*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 61950 ***

                          Proktols of Neptune

                            By HENRY HASSE

            Space-rumor had spun wild tales of horror about
           Neptune's almost-legendary race of Proktols. But
             what could rumor know of this hideous reality
         that faced Space-captain Janus and his captive crew!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Summer 1941.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Commander Janus stared in bafflement at the power-board of the Patrol
ship _Wasp_. The Deflector needle was still gyrating wildly. That had
begun five minutes ago. His lips tightened, and he looked up irritably
as the First Mate peered inquisitively over his shoulder.

"Better check up on the course again, Devries!"

"Just did, sir. We're point oh-oh perfect, not the slightest aberrancy."

Janus swore under his breath. "I just can't figure it! Must be some
object dead ahead to cause this disturbance, but why doesn't our
Deflector beam shunt it from us or pivot us around it?"

He paced the Control room, stopped and looked over at Ketrik whose eyes
were fixed steadily on the visipanel. "See anything yet?"

Ketrik merely shook his head, not looking up. That panel magnified
their course several times, and Ketrik had the sharpest eyes in the
Patrol.

"Damned if I like it a bit," Janus muttered, staring again at the crazy
needle that seemed about to jump its bearings. "Devries, tell Blake to
cut all jets. We'd better go into a drift until we are a little better
able to determine what's wrong."

Devries stepped to the tube and gave the order to Blake in the rocket
room. A moment later the _Wasp_ was in the drift. Blake came forward
to see what was up. Far behind rolled the hideous green ball that
was Neptune, and immeasurably far ahead somewhere was Pluto. Devries
stepped again to the chart and saw that the hair-line indicator still
had Pluto right on the nose.

"I think I've got something," Ketrik spoke from the panel. The men
crowded around him, peering into the square of blackness that seemed to
swim as Ketrik turned the magnifying dial.

"I see it!" Blake exclaimed. "Something ... a meteor? Looks like it's
drifting right at us."

But Ketrik shook his head, and his eyes narrowed. "That looks to me
like a derelict, and it's my opinion that _we're_ drifting at it."

"A spacer?" Commander Janus asked excitedly. "Can you make it out,
Ketrik? Maybe it's Perrin! I hope to God it is, it'll save us days!"

But the next few minutes revealed that it wasn't Perrin's pirate ship.
The drifting spacer was much larger, and of different design, with no
name or emblem of any kind. And it was solid black, preventing easy
detection against the blackness of space.

"It's a derelict all right," Devries said. "See that ragged gap in the
hull near the stern?" He pointed and the others crowded around to look.
He was right. In the side of the hull near the stern was a great jagged
hole, that looked as though it had been made either by collision with a
rogue meteor, or the blast of a space cannon.

They watched in silence as the strange craft drifted toward them. There
was no sign of life aboard her; no attempts at communication or of
establishing her identity. Quite obviously the craft was deserted.

Devries didn't like the looks of it one bit, and said so.

It loomed up larger and larger as the tiny _Wasp_ was drawn swiftly to
it. Then with a little shock the _Wasp_ clanged against the strange
ship's side and clung there.

The crew moved for the space-suits. Commander Janus snapped: "Wait a
minute!" He stood there frowning, his gray hair bristling. "Something
funny here. We'd better go slow." His eyes were troubled.

"But a derelict, sir," Blake said. "Space code says we're obliged to
board her, examine her log."

"Don't quote me the space code!" Janus snapped. "Point is, is she a
derelict? Maybe you failed to notice we didn't drift to her by natural
attraction; we were pulled! Someone left on her magniplates. Why?"

"Could have been an accident," Blake suggested.

Janus shook his head. "Another thing. Her outer lock is open and
we landed smack against it. All we've got to do is step over. How
extraordinarily convenient."

Ketrik peered through the turret at the black derelict. "Say, you're
right!" He grinned, started to quote an ancient nursery rhyme: "Walk
into my parlor, said the spider--"

He stopped suddenly, aware of young Ross standing there with eyes aglow
and eager. Ross was the novice member. The _space-ennui_ had begun to
get to him, so Janus had ordered him to his cabin to sleep it off. Once
the _ennui_ gets a grip on a man in the vast outer spaces he's not much
good for anything, even though he might be a good spaceman in the inner
planets.

