come!" - -It was then that the Earth-exiles saw, for the first time, the dominant -race of Saturn's sixth satellite. To see was to marvel that Nature had -once again--as on Earth, Mars, Uranus and Io--selected the bipedal -humanoid form in creating a ruling race. Except for the thick, downy -pelts that covered these Titanians' bodies, the low, slanting, bestial -foreheads, the depth of breast and rapacious mouth slits, these -creatures were the counterparts of man. - -But there were other unapparent differences, thought Greg. Marberry -had reported the Titanians impervious to heat and cold, which argued a -difference in normal body temperature and perhaps a difference in basic -metabolism. There must be sharp differences between man's mentality -and that of these man-like beasts, as well, else they would not come -seeking their interplanetary guests as the huntsman seeks his quarry. - -A long, questing, silver-pelted line, they climbed the hillside path -to the flat clearing before the cave. They paused there, peering about -them suspiciously, nostrils wide and eyes searching. Greg realized, -suddenly, that these man-things were far down humanity's scale; so much -of the animal was in them that they placed more dependence in their -olfactory than in their visual sense. They seemed to catch the man -scent, the spoor they had been following. Their leader moved forward to -the grillwork. Hannigan's shoulder brushed that of Greg as he wriggled -forward. - -"Now, Greg? Shall we let 'em have it?" - -Greg whispered hurriedly, "When I give the word, all fire at once. -Remember, we have very little ammunition. We must make every shot -count. Ready?" - -He glanced at his all-too-tiny fighting crew. Bert Andrews, old J. -Foster, Breadon, Sparks, himself. "Tommy," he ordered, "go back into -the cave!" - -"Aw!" said Tommy--but obeyed. Greg glanced about him once more. Others -of the Titanians had slunk to their leader's side now. Their voices, -guttural and mono-syllabic, carried plainly over the few intervening -yards. - -"Now!" cried Greg. - - * * * * * - -Five rifles spoke as one. Their conjoined thunder beat deafeningly upon -the sweating cavern walls, echoed and re-echoed, ripping at Greg's -eardrums. But another sound pierced the roar of gunfire. The shrill, -pain-laden screams of stricken man-things. The inquisitive leader fell -without ever knowing the cause of his death. A Titanian behind him -opened his slit-mouth in a flat, high scream, turned to run, tearing -at his gaping chest with claws that crimsoned as he tore. He took -three steps, toppled, crashed. Another body was beneath his own; still -another fell upon his. - -Old J. Foster's lips were white. He turned to Greg, sickened and -trembling. - -"We can't do this, Greg! It's slaughter!" - -A weak voice cackled derision. "Don't feel sorry for 'em. If they get -in here, they'll show you what a real slaughter looks like. Malcolm, -have you got a gun for me?" - -It was the sailor, Marberry. Greg said, "Go back and rest a while -longer, Marberry. We have no more guns." - -"I'll get Tommy's." - -"Rest. This siege may last all day, all night or for a week. You'll get -your turn." - -Marberry disappeared. Greg said, "Fire! Keep on firing! They're -bewildered. Maybe they'll break and run." - -Again the salvo of gunfire rocked the corridor, and again foremost -figures slumped to the ground, slicing the ranks of the attackers. But -now, peering through the grill, Greg saw that he had underestimated the -manpower of the attackers. They were not a dozen or two dozen ... there -were a hundred of them milling, now, in the small clearing, and the -path was still clogged with the silvery bodies of others lumbering to -the attack. - -What happened in the next hour was such stuff as nightmares are made -of. At first Greg cautioned himself each time he pulled the trigger of -his rifle that he must make his shot count; later he fell into a dull, -scarce-comprehending state of mono-existence wherein he was conscious -only of the nerveless and repeated movements of his hands. -Aim ... load ... fire! Aim again ... load ... fire ... aim.... - -And at first there was little need for aiming. For the Titanians, -savagely prodigal of life, knew only one way of fighting--to press -forward in brute force, attempting to crush down the metal grill that -stood between them and their vengeance. To fire into that thick press -of bodies was sure havoc. The Titanians were weaponless save for the -cudgels they whirled about their heads threateningly; nor could they -break down the barrier so long as the succeeding hands of all who -gripped it became the limp, impotent hands of the dead. - -Then at last even their dim, animal intelligence saw that this was a -losing battle. A cry rose and was shuttled from mouth to mouth. The -silvery figures, now gray in ever-gathering dusk, wisped away from the -cave-mouth. - -"Licked 'em!" cried Hannigan. "They're running, by Peter! Golly, Greg! -Look at that pile out there!" - -There was awe in his voice, distaste in Greg's eyes as he looked on -the motionless mound heaped before the cave. But Greg said, "Don't get -rash! They may be planning a new attack. Breadon--what's wrong with -you, man?" - -Ralph Breadon grinned wryly. - -"Fortune's favored child, that's me! They didn't have any weapons to -shoot me with, so I shot myself. Bounced a bullet off the grill. It -came back and pinked my arm." - -"Go get it dressed. There it comes!" cried Greg. - -"The new attack?" Sparks whirled. - -"The darkness. And the snow!" - -He was right. The threatened period of darkness had descended at last. -Once again Titan was within the shadow of its primary. And once again -the vast winds were keening from the hilltops, the great flakes of snow -were tumbling from a lifeless sky. Greg's voice was exultant. - -"Now we're safe! In an hour or so we'll be behind a fortress of ice. -And I don't think they'll lay siege to us in a blizzard for a solid -week." - -His triumph was short-lived. For even as he anticipated victory, -disaster beat on the portals of their refuge. From the depths of the -cave came a shrill scream, the shout of Marberry, and Tommy's frantic -cry-- - -"Greg! Come a-running! They've found the back entrance!" - - * * * * * - -The back entrance! Greg's heart lurched. He cursed himself, suddenly, -for having tried to accomplish too much in making their cavern -habitable. For by so doing, he had rendered them vulnerable in a spot -where there would be no barrier of ice an hour hence. - -The back entrance. The archway they had broken out between their large -cave and the smaller one wherein Tommy's livestock was herded. Somehow -the Titanians had found the other cave, rolled away the boulders, and -were now attempting to get at their quarry from the rear. - -Greg shouted, "Andrews, you stand guard here! One man will be enough. -The rest of you--come on!" - -The first of the Titanians was pushing through the cleft just as he -reached the main chamber. There was a look of unholy glee on the -man-like creature's thin lips as he attained the cave. But it died -there, suddenly, frostily. It was not Greg who dropped him. It was -young Tommy, staggering under the recoil of a rifle almost as tall as -himself, firing pointblank, bouncing back to reload manfully, bawling -with youthful glee, "Got him, Greg!" - - * * * * * - -Then there was no time for speech, because the Titanians were pouring -through the breech in a howling, flame-eyed mob. For a moment Greg, -even as he fought, felt despair touch his heart with leaden fingers. -There was no grill here to bar the enemy's passage; the cleft was wide -enough to admit three at a time. He and his companions were outnumbered -ten, twenty to one. - -But he did not, could not, take into consideration two vital facts. -The first was the indomitable gallantry of his fellow exiles. He had -expected that, in defense of their lives, their possessions, their -women, the armed men would fight to the last breath. And they did. -Pressing forward on relentless feet. Breadon, Andrews, Bert, Hannigan. -But Greg had not realized that the women, too, could fight. As in -a smoke-veiled dream he caught glimpses of their activities. Aunt -Maud and 'Tina, armed with huge ladles, dipping their weapons into -a massive pot of boiling water, flinging the scalding liquid at the -cold-impervious but heat-sensitive invaders. Crystal, no longer a -serene and radiant beauty, but a flaming Valkyr whose ash-blonde hair -tumbled about her, forgotten, gaining a vantage point at the very lip -of the opening, slashing ferociously at the attackers with a monstrous -cleaver. Enid Andrews racing to the wall, digging in Greg's duffle, -pressing something into his hands. - -"Your flame-pistol, Gregory!" - -Greg grasped it eagerly. "Stand back, Crystal!" - -She turned, and saw, and fled. And the ochre flame mushroomed into the -heart of the still-charging Titanians. Their charge stilled, faltered, -wavered, died. The stench of charred bodies was nauseous. Then there -were screams of fear--and the Titanians were in rout! - -Into the small cave they pursued them; from it but a handfull of the -silver-pelted savages escaped. And when the last living invader had -disappeared, Greg turned to his exhausted followers with a smile of -weary triumph. - -"We'll see no more of them," he promised. "Already the snow is a foot -deep. By morning both caves will be completely walled in. And I think -we've taught them to fear us. What, 'Tina?" - -For she was standing before him; her eyes were cool and positive ... -there was decision in her tone. - -"I thought it was all over for us a moment ago," she said. "And I knew, -then, Greg, that it was a mistake for me to die without having told -you. I promised myself that if a miracle occurred ... and we should -live ... I would tell you." - -He said wonderingly, "But what, 'Tina? I don't--" - -"I know you don't, Greg. That is why I must say it. I love you. Have -loved you since that first day." Her eyes were grave. Greg's were -embarrassed. - -He said, "But you--you shouldn't say such things, 'Tina. Crystal--" - -"She is a brave woman, Greg. But she is not your woman. She is his." - -His gaze followed 'Tina's across the room, to where Crystal knelt -beside the injured Breadon. She was cleansing his wound, which was as -it should be. But there was a softness, a tenderness, to her -motions ... and a look in her eyes. Greg looked away, suddenly aware -that even from the beginning he had felt this barrier between them. -Perhaps Crystal had loved him, for a while and in a fashion. But she -loved him for his strength, his power, his ability to rule. She was a -woman of the ruling class; ever her conscious trend would be toward -allegiance with those who led. But in the show-down ... when instinct -overcame logic.... - -Hannigan cried across the chamber, "What, Greg?" - -"I didn't say anything," said Greg gruffly. - -"But you did. I heard you say--_Omigawd!_" Sparks made a sudden leap -toward the bench on which rested the forgotten crystal set. "It's this! -_Listen!_" - - * * * * * - -Static still boiled through the speaker of the tiny set. But now, above -the static, riding its vibrations, was superimposed the sound of a -human voice. And the voice was calling, over and over again, - -"_Space Patrol Cruiser Orestes ... calling survivors of the Carefree. -We are looking for you. Where are you ... where are you? Come -in, Carefree survivors. Space Patrol Cruiser Orestes ... calling -survivors_...." - -Greg looked at 'Tina. Then once again at Crystal, whose face, upturned -with sudden, speechless joy, was the radiant vision of unattainable -perfection. Then at Sparks, whose gaze met his reluctantly. He said, -"Sparks--press the plunger." - -Hannigan's hand moved slowly toward the control that would set into -flame the gigantic brush-signal on the plain below. With strange -reluctance, everything considered. For certainly Sparks realized -as plainly as he, Greg, that the snow was falling with increasing -rapidity, that the cruiser must be almost directly overhead for its -signal to penetrate the raucous interference of static, that if this -opportunity were lost it might be years and years before.... - -Sparks voice was low in his ears. - -"Are you sure, Greg?" - -And suddenly there was deathly silence in the cave. Never until that -moment had Gregory Malcolm realized how completely was he the ruler of -this tiny clan. Here, where all life and the future of life and the -future of these men and women were concerned, the last great judgment -was relegated to him. - -He looked about him uncertainly. And what he read in his comrades' eyes -surprised him. For there was reluctance in the eyes of Bert Andrews ... -a vague regret in those of old J. Foster Andrews ... hope and pleading -in those of the girl 'Tina ... frank disapproval in those of the woman -they knew as 'Aunt Maud.' Only the eyes of Crystal Andrews, who were -he to let the cruiser pass might be his wife, was there mirrored fear -and apprehension.... - -He shook himself. And with that small gesture he shrugged from his -shoulders an ermine that had lain there all too briefly. Quietly he -said the words that stripped him of his sceptre, that swept away his -empire of the stars. - -"Press it, Sparks!" he said. - - * * * * * - -"A remarkably ingenious device, sir," said Captain Allengrove -approvingly. "And you made use of it in the nick of time. We were just -about to abandon the search when the snowy waste beneath us blossomed -suddenly with that signal. I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner, sir. -But--" And he glanced about the cavern appreciatively. "But you appear -to have had matters under control." - -J. Foster Andrews said, "Well--er--Captain, as a matter of fact, it -wasn't--hrrumph!--altogether my doing. Greg, here--" - -Captain Allengrove dismissed Malcolm with a glance. - -"Yes, yes, I quite understand. One couldn't expect you to take care of -all the minor details. But I must say, Mr. Andrews, you are a fortunate -man. Inasmuch as you established residence on Titan, the Federation -will be forced to acknowledge your priority claim to the heretofore -unknown ore deposit near your cave." - -"The--er--ore deposit?" Andrews looked blank. - -Sparks hollered, "Oh, my sainted tonsils! The swamp! Of course! -Pitchblende! That's why there was so much static interference! Radium!" - -The cruiser's commander frowned on him. - -"Exactly. Of course, Mr. Andrews, you cannot file a full claim to the -property. That requires a full year's residence. And a man as important -as yourself--" - -Greg Malcolm started. He had said nothing up till now. He had been -given an opportunity to say nothing. The captain had addressed himself -solely to the one "important" man in their party, the man for whom, -primarily, the search had been made, the man to whose "genius" was -attributed the existence of the castaways. - -Now he spoke up. He said, "But _I_ am establishing residence, Captain -Allengrove." - -Allengrove permitted himself the luxury of a small smile. - -"You, Malcolm? But really, my dear fellow, only a spaceman could -undertake such a task. A _secretary_--" - -Aunt Maud waddled forward belligerently. She said, "Secretary--pah! -Fiddle-faddle, Captain! You don't know what you're talking about! And -as for you, Brother Jonathan, I'm ashamed of you! Taking credit for -all this--arragh!" She turned to Greg. "Gregory, I'm an old woman, and -perhaps I'm an old fool, as well. But I've had more fun and excitement -in the past month than I've had in the previous forty years. Be--be -_damned_ if I'll go back to Earth and piddle away my remaining years at -operas and pink teas. I'm staying here with you!" - -Enid Andrews, into whose shoulders had so quickly come the grace and -ease of authority that was her charm, looked shocked. "Maud!" she -exclaimed. - -Sparks Hannigan breathed a sigh of relief. "Then that makes three of -us," he said. "Any more takers?" - -Tommy O'Doul pushed his way to Greg's side. "Can I stay, too, Greg? Can -I, huh? Me, too?" - -Greg said gratefully, "If you want to, Tommy. But, Bert--_you_?" - - * * * * * - -For Bert Andrews had also aligned himself with his aunt and Sparks. Now -he said defiantly, "What Aunt Maud says is good enough for me. I'll -stick!" - -'Tina was already beside Greg; her gaze was fiercely loyal. She did not -need to say anything. Captain Allengrove looked stunned. "But really," -he said, "but really, this is most unusual! I mean, we were sent to -rescue you! I--er--I don't quite see how you expect to survive without -leadership--" - -Aunt Maud snorted belligerently. "Leadership! You just leave us -supplies and we'll have all the leadership we need! Marberry, you're -staying, aren't you? Well, that's seven of us. A lucky number! I don't -suppose there are any more?" - -She glared at Crystal. Greg, too, was watching the girl. Now before the -steadfastness of their combined gazes, her eyes dropped. Her cheeks -colored faintly. But she did not move from Breadon's side. She said, -"I--I'm sorry. I hope you understand, Greg." - -Greg said, "I understand." - -"Furthermore," declared Aunt Maud staunchly, "I'm warning you, -Jonathan! I know you! If you go home bragging about your part in the -colonization of Titan, I'll follow you, so help me! And if you fail to -keep us equipped with supplies--" - -J. Foster said hurriedly, "Now, Maud!" - -Captain Allengrove looked at them all uncomprehendingly. It didn't make -sense. But he was a Space Officer--it was not his place to engage in -family quarrels; his duty was to rescue what few of this astonishing -crew wished to be rescued. He coughed nervously. He said, "Well, Mr. -Andrews--if you're ready now?" - -"Yes," said J. Foster. "We're ready now. Goodbye, Greg," he said. -"And--er--thanks, old boy!" - -Greg said levelly, "That's all right. Goodbye." He said, less levelly, -"Goodbye, Miss Andrews." - -But Crystal and Breadon were already turning toward the portal, toward -the cruiser that would carry them back to an easier, gentler world. -So at the end, there were no last farewells. Just a single word, and -silence. - -Yet somehow, strangely, Greg Malcolm did not mind too much. For in -losing one thing, he had found much more. He was bulwarked with -greater, truer friends than most men ever know ... he stood in a -cave that was his home ... on a new world that was yet his shining, -unblemished empire. - -And there was the touch of a warm hand on his own. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon, by Nelson S. 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Bond - -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: Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon - -Author: Nelson S. Bond - -Release Date: August 26, 2020 [EBook #63048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANDERERS OF THE WOLF-MOON *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Wanderers of the Wolf Moon</h1> - -<h2>By NELSON S. BOND</h2> - -<p>They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked,<br /> -the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had<br /> -to build a new life on a hostile world. And the<br /> -man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the<br /> -bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures<br /> -had come through the pages of a book.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Spring 1944.<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>Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of the -radio turret. Sparks was a stunted, usually-grinning, little redhead -named Hannigan. But he wasn't grinning now. He laid an anxious hand on -Greg's arm. "If I was you," he said, "if I was you, Malcolm, I don't -think I'd say nothing to the boss about this. Not just yet, anyhow."</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Why not?"</p> - -<p>Sparks spluttered and fussed and made heavy weather of answering.</p> - -<p>"Well, for one thing, it ain't important. It would only worry him. And -then there's the womenfolks, they scare easy. Which of course they -ain't no cause to. Atmospherics don't mean nothing. I've rode out -worse storms than this—plenty of times. And in worse crates than the -<i>Carefree</i>."</p> - -<p>Greg studied him carefully from behind trim plasta-rimmed spectacles. -He drew a deep breath. He said levelly, "So it's <i>that</i> bad, eh, -Sparks?"</p> - -<p>"What bad? I just told you—"</p> - -<p>"I know. Sparks, I'm not a professional spaceman. But I've studied -astrogation as few Earthlubbers have. It's been my hobby for years. And -I think I know what we're up against.</p> - -<p>"We hit a warp-eddy last night. We've been trapped in a vortex for -more than eight hours. Lord only knows how many hundreds of thousands -of miles we've been borne off our course. And now we've blasted into a -super-ionized belt of atmospherics. Your radio signals are blanketed. -You can't get signals in or out. We're a deaf-mute speck of metal being -whirled headlong through space. Isn't that it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what—" began Sparks hotly. Then he stopped, studied his -companion thoughtfully, nodded. "O.Q.," he confessed, "that's it. But -we ain't licked yet. We got three good men on the bridge. Townsend ... -Graves ... Langhorn. They'll pull out of this if anybody can. And they -ain't no sense in scaring the Old Man and his family."</p> - -<p>"I won't tell them," said Greg. "I won't tell them unless I have to. -But between you and me, what are the odds against us, Sparks?"</p> - -<p>The radioman shrugged.</p> - -<p>"Who knows? Vortices are unpredictable. Maybe the damn thing will toss -us out on the very spot it picked us up. Maybe it will give us the old -chuckeroo a million miles the other side of Pluto. Maybe it will crack -us up on an asteroid or satellite. No way of telling till it happens."</p> - -<p>"And the controls?"</p> - -<p>"As useless," said Sparks, "as a cow in a cyclone."</p> - -<p>"So?"</p> - -<p>"We sit tight," said Sparks succinctly, "and hope."</p> - -<p>Malcolm nodded quietly. He took off his spectacles, breathed on them, -wiped them, replaced them. He was tall and fair; in his neat, crisply -pressed business suit he appeared even slimmer than he was. But there -was no nervousness in his movements. He moved measuredly. "Well," he -said, "that appears to be that. I'm going up to the dining dome."</p> - -<p>Sparks stared at him querulously.</p> - -<p>"You're a queer duck, Malcolm. I don't think you've got a nerve in your -body."</p> - -<p>"Nerves are a luxury I can't afford," replied Greg. "If anything -happens—and if there's time to do so—let me know." He paused at the -door. "Good luck," he said.</p> - -<p>"Clear ether!" said Sparks mechanically. He stared after the other man -wonderingly for a long moment, then went back to his control banks, -shaking his head and muttering.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gregory Malcolm climbed down the Jacob's-ladder and strode briskly -through the labyrinthine corridors that were the entrails of the -space yacht <i>Carefree</i>. He paused once to peer through a <i>perilens</i> -set into the ship's port plates. It was a weird sight that met his -gaze. Not space, ebony-black and bejewelled with a myriad flaming -splotches of color; not the old, familiar constellations treading -their ever-lasting, inexorable paths about the perimeter of Sol's -tiny universe, but a shimmering webwork of light, so tortured-violet -that the eyes ached to look upon it. This was the mad typhoon of -space-atmospherics through which the <i>Carefree</i> was now being twisted, -topsy-turvy, toward a nameless goal.</p> - -<p>He moved on, approaching at last the quartzite-paned observation -rotunda which was the dining dome of the ship.</p> - -<p>His footsteps slowed as he composed himself to face those within. As -he hesitated in the dimly-lighted passage, a trick of lights on glass -mirrored to him the room beyond. He could see the others while they -were as yet unaware of his presence. Their voices reached him clearly.</p> - -<p>J. Foster Andrews, his employer and the employer of the ten thousand -or more men and women who worked for Galactic Metals Corporation, -dominated the head of the table. He was a plump, impatient little -Napoleon. Opposite him, calm, graceful, serene, tastefully garbed and -elaborately coiffured even here in deep space, three weeks from the -nearest beauty shop, sat his wife, Enid.</p> - -<p>On Andrews' right sat his sister, Maud. Not young, features plain as a -mud fence, but charming despite her age and homeliness simply because -of her eyes; puckish, shrewdly intelligent eyes, constantly aglint with -suppressed humor at—guessed Greg—the amusing foibles and frailties of -those about her.</p> - -<p>She gave her breakfast the enthusiastic attention of one too old and -shapeless to be concerned with such folderol as calories and dietetics, -pausing only from time to time to share smidgeons of food with a -watery-eyed scrap of white, curly fluff beside her chair. Her pet -poodle, whom she called by the opprobrious title of "Cuddles."</p> - -<p>On J. Foster's left sat his daughter, Crystal. She it was who caused -Gregory Malcolm's staid, respectable heart to give a little lurch as -he glimpsed her reflected vision—all gold and crimson and cream—in -the glistening walls. If Crystal was her name, so, too, was crystal her -loveliness.</p> - -<p>But—Greg shook his head—but she was not for him. She was already -pledged to the young man seated beside her. Ralph Breadon. He turned -to murmur something to her as Greg watched; Greg saw and admired and -disliked his rangy height, his sturdy, well-knit strength, the rich -brownness of his skin, his hair, his eyes.</p> - -<p>The sound of his own name startled Greg.</p> - -<p>"Malcolm!" called the man at the head of the table. "Malcolm! Now where -in blazes is he, anyhow?" he demanded of no one in particular, everyone -in general. He spooned a dab of liquid gold from a Limoges preserve -jar, tongued it suspiciously, frowned. "Bitter!" he complained.</p> - -<p>"It's the very <i>best</i> Martian honey," said his wife.</p> - -<p>"Drylands clover," added Crystal.</p> - -<p>"It's still bitter," said J. Foster petulantly.</p> - -<p>His sister sniffed. "Nonsense! It's delightful."</p> - -<p>"I say it's bitter," repeated Andrews sulkily. And lifted his voice -again. "<i>Malcolm!</i> Where <i>are</i> you?"</p> - -<p>"You called me, sir?" said Malcolm, moving into the room. He nodded -politely to the others. "Good morning, Mrs. Andrews ... Miss -Andrews ... Mr. Breadon...."</p> - -<p>"Oh, sit down!" snapped J. Foster. "Sit down here and stop bobbing your -head like a teetotum! Had your breakfast? The honey's no good; it's -bitter." He glared at his sister challengingly. "Where have you been, -anyway? What kind of secretary are you? Have you been up to the radio -turret? How's the market today? Is Galactic up or down?"</p> - -<p>Malcolm said, "I don't know, sir."</p> - -<p>"Fine! Fine!" Andrews rattled on automatically before the words -registered. Then he started, his face turning red. "Eh? What's that? -Don't know! What do you mean, you don't know? I pay you to—"</p> - -<p>"There's no transmission, sir," said Greg quietly.</p> - -<p>"No trans—nonsense! Of course there's transmission! I put a million -credits into this ship. Finest space-yacht ever built. Latest equipment -throughout. Sparks is drunk, that's what you mean! Well, you hop right -up there and—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Maud Andrews put down her fork with a clatter. "Oh, for goodness sakes, -Jonathan, shut up and give the boy time to explain! He's standing -there with his mouth gaping like a rain-spout, trying to get a word in -edgewise! What's the trouble, Gregory?" She turned to Greg, as Jonathan -Foster Andrews wheezed into startled silence. "<i>That?</i>"</p> - -<p>She glanced at the quartzite dome, beyond which the veil of iridescence -wove and cross-wove and shimmered like a pallid aurora.</p> - -<p>Greg nodded. "Yes, Miss Andrews."</p> - -<p>Enid Andrews spoke languidly from the other end of the table.</p> - -<p>"But what is it, Gregory? A local phenomenon?"</p> - -<p>"You might call it that," said Greg, selecting his words cautiously. -"It's an ionized field into which we've blasted. It—it—shouldn't stay -with us long. But while it persists, our radio will be blanketed out."</p> - -<p>Breadon's chestnut head came up suddenly, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Ionization! That means atmosphere!"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Yes."</p> - -<p>"And an atmosphere means a body in space somewhere near—" Breadon -stopped, bit his lip before the appeal in Malcolm's eyes, tried to pass -it off easily. "Oh, well—a change of scenery, what?"</p> - -<p>But the moment of alarm in his voice had not passed unnoticed. Crystal -Andrews spoke for all of them, her voice preternaturally quiet.</p> - -<p>"You're hiding something, Malcolm. What is it? Is there—danger?"</p> - -<p>But Greg didn't have to answer that question. From the doorway a harsh, -defiantly strident voice answered for him. The voice of Bert Andrews, -Crystal's older brother.</p> - -<p>"Danger? You're damn right there's danger! What's the matter with -you folks—are you all deaf, dumb and blind? We've been caught in a -space-vortex for hours. Now we're in the H-layer of a planet we can't -even see—and in fifteen minutes or fifteen seconds we may all be -smashed as flat as pancakes!"</p> - -<p>The proclamation brought them out of their chairs. Greg's heart sank; -his vain plea, "Mr. Andrews—" was lost in the medley of Crystal's -sudden gasp, Enid Andrews' short, choking scream, J. Foster's bellowing -roar at his only son.</p> - -<p>"Bert—you're drunk!"</p> - -<p>Bert weaved precariously from the doorway, laughed in his father's face.</p> - -<p>"Sure I'm drunk! Why not? If you're smart you'll get drunk, too. The -whole damn lot of you!" He flicked a derisive hand toward Greg. "You -too, Boy Scout! What were you trying to do—hide the bad news from -them? Well, it's no use. Everybody might as well know the worst. We're -gone gooses ... geeses ... aw, what the hell! Dead ducks!" He fell -into a chair, sprawled there laughing mirthlessly with fear riding the -too-high notes of his laughter.</p> - -<p>J. Foster turned to his secretary slowly. His ire had faded; there was -only deep concern in his voice.</p> - -<p>"Is he telling the truth, Malcolm?"</p> - -<p>Greg said soberly, "Partly, sir. He's overstating the danger—but -there is danger. We are caught in a space-vortex, and as Mr. -Breadon realized, the presence of these ionics means we're in the -Heaviside-layer of some heavenly body. But we may not crack up."</p> - -<p>Maud Andrews glanced at him shrewdly.</p> - -<p>"Is there anything we can do?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing. The officers on the bridge are doing everything possible."</p> - -<p>"In that case," said the older woman, "we might as well finish our -breakfast. Here, Cuddles! Come to momsy!" She sat down again. Greg -looked at her admiringly. Ralph Breadon stroked his brown jaw. He said, -"The life-skiffs?"</p> - -<p>"A last resort," said Greg. "Sparks promised he'd let me know if it -were necessary. We'll hope it's not—"</p> - -<p>But it was a vain hope, vainly spoken in the last, vain moment. For -even as he phrased the hopeful words, came the sound of swift, racing -footsteps up the corridor. Into the dining dome burst Hannigan, eyes -hot with excitement. And his cry dispelled Greg's final hopes for -safety.</p> - -<p>"Everybody—the Number Four life-skiff—<i>quick</i>! We've been caught in a -grav-drag and we're going to crash!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>Those next hectic moments were never afterward very clear in Greg -Malcolm's memory. He had a confused recollection of hearing Sparks' -warning punctuated by a loud, shrill scream which he vaguely identified -as emanating from Mrs. Andrews' throat ... he was conscious of feeling, -suddenly, beneath his feet the sickening, quickening lurch of a ship -out of control, gripped by gravitational forces beyond its power to -allay ... he recalled his own voice dinning in his ears as, incredibly, -with Sparks, he took command of the hasty flight from the dining dome -down the corridor to the aft ramp, up the ramp, across girdered beams -in the super-structure to the small, independently motored rocket-skiff -cradled there.</p> - -<p>He was aware, too, of strangely disconnected incidents happening around -him, he being a part of them but seeming to be only a disinterested -spectator to their strangeness. Of his forcing Maud Andrews toward -the door of the dome ... of her pushing back against him with all the -weight of her body ... of her irate voice, "Cuddles! I forgot him!" -Then the shrill excited yapping of the poodle cradled against her as -they charged on down the corridor.</p> - -<p>J. Foster waddling beside him, tugging at his arm, panting, "The -officers?" and his own unfelt assurance. "They can take care of -themselves. It's a general 'bandon ship." Enid Andrews stumbling over -the hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly and -bodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excited -body hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying, -"'Tina!" ... and Hannigan's reply, "Your maid? I woke her. She's in the -life-skiff." Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middle -of the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, sure -nausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness beneath their feet.</p> - -<p>Then the life-skiff, the clang of metal as Hannigan slammed the -port behind the last of them, the fumbling for a lock-stud, the -quick, grateful pant of the miniature hypos, and a weird feeling of -weightlessness, rushingness, hurtlingness as his eardrums throbbed and -his mouth tasted brassy and bloody with the fierce velocity of their -escape.</p> - -<p>Sense and meaning returned only when all this ended. As one waking from -a nightmare dream, Greg Malcolm returned to a world he could recognize. -A tiny world, encased within the walls of a forty-foot life-skiff. A -world peopled too scantily. Andrews, his wife and sister, his son and -daughter; 'Tina Laney, the maid; Breadon, Hannigan, young Tommy O'Doul, -the cabin-boy (though where he had come from, or when, Greg did not -know). And himself. In a life-skiff. In space.</p> - -<p>Somewhere in space. He looked through the <i>perilens</i>. What he saw then -he might better never have seen. For that shimmering pink-ochre veil -had wisped away, now, and in the clean, cold, bitter-clear light of a -distant sun he watched the death-dive of the yacht <i>Carefree</i>.</p> - -<p>Like a vast silver top, spinning heedlessly, wildly, it streaked toward -a mottled gray and green, brown and dun, hard and crushing-brutal -terrain below. Still at its helm stood someone, for even in that last -dreadful moment burst from its nose-jets a ruddy mushroom of flame that -tried to, but could not, brake the dizzy fall.</p> - -<p>For an instant Greg's eyes, stingingly blinded and wet, thought they -glimpsed a wee black mote dancing from the bowels of the <i>Carefree</i>; a -mote that might be another skiff like their own. But he could not be -sure, and then the <i>Carefree</i> was accelerating with such violence and -speed that the eye could see it only as a flaming silver lance against -the ugly earth-carcase beneath, and then it struck and a carmine bud of -flame burst and flowered for an instant, and that was all....</p> - -<p>And Greg Malcolm turned from the <i>perilens</i>, shaken.</p> - -<p>Hannigan said, "It's over?" and Greg nodded.</p> - -<p>Hannigan said, "The other skiffs? Did they break free, or were they -caught?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I couldn't see for sure."</p> - -<p>"You must have seen. Are we the only ones?"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't see for sure. Maybe. Maybe not."</p> - -<p>Then a body scrambled forward, pressing through the tightness of other -huddled bodies, and there was a hand upon his elbow. "I'll take over -now, Malcolm."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was Ralph Breadon. Gregory looked at him slowly, uncomprehendingly -at first. His hand was reluctant to leave the guiding-gear of the -small ship which was, now, all that remained to them of civilization -and civilization's wondrous accomplishments. He had not realized until -this moment that for a while ... for a short, eager, pulse-quickening -while ... on his alertness, in his hands, had depended the destinies -of ten men and women. But he knew, suddenly and completely, that it -was for this single moment his whole lifetime had waited. It was for -this brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greater -than knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, had -studied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That he -might be fitted to command when all others failed. And now—</p> - -<p>And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm, -mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And the -man at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman, -trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong....</p> - -<p>"Very well, sir," he said. And he turned over the controls.</p> - -<p>What happened then was unfortunate. It might just as well have happened -to Malcolm, though afterward no one could ever say with certainty. -However that was, either by carelessness or malfortune or inefficiency, -once-thwarted disaster struck again at the little party on the -life-skiff. At the instant Breadon's hand seized the controls the skiff -jerked suddenly as though struck with a ponderous fist, its throbbing -motors choked and snarled in a high, rising crescendo of torment that -lost itself in supersonic heights, and the ship that had been drifting -easily and under control to the planet beneath now dipped viciously.</p> - -<p>The misfortune was that too many huddled in the tiny space understood -the operation of the life-skiff, and what must be done instantly. And -that neither pilot was as yet in control of the ship. Breadon's hand -leaped for the Dixie rod, so, too, did Malcolm's—and across both their -bodies came the arm of Sparks Hannigan, searching the controls.</p> - -<p>In the scramble someone's sleeve brushed the banks of control-keys. The -motors, killed, soughed into silence. The ship rocked into a spin. Greg -cried out, his voice a strange harshness in his ears; Breadon cursed; -one of the women bleated fearfully.