Now Janus made up his mind, turned to him. "Ross, we're going across.
You stand by the controls. Keep your eyes open, and your hand on the
portable atom-blast."

Ross showed his disappointment, but obeyed orders.

"My hunch may be wrong," Janus warned, "but we'd better be careful
anyway."

The men didn't need his admonition. As they passed out of the
_Wasp's_ lock and into the other, their hands all hovered around
their atom-blasts. And the moment they stepped into the alien spacer
they knew Janus' hunch hadn't been wrong. Looking down a long empty
corridor, they saw a barred door; beyond that door was the stern
compartment where the gap was in the metal hull.

But the rest of the spacer was still air-tight.

Janus flashed them a look that said, "See?" They threw back their
helmets. Soundlessly they walked toward the bow, listening intently
for any sign of life. They passed some narrow cross-corridors and many
doors, all tightly closed. Devries, bringing up the rear, glanced
behind him occasionally. Nothing. Nevertheless he shivered. There was a
jittery tension in the very air.

They came in sight of the navigation room, and stopped suddenly. Janus
stared at the odd looking controls. "I never saw a spacer like this
before!" he whispered.

       *       *       *       *       *

The voice behind him didn't whisper, it rang hollowly down the long
corridor.

"No, I am sure you did not. Do not go any farther, please."

The four men whirled.

It was a mystery where they came from, those dozen fantastic beings
behind them. They had heard no steps, no sound of a door opening.

Devries was nearest. His first startled impression was that they
weren't more than semi-human: as tall as a man, but much thinner,
with flexible wiry limbs. Absurdly large heads, quite hairless and
glistening, from which protruded frail antennae. Eyes huge, lidless and
staring. No perceptible noses. Mouths but thin gashes. Most striking of
all, their entire skin shimmered with a metallic reddish-brown lustre;
although the Earthmen learned later it was not metallic, but shell-like.

Ketrik was always reckless. His hand flew to his atom-blast. Much
faster, the nearest of the creatures raised a flame pistol. The charge
passed so close to Ketrik's body it scorched his suit. Ketrik changed
his mind, and the creature said: "That is better."

"Take it easy," Janus warned, still whispering. "We're in their trap
now."

The creatures had keen hearing. "Indeed you are, Commander Janus," said
the one with the flame-pistol, apparently the leader. "And it was so
simple it was almost childish. But you Earthmen are always so noble,
with what you call a space code; always ready to go to the aid of a
helpless derelict. Or is it merely curiosity? The Martians are not so
stupid, they never go prying."

The insult was lost on Janus, who stared. "How do you know my name?" he
demanded.

The creature spoke perfect English, but the voice was toneless and the
words precise, clipped: "That does not matter. It is my business to
know certain things."

"Well, I'm sorry to say I don't know as much about you!" Janus eyed the
flame-pistol angrily. "Kindly state your business with us. We're from
the Earth Patrol, on official--"

"Yes, I know. In search of one of your race, a pirate, one whom you
call Perrin. I have heard of this Perrin." The creature's facial
expression didn't change, but the wide blackness of his staring eyes
turned to a momentary angry orange, then back to black. He went on in
his cold voice:

"I have not introduced myself. I am known as V'Naric. If you wish to
know more about us I think your friend there can tell you. It would
be amusing to hear about us from his lips." The men were amazed as
the creature gestured toward Devries with the pistol. Again the eyes
changed color, this time to a soft green which must have signified
amusement.

Had the creature read Devries's mind? Yes, he knew them, or rather he'd
heard something about them; this was the first one he'd actually seen.

"We're in a spot now," he said in a low tone to his friends. "Those are
the Proktols, inhabitants of the single moon of Neptune! They usually
stick pretty close to home, but once they go on the warpath, or rather
the space-path, you can bet something's up."

"Yes, yes, go on," said V'Naric in his clipped voice, his eyes still
green with amusement.

But at that moment the men heard the inner-lock clang shut, and a
sudden roar of the rockets. Too late, they realized V'Naric had held
their attention with conversation while a few of his men sneaked off to
get the spacer under way.