</p> - -<p>Then Breadon, still cursing, fought all hands from the controls but his -own. And the man was not without courage. For all could see plainly, -in the illumined <i>perilens</i>, how near to swift death that moment of -uncertainty had led them. The skiff, which an instant before had been -high in the stratosphere of this unknown planet ... or satellite -or whatever it might be ... was now flashing toward hard ground at -lightning speed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Only a miracle, Greg knew, could save them now. An impulse spun his -head, he looked at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Just -a hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, the -maid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in her -nether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out.</p> - -<p>Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performed -that miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ... -a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His face -twisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled taut -and bloodless away from his teeth. "Hold tight, folks! We're going to -bounce—"</p> - -<p>Then they struck!</p> - -<p>But they struck glancingly, as Breadon had hoped, and planned for, -and gambled on. They struck and bounced. The frail craft shivered -and groaned in metal agony, jarred across harsh soil, bounced again, -settled, nosed over and rocked to a standstill. Somewhere forward -something snapped with a shrill, high <i>ping!</i> of stress; somewhere aft -was the metallic flap-clanging of broken gear trailing behind them. But -they were safe.</p> - -<p>Breath, held so long that he could not remember its inhalation, escaped -Greg's lungs in a long sigh. "Nice work, Mr. Breadon!" he cried. "Oh, -nice work!"</p> - -<p>But surprisingly, savagely, Breadon turned on him.</p> - -<p>"It would have been <i>better</i> work, Malcolm, if you'd kept your damned -hands off the controls! Now see what you've done? Smashed up our skiff! -Our only—"</p> - -<p>"He didn't do it!" piped the shrill voice of Tommy O'Doul. "You done it -yourself, Mr. Breadon. Your sleeve. It caught the switch."</p> - -<p>"Quiet!" Breadon, cheeks flushed, reached out smartly, stilled -the youngster's defense with a swift, ungentle slap. "And you, -Malcolm—after this, do as you're told, and don't try to assume -responsibilities too great for you. All right, everybody. Let's get out -and see how bad the damage is."</p> - -<p>Instinctively Greg had surged a half step forward as Breadon silenced -the cabin boy. Now old habit and common-sense halted him. He's -overwrought, he reasoned. We're all excited and on edge. We've been to -Bedlam. Our nerves are shot. In a little while we'll all be back to -normal.</p> - -<p>He said quietly, "Very well, Mr. Breadon." And he climbed from the -broken skiff.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hannigan said, "Looks bad, don't it?"</p> - -<p>"Very," said Malcolm. He fingered a shard of loose metal flapping like -a fin from the stern of the skiff. "Not hopeless, though. There should -be an acetylene torch in the tool locker. With that—"</p> - -<p>"You ought to of poked him," said Hannigan.</p> - -<p>"What? Oh, you mean—?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah. The kid was right, you know. He done it."</p> - -<p>"His sleeve, you mean. Well, it was an accident," said Greg. "It could -have happened to anyone. And he made a good landing. Considering -everything. Anyhow—" Again he was Gregory Malcolm, serious-faced, -efficient secretary. "Anyhow, we have been thrust into an extremely -precarious circumstance. It would be silly to take umbrage at a man's -nervous anger. We must have no quarreling, no bickering—"</p> - -<p>"Umbrage!" snorted Sparks. "Bickering! They're big words. I ain't sure -I know what they mean. I ain't exactly sure they mean <i>anything</i>." He -glanced at Greg oddly. "You're a queer jasper, Malcolm. Back there -on the ship, I figured you for a sort of a stuffed-shirt. Yes-man to -the boss. And then in the show-down, you come through like a movie -hero—for a little while. Then you let that Breadon guy give you the -spur without a squawk—"</p> - -<p>Malcolm adjusted his plasta-rimmed spectacles. He said, almost -stubbornly, "Our situation is grave. There must be no bickering."</p> - -<p>"Bickering your Aunt Jenny! What do you call that?"</p> - -<p>Sparks jerked a contemptuous thumb toward the group from which they -were separated. Upon disembarking, only Greg and Sparks had moved to -make a careful examination of their damaged craft. The others, more -or less under the direction of Breadon, were making gestures toward -removing certain necessaries from the skiff. Their efforts, slight and -uncertain as they were, had already embroiled them in argument.</p> - -<p>The gist of their argument, so far as Greg Malcolm could determine, was -that everyone wanted "something" to be done, but no two could agree as -to just what that something was, and no one seemed to have any bursting -desire to participate in actual physical labor.</p> - -<p>J. Foster Andrews, all traces of his former panic and confusion fled, -was planted firmly, Napoleonically, some few yards from the open port -of the life-skiff, barking impatient orders at little Tommy O'Doul -who—as Greg watched—stumbled from the port bearing a huge armload of -edibles.</p> - -<p>'Tina, the maid, was in a frenzy of motion, trying to administer to the -complaints and demands of Mrs. Andrews (whose immaculate hair-do had -suffered in the frenetic minutes of their flight) and Crystal Andrews -(who knew perfectly well there were sweaters in the life-skiff) and -Miss Maud (who wanted a can of prepared dog-food and a can-opener -immediately, and look at poor Cuddles, momsy's 'ittle pet was <i>so</i> -hungry)!</p> - -<p>Bert Andrews was sulkily insisting that it was nonsense to leave the -warmth and security of the skiff anyway, and he wished he had a drink, -while the harassed, self-appointed commander of the refugee corps was -shouting at whomever happened, at any given moment, to capture his -divided and completely frantic attention. His orders were masterpieces -of confusion, developing around one premise that the castaway crew -should immediately set up a camp. Where, how, or with what nonexistent -equipment, Breadon did not venture to say.</p> - -<p>"You see what I mean?" demanded Sparks disgustedly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg Malcolm saw. He also saw other things. That their landing-spot, -while excellent for its purpose, was not by any manner of means an -ideal campsite. It was a small, flat basin of sandy soil, rimmed by -shallow mountains. His gaze sought these hills, looked approvingly on -their greenness, upon the multitude of dark pock-marks dotting them. -These caves, were they not the habitations of potential enemies, might -well become the sanctuaries of spacewrecked men.</p> - -<p>He saw, also, a thin ribbon of silver sheering the face of the northern -hills. His gaze, rising still skyward, saw other things—</p> - -<p>He nodded. He knew, now, where they were. Or approximately. There was -but one planet in the solar system which boasted such a phenomenon. The -apparent distance of the Sun, judged by its diminished disc, argued -his judgment to be correct. The fact that they had surged through an -atmospheric belt for some length of time before finally meeting with -disaster.</p> - -<p>"Titan," he said. "Hyperion possibly. But probably Titan."</p> - -<p>Sparks' gaze, following Greg's upward, contracted in an expression of -dismay.</p> - -<p>"Dirty cow! You mean that's where we are?"</p> - -<p>"I believe so. There's Saturn, our mother planet, looming above us as -large as a dinner plate. And the grav-drag here is almost Earth norm. -Titan has a 3,000 mile diameter. That, combined with the Saturnian -tractile constant, would give us a strong pull."</p> - -<p>Sparks wailed, "But Titan! Great morning, Malcolm, nobody ever comes -to Titan! There ain't no mines here, no colonies, no—" He stopped -suddenly, his eyes widening yet farther. "And, hey—this place is -<i>dangerous</i>! There are—"</p> - -<p>"I know it," said Greg swiftly, quietly. "Shut up, Sparks. No use -telling the others. If they don't guess it themselves, what they don't -know won't alarm them. We've got to do something, though. Get ourselves -organized into a defensive community. That's the only way—"</p> - -<p>Ralph Breadon's sharp, dictatorial voice interrupted him. "Well, -Malcolm, stop soldiering and make yourself useful!"</p> - -<p>And J. Foster, not to have his authority usurped, supplemented the -order. "Yes, Malcolm, let's get going! No time for day-dreaming, my -man. We want action!"</p> - -<p>Sparks said, "Maybe you'll get it now, fatty!" under his breath, and -looked at Malcolm hopefully. But his companion merely nodded, moved -forward toward the others, quietly obedient to the command.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>Hannigan groaned and followed him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>Breadon said, "All right, Tommy, dump them here. I have a few words to -say." He glanced about him pompously. "Now, folks, naturally we want -to get away from here as soon as possible. Therefore I delegate you, -Sparks, to immediately get a message off. An SOS to the nearest space -cruiser."</p> - -<p>Hannigan grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. He took his time -answering. He spat thoughtfully on the ground before him, lifted his -head. He said, "A message, huh?"</p> - -<p>"That's what I said."</p> - -<p>"And what'll I send it with?" drawled Sparks. "Tom-toms?"</p> - -<p>Breadon flushed darkly.</p> - -<p>"I believe the life-skiff was equipped with a radio? And theoretically -you are a radio operator?"</p> - -<p>"Finest radio money can buy!" interpolated J. Foster Andrews proudly. -"Put a million credits into the <i>Carefree</i>. Best equipment throughout."</p> - -<p>Sparks looked from one to another of them, grinned insolently. "You're -both right. I <i>am</i> a radio operator, and there <i>was</i> a radio. But we -crashed, remember? On account of some dope's sleeve got caught in the -master switch—"</p> - -<p>"That will do!" snapped Breadon angrily. He stared at the bandy-legged -little redhead. "You mean the radio was broken?"</p> - -<p>"It wasn't helped none. The tubes was made out of glass, and glass -don't bounce so good."</p> - -<p>Greg Malcolm said thoughtfully, "Sparks, can't you fix it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, mebbe. But not in five minutes. Maybe not in five years. I won't -know till I get going on it."</p> - -<p>Breadon frowned.</p> - -<p>"I'll handle this, Malcolm," he crisped. Again to the radioman, "Well, -you get to work on it immediately. And as soon as you get it fixed, -send out an SOS advising the patrol where we are—"</p> - -<p>"Speaking of which," insinuated Sparks, "where are we?"</p> - -<p>Breadon glared at him wrathfully.</p> - -<p>"Why—why on one of the satellites of Saturn, of course. Any fool can -see that!"</p> - -<p>"O.Q. But does any fool know which one? Or shall I tell you it's Titan? -And when you know that, then what? Titan wasn't named that on account -of it was a pimple. It's a big place. What'll I tell the Patrol? <i>SOS. -Stranded in the middle of we-don't-know-where, somewhere on Titan, -maybe.</i> They'll be hunting for us till we've got whiskers down to our -knees."</p> - -<p>Breadon's irate look vanished. He looked stricken. He said, "I—I don't -know. We have a compass—"</p> - -<p>Once again it was Gregory Malcolm who entered into the conversation. He -had been toying, almost absentmindedly, with a funnel taken from the -skiff's stores. Into this he had poured a small portion of water; his -right forefinger was pressed to the bottom of the tube, closing it. He -said, "I can answer part of that question now. Enough to cut the search -in half, anyway. We're in the northern hemisphere of the satellite."</p> - -<p>Maud Andrews looked at him sharply as if noticing him for the first -time in her life.</p> - -<p>"How," she asked, "did you know that, Malcolm?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg said, "Watch this." He released his finger at the base of the -funnel gently, carefully, taking care not to shake it. The captured -water swirled and trickled through the opening. Greg said, "Notice the -direction in which the water whirlpools? Clockwise. On the northern -hemisphere of any normally revolving heavenly body, water released -from a basin, funnel, container of any sort, swirls in that direction. -In the southern hemisphere it swirls counter-clockwise. Maybe you've -noticed in bathtubs, or—"</p> - -<p>Breadon said impatiently, "Never mind the speeches, Malcolm. A very -clever bit of reasoning—if it's true. Do you think you can figure out -our exact latitude and longitude from that?"</p> - -<p>Greg met his gaze levelly.</p> - -<p>"Not from that," he said, "nor from anything else. Perhaps you've -forgotten that latitude and longitude are artificial inventions of -man's, based in one case on an imaginary 'equator,' and in the other on -an arbitrarily appointed 'line,' like Greenwich.</p> - -<p>"But I believe I can approximate our position and state it in such a -way as to cut to a minimum the time of any search that might be made -for us. That is, if a space patrol ever comes close enough to get -within range of Sparks' radio."</p> - -<p>"When," said Sparks, "and if I get it fixed."</p> - -<p>"When," said Malcolm confidently, "you get it fixed."</p> - -<p>Breadon gave in with as good grace as he could muster.</p> - -<p>"Well, all right," he conceded grudgingly. "We'll let that rest for -now. Meanwhile, it is apparent that we can't escape Titan—or wherever -we are—immediately. That being the case, our first task will be to set -up a camp. This is as good a spot as any. We'll stay right here by the -ship. We'll use the ship to sleep in at nights—"</p> - -<p>Greg coughed apologetically. "Mr. Breadon—"</p> - -<p>"Well, what now? More funnels, Malcolm?"</p> - -<p>"If you'll excuse me, sir—I don't believe it wise to make camp here. -Nor to use the skiff for sleeping purposes."</p> - -<p>"And why not, my man?" That was J. Foster.</p> - -<p>"The conservation of what little fuel and power, we have, for one -thing," said Greg. "Mr. Breadon's idea of using the skiff to sleep in -was undoubtedly based on the plan of using the heating units. That -we must not do. The time may come when we will need the skiff again, -badly. We must save its fuel and electro-motors.</p> - -<p>"And as for making camp here beside the ship—"</p> - -<p>He hesitated. Crystal Andrews, her voice a trifle edged, as had been -that of her father, prodded him for reply.</p> - -<p>"Well?" she demanded. "Go on, Malcolm!"</p> - -<p>"It wouldn't be safe, Miss. This is an exposed and vulnerable spot. -Titan has—dangerous denizens." The words came reluctantly. "It would -be much safer to take refuge in the hills. In one of those caves up -there."</p> - -<p>Crystal gasped, "Caves! Us—living in a cave! Ridiculous!" J. Foster -echoed her words vehemently. Breadon laughed curtly; Mrs. Andrews -made a gesture of repugnance with a slim, pale, exquisitely manicured -hand. Bert Andrews snorted. Of the tycoon's family, only Maud Andrews -showed any inclination to heed the secretary's suggestion. Her old eyes -glinted shrewdly; her head made the ghost of a pleased nod.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But others more openly approved his plan. The maid, 'Tina, watching -Malcolm with curious attentiveness, nodded and said, "That is wise. -I have heard tales about Titan and its—its denizens." Tommy O'Doul -grinned delightedly. He said, "Caves! Boy, caves! Old-time stuff, huh, -Greg?" And Sparks Hannigan had said, "That's right, folks! And it's -past noon now. Might as well get going right away so's we can get -settled before dark. Right, Greg?"</p> - -<p>And yet again there was the counter-play, the balance of Breadon's -wealth, Breadon's name and Breadon's accustomed authority to the calm, -sane logic of the slim young secretary. Breadon's curt laugh changed to -something definitely antagonistic; his words sheered the muttering like -a keen blade.</p> - -<p>"Very interesting, Malcolm! But wholly impractical and completely -absurd. We will remain here. And now—" He glanced at the high-riding -sun. "And now I think we should eat before setting up our camp. Tommy, -Hannigan—bring the electro-stove from the skiff. 'Tina, prepare lunch. -We'll pursue a more intelligent discussion of our situation on full -stomachs. Malcolm, bring cases from the skiff. We'll build a rough -table out here in the open."</p> - -<p>He scowled impatiently, authoritatively about the strangely silent -group.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>At that moment Gregory Malcolm realized what he must do. It was not -a pleasant realization. Greg Malcolm was an easy-going, a peaceful, -a placid man. The secretarial type. Sparks had called him a—what -was it?—a "stuffed shirt." Never, save in rare moments of dreamful -imagining, had Greg ventured to impress his opinions, his will, upon -the desires of fellow men.</p> - -<p>But he, of all those now surrounding him, seemed to understand, fully -and completely, the crisis which now faced their refugee group. And -he—it was made apparent to him by the pompousness of Foster Andrews, -by the mulish petulance of Bert Andrews, by the aloof hauteur of -Crystal and Mrs. Andrews, by the suicidal "orders" just given by Ralph -Breadon—he alone was, in this moment of need, capable of deciding the -destinies of the Earth-exiles.</p> - -<p>J. Foster Andrews had the acumen and common-sense to lead them—but -he had not the requisite knowledge. Breadon had the training, the -space-experience—but he lacked solid horse-sense, and his decisions -were too strongly flavored by his own savor of self-importance. Yet -if they, ten humans, were to exist for a week ... a month ... a -year ... until help reached them, someone must command. And he, Gregory -Malcolm, was the only one capable of taking into his hands the reins of -rulership.</p> - -<p>It was a knowledge at once heady, intoxicating and frightening. -But—there it was! It had to be faced. And Greg moved, grimly but -methodically, to the accomplishment of that which he deemed necessary. -He halted the radioman with a gesture.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, Sparks! Tommy, wait! 'Tina!" And he faced Breadon -firmly. "We are not going to do that, Mr. Breadon," he said. "It would -not be wise. We are not going to do it."</p> - -<p>Breadon's brown features darkened with swift anger.</p> - -<p>"What? What's this?"</p> - -<p>And J. Foster Andrews waddled forward, puffing irate astonishment. -"Here, here, Malcolm! What do you mean? This is—hrrumph!—blasted -impertinence, sir! Insubordination!"</p> - -<p>Malcolm held his ground, his pale cheeks oddly flushed.</p> - -<p>"We are not going to do these things," he repeated slowly, definitely. -"Breadon—" It did not occur to him that unconsciously he had abandoned -the respectful, formal "Mr." which heretofore he had never ommitted. -"Breadon, your orders clearly indicate that you have not in any way -grasped the full implications of our plight.</p> - -<p>"I have already warned that we should not make needless use of our -limited fuel and power reserves. Yet you've told Tommy to bring the -electro-stove. I have hinted that there are dangerous antagonists on -Titan, yet you wish boldly to tempt attack by cooking and eating here -on this exposed plain in broad daylight. Common sense should advise you -of the folly of eating what few food stores we hold in reserve, yet you -calmly command the preparation of a full and wasteful meal."</p> - -<p>He did not make mention of the other, perhaps irrelevant but -nonetheless rankling detail. That never once had Breadon offered -to help in these doings, nor had any member of the Andrews clan -volunteered to assist; that the physical labor had arbitrarily been -assigned to those of lesser caste—himself, Hannigan, young Tommy, -'Tina.</p> - -<p>"Therefore," he continued doggedly, "I, for one, am refusing to obey -your orders. I do so because I must. Call it 'insubordination' if you -wish, Andrews—" The older man spluttered incoherently, mauve-jowled. -"—but I would call it the 'will-to-exist.' The law of survival. I mean -to survive on this unknown, hostile planet. That can't be done if we -squander resources as Breadon apparently means to."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A moment of tight silence answered his outburst. A slow, awkward -movement stirred through the little group. It was, Greg sensed, a -movement of alignment. He could sense, rather than see, the unconscious -coalition of his sympathizers behind him; could see, without sensing, -the outraged drawing-together of the Andrews husband and wife, <i>fille</i> -and <i>fils</i>, beside Breadon. One there was whose bright, intent eyes -were clouded with uncertainty. Maud Andrews. Then, as if irresistibly -drawn by the bonds of blood, she too looked to Breadon as her spokesman.</p> - -<p>Breadon's voice was a thick flame of wrath.</p> - -<p>"So that's the way it is, eh, Malcolm! Well, this had to come sooner or -later. Might as well have it over with right now. Get the glasses off, -my pale young friend! One leader is all we'll have around here!"</p> - -<p>He stepped forward, bigger, browner, heavier than Malcolm. There was -a rustle behind Greg; Sparks had stepped to his side, was pressing -something into his hand.</p> - -<p>"This'll make him behave, Greg."</p> - -<p>"Put it away!" said Greg coldly. "We'll have better use for -firearms later on. I'll handle this the way Breadon wants." Slowly, -painstakingly, he removed his plasta-rimmed glasses, slipped them -in a lucite case, slid the case into a pocket, removed his trimly -cut double-breasted business coat, handed it to the grumbling little -redhead.</p> - -<p>"But look—" growled Sparks. Then stopped. There was a newness about -Greg Malcolm that stopped him. With the goggles removed, he thought -dimly, Malcolm's eyes looked different. Less soft and meeky-mosey. They -were like—sort of like chunks of grey flint. And Greg wasn't as skinny -as he had looked, now that you saw him with his coat off. He was lean, -yes—but there was a greyhound whippiness to his leanness; a tight, -spring-coiled sort of strength.</p> - -<p>"Well?" said Greg. "You're ready, Breadon?"</p> - -<p>Breadon's answer was a sudden, rushing charge. One of the women gasped; -there came the whipping splat of flesh striking flesh, then all noises -muted save the sound of two men meeting in face-to-face conflict. -Breadon's left jarred Greg back, his right swung wide and hard to put a -swift end to the dispute—</p> - -<p>But found no target. For leanly, deftly, with pantherlike swiftness, -Greg was out from under the blow; his own left, probing sharply, -flicked once ... twice ... again into his antagonist's face, jarring -Breadon, shocking, stunning him, halting his bull-like rush and jolting -him back on his heels.</p> - -<p>Maddened, Breadon whirled, seeking this will-o-the-wisp whose jabbing -lefts stung like salt in an open wound. He growled something that was -never completed, for knuckles bruised the word against his lips. Blood -sprang, saline and hot in his mouth; the taste of it edged his rage to -inchoate blindness, he flailed out recklessly, forgetful of anything he -had previously known about fighting.</p> - -<p>And that was his undoing. Against his bulky charge, Greg could do -nothing but fight the kind of fleeting defensive battle he had learned -in long hours at the gymnasium. A maddened warrior like this was a -different matter, though; he was a vulnerable fighter.</p> - -<p>Calmly and with infinite assurance, Greg stepped inside Breadon's -swinging arms, beneath his faulty guard. His right hand came up once, -sharply, to Breadon's jaw. The big man spluttered pink spray, lifted -his arms. Again Greg lashed out with his left, this time to the belly; -Breadon gasped and his mouth remained open, sagging.</p> - -<p>Like the whipping length of a python, Malcolm threw that lean, -deadly-sure right again—this time squarely to the other man's jaw at -the spot where jawbone meets the ear. The blow cracked in the dull, -astonished silence like the chunk of a heart-biting axe on timber. -Breadon straightened slowly, numbly, in a meaningless reflex. The fire -went out of his eyes; their brownness dulled like sun-faded velvet. -Then he fell. As a tall building might fall. Crumpling ... the knees -folding first, the body sagging, the shoulders, the head helpless and -rolling. In sections. He rolled once and lay still.</p> - -<p>Sparks Hannigan said, "Gawddle-mighty!" His voice was feeble, awestruck.</p> - -<p>Greg Malcolm's fists, falling to his sides, uncoiled reluctantly. As if -they had gripped the fiery baton of his anger, the battle-urge slipped -from him with their unclenching. He drew a deep breath to steady his -ragged breathing, nodded to the wide-eyed 'Tina.</p> - -<p>"Take care of him," he said. "Water. He'll be all right in a minute." -He faced the others, his manner an odd mixture of apology and -aggressiveness. "Breadon said there could be but one in command," he -said. "Let us hope that is definitely settled. For all time. And now I -will ask all of you to help. Our first step will be to strip the skiff -of the equipment we may need and carry it into the hills. In one of -those caves we will make our head-quarters."</p> - -<p>But the fight was to have its aftermath. Crystal Andrews it was who -burst from the little knot before him to kneel at her fiancés side, -taking Breadon's head in her arms, glaring rage and hot defiance at -Greg.</p> - -<p>"With you?" she cried. "With <i>you</i>, you—cheap, upstart bully? Not in a -million years! Ralph—Ralph, dear, are you all right? Did he hurt you?"</p> - -<p>She jerked the water-soaked handkerchief from the maid's hands, pressed -its coolness to Breadon's sand-bruised forehead. Breadon's eyes opened, -dazed at first, then full of awareness, sultry, indignant, incredulous. -He moved to get on his feet again. Greg stared at him coldly.</p> - -<p>"Get up if you want to, Breadon. But don't get up fighting!"</p> - -<p>Hannigan chuckled. "He ain't hurt much. Just his conceit. It's punched -full of right and left hand wallops."</p> - -<p>"That will do, Sparks!" snapped Greg. He looked at the others, -replacing his glasses carefully, a vague sorrow in his eyes, defeat -in his voice despite his victory. "You all feel that way? You still -refuse—?"</p> - -<p>Crystal Andrews' cried out, "Talk! Talk! Will you stop talking and go? -Go to the hills if you want to. Leave us in peace. We don't want you -and don't need you. Go to the hills—and good riddance to you!"</p> - -<p>The tiny gimlet of hurt that lay somewhere deep inside of Greg twisted -once more at her words, snapped, became suddenly cold and bitter. His -jaw set. He nodded to Sparks.</p> - -<p>"Very well. If that's your desire. Sparks, there are four of us, six -of them. Take an inventory of all equipment and supplies in the skiff. -We will take exactly four-tenths of everything ... fuel, power units, -food, water ... everything. Get going. I'll help you directly."</p> - -<p>Sparks said, "The radio?"</p> - -<p>"We'll take that. You're the only one capable of repairing it. We'll -save them in spite of themselves. If we can."</p> - -<p>Sparks said, "Aye, sir! Come on, Tommy. 'Tina." He started toward the -crashed skiff. Greg hesitated, feeling the desire to say something, -to make one final plea, not knowing what to say or how to say it, -restrained by the yet cold anger etched on his heart by Crystal's -scorn. Then he too turned to help. A strident voice halted him.</p> - -<p>"Just a moment, young man!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Miss Andrews?"</p> - -<p>Maud Andrews, Cuddles firmly cradled to her ample bosom, left her -brother's side and marched toward the life-skiff.</p> - -<p>"Tell Sparks to make that a fifty-fifty division," she said. "There -will be five of us in the hills."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Enid Andrews bleated faintly. Crystal, still kneeling, stared at her -aunt incredulously. J. Foster Andrews vented his indignation in a -sudden, blustering roar. "Maud! Don't be a blasted idiot! Come back -here this minute!"</p> - -<p>Maud Andrews continued to surge inexorably forward.</p> - -<p>"I'm not," she grunted, "being an idiot! It's you who are, my dear, -fat, dimwitted brother! I'm a selfish, pampered old fool, but I -know common-sense when I hear it, and I know a man when I see one. -Furthermore, silly as you may think it, I have a ridiculous desire to -keep on living. I may have to <i>work</i> to do that, and I'm not overly -fond of work, but if Mr. Malcolm will have me—?"</p> - -<p>"Just plain 'Malcolm,' Miss Andrews," said Greg gravely, gratefully. -"And I'm happy you see it my way."</p> - -<p>"Tut! I'm not doing you a favor, Malcolm! I'm just looking out for -myself, as I always do. Well, Sparks, don't stand there yawping like my -thick-pated brother! What can I do to help?"</p> - -<p>She waddled away. Greg glanced hopefully at those still waiting, -immobile.</p> - -<p>"Won't you—" he began, "Won't the rest of you—"</p> - -<p>The eyes that met his were glacial. Bert Andrews, thick-lipped and -bridling, snarled disdain. "The hell with you, Malcolm! The sooner you -get out of here, the better!"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "We'll let you know where to find us. If you should—should -need us, just call."</p> - -<p>"We won't need you." That was Crystal, coldly.</p> - -<p>"I hope you won't," said Greg. "I sincerely hope you won't...."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - -<p>Sparks Hannigan came out grinning. He said, "This one looks like the -business, Greg. Plenty of room. Dry and warm. It's even got a natural -fluevent so's we can have a fireplace inside."</p> - -<p>Greg nodded, pleased.</p> - -<p>"Sounds good. I was beginning to think we'd never find a suitable cave. -This one's within easy reach of that spring, too; that solves the fresh -water problem. Well, we might as well get settled. Getting toward -evening."</p> - -<p>'Tina glanced at the sky, surprised. "So soon? I didn't know it had -taken us so long. It seems as if only a few hours ago it was noon."</p> - -<p>"It was," grinned Greg. "Titan's days are shorter than Earth's. Its -diameter is only about 3,000 miles. By Earth measurements you'd say -Titan had a sixteen hour day."</p> - -<p>"And the 'day,'" grumbled Sparks, "ain't none too bright at that. On -account of we're so far from the Sun."</p> - -<p>"You haven't seen the worst of it. Right now we're on the Sun side -of Saturn. We revolve about our primary once every 500-odd hours. -Since Saturn is so large, when we are to the lee of it, it eclipses -us entirely. So for about five days every Titan 'month' we suffer a -complete blackout.</p> - -<p>"And that—" Greg sobered. "That is another reason the others should -dig into a good warm cave. It gets plenty cold during that eclipse -period. An open camp on an exposed plain—" He shook his head.</p> - -<p>Maud Andrews said, "I can't understand why this satellite is habitable -at all. I was under the impression that Saturn is a frozen planet."</p> - -<p>"It is. Its surface temperature is approximately 300° below zero, -Fahrenheit. But the warmth of its numerous satellites is one of the -astonishing discoveries made by the early space explorers, fifty -or sixty years ago. Scientists have not yet explained the matter -satisfactorily. Some say the tremendous mass of Saturn, the waves of -atmospherics set up by its swirling motion and the 'grindstone' of -its ring, form an electronic barrier-shield for the satellites. Still -others believe that frigid Saturn acts as a gigantic mirror or solar -reflector for its children."</p> - -<p>"But Greg—" That was Tommy O'Doul. "Why ain't there any colonies -here if the climate's O.Q.? Men live on Venus, where it's hot as -billy-be-hanged, and on Uranus, which is nothing but a ball of ice, and -on a bunch of cold, airless asteroids—"</p> - -<p>"Economics, Tommy. The simple, single dictator of mankind's every -venture. Venus has valuable vegetation, Uranus and the asteroids have -important metals that can't be duplicated in Earth's laboratories, -the asteroids have rare ore deposits. There is not—or at least there -has not as yet been discovered—anything native to Titan that cannot -be mined or made elsewhere more cheaply, more easily. Some day man's -ever-expanding frontiers will claim this satellite as a colony, too. -But now that the entire universe is open to man, the human race can -increase a millionfold and <i>still</i> allow every soul more <i>lebensraum</i> -than he can possibly use."</p> - -<p>Sparks Hannigan gazed at him admiringly.</p> - -<p>"It's stoo-pendous!" he said.</p> - -<p>"Titan? Not any more so than—"</p> - -<p>"Not Titan. You. You know everything, don't you? Pal—" Sparks -shook his head. "I sure had you figgered wrong. I thought you was a -soft-soaping dope. So then you got us off the <i>Carefree</i> onto the -skiff, cooled Breadon like a herring, declared yourself <i>It</i> and made -us like it—"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Nonsense! I just happened to—Oh, nonsense! Shall we go -into our new home?" But he flushed.</p> - -<p>By evening—Titan's short, grey shadowed evening, the only logical -unit of duration by which they could live so long as they remained -captive here—their new cave home began to take on some semblance of -lived-inness.</p> - -<p>Vegetation was abundant on the hillsides. Sparks and Tommy had -gathered heaps of dry faggots while Greg built a crude stone fireplace -underneath the fluevent Sparks had reported; shortly thereafter the -women had a cheerful blaze crackling on the hearth, and mingled with -its grateful warmth was the odor of a savory stew, welcome scent to -the nostrils of five who had worked long and hard in gathering the -vegetables that had gone into that potage.</p> - -<p>"Eat nothing," Greg had warned, "dig nothing that does not show signs -of having been eaten, dug or picked by wild animals. Later we can make -chemical analysis of dubious foods to determine their edibility. For -the present we will depend on the most certain test, the acceptance by -other flesh-and-blood creatures."</p> - -<p>He had also permitted that a single can of bouillon concentrate be used -in the stew. "For flavoring. There is so little food in reserve that -we must save it against the cold, dark days when we can't get out to -gather supplies. Later on we'll have fresh meat."</p> - -<p>He looked thoughtfully at Cuddles, sniffing, yapping excitedly by the -fireplace, and Maud Andrews, with a swift, maternal gesture, swept the -poodle into her arms and glared at him belligerently.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no you don't! You'll eat <i>me</i> first!"</p> - -<p>"I wasn't thinking of that," said Greg indignantly. "I had something -else in mind. A poodle, eh? Hmmm!"</p> - -<p>'Tina and young Tommy came into the cave, arms full of fresh and -fragrant ferns which they dumped beside a wall. Greg, glancing at -them, could not curb his astonishment at the overwhelmingly sudden -change that had come over 'Tina. During the <i>Carefree's</i> cruise, during -the years he had worked for old J. Foster, he had seen the girl a -thousand times—but never, he discovered now, really <i>seen</i> her before! -Always she had been a dim, dusty figure in the background. A foil for -the spoiled, immaculate perfection of Enid Andrews, the glittering, -heart-stopping beauty of Crystal.</p> - -<p>Now, viewed as a woman and a comrade, he was aware that she was -lovely herself. Slim as a rush, and yielding-strong as that same wild -water-flower; dark-eyed; hair as the Martian midnight with live lights -glinting in it, too, as the stars glinted over the Martian deserts; -soft, white hands, graceful but capable—</p> - -<p>But here! he thought, what nonsense was this? He had work to do. And -this was no time for weaving poetic cadences about a girl who was -practically a total stranger!</p> - -<p>Now she laughed, gaily, her very laughter seeming to burst from a heart -happy with newfound freedom. And she said, "It was just as you said, -Greg. We found the ferns down by the spring. Did we bring enough of -them?"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Enough for tonight. They'll make comfortable beds. Later on -Sparks and I will build real beds for all of us. Thank goodness there -was a tool-chest on the skiff. You folks ready to eat?"</p> - -<p>Hannigan lifted his nose from the fireplace.</p> - -<p>"Ready! <i>I</i> been ready for a half hour, and my stummick's been ready -for a week!"</p> - -<p>And somehow it didn't seem at all surprising to Greg that Maud -Andrews should be the one who, sleeves rolled up, face flushed with -hearth-heat, warmth and good fellowship, seized the ladle, beat on the -side of the pot vigorously and bawled, in what was far from a wealthy -socialite's cultured tone, "Come and get it! Come and get it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So, somehow, the first day was over ... and the second day, too ... -and a week of Titan's sixteen hour days slid past so quickly that Greg -could not truly say where they had disappeared.</p> - -<p>Duties, chores, at first chaotic became matters of mere routine as -one or another of the little band took them on his own shoulders. -Maud Andrews, who on the second day bluntly and surprisingly startled -everyone with the pronunciamento that henceforth there would be, "—no -more of this 'Miss Andrews' stuff; call me 'Aunt Maud'; I'm old enough -to have mothered every last one of you!", set herself up as cook, thus -freeing 'Tina to take care of the multitude of other household—or -cave-hold—duties. And an excellent cook she turned out to be, -performing miracles with the odd, variegated samples of produce brought -to her by the rest of the group.</p> - -<p>Her once-aroused suspicion flared again when Greg casually requested, -one day, permission to take Cuddles for a little run in the woods. She -clucked to her pet, turned him over to Greg, but watchfully.