They leaped to the ports and saw the _Wasp_ drifting free. They saw
something else. A flame leaped from this ship, touched the _Wasp_ and
lingered there. A circular spot on its silvery hull glowed suddenly
red. Ross was frantically trying to swing the _Wasp_ away.

"Good Lord! Ross!" Janus sprang toward V'Naric and clutched at him.
"Stop it! One of our men is still aboard back there!"

V'Naric deliberately turned his back.

They saw the thin shell of the _Wasp_ burst outward.

"You murdering devils!" yelled Ketrik, suddenly berserk. He leaped
toward V'Naric in blind fury, reaching out with his hands.

V'Naric stepped aside, brought up his flame-pistol and calmly crashed
the butt of it down upon Ketrik's head. Ketrik crumpled.

V'Naric turned to Devries casually, his eyes now black and placid. "You
were saying?"

Devries went numb. He could only barely feel Blake's and Janus' hands
restraining him as he tried to leap forward. But his brain was a
searing thing of fire. "I was saying you're a blight on the universe,
you damned unholy devils!" he shrieked. "You scum, you spawn of hell,
you're unfit to inhabit the same space with decent men! I know what you
do! I've heard all about you! If I ever get back to Earth I'll bring
men out here to blast your filthy planet from the skies!" He shrieked
other things, shrieked 'til his throat was raw.

When the red mist cleared from before Devries' eyes he saw V'Naric
standing there complacently with his men around him. V'Naric opened his
gash of a mouth. He uttered four sentences in that emotionless, precise
English:

"I am really disappointed. You do not half do us justice. We are
actually much worse than you paint us. I think you will soon have
occasion to realize that."

He turned and gestured to his men. They came forward, wrapped their
wiry arms around the Earthmen and hustled them down a narrow corridor.
They thrust them in an empty room, but kept their atom-blasts, which
they examined curiously. They dumped the unconscious Ketrik in on the
floor.

The door clanged shut. The Earthmen felt a faint vibration in the bare
metal walls as rockets thundered, sending the alien spacer surging
ahead.

       *       *       *       *       *

They managed to revive Ketrik after a while. Then they all looked
questioningly at Devries.

Devries sank down on the floor, bowed his head in his hands and
groaned. "Lord, what a spot to be in! I guess I let loose with some
utter gibberish out there. I don't remember all that I yelled. But you
wouldn't blame me if you knew what we're probably in for."

"I could make a good guess," Blake said, grinning wryly.

"No, you couldn't," Devries said, so solemnly that Blake's grin
vanished. "Commander Janus, I noticed you made a wide sweep away from
Neptune. I'll bet you've had orders to stay clear of there. Am I right?"

Janus nodded affirmatively, startled.

"I thought so. And didn't you wonder why?"

"It's not for me to wonder," replied Janus. "There are standing orders
that Neptune's utterly unfit, uninhabitable, no reason to land there."

Devries nodded grimly. "All right, and now I'll tell you something.
Neptune's _not_ uninhabitable. At least its moon is not, for these
Proktols live there, and where they can live Earthmen can live. But
spacemen usually give Neptune a wide beam, at least those who have
heard the rumor. I first heard it in a spacerfront dive on Mars, a few
years ago, from a drunken half-breed Martian. He and two companions
had been inward-bound from Pluto. They set down on Neptune's moon for
a rocket repair. The Proktols got them and hauled them off to their
capitol-city. There, before a vast populace, they tortured two of the
men horribly. The third Martian managed to escape to his ship, and made
it back to Mars alone."

Blake was aghast. "These Proktols did that? These--these things that
have got us now?"

"Yes," Devries nodded.

"But why?"

"I don't know. The Martian who told me this didn't seem to know
himself."

"Bunk!" Janus pronounced. "No one tortures men without any reason; not
even these Proktols."

"But maybe they do have a reason!" Devries replied. "Oh, I'll admit, at
first I didn't believe that Martian's story myself. I thought it was
the effect of the _tsith_ he was drinking, and God knows he needed it,
poor devil. But when I looked in his eyes they weren't the kind of eyes
I'd ever seen in a Martian or anyone else. They were mad eyes, mad with
the sight they had looked upon."

"You said there were rumors," Ketrik spoke up. "I've never even heard
of these Proktols before, much less any rumors about 'em."