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you have in mind, Greg Malcolm. But if you come back -here with any sinister looking pieces of meat and no Cuddles—"</p> - -<p>"I'm hoping to come back," confessed Greg, "with both meat <i>and</i> -Cuddles. He's a poodle, isn't he? Well, he's always been a lap-dog -to you, but I have an idea maybe his heritage will overcome his -habits when I get him out into the woods. The poodle, in its earliest -beginnings, used to be a hunting dog, you know. It was bred and trained -especially for that purpose. Of course his nose may have been ruined by -being pampered, but—"</p> - -<p>"My Cuddles," exclaimed Aunt Maud, "a hunting dog!" She looked -horrified.</p> - -<p>Greg said slyly, "I hope so. He wouldn't be the first member of this -party to prove his true worth beneath a thin veneer of civilization."</p> - -<p>Aunt Maud's cheeks were red, but it might have been the warmth of the -fire. And maybe the wood-smoke made her eyes shine like that, too. She -pushed Greg roughly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, run along!" she ordered. "But mind you bring him back unchanged!"</p> - -<p>"Okay, Auntie," Greg said.</p> - -<p>Greg brought him back, but not unchanged. For the poodle had, -amazingly, reverted to type, once set on the trail of wild game. Greg -carried back to the dinner table two small creatures, one vaguely -resembling a squirrel, one definitely allied to the rabbit family, -plunked them proudly before his companions.</p> - -<p>"Don't give me credit. It was the pup. He's a humdinger. You should -have seen him tree that squirrel—or whatever it is! And that -rabbit-thing—he went scrambling halfway down a warren after it! Didn't -you, Slewfoot?"</p> - -<p>The dog yerped happily. Aunt Maud moaned.</p> - -<p>"Slewfoot! Oh, my gracious! Cuddles, come here to momsy-womsy wight -away! Did nassy-mans call him—"</p> - -<p>Cuddles made no move to obey. Greg whistled, and the dog looked up. -"Okay, Slewfoot. Go to momma!" And the dog pranced over to Aunt Maud. -Greg grinned. "I think he likes his new name better," he said.</p> - -<p>Slewfoot yerped again in an ecstasy of approval.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And so, gradually, life became easier and smoother and happier for -the quintet of cave-dwellers. Beds took the place of piled ferns, the -woodpile towered toward the cave roof against the days of dark and cold -which, according to Greg's computations, might be expected within the -next week or so, food was varied and plentiful, and a needed food was -supplied when Tommy O'Doul marched triumphantly home with a bawling kid -in his arms.</p> - -<p>Sparks glared at him.</p> - -<p>"Hey, youngster, what did you tote that home for? We ain't got no room -for pets. And that thing ain't ripe to be et yet."</p> - -<p>Tommy said, "I had to bring it. It was the only way I could make its -mom follow me. See?"</p> - -<p>And sure enough, a few yards away, anxiously eying its captive -offspring, was a mother goat. Or something like a goat, anyway. Sparks -caught on them. A flying tackle and the camp had corraled its first -head of livestock. And from then on there was milk.</p> - -<p>And there were songs in the evening, and card games and stories and -compensations for the long, hard tasks of the daytime. Sparks labored -on his radio set, though without too much hope. "Smashed to hell and -gone, Greg. The tubes is the wust part. I could jockey the wires -around. But glass—"</p> - -<p>Greg looked thoughtful. "I wonder," he said. "I wonder? Well—do what -you can with the metallic parts."</p> - -<p>So they waited and worked, and in some dim corner of their minds -continued to hope for the release which all in some vague fashion -expected might come "some day." And their camaraderie was great and -wholesome, but there was a single subject they never mentioned. The -other quintet on the plain below. From their hillside eyrie they -could see the other camp, but by common consent they made no effort to -approach Breadon's followers. They had offered assistance and it had -been refused. They could do nothing more, now, unless—</p> - -<p>The unless came sooner than they expected. In the still of the night -it came in the dark, multi-mooned Saturnian night, when Greg and his -comrades were all asleep in their bunks.</p> - -<p>Greg woke with a strained feeling that he could not at first identify. -He only knew, as a newly awakened sleeper dimly knows, that something -was amiss.</p> - -<p>Then, as he listened, he heard it again. The sound of a firing rifle. -And the thin, muted whisper of a cry from the clearing below. A voice -lifted in dismay.</p> - -<p>With a start he was on his feet.</p> - -<p>"Sparks!"</p> - -<p>Hannigan bounced from his blankets like a redheaded ball of rubber. He -was on his feet, scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, even -before he knew he was awake.</p> - -<p>"Smatta? Whuzzup, Greg? Smatta?"</p> - -<p>"Below!" roared Greg. "The party in the valley—they're in trouble of -some kind! Get your gun and come on!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VI</p> - -<p>The others were awake now. Young Tommy was aquake with excitement. He -made a headlong dash for the dry niche wherein were stored the arms of -the cave-dwellers, came back dragging three rifles, handed one to Greg -and another to Hannigan.</p> - -<p>"Let's get going, Greg!" he yelped. "Golly Moses, what do you think it -is? Animals, maybe? Or people? Gosh, let's get going!"</p> - -<p>Greg took the spare rifle from him firmly.</p> - -<p>"<i>We'll</i> go; <i>you</i> stay." Then, in swift contrition as the lad's face -fell measurable inches. "Someone must guard the cave while we're gone, -Tommy. 'Tina, build up the fire and put a kettle on. Aunt Maud—"</p> - -<p>The old woman nodded grimly.</p> - -<p>"I know. We'll have hot water ready. And bandages if you need 'em. Run -along!"</p> - -<p>How they ever got down that mountain-side so quickly was ever afterward -a mystery to Greg. It was not exactly a painless descent; their -progress was a series of runs, falls and buttock-bruising slides. The -footing, in broad daylight, was precarious at best; with only sallow -Saturn and the aura of the Rings to illumine their way, it is a wonder -they ever reached the plain whole, in a single piece.</p> - -<p>To add to their frenetic haste, in their ears there rang the constant -challenge of gunfire. Crimson flashes lit the flatsward below, once a -whining slug, miserably aimed, made both of them duck instinctively -as it shrilled somewhere over their heads, <i>spanged!</i> against a rock -behind them, went ricochetting off into the darkness.</p> - -<p>For now they were on level ground, and mingled with the rattle of arms -there was another sound, the purling whimper of tongueless, inhuman -things astir and hungry. Greg had once heard, on Earth, the furtive -night-passage of a jackal tribe; the soft, half plaintive mewlings, the -incessant scrape of scrabbling paws, the ammoniac stench of unwashed -bodies. He thought of this now, sharply, as he heard these mutterings, -smelled these rank odors, strained his eyes to determine contours in -the darkling night.</p> - -<p>Hannigan complained, "You see 'em, Greg? It's dark as a whale's gut. I -can't see nothing. What'll we fire at? Are our folks out in the open or -in the skiff? We might hit <i>them</i> if—"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "We'll know in a minute." As they moved forward he tugged -from his belt the weapon he had been holding in reserve; the one such -weapon found amongst the stores of the life-skiff; one he dared use but -infrequently because once its charge was exhausted he had no way of -replenishing it. "We should be near enough now. Spot 'em quick and fire -while there's light!"</p> - -<p>He jerked the trigger of the Haemholst flame pistol. A writhing -streamer of ochre speared from its muzzle, lighting the plain with a -hot and eerie effulgence. Like a fiery dart it blazed into the heart of -the pack surrounding the life-skiff. By its lingering gleam Greg saw, -with stomach-churning repulsion, the creatures which attacked.</p> - -<p>Neither men nor wolves were they, but a cruel parody on each. Lean, -hair-matted beast-things running on four legs, semi-human of feature -but with loose lips snarling back from yellow fangs; fingered paws -long-clawed; indescribably evil and filthy; the more inhuman because -they embodied so many physical attributes of Man.</p> - -<p>Their pack must have numbered three score, ranging from gray-pelted old -ones to skinny, ragged pups. Apparently they had surprised the plateau -party in the open, allowing them no time to remove their precious -campstuffs, because the ground about, around and before the skiff was -littered with a refuse of clothing, blankets, supplies and equipment, -cases and scraps of food.</p> - -<p>It was for this last that the wolf-men had attacked, because even as -the ochre beam found their midst, they were scrambling hungrily about -the campsite, avidly gobbling all edible scraps they could nose out. -A few more aggressive ones scented richer victuals; these it was who, -despite the sporadic fire from within the skiff, snuffled, clawed and -clamored at the port.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Until the heat-beam struck them. That put an end to their hunger and -their blood-lust. Like any wild woodland animal, they had no fear -of firearms; they had no experience with them. Bullets that struck, -killed; wolf-men untouched by bullets had no way of associating hurt -with a sharp burst of sound and a strange, unfamiliar powder-scent.</p> - -<p>But light—light that burned the hair and scorched the flesh; light -that spared not one of them, but spread to dose all with its heatful -pain—that was something different! As the beam struck and spread, -snuffings changed to bestial screams of fear and pain. Those nearest -the beam's focal point felt no pain; they died instantly, charred -hulks that crisped and sank, shapeless, to the ground. And from these -strangely altered, swiftly dead companions the others fled, howling -in shrill alarm. Their footsteps were the dry patter of leaves on -shale; they broke and ran wildly for the nether hills, tonguing shrill -ululations of hurt.</p> - -<p>Then the door of the skiff opened cautiously; dim light was a sliver, a -crack, an oblong. And the voice of J. Foster Andrews quavered through -the darkness to their ears. It sounded shrill and afraid.</p> - -<p>"Malcolm—is that you?"</p> - -<p>Sparks snorted derisively. "Ain't that awful?" he demanded. "Is that -you!" He raised his voice. "Hell, no, it ain't him! It's the Gray -Lensman. Who'd you think?"</p> - -<p>"Shut up, Sparks!" Greg said, "Hold your fire, the wolf-things are -gone. We're coming in!"</p> - -<p>A few moments later, he and Hannigan were standing within the -life-skiff.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gregory Malcolm was twenty-six years old. For more than eight years -he had been training himself to undergo any and all emotions without -change of expression. That was, in his opinion, a prime requisite -for a man whose vocation lay in a subordinate position. Now he was -grateful for learning that self-control, and hoped his features were as -granitelike as he tried to make them. He hoped his eyes did not mirror -the astonishment, the shock, the numb dismay he felt when he first -glanced about the interior of that cabin, and at those who stood before -him.</p> - -<p>It was incredible that in one short week—one very short Titanian -week—so great a change could have been wrought in this haughty -quintet. <i>His</i> followers were weathering the storm of catastrophe -without faltering, without any relaxation of civilized standards. But -Breadon's—</p> - -<p>He studied them, his quietude concealing the sudden heartsickness he -knew, his spectacles hiding the swift light of horror in his eyes. The -men had not shaved, it was clear, since their crash-landing. Five day -stubble lay frostily on the jowls of J. Foster Andrews, blackly on the -cheeks of his son and son-in-law to-be.</p> - -<p>Nor did slovenliness end there. Beneath the beard-growth, the skin -of the men looked dirty, dingy, sallow, as if they had not washed -for days. Their clothes were equally soiled and sorry. Greg saw that -J. Foster's nails were dull and broken and grubby as the nails of a -stevedore.</p> - -<p>He rallied himself with an effort. These were men. They had been -working hard, laboring. They could not stay immaculate. They had been -in a fight.</p> - -<p>Then he looked at the women, and knew that he made excuses vainly. It -was even more disillusioning to see what had happened to Mrs. Andrews -and Crystal in so short a time.</p> - -<p>Enid Andrews, fashion-plate of two continents, one of Earth's -smartest-dressed women, thrice-named by fashion authorities as Best -Dressed Woman in the Solar Confederation, hobbled sloppily about on -scuffed slippers, the heel of one of which had broken off and not been -replaced, so that her posture sagged like a bag of meal, split at a -side-seam and sifting awkwardly away. Her once elaborate coiffure was a -bird's-nest of tangled braids which hung unbraided, curls that sagged -limply; hastily adjusted pins and combs clung insecurely to locks that, -once pearl-silver, were now clay-crusted gray.</p> - -<p>Crystal—glamorous, pulse-stirring Crystal—was in no better plight. -Her gorgeous ash-gold hair was pulled severely back from a forehead -which, Greg discovered, was not nearly so broad and smooth and high -as he had imagined; the artificial color had rubbed from her cheeks, -leaving them lustreless and sullen; her lips—ever rich, ripe, -full—were pale and harsh-thin and her mouth had tight, argumentative -lines at the corners. Her eyes were dark-rimmed, weary, haggard. She -was, thought Greg with shocked comprehension, a tired girl.</p> - -<p>They were all tired. Tired and beaten and dejected. All but Breadon -who, even now, was eyeing Greg defiantly, as if challenging him to -comment on their condition. He said, bitterly, "Thank you, Malcolm. It -was a most magnanamous gesture, coming down from your hilltop castle to -rescue us."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg said nothing. He was looking about the interior of the cabin, -noticing with incredulous disfavor the way it had been abused, -littered, left uncleaned. Ashes, dirty dishes, scraps of cloth and -paper, fragments of cartons and dirt tracked in from outside....</p> - -<p>But Hannigan was not bound by Greg's compunctions. He spoke his mind -frankly, staring at the five skiff-dwellers with obvious contempt in -his eyes.</p> - -<p>"If you'd ask me," he said, "it's damn near time somebody come down and -rescued you. Not from wolves, neither. From yourselves. You all look -like you'd been drug through the butt end of a wringer."</p> - -<p>"Well, we have," began Bert Andrews savagely. "We have been through—"</p> - -<p>"Shut up, you fool!" Breadon cut short his plaint viciously; blustered -defiance that was in itself an apology. "We've been busy making a camp -around here. We haven't had time to—"</p> - -<p>Sparks drawled, "Bud, we been busy making a camp, too, in a place which -wasn't already equipped with furnishings, like your'n. And I think we -done a better job of it. And in between times, we found time to shave -and bathe once in a while."</p> - -<p>Andrews flushed and said stiffly, "There is a need of being provident -with water. Our supply is limited—"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "What? You mean you've been using the water reserve from the -life-skiff?"</p> - -<p>Enid Andrews answered. Excitedly. Volubly. Almost at the point of -tears. She wrung her hands, and Greg could not help noticing the -anomaly of those at once dirty and gem-bedecked fingers.</p> - -<p>"We have. Oh, we have. There's no other water anywhere around here. -Nor food. We've been living on concentrates ... sickening, horrible -stuff...."</p> - -<p>"That's not true!" flamed Breadon. "We did have other food. I made -bread. I caught small game. I put out traps. There would have been -plenty of food except for the wolf-men who raided tonight. They broke -our stove ... stole my reserves...."</p> - -<p>"Which," mocked Sparks, "you conveniently left out for them to sniff -and come a-running after? Why don't you call it a day, Breadon? Admit -you're nothing but a cocky Earthlubber at heart and—"</p> - -<p>"Why, you little whippersnapper!" Breadon took a swift step forward. -But Greg had heard enough. He laid a restraining hand on the -socialite's arm. His voice was as soothing, as pleading, as he could -make it.</p> - -<p>"Haven't we had enough of that already? Look here, Breadon, let's let -bygones be bygones. We've had our little quarrel, now let's act like -sane and sensible humans.</p> - -<p>"You're not situated here any too well. You've admitted you're not -near a water supply. The terrain is open to attack, as is proven by -tonight's incident. You've been, well—let's say 'unlucky.'</p> - -<p>"On the other hand—we've been lucky. We've got a nice, warm cave -large enough to house all ten of us easily. We have soft beds and -good food and fresh milk; safety and good fellowship. With some of -the things you have in here—those upholstered chairs, for instance; -what remains of your equipment and supplies, we could make a veritable -paradise of our cave.</p> - -<p>"So what do you say? Let's cast in our lots together. Make it one big, -happy family?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>J. Foster looked at him thoughtfully. Enid Andrews began to cry softly. -Crystal glanced at Ralph, then at Greg, than at Breadon again. Bert -Andrews stroked his chin. He said, "It sounds good—"</p> - -<p>Breadon interrupted.</p> - -<p>"There's just one thing, Malcolm," he said curtly. "We'll accept -your—your overtures of friendship on one condition. That you'll -step down from the high horse you've been riding lately, come to the -realization that you're not cock-o'-the-walk around these parts."</p> - -<p>Greg said gravely, "If you mean that our community shall be a society -in which all share and share alike, I am in complete agreement with -you."</p> - -<p>"That's what I mean," said Breadon. "Of course, we all recognize that -there must be leadership. As our oldest man, our most important member, -Mr. Andrews is that logical leader. I can assure you, acting as his -lieutenant—"</p> - -<p>"No!" said Sparks loudly. "It's the same old thing in a different -package, Greg. He wants to be boss, else he won't play. The answer -is—comets to you, Breadon. We're doing all right the way we are; -you're making a mess of your affairs. As far as I'm concerned, you can -stay here and stew in your own gravy!"</p> - -<p>He turned toward the door. Greg said, "Wait, Sparks. I'll be right with -you." And he, too, nodded at Breadon. "I fear Sparks is right, Breadon. -You haven't learned your lesson yet. We're going back where we belong. -We're glad to have been of some small service to you. If you ever need -us again, just call. Meanwhile, my offer remains open. If you should -ever decide to join us on <i>our</i> terms—"</p> - -<p>A loud and cheerful voice interrupted him. A voice from outside, -bellowing gay greeting, "Ahoy, you in there! Open the door!"</p> - -<p>Sparks said, "Aunt Maud! What's she—?" and pulled the door open. In -the oblong, against the slow gray dawn now crawling above the hilltops, -stood Aunt Maud, a huge grin on her face, a tremendous bowl in her -stalwart arms. From the bowl rose a tantalizing aroma. She waddled in, -plunked it on the nearest desk.</p> - -<p>"Thought you folks might be sort of hungry after a scrap," she grinned. -"Watched it from the cave. Nice, cozy place to watch a fight from. Saw -morning was coming on, so I brought you down some breakfast.</p> - -<p>"Sister—" She glanced at the sallow-cheeked Enid shrewdly. "You -look sort of peaked. You too, Crystal. You look older, honey. Well, -Greg—ready? We'd better be running along. 'Tina's got our breakfast -almost ready. Fruit juice and porridge and pancakes with butter and -sugar-syrup. Sounds good, eh? Well, 'bye, folks!"</p> - -<p>And by main force she herded the two men swiftly out of the skiff. -Outside, moving toward the hill, Sparks turned on her pettishly.</p> - -<p>"Now, what did you go and do that for, Aunt Maud—you've gummed up -everything! Greg was telling 'em off; just beginning to make 'em listen -to reason—"</p> - -<p>Aunt Maud grinned and winked broadly at Greg.</p> - -<p>"Sparks, are all radiomen as dumb as you, or do you hold the -championship? Greg could talk from now to doomsday and not get anywhere -with that outfit. I <i>know</i>. They're my own haughty, independent, -pigheaded flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>"But that stew I brought them—" She chuckled and rolled her eyes -delightedly. "Now, that's a <i>real</i> argument. The best their bellies -ever listened to. Just wait and see!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VII</p> - -<p>The truth of her statement was exhibited very soon. That very -afternoon, in fact. The dim Titanian sun was settling toward the -westward hilltops, and Greg was just putting the finishing touches to -a crude grist-mill he was rigging for the women, when there came the -scrape of hesitant footsteps up the rocky pathway.</p> - -<p>Hannigan had been away since breakfast time, making a survey of the -natural resources within easy distance of their cave. Greg thought it -was the radioman returning.</p> - -<p>"Hi!" he shouted over his shoulder, without looking back. "Any luck? -What did you find?" Then, as no voluble, profane, fantastic answer -was forthcoming, he turned around. His eyes momentarily betrayed his -astonishment. "Oh! Hello, Andrews!" he said.</p> - -<p>Bert Andrews shuffled uncomfortably. His gaze held a curious mixture -of wistfulness, reluctance and expectancy. He said, in a voice that -was a trifle too breathlessly nonchalant, "Hello, Malcolm. Just taking -a little stroll, so I thought I might drop up and see—see how you're -making out." He glanced about him, obviously impressed. "Not so bad," -he said. "Not bad at all! That's the cave, I suppose? See you have -things pretty well straightened out. What's that?"</p> - -<p>Greg's gaze followed his nod to the crosswork which was suspended -directly above the cave-mouth; a latticework of steel, firmly -wire-lashed, secured by a rope, the stretch of which dipped into the -cave itself.</p> - -<p>"Barrier-shield," explained Greg. "Hangs on a pulley. We can drop it -from inside. In case of attack, you see. Slides down that groove into -the channel cut in the ground, holds tight there." He grunted. "That's -one of the reasons we don't have any honest-to-John furniture in our -home. We had too many other important uses for the metal."</p> - -<p>"Clever," said Andrews. "Ingenious. I—er—got to thinking over what -you said this morning, Malcolm, after you left. You were right. For a -group of civilized people we let ourselves get into sorry shape."</p> - -<p>He rubbed his chin reflectively. Greg noticed for the first time that -his face was no longer dark with beard; that though his clothes were -still dirty, he had made an effort to straighten them, dust them. The -skin of his face, though, was pink and sore; chafed.</p> - -<p>Greg said, "What in the world did you shave with, Bert? A cross-cut -saw?"</p> - -<p>Andrews said defensively, "The electric razor won't work. The dry-cells -are exhausted, and we can't use D. C. without wasting fuel. There -wasn't a honed blade aboard the skiff. I used my pocket-knife. It—" he -confessed ruefully, "It wasn't very sharp."</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Hannigan mounted carborundum sheets on a lathe wheel and -put edges on a couple steak knives for us. I'll let you have one before -you go back. Hey, there he is now! What's the story, Sparks?"</p> - -<p>Hannigan came into the clearing at a trot. He was excited. He said, -"Sweet Christmas cow, Greg, you know what I run across? A—What's this? -Company?"</p> - -<p>The eager, interested look fled from Bert Andrews' eyes. He said -stiffly, "I—I guess I'll be running along now, Malcolm. See you again."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He turned, his shoulders very stiff. Too stiff to be convincing. Greg -glanced at him appraisingly, motioned the radioman to keep his mouth -shut, called after the young Andrews.</p> - -<p>"Don't go yet, Bert. We're just getting ready for dinner."</p> - -<p>"Dinner?" The young man spun like a top. Then he recalled his dignity. -"Oh—dinner! Why, I guess ours is almost ready, too. 'Bye—"</p> - -<p>"We'd be glad to have you stay," said Greg levelly, striving to keep -the amusement out of his voice. "I think there's a roast tonight. -Something that looks like a young suckling pig, can't exactly tell, -though, till we taste it. These Titanian animals are different. Then -there's a salad and potatoes and beans, a fruit compote, and I think -'Tina baked a pie today."</p> - -<p>Andrew's eyes widened as his lips twitched. "I—I wouldn't want to be -any trouble," he said faintly.</p> - -<p>"No trouble at all," said Greg. Then, unable longer to restrain -himself, "But of course if you think they'll be expecting you—?"</p> - -<p>"No, I'll stay!" blurted Andrews hastily. "Thanks. I can wash up -somewhere?"</p> - -<p>"Inside. Ask Aunt Maud for soap. She's the custodian of that." Then, -as the young man disappeared into the cave hurriedly, Greg grinned at -Hannigan. "One!" he said.</p> - -<p>"You want to hear about what I seen?" demanded the redhead. "Listen, it -was terrific! Great big marsh, full of the damnedest life-forms and -craziest vegetation anybody ever met up with. Hot, too! Steamy, like -the Grand Marshes of Venus, only not quite as stinking—"</p> - -<p>He stopped, annoyed. "One what? You ain't listening to a word I'm -saying. Don't you want to hear?"</p> - -<p>"Later, Sparks," said Greg. "Right now I'm wondering how long it will -take the others to fall in line."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It didn't take long. The citadel of stubbornness had been undermined -the night of the attack, it toppled with Bert Andrews' "friendly -visit"—from which, some time later, he staggered home glassy-eyed with -an overdose of wild roast, hot vegetables, crisp greens and luscious -fruits, succulent berry pie—and it crashed, violently, the next day.</p> - -<p>Bert Andrews brought his dad up the hill, presumably to confer with -Malcolm on a future mutual defensive system; the two of them lingered -for lunch—and after lunch old J. Foster, with the blunt directness -which accounted for his success in Earth's business world, sat back, -grunted comfortably, and said, "That's the first meal I've enjoyed -since I was a pup in Service! Malcolm, you win! I'm sick and tired of -this squabbling, and of our hand-to-mouth existence down there. Is -there room for me in this cave of yours?"</p> - -<p>It was no moment for gloating triumph. Greg said, "Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Then I'm moving in. And so is my wife. What do you want me to do?"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Hannigan and I were planning to break ground for a small -farm this afternoon, but this is more important. We'll go down with you -and help you move up your personal things. How about—" he hesitated -briefly "—how about Crystal? And Breadon?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said J. Foster unhappily. "But if they're smart, -they'll quit kicking against the pricks, too."</p> - -<p>They were smart. When Andrews and his son, accompanied by Hannigan, -Tommy and Greg, appeared at the skiff to move the Andrews' property, -when Andrews told them bluntly that he and Enid and Bert were casting -their lot in with the cave-dwellers, there was a moment of sultry -silence, fraught with reluctance, anger, recrimination—then Breadon -bowed to the inevitable. Not with good grace, but with grudging -agreement he said, "Very well. If that's the way you want it, Mr. -Andrews. If we're welcome up there, Malcolm—?"</p> - -<p>Greg said, "You are welcome, Breadon. I told you that a week ago." -And promptly forgot Breadon and Breadon's surliness as he realized -that Crystal, too, had been shamed into a recollection of her feminine -duty to herself. Somewhere she had found cosmetics, and somehow she -had managed to clean and press out a fawn-colored desert sun-suit. -Once again, ash-blonde hair combed back to a shoulder-length veil of -shimmering loveliness, pale golden skin fresh and creamy and fragrant -beneath the sheer silk of her abbreviated costume, she was the -glamorous, crystal-lovely Crystal of more leisured days. A woman at -once lovely, challenging and—desirable.</p> - -<p>Thus the nation divided against itself was united. And thus began the -second phase of the refugees' struggle to exist against staggering odds -on the lonely, hostile moon of Saturn.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">VIII</p> - -<p>Amazingly, the period of readjustment was not long, nor was it arduous. -It was accomplished briefly, surely, in a series of emphatic object -lessons. There was Enid Andrews, for instance. On her first afternoon -in the cave she called 'Tina to her side, ordered the beautification of -her face, her hair, her nails, and with a sigh of relief surrendered to -the ministrations of the younger girl.</p> - -<p>Greg, witness to this, frowned. But he motioned for silence when Aunt -Maud would have made some irate comment.</p> - -<p>That evening, by former agreement, Enid washed the dinner dishes. When -'Tina stepped forward to dry them, Greg stopped her.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, 'Tina. Mrs. Andrews will dry them."</p> - -<p>Enid started, gasped, stared at the huge pile appalled. 'Tina said, -"But there are so many of them, Greg. Ten of us—"</p> - -<p>"You have done extra work today," said Greg suavely, "to earn your -rest. Mrs. Andrews is in your debt. She must work out her obligation. -We have," he continued pointedly, "no servants or masters here. -Courtesies must be repaid in kind."</p> - -<p>Only twice more did the lessons have to be repeated; once when Bert -Andrews gluttonously devoured an entire berry pie and was made to spend -the next lunch-hour picking fruit for another; again when Breadon -carelessly fouled the spring by washing in it, and in penance was -required to construct a clay-and-stone dam below the spring, that in -the future the community might have adequate bathing facilities; after -that everyone understood that he had his alloted share of work, that -the work must be done, that meals, warmth, comfort and safety could be -earned only by sweat and toil.</p> - -<p>And gradually the rude cave dwelling began to take on the semblance of -a home. During the short days at their disposal before Titan, pursuing -its cosmic rounds, plunged into the umbra of its gigantic mother -planet, every member of the refugee corps worked feverishly to prepare -and fortify for the dark days to come.</p> - -<p>It was well that they did so, for when the darkness descended, ensued a -bleakness even more terrifying than Greg had anticipated. The eclipse -of Titan by its parent was no mild, momentary phenomenon like the -eclipsing of Earth by Luna; it was a five day cessation of all heat and -light.</p> - -<p>With the darkness came sweeping, icy winds, gales monstrously violent, -and incredible cold. From a sky black and terrible came the snow, five -inches of it in an hour, eight feet of it in a day. It was alarming at -first. Then Greg and all of them realized that the very ferocity of -the storm was their salvation! Were there to be this frightful cold -<i>without</i> snow, not all the fires of Gehenna, not all the clothing and -blankets in the universe, could have protected them. But the snow, -dropping like a sodden, white blanket, choked and filled the mouth of -their cave, piled thicker and thicker, enswaddling them in a fleecy -comfort that kept out the bone-brittling blasts.</p> - -<p>Then they thanked the foresight that had led them to build up a -roof-touching fuel reserve, a store of fresh produce and game, for they -could not leave their refuge. They were snowbound until Titan left the -shadow of Saturn and the warmth should again melt their prison walls.</p> - -<p>But those days were not days of idleness; they were days of -accomplishment. The women, under 'Tina's guidance, ripped apart -unneeded goods salvaged from the skiff's stores—tarpaulins, extra -bedding and napery, carpeting, drapes—and restitched them into more -needed, more practical articles of wearing and household apparel.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Breadon and Greg, laying aside a mutely-acknowledged hostility, -pooled their knowledge and ingenuity in an effort to ascertain their -whereabouts on the satellite. Neither had studied mathematics closely, -a fact each now bewailed. But they had a few books on astrogation, -taken from the skiff, and they had determination and intelligence. -Utilizing some of their precious, dwindling store of forged metal, they -constructed a crude but—they believed—reasonably accurate sextant -with which, when the darkness was gone, they hoped to take celestial -readings that would aid their computations.</p> - -<p>In the making of this, Greg was forced to sacrifice something that -had been for almost ten years as much a part of him as his arms and -legs. His spectacles. Strangely, he did not miss them much after the -first day. Their purpose had been mainly to protect him from eyestrain -and headaches in a confined vocation that required much reading. But -here on Saturn's satellite, health improved by hard labor, Greg had -experienced no headaches. He was, in fact, almost disgustingly healthy. -He could tell by the straining of his clothes at throat and chest and -waist-band that he was gaining weight; his appetite had improved and -when night came, he did not have to read himself to sleep.</p> - -<p>Young Tommy took upon himself the task of chronicling their exile. -His method, though extravagantly romantic as befitted his years -and enthusiasm for this adventure, was nonetheless efficient. He -laboriously scraped smooth a wide portion of the cave-wall; on this -he inscribed a calendar, a log, and a map of such portions of the -satellite as they had so far explored.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Sparks Hannigan fretted over his damaged radio set. An -accomplished bug-pounder, he took little time to get the wiring -rearranged. The replacement of metal parts was a tougher problem, but -it, too, he solved with the aid of their acetylene torch.</p> - -<p>One final job, however, stopped him cold. He shook his head when he -spoke of it to Malcolm.</p> - -<p>"The tubes, Greg. It just ain't no use. We can't operate the radio -less'n we got tubes, and ours is gone. I guess I'm just wasting my -time."</p> - -<p>Greg said, "Isn't there a type of radio that works without tubes? -Operates on a crystal, or something?"</p> - -<p>Sparks said, "Yeah. But it ain't got no power. We got to get a message -plumb off the satellite, out into space where it can be picked up by a -Space Patrol cruiser. Or the Saturn lightship."</p> - -<p>"And that's impossible? Suppose you had glass?"</p> - -<p>"Can you make it?" scoffed Sparks.</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Greg. "Glass was accidentally discovered in the first -place, you know, by Phoenician sailors who built a fire on a sandy -beach wherein was imbedded raw chunks of natron. We might be able to do -the same."</p> - -<p>Sparks shook his head glumly. "O.Q. So that gives us glass. We still -got to blow it, and figger out some way of sucking the air out, and -winding filaments. Oh, understand, I ain't saying we can't <i>do</i> it, -Greg. But it'll take years."</p> - -<p>Greg nodded soberly.</p> - -<p>"Well, we'll overlook no bets. Sparks—tell you what to do. You go -ahead and build one of those simple 'crystal' sets, just in the event -that someday a scout ship or exploration plane should come within our -range. Andrews is an important man, you know. Earth won't dismiss him -casually as 'Lost in Space.' We'll also, as soon as the Sun comes back, -clear a wide swath in the plain below us and construct a huge SOS sign -of wood and underbrush that will be visible by day and can be set afire -by night.</p> - -<p>"Then, if we should ever hear the signal of a scout ship, we'll hope -they see our marker."</p> - -<p>"If!" grunted Sparks.</p> - -<p>"What's that?"</p> - -<p>"Skip it!" said Hannigan. "I was just making book against myself."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So Greg maintained an optimism before the others, an optimism he did -not entirely feel himself. Always he talked of the day they would leave -Titan, but sometimes he wondered if that day would ever come.</p> - -<p>And truth to tell, there were periods when he almost hoped that day -would not ever come! For here, a thousand million miles from the Earth -that had borne him, Gregory Malcolm had finally come into the rulership -that, on Earth, he could never win, but that here was his by right of -greater strength and knowledge.</p> - -<p>He gazed about him, musing, and saw a cavern bright with candles that -<i>he</i> had taught the womenfolk to render from the fats of wild beasts, -warm with a flame <i>he</i> had kindled and nurtured, comfortable with -furnishings <i>he</i> had constructed to their purpose. He saw nine men and -women, a half dozen of whom had been his "superiors" aforetime, but who -now looked to him for guidance, protection and leadership.</p> - -<p>His mind's eye pierced the rock walls of the cavern and gazed, -marveling, at the cosmos as viewed from desolate Titan. When these -snows melted he could stand upon the hillside beneath the flaming -moons of Saturn, beneath the never-ending wonder of Saturn's massive, -multi-colored Rings, and say with Defoe's ancient castaway that here -he, indeed, was monarch of all he surveyed.</p> - -<p>This was his ordained fate; this was his brave, new world; these people -were his subjects. And he was, for howsoever brief or long a time, an -Emperor. And the white, the whirling stars—these were his empire!</p> - -<p>Perhaps he was not the only one of that group who saw this truth. For -there was more than mere grudging lip-service in the changed attitude -of Andrews and his wife and son. Bert Andrews was a changed boy. His -wilfulness had vanished; his allegiance to Greg was ardent. Maud -Andrews' affection for Greg was an obvious thing. She saw to it that he -was first fed, first clothed, first taken care of in all things; hers -was an attitude of fierce maternalism, springing from a breast that had -never known motherhood.