Devries looked at Ketrik. "I told you they stayed close to home. But
you know how many men from the inner planets have come out here, never
to be heard of again. After that Martian's story, I made inquiries;
mostly from hardened, independent spacemen. I went about the lowest
dives of Mars, whispering surreptitiously about 'Proktols.' Out of a
hundred I approached, only three men seemed to know what I was talking
about. And two of these turned a funny color, and muttered something,
and hurried away from me. Their silence was the best eloquence. The
third man told me a vague, similar story to that of the Martian's."

"This torture the Proktols seem so fond of," Ketrik sneered. "Tell us
about that."

"Well, it's--" Devries tried to tell them but he couldn't. That mad
Martian had painted him a picture that rose up now in his brain and
flooded it with horror. He was suddenly sick, he couldn't speak and he
wished he couldn't think. He simply rolled over and lay there with his
face to the wall.

The others were suddenly silent.

Blake spoke a minute later. His voice didn't sound the same. "I wonder
where they're taking us?"

"There's your answer," Janus replied from the port where he was
standing. "I can see Neptune almost dead ahead from here. And it's
growing larger."

       *       *       *       *       *

Hours later V'Naric came in, bringing them a pasty kind of food that
didn't taste too bad. Apparently nonchalant, but very watchful, he
stood just inside the door while they ate.

Devries watched him in turn. Already he had learned much just by
observing V'Naric's eyes, apparently the Proktols' only medium of
emotion. Black--as his were now--meant calm, orange meant anger, and
green meant amusement.

When they had finished eating, V'Naric started to leave without a word.
Devries stopped him.

"Would you mind telling us, now, where you're taking us and why?" he
asked, careful not to lose his temper again. He figured it would do no
harm, and might do infinite good, to learn as much as possible.

V'Naric hesitated, surveying him musingly. Then he answered indirectly:
"Have you Earthmen ever heard of the sacred temple of Dhovril, or of
the Shining Stone?"

No, the Earthmen had never heard of either. "Dhovril," Devries
repeated, "that is your planet?"

"Yes."

"And this Shining Stone?"

V'Naric's eyes became green-tinged, and Devries wondered why. "The
Shining Stone is merely a colorful meteoric fragment. Many years ago
it came flashing through space and landed on Dhovril. The inhabitants
there are semi-savage, and worship it, believing it a present from the
gods. Of course to such as we"--he apparently meant himself and his
companions--"the Shining Stone means nothing, but the others are roused
to a fanatical fury when it is touched. And when it is stolen...."

"So you think we stole it!" Janus said. "We never set foot on your
planet!"

V'Naric turned complacent black eyes upon him. "No, Commander, I did
not say that. Because I know you did not steal it."

"Then why are you holding up?"

"You will see soon."

Ketrik, remembering that blow on the head, was regarding V'Naric
balefully. And V'Naric was standing fairly close to him. Now Ketrik
didn't move, merely turned his head and spat contemptuously in the
Proktol's face.

V'Naric's hand leaped to his belt, like a whip lash, and snatched out
the flame-pistol. He pressed it hard against Ketrik's body before any
of the men could move. The swift flood of the angry orange filled his
eyes.

But he didn't press the button. The orange slowly faded and gave way
to a deep purple, as though he were remembering something, then it too
faded. He jammed the pistol back in his belt, brought up his hand and
slapped Ketrik sharply across the mouth. Those fingers were long and
wiry and shell-like; they left four furrows in Ketrik's cheek from
which blood oozed. But he stood there stolidly, regarding V'Naric with
contempt. V'Naric turned abruptly and left the room.

"You damned fool!" Devries snapped. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't like him," was all Ketrik said, as he slowly raised his hand
to his cheek.

"Oh, you don't! Well, he's not exactly in love with you now! He would
have blasted you then, but he's got something else up his sleeve. I'd
hate to be in your shoes."

Janus said: "We'd all hate to be in our shoes, but it looks like
we are. I don't like this Shining Stone business. Must be a pretty
important fetish on their world, eh?"

Blake muttered: "If it was stolen, I'll bet I know who got it. That
damned pirate, Perrin! You know we had information he was out this way."

Devries said: "No. I think there's something else behind all this,
something more than the Shining Stone. And I hate to think what."

He was still remembering a mad Martian's story.