</p> - -<p>And—and there was another strange thing, too. A thing of singing -glory that Greg could scarce believe, even though its truth was -exhibited to him in a thousand little ways.</p> - -<p>Crystal Andrews!</p> - -<p>A great change had come upon Crystal Andrews since the loss of the -<i>Carefree</i>. Of the old Crystal, only one part remained. Her blindingly -radiant beauty. Her selfishness, her coldness, had fled, had been -banished as her accustomed languidness had been banished by the -obligation of labor.</p> - -<p>Daily her attitude toward Greg grew more intimate. From aloofness she -melted into acceptance, acceptance faded and became approval. Approval -waxed as transpiring events proved time and again Greg's wisdom and his -right to rule; there came upon the girl an eagerness to be the first to -do whatever he suggested.</p> - -<p>This was good, and as it should be. But there was something else, too; -something deeper. At first Greg could not understand it, then gradually -its meaning became clear even to his wholly-masculine mind. The sudden -glance ... the lingering touch of hand against hand as they chanced -to pass one another ... the host of unnecessary little questions that -brought them into contact a dozen times a day ... the sweeping flush -when he, looking up unexpectedly, met her gaze. All these and other -things. The lithe, sure, free, but overwhelmingly feminine allure of -her body, shoulder brushing his as they sat before the fireplace in the -long evenings. The slow caress of her voice when she spoke his name. -The moment of swift alarm—a torpid snake that had somehow wriggled -into the cavern, toward the warmth of the fire—and Crystal in his -arms for all too short a moment. And drawing away reluctantly when the -"danger" was past.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He should have known from these things. Or from the amused glances of -Sparks Hannigan, or the increased surliness of Ralph Breadon, or from -the sudden loss of gaiety on the part of 'Tina.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you, 'Tina? Don't you feel well lately?"</p> - -<p>Her eyes avoiding his. "I'm all right, Greg. It's nothing."</p> - -<p>"But you don't sing any more. You're sure you're well? There's nothing -I can do for you?"</p> - -<p>"No." Her voice low. "No, thank you."</p> - -<p>"But I want you to be happy. Look, 'Tina—let's you and me play -cribbage tonight like we used to? We haven't had a game for weeks. How -about it?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Greg—would you like to? Really?"</p> - -<p>Her dullness slipping away from her like a dropped cape; her voice -throbbingly eager. Then another voice at his elbow, a throaty, -heart-stirring voice. "Oh, Greg—me, too? May I play? Will you teach me -the game?"</p> - -<p>Greg turned, smiling. "Why, of course. We'll get Sparks and make it a -four-handed game. Eh, 'Tina?"</p> - -<p>But 'Tina drew back, her eyes hurt again and distant. Her voice faint. -"N-no, Greg. You and Crystal. I don't think I want to...."</p> - -<p>Which Greg could not understand. But gradually, out of his confusion -and miscomprehension, one truth came clear. And with its coming there -was a sudden singing in his heart, a fire in his veins. He loved -Crystal Andrews. And Crystal Andrews loved him!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then one day they woke to find the floor of the cave glistening darkly -with a pool of water. The snow was melting from the mouth of the cave. -When they attacked the weakened snowbank with shovels and brooms, -laughing and fighting their way clear of the white barrier, they -discovered that the dark days had ended, that once again the sky of -Titan was silver-blue and bright, that already the warmth had turned -the snow mantle to chuckling rivulets that ran merrily down the hills, -leaving fresh green in its wake. The miracle of Titan's "winter" had -passed, and the land would again be theirs for three warm weeks.</p> - -<p>Greg's brain was afire with a hundred projects. A viaduct to carry -water into the cavern during the next cold period. They had had to -depend on melted snow this time. A study of the stars with their new -sextant. The clearing of ground for the gigantic signal. He turned to -the others enthusiastically.</p> - -<p>"We've got to work now, folks, as we never worked before! Tommy, I -want you to get right to work on that new viaduct we were talking -about. Andrews, your first job will be to replenish the wood supply. -Try the west woods, that's the best timber. 'Tina, see what these short -'winters' do to the vegetation, will you? I don't imagine they're dead. -Nature has ways of counteracting its own excesses. I believe we'll find -the vegetation here on Titan is phenomenally hardy. But see, anyway.</p> - -<p>"Aunt Maud—you and Enid set out those traps we made during the dark -spell. We'll have a hot stew tonight. Breadon, suppose you and Sparks -and I go down to the plain and start planning our signal system? -Crystal—"</p> - -<p>Crystal was at his side, her hand on his arm. "I'm going with you, -Greg."</p> - -<p>"What? But they need you—Oh, all right!"</p> - -<p>He smiled. Behind him Aunt Maud snorted and disguised the snort with -a rattling cough. 'Tina looked at him oddly for a moment before she -turned obediently toward where last week there had been a vegetable -patch. Her eyes were hurt. Greg could not understand why.</p> - -<p>It was not until he was halfway down the hill that he remembered he -had promised to let her help with the sign project. Of course it was -too late to do anything about it then. Besides, Crystal's feet were -unsteady on the melting path. She needed his arm about her for support. -And her hair had a tantalizing fragrance all its own....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IX</p> - -<p>It took all of the men, working steadily from dawn to dusk every day, -two full weeks to construct the signal. When it was done, Greg looking -down upon it from their hilltop eyrie, gazed upon it with approval and -found it good.</p> - -<p>Across the mile-wide flatness of the plain they had heaped huge piles -of branches, faggots, brush, forming the letters "S O S." Green, they -stood out boldly; withered and faded, their brownness would be equally -clear.</p> - -<p>Hannigan was pleased with his share of the work, too.</p> - -<p>"—wire," he finished, "from the bottom of the 'S' to the cave. We just -about had enough, too. Anyhow, if the ship should happen to come at -night instead of in the daytime, all we got to do is push the switch, -and a spark'll jump in the tinder. Send the whole signal up in flame in -less time than you can say 'integral calculus.'" He frowned. "If," he -added, "a ship comes at all. Which of course I couldn't say yes or no."</p> - -<p>"It will come," said Greg absently. He said it because it was the thing -to say; as a matter of habit. He was not even thinking of his words. -He was thinking, now that this project had been accomplished, of other -things. Of a silo that must be built. They had nine head of livestock -now, due to Tommy O'Doul's persistence. The beasts would have to be -provided with winter quarters. One goat in the cave had not been so -bad, last month. But nine goats—Perhaps, he thought, that small cave -next to ours. If we could dig into it through the west wall ... make a -small opening....</p> - -<p>His lack of concentration brought a false conclusion from the third man -in the group. Ralph Breadon stirred restively.</p> - -<p>"You should say," he insinuated, "if Malcolm <i>wants</i> a ship to come!"</p> - -<p>The words penetrated Greg's thoughts of the future slowly. He turned a -blank, questioning look on the other.</p> - -<p>"Eh?"</p> - -<p>"I merely said," repeated Breadon, "that one could not condemn a man in -your position for showing lack of enthusiasm in a rescue party."</p> - -<p>Greg stared at him thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"Just what do you mean by that, Breadon?"</p> - -<p>Breadon shrugged.</p> - -<p>"Isn't it fairly obvious? Two short months ago you were a nobody. A -secretary without background, position or authority. Today you're the -demigod of Titan. Sir Boss. I don't complain; I merely comment. You -have everything a man could ask for. Authority ... security ... a -woman...."</p> - -<p>The last jolted Malcolm out of his apathy. He took a swift step -forward, gripped Breadon's lapels with a fist grown heavier, rougher, -with labor.</p> - -<p>"If you mean Crystal, Breadon—"</p> - -<p>Breadon stood his ground. "Let go of me, Malcolm. I'm not going to -fight you again. Of course I mean Crystal. It's perfectly obvious -that you and she—Oh, hell, man! Don't be a hypocrite! After all, when -people live as intimately as we do, in one little cave...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg felt dark anger welling up within him like a gall-tinctured -flood. Rage not that Breadon should say this thing, but that there -should be cause for his thinking it. He choked, thickly, "Damn you, -Breadon—there's not a thing wrong between Crystal and me. I love her, -yes. And Crystal loves me. We've only been waiting till this big job -was finished—"</p> - -<p>"Then if I were you," retorted Breadon wearily, "I wouldn't wait any -longer. Or is it another case of the king being incapable of doing -wrong? Anyhow, I think you understand what I mean now. Two months ago -a marriage between you and Crystal Andrews would have been ridiculous. -Today—"</p> - -<p>He shrugged again. Greg glared at him wrathfully, impotently, for a -long moment. Then he spun on his heel, led the way down the hill to -the cave. Sparks scurried along behind him anxiously. "Now, look, -Greg—don't do nothing you might regret—"</p> - -<p>"Shut up! I'll handle this!"</p> - -<p>At the cave he called all the settlers before him. They came from their -tasks, surprised, wondering. He wasted no time. He broached the subject -boldly.</p> - -<p>"Because we ten are marooned here on a desert satellite," he said -savagely, "without a clergyman, there is no reason we must abandon all -the rights and privileges of civilized society. Human emotions have a -habit of enduring. I think it is no secret that Crystal Andrews and I -have fallen in love. I intend, therefore, to marry her as soon as it -can be arranged.</p> - -<p>"Crystal—" He turned to the girl. "Do I speak for you as well as for -myself?"</p> - -<p>The girl nodded and stepped forward into the circle of his arm. "You -know you do, Greg."</p> - -<p>J. Foster Andrews looked pleased. He said, "That's fine, son. But who's -going to do the marrying?"</p> - -<p>"You are. As owner of the <i>Carefree</i>, you were also its commander. I -think the space code would permit your acting in capacity of justice." -Greg's anger melted. "I'm not being very formal about this, sir. -Perhaps I should ask for your permission."</p> - -<p>"You have it, my boy! And now—" Archly. "When will -the—hrrumph!—happy event take place?"</p> - -<p>Greg looked at Crystal questioningly. "Next week?" she said, "I'll have -to have a little time, Greg."</p> - -<p>"That's it, then," said Greg. "Next week. When the dark period comes."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The little group broke up, then. One by one they murmured words of -congratulation and approval to their leader and his bride-to-be and -drifted away. Finally Crystal went back into the cave, and Greg was -left alone with 'Tina, who alone of all the group, had so far said -nothing. He went to her.</p> - -<p>"You haven't told me you're happy, 'Tina."</p> - -<p>She turned slowly.</p> - -<p>"Shall I say so, Greg?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to. Why do you act so strangely toward me, 'Tina? Do you -dislike me? You used to—"</p> - -<p>"I'm happy," she cried suddenly. "Now I've said it. You want me to. -Are you satisfied? Why don't you let me alone, Greg? Must I like or -dislike you? You have one woman? Must you—" She broke from his side, -raced forward to the edge of the hill, stared blindly down into the -plain. Greg moved after her, worried. "What is it, 'Tina? You're <i>not</i> -happy! Are you lonely? Why don't you get married, too? Sparks ... or -Breadon...."</p> - -<p>He stopped, his gaze over her shoulder settling on something in the -valley beneath. A thing incredible to behold, but that was ... yes, -<i>was</i>....</p> - -<p>"'Tina!" he gasped.</p> - -<p>At the tone of his voice she spun swiftly, anxiously. "What is it, -Greg?"</p> - -<p>"Look! Down there! A—a human!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">X</p> - -<p>"More gruel, Marberry?" asked Aunt Maud solicitously. "Can you eat -another spoonful?" She glared at those who ringed the reclining -spaceman belligerently. "Why don't you let him alone?" she demanded. -"Greg Malcolm, I thought you had better sense! The man's weak and -sick!"</p> - -<p>Marberry's eyes were like charred pockets, but he summoned a weak smile.</p> - -<p>"I'm all right," he said. "There isn't much more to tell. We managed -to cut free from the <i>Carefree</i> just before she crashed. Four of us. -Lipstead, Hawkins, Craeburn and myself. Our skiff cracked up in a -mountain gorge. Craeburn was killed, and Lipstead broke his leg. But we -fixed it up in splints, and he got by.</p> - -<p>"When the snow came—" He shut his eyes momentarily, as though to rid -them of a persistently evil vision. "When the snow came we almost died. -We ran short on fuel, and the skiff leaked. Then the electro-stove ran -down, and we had to eat cold, canned food.</p> - -<p>"Even so, we pulled through. But when it got warm again, Hawkins said -we mustn't spend another winter in the skiff. We had to find a cave in -the mountains, he said. So we abandoned the ship and started moving. It -was then that they caught us."</p> - -<p>Breadon, who had entered late, asked, "Who?"</p> - -<p>"Natives of Titan," Greg capitulated briefly. "He described 'em to -us before you came in. Savages. Cannibals. Humanoid, but no culture. -Funny physical make-up, like the Uranians. Don't feel the cold at all. -Murdering devils. From what he says, we're lucky they haven't found us -before this."</p> - -<p>Breadon said, "Cannibals!" and looked sallow. The supine man continued -weakly.</p> - -<p>"We had to leave Lipstead behind. He couldn't run. He drew a gun on -us, threatened to kill us all if we didn't leave him. We heard his gun -afterward. He must have got a half dozen of them before—before they -got him.</p> - -<p>"Then Hawkins and me split up. It was the only way, he said. One of us -might be lucky. I—I guess I was. They followed him instead of me. And -all the time—" His voice raised feverishly. "And all the time, we was -only about ten miles from here! If we'd only known—"</p> - -<p>Aunt Maud would stand for no more. She bustled between the invalid and -his listeners, shooed them away angrily. "Run along, now. This man -needs sleep and quiet. Go 'way!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But later, as Marberry slept the sleep of exhaustion, Greg called a -council of war.</p> - -<p>"Ten miles," he said soberly. "If those creatures are only ten miles -from here, we can expect an attack almost any day. Or moment. From -now on, we must keep a watch at all times. No one must leave the cave -alone."</p> - -<p>Hannigan said, "You reckon they'll find us, Greg? Titan's a big hunk of -dirt."</p> - -<p>"They're savages. Savages can follow the faintest trails of wild -animals, let alone the spoor of a frightened, sick man. They'll be -here."</p> - -<p>Hannigan said, "There's one good hunk of news in the whole sorry mess. -Marberry said him and his companions sent out radio SOS calls for three -solid weeks. Till their radio run dry. Maybe somebody picked up one of -them calls. Maybe there's help on the way right now."</p> - -<p>"Radio. Speaking of radio, Sparks, how about that crystal receiving set -you were working on? Is it finished?"</p> - -<p>Sparks smiled sourly.</p> - -<p>"Finished your sainted sandals! It's all washed up. Listen to this!"</p> - -<p>He stepped to the hodge-podge of wires and coils on which he had been -laboring, adjusted it. From its diaphragm came dismal sounds. Squawks, -squeals, quavering vibrations.</p> - -<p>"Static," said Breadon.</p> - -<p>"Double it," gloomed Hannigan, "and add a thousand. The worst kind of -static. An electrical disturbance field."</p> - -<p>Greg frowned. "But that can't be, Sparks. There's no electricity around -here. No generating plants or—"</p> - -<p>"It can't be," snorted Sparks, "but it is. I don't know what makes it -act thataway. Maybe it's the H-layer of this cockeyed satellite. Sun -spots, maybe. Whatever it is, it sure gums up my machine." He stared at -the tiny set helplessly.</p> - -<p>Greg stirred himself.</p> - -<p>"Well, then we'll have to look forward to fighting this battle without -hope of assistance. Andrews, I want you and Tommy to inspect the -cave-mouth barrier immediately, see that it's in perfect shape and -reinforce it. Ralph, you and Sparks drive the livestock into the small -cave so they'll be hidden. 'Tina, the fuel reserve?"</p> - -<p>"Complete, Greg."</p> - -<p>"Good! I'm going out to stand the first watch. If you need me, I'll -be—"</p> - -<p>At that moment a small figure, bristle-haired with excitement, came -scampering into the cave.</p> - -<p>"Greg!" cried Tommy O'Doul. "Greg—they're down there! On the plain. I -seen them. And I—I think they seen me, too! They're heading up this -way!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A half hour later, Greg, flanked by a tight-jawed little band of -compatriots, crouched in the bottle-mouth of an altered cavern.</p> - -<p>The short time that had elapsed since Tommy O'Doul gave the alarm had -been minutes of swift preparation. What little of water, food and -supplies could be brought into the cave had been hustled in by eager -hands. The stock had been herded into the small, adjoining cave, and -boulders had been rolled against the cave mouth. The metal grill had -been dropped before the mouth of their own cave; it was behind this -they now crouched, through this that Greg looked out upon a lead-gray -sky and green hills.</p> - -<p>"There's one thing," said Greg. "One break in our favor. It's starting -to get darker, and it's barely afternoon. We must be dipping into the -penumbra of Saturn. In a little while the darkness should come, and the -gales and the cold."</p> - -<p>Hannigan said, "That ain't no break for us. Marberry said they didn't -feel heat and cold."</p> - -<p>"I know. But they can't prevent the snow falling. If it comes down like -it did during the last dark spell, we will have an eight-foot fall of -ice between us and our attackers."</p> - -<p>Andrews looked at the sky anxiously.</p> - -<p>"But until it snows, Greg?"</p> - -<p>"We fight!" said Greg grimly.</p> - -<p>Bert Andrews, who had wriggled forward on his belly to the furthermost -ell of the bottle-neck, ducked back hastily, twisted his head over his -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Then we fight now!" he rasped. "Here they come!"</p> - -<p>It was then that the Earth-exiles saw, for the first time, the dominant -race of Saturn's sixth satellite. To see was to marvel that Nature had -once again—as on Earth, Mars, Uranus and Io—selected the bipedal -humanoid form in creating a ruling race. Except for the thick, downy -pelts that covered these Titanians' bodies, the low, slanting, bestial -foreheads, the depth of breast and rapacious mouth slits, these -creatures were the counterparts of man.</p> - -<p>But there were other unapparent differences, thought Greg. Marberry -had reported the Titanians impervious to heat and cold, which argued a -difference in normal body temperature and perhaps a difference in basic -metabolism. There must be sharp differences between man's mentality -and that of these man-like beasts, as well, else they would not come -seeking their interplanetary guests as the huntsman seeks his quarry.</p> - -<p>A long, questing, silver-pelted line, they climbed the hillside path -to the flat clearing before the cave. They paused there, peering about -them suspiciously, nostrils wide and eyes searching. Greg realized, -suddenly, that these man-things were far down humanity's scale; so much -of the animal was in them that they placed more dependence in their -olfactory than in their visual sense. They seemed to catch the man -scent, the spoor they had been following. Their leader moved forward to -the grillwork. Hannigan's shoulder brushed that of Greg as he wriggled -forward.</p> - -<p>"Now, Greg? Shall we let 'em have it?"</p> - -<p>Greg whispered hurriedly, "When I give the word, all fire at once. -Remember, we have very little ammunition. We must make every shot -count. Ready?"</p> - -<p>He glanced at his all-too-tiny fighting crew. Bert Andrews, old J. -Foster, Breadon, Sparks, himself. "Tommy," he ordered, "go back into -the cave!"</p> - -<p>"Aw!" said Tommy—but obeyed. Greg glanced about him once more. Others -of the Titanians had slunk to their leader's side now. Their voices, -guttural and mono-syllabic, carried plainly over the few intervening -yards.</p> - -<p>"Now!" cried Greg.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Five rifles spoke as one. Their conjoined thunder beat deafeningly upon -the sweating cavern walls, echoed and re-echoed, ripping at Greg's -eardrums. But another sound pierced the roar of gunfire. The shrill, -pain-laden screams of stricken man-things. The inquisitive leader fell -without ever knowing the cause of his death. A Titanian behind him -opened his slit-mouth in a flat, high scream, turned to run, tearing -at his gaping chest with claws that crimsoned as he tore. He took -three steps, toppled, crashed. Another body was beneath his own; still -another fell upon his.</p> - -<p>Old J. Foster's lips were white. He turned to Greg, sickened and -trembling.</p> - -<p>"We can't do this, Greg! It's slaughter!"</p> - -<p>A weak voice cackled derision. "Don't feel sorry for 'em. If they get -in here, they'll show you what a real slaughter looks like. Malcolm, -have you got a gun for me?"</p> - -<p>It was the sailor, Marberry. Greg said, "Go back and rest a while -longer, Marberry. We have no more guns."</p> - -<p>"I'll get Tommy's."</p> - -<p>"Rest. This siege may last all day, all night or for a week. You'll get -your turn."</p> - -<p>Marberry disappeared. Greg said, "Fire! Keep on firing! They're -bewildered. Maybe they'll break and run."</p> - -<p>Again the salvo of gunfire rocked the corridor, and again foremost -figures slumped to the ground, slicing the ranks of the attackers. But -now, peering through the grill, Greg saw that he had underestimated the -manpower of the attackers. They were not a dozen or two dozen ... there -were a hundred of them milling, now, in the small clearing, and the -path was still clogged with the silvery bodies of others lumbering to -the attack.</p> - -<p>What happened in the next hour was such stuff as nightmares are made -of. At first Greg cautioned himself each time he pulled the trigger of -his rifle that he must make his shot count; later he fell into a dull, -scarce-comprehending state of mono-existence wherein he was conscious -only of the nerveless and repeated movements of his hands. -Aim ... load ... fire! Aim again ... load ... fire ... aim....</p> - -<p>And at first there was little need for aiming. For the Titanians, -savagely prodigal of life, knew only one way of fighting—to press -forward in brute force, attempting to crush down the metal grill that -stood between them and their vengeance. To fire into that thick press -of bodies was sure havoc. The Titanians were weaponless save for the -cudgels they whirled about their heads threateningly; nor could they -break down the barrier so long as the succeeding hands of all who -gripped it became the limp, impotent hands of the dead.</p> - -<p>Then at last even their dim, animal intelligence saw that this was a -losing battle. A cry rose and was shuttled from mouth to mouth. The -silvery figures, now gray in ever-gathering dusk, wisped away from the -cave-mouth.</p> - -<p>"Licked 'em!" cried Hannigan. "They're running, by Peter! Golly, Greg! -Look at that pile out there!"</p> - -<p>There was awe in his voice, distaste in Greg's eyes as he looked on -the motionless mound heaped before the cave. But Greg said, "Don't get -rash! They may be planning a new attack. Breadon—what's wrong with -you, man?"</p> - -<p>Ralph Breadon grinned wryly.</p> - -<p>"Fortune's favored child, that's me! They didn't have any weapons to -shoot me with, so I shot myself. Bounced a bullet off the grill. It -came back and pinked my arm."</p> - -<p>"Go get it dressed. There it comes!" cried Greg.</p> - -<p>"The new attack?" Sparks whirled.</p> - -<p>"The darkness. And the snow!"</p> - -<p>He was right. The threatened period of darkness had descended at last. -Once again Titan was within the shadow of its primary. And once again -the vast winds were keening from the hilltops, the great flakes of snow -were tumbling from a lifeless sky. Greg's voice was exultant.</p> - -<p>"Now we're safe! In an hour or so we'll be behind a fortress of ice. -And I don't think they'll lay siege to us in a blizzard for a solid -week."</p> - -<p>His triumph was short-lived. For even as he anticipated victory, -disaster beat on the portals of their refuge. From the depths of the -cave came a shrill scream, the shout of Marberry, and Tommy's frantic -cry—</p> - -<p>"Greg! Come a-running! They've found the back entrance!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The back entrance! Greg's heart lurched. He cursed himself, suddenly, -for having tried to accomplish too much in making their cavern -habitable. For by so doing, he had rendered them vulnerable in a spot -where there would be no barrier of ice an hour hence.</p> - -<p>The back entrance. The archway they had broken out between their large -cave and the smaller one wherein Tommy's livestock was herded. Somehow -the Titanians had found the other cave, rolled away the boulders, and -were now attempting to get at their quarry from the rear.</p> - -<p>Greg shouted, "Andrews, you stand guard here! One man will be enough. -The rest of you—come on!"</p> - -<p>The first of the Titanians was pushing through the cleft just as he -reached the main chamber. There was a look of unholy glee on the -man-like creature's thin lips as he attained the cave. But it died -there, suddenly, frostily. It was not Greg who dropped him. It was -young Tommy, staggering under the recoil of a rifle almost as tall as -himself, firing pointblank, bouncing back to reload manfully, bawling -with youthful glee, "Got him, Greg!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then there was no time for speech, because the Titanians were pouring -through the breech in a howling, flame-eyed mob. For a moment Greg, -even as he fought, felt despair touch his heart with leaden fingers. -There was no grill here to bar the enemy's passage; the cleft was wide -enough to admit three at a time. He and his companions were outnumbered -ten, twenty to one.</p> - -<p>But he did not, could not, take into consideration two vital facts. -The first was the indomitable gallantry of his fellow exiles. He had -expected that, in defense of their lives, their possessions, their -women, the armed men would fight to the last breath. And they did. -Pressing forward on relentless feet. Breadon, Andrews, Bert, Hannigan. -But Greg had not realized that the women, too, could fight. As in -a smoke-veiled dream he caught glimpses of their activities. Aunt -Maud and 'Tina, armed with huge ladles, dipping their weapons into -a massive pot of boiling water, flinging the scalding liquid at the -cold-impervious but heat-sensitive invaders. Crystal, no longer a -serene and radiant beauty, but a flaming Valkyr whose ash-blonde hair -tumbled about her, forgotten, gaining a vantage point at the very lip -of the opening, slashing ferociously at the attackers with a monstrous -cleaver. Enid Andrews racing to the wall, digging in Greg's duffle, -pressing something into his hands.</p> - -<p>"Your flame-pistol, Gregory!"</p> - -<p>Greg grasped it eagerly. "Stand back, Crystal!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>She turned, and saw, and fled. And the ochre flame mushroomed into the -heart of the still-charging Titanians. Their charge stilled, faltered, -wavered, died. The stench of charred bodies was nauseous. Then there -were screams of fear—and the Titanians were in rout!</p> - -<p>Into the small cave they pursued them; from it but a handfull of the -silver-pelted savages escaped. And when the last living invader had -disappeared, Greg turned to his exhausted followers with a smile of -weary triumph.</p> - -<p>"We'll see no more of them," he promised. "Already the snow is a foot -deep. By morning both caves will be completely walled in. And I think -we've taught them to fear us. What, 'Tina?"</p> - -<p>For she was standing before him; her eyes were cool and positive ... -there was decision in her tone.</p> - -<p>"I thought it was all over for us a moment ago," she said. "And I knew, -then, Greg, that it was a mistake for me to die without having told -you. I promised myself that if a miracle occurred ... and we should -live ... I would tell you."</p> - -<p>He said wonderingly, "But what, 'Tina? I don't—"</p> - -<p>"I know you don't, Greg. That is why I must say it. I love you. Have -loved you since that first day." Her eyes were grave. Greg's were -embarrassed.</p> - -<p>He said, "But you—you shouldn't say such things, 'Tina. Crystal—"</p> - -<p>"She is a brave woman, Greg. But she is not your woman. She is his."</p> - -<p>His gaze followed 'Tina's across the room, to where Crystal knelt -beside the injured Breadon. She was cleansing his wound, which was as -it should be. But there was a softness, a tenderness, to her -motions ... and a look in her eyes. Greg looked away, suddenly aware -that even from the beginning he had felt this barrier between them. -Perhaps Crystal had loved him, for a while and in a fashion. But she -loved him for his strength, his power, his ability to rule. She was a -woman of the ruling class; ever her conscious trend would be toward -allegiance with those who led. But in the show-down ... when instinct -overcame logic....</p> - -<p>Hannigan cried across the chamber, "What, Greg?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't say anything," said Greg gruffly.</p> - -<p>"But you did. I heard you say—<i>Omigawd!</i>" Sparks made a sudden leap -toward the bench on which rested the forgotten crystal set. "It's this! -<i>Listen!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Static still boiled through the speaker of the tiny set. But now, above -the static, riding its vibrations, was superimposed the sound of a -human voice. And the voice was calling, over and over again,</p> - -<p>"<i>Space Patrol Cruiser Orestes ... calling survivors of the Carefree. -We are looking for you. Where are you ... where are you? Come -in, Carefree survivors. Space Patrol Cruiser Orestes ... calling -survivors</i>...."</p> - -<p>Greg looked at 'Tina. Then once again at Crystal, whose face, upturned -with sudden, speechless joy, was the radiant vision of unattainable -perfection. Then at Sparks, whose gaze met his reluctantly. He said, -"Sparks—press the plunger."</p> - -<p>Hannigan's hand moved slowly toward the control that would set into -flame the gigantic brush-signal on the plain below. With strange -reluctance, everything considered. For certainly Sparks realized -as plainly as he, Greg, that the snow was falling with increasing -rapidity, that the cruiser must be almost directly overhead for its -signal to penetrate the raucous interference of static, that if this -opportunity were lost it might be years and years before....</p> - -<p>Sparks voice was low in his ears.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure, Greg?"</p> - -<p>And suddenly there was deathly silence in the cave. Never until that -moment had Gregory Malcolm realized how completely was he the ruler of -this tiny clan. Here, where all life and the future of life and the -future of these men and women were concerned, the last great judgment -was relegated to him.</p> - -<p>He looked about him uncertainly. And what he read in his comrades' eyes -surprised him. For there was reluctance in the eyes of Bert Andrews ... -a vague regret in those of old J. Foster Andrews ... hope and pleading -in those of the girl 'Tina ... frank disapproval in those of the woman -they knew as 'Aunt Maud.' Only the eyes of Crystal Andrews, who were -he to let the cruiser pass might be his wife, was there mirrored fear -and apprehension....</p> - -<p>He shook himself. And with that small gesture he shrugged from his -shoulders an ermine that had lain there all too briefly. Quietly he -said the words that stripped him of his sceptre, that swept away his -empire of the stars.</p> - -<p>"Press it, Sparks!" he said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"A remarkably ingenious device, sir," said Captain Allengrove -approvingly. "And you made use of it in the nick of time. We were just -about to abandon the search when the snowy waste beneath us blossomed -suddenly with that signal. I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner, sir. -But—" And he glanced about the cavern appreciatively. "But you appear -to have had matters under control."</p> - -<p>J. Foster Andrews said, "Well—er—Captain, as a matter of fact, it -wasn't—hrrumph!—altogether my doing. Greg, here—"</p> - -<p>Captain Allengrove dismissed Malcolm with a glance.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I quite understand. One couldn't expect you to take care of -all the minor details. But I must say, Mr. Andrews, you are a fortunate -man. Inasmuch as you established residence on Titan, the Federation -will be forced to acknowledge your priority claim to the heretofore -unknown ore deposit near your cave."</p> - -<p>"The—er—ore deposit?" Andrews looked blank.</p> - -<p>Sparks hollered, "Oh, my sainted tonsils! The swamp! Of course! -Pitchblende! That's why there was so much static interference! Radium!"</p> - -<p>The cruiser's commander frowned on him.</p> - -<p>"Exactly. Of course, Mr. Andrews, you cannot file a full claim to the -property. That requires a full year's residence. And a man as important -as yourself—"</p> - -<p>Greg Malcolm started. He had said nothing up till now. He had been -given an opportunity to say nothing. The captain had addressed himself -solely to the one "important" man in their party, the man for whom, -primarily, the search had been made, the man to whose "genius" was -attributed the existence of the castaways.</p> - -<p>Now he spoke up. He said, "But <i>I</i> am establishing residence, Captain -Allengrove."</p> - -<p>Allengrove permitted himself the luxury of a small smile.</p> - -<p>"You, Malcolm? But really, my dear fellow, only a spaceman could -undertake such a task. A <i>secretary</i>—"</p> - -<p>Aunt Maud waddled forward belligerently. She said, "Secretary—pah! -Fiddle-faddle, Captain! You don't know what you're talking about! And -as for you, Brother Jonathan, I'm ashamed of you! Taking credit for -all this—arragh!" She turned to Greg. "Gregory, I'm an old woman, and -perhaps I'm an old fool, as well. But I've had more fun and excitement -in the past month than I've had in the previous forty years. Be—be -<i>damned</i> if I'll go back to Earth and piddle away my remaining years at -operas and pink teas. I'm staying here with you!"</p> - -<p>Enid Andrews, into whose shoulders had so quickly come the grace and -ease of authority that was her charm, looked shocked. "Maud!" she -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>Sparks Hannigan breathed a sigh of relief. "Then that makes three of -us," he said. "Any more takers?"</p> - -<p>Tommy O'Doul pushed his way to Greg's side. "Can I stay, too, Greg? Can -I, huh? Me, too?"</p> - -<p>Greg said gratefully, "If you want to, Tommy. But, Bert—<i>you</i>?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For Bert Andrews had also aligned himself with his aunt and Sparks. Now -he said defiantly, "What Aunt Maud says is good enough for me. I'll -stick!"</p> - -<p>'Tina was already beside Greg; her gaze was fiercely loyal. She did not -need to say anything. Captain Allengrove looked stunned. "But really," -he said, "but really, this is most unusual! I mean, we were sent to -rescue you! I—er—I don't quite see how you expect to survive without -leadership—"</p> - -<p>Aunt Maud snorted belligerently. "Leadership! You just leave us -supplies and we'll have all the leadership we need! Marberry, you're -staying, aren't you? Well, that's seven of us. A lucky number! I don't -suppose there are any more?"</p> - -<p>She glared at Crystal. Greg, too, was watching the girl. Now before the -steadfastness of their combined gazes, her eyes dropped. Her cheeks -colored faintly. But she did not move from Breadon's side. She said, -"I—I'm sorry. I hope you understand, Greg."</p> - -<p>Greg said, "I understand."</p> - -<p>"Furthermore," declared Aunt Maud staunchly, "I'm warning you, -Jonathan! I know you! If you go home bragging about your part in the -colonization of Titan, I'll follow you, so help me! And if you fail to -keep us equipped with supplies—"</p> - -<p>J. Foster said hurriedly, "Now, Maud!"</p> - -<p>Captain Allengrove looked at them all uncomprehendingly. It didn't make -sense. But he was a Space Officer—it was not his place to engage in -family quarrels; his duty was to rescue what few of this astonishing -crew wished to be rescued. He coughed nervously. He said, "Well, Mr. -Andrews—if you're ready now?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said J. Foster. "We're ready now. Goodbye, Greg," he said. -"And—er—thanks, old boy!"</p> - -<p>Greg said levelly, "That's all right. Goodbye." He said, less levelly, -"Goodbye, Miss Andrews."</p> - -<p>But Crystal and Breadon were already turning toward the portal, toward -the cruiser that would carry them back to an easier, gentler world. -So at the end, there were no last farewells. Just a single word, and -silence.</p> - -<p>Yet somehow, strangely, Greg Malcolm did not mind too much. For in -losing one thing, he had found much more. He was bulwarked with -greater, truer friends than most men ever know ... he stood in a -cave that was his home ... on a new world that was yet his shining, -unblemished empire.</p> - -<p>And there was the touch of a warm hand on his own.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Wanderers of the Wolf-Moon, by Nelson S. 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