       *       *       *       *       *

Bells clanged. The vibration of the rockets ceased. Through the ports
came a weird, green glow as they passed close to the atmosphere of
Neptune. The spacer swung around that planet, using its gravity as a
pivot, then the Earthmen saw the single tiny satellite which V'Naric
had called Dhovril.

An hour later they were there, slanting down over a terrain of desert
and serrated cliffs. The great ball of Neptune hung behind, filling
half the sky, its glow casting just enough light over the satellite to
tinge everything with a greenish grotesquerie.

"Lord, that gives me the creeps!" Blake muttered, peering out.

"This little planet must be pretty heavy, though," Janus estimated.
"Gravity seems about right."

They passed beyond the cliffs and over a large desert. Then, far ahead,
they saw the towering stone edifices of a city, gleaming a ghastly
skull-white in the green tinged atmosphere. Devries turned his face
away. He recognized the city from the Martian's description.

Before they quite, reached there, however, Blake cried: "Look! Down
there!"

Far below them, covering a large section of desert, were row after
row of blunt-nosed objects, looking like tiny silvery bugs, except
they were motionless. But they weren't bugs. They were space-ships.
Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them in formidable array.

Ketrik stared, then turned to Devries and exclaimed: "Hah! Thought you
said these Proktols stuck close to home! Off-hand I'd say they've got
other ideas now. I wonder what? I don't like the look of that fleet
down there!"

But now their spacer was gliding in low over the city, settling down
into landing cradles.

Janus turned to his men. "If we see a chance, we'd better make a break
for it! I'd like to get at the Controls of this ship just once!"

"I'd rather get at our atom-blasts!" Ketrik snapped.

But they had no chance to do either. A score of the Proktols, with
flame-pistols alert, came to escort them out. As they marched down a
wide avenue thousands of the gathered populace gave vent to prolonged
shouting, or rather shrilling. It was definitely unfriendly, and
somehow fanatical, anticipatory.

The Earthmen looked at these inhabitants with interest. They seemed to
be Proktols too, but in several ways were different from V'Naric and
the others. They were smaller, hardly four feet tall, and frailer if
that were possible. And they had no antennae. Neither did they wear any
raiment that the Earthmen could see--evidence of their semi-savagery.
But they seemed to respect the larger Proktols, for although their
shrilling continued, they kept their distance and didn't touch the
Earthmen.

"Just listen to those devils!" Blake said. "They're waiting, expecting
something!"

They reached a vast plaza in the center of the city. Their captors
marched them through the mass of shrilling little coppery devils, and
into a building; then up a flight of stairs and into a bare stone room
with a single tiny window looking out upon the square below.

As the last of the Proktols passed out of the room he pressed a key
into a slot outside the doorway. A sheet of bluish, crackling flame
leaped up from the floor, effectively barring the entrance.

       *       *       *       *       *

Janus whirled to the window. A louder sound came swelling up from the
tiny savages below as they caught sight of him.

"Shut up, we haven't got your damned Shining Stone! I wish V'Naric
would tell 'em so," he added, coming away. "Sounds like they want our
blood!"

Devries had a better idea of what they wanted, but he kept still. They
hadn't long to wait. V'Naric came. He left some of his men outside,
shut off the electrical barrier and stepped into the room and turned it
on again. He held his flame-pistol ready in his hand.

"I am indeed sorry to have kept you waiting," he said with
over-emphasized politeness, "but I had to consult with the _Lahk-tzor_
as to your disposal. He has waited long. He is anxious to begin."

"And who might he be?" asked Janus, glaring.

V'Naric turned serious black eyes upon him. "_Lahk-tzor_," he said,
obviously seeking the right term, "is our word for what you Earthmen
might call the Greatest One, or the Ultimate--or more laterally,
perhaps, the Brain."

"The Brain, eh?" Ketrik spoke up scornfully. "Well, if this Brain of
yours has half the sense it was born with, it'll think twice before--"

V'Naric turned on him with suddenly angry eyes, and Janus intervened
quickly: "Just what is this Brain, or _Lahk-tzor_? And if he's in
authority here, why don't you take us to him?"

"That is not necessary. He is interested in you, but very
impersonally." V'Naric's voice was cold. "I have been instructed to
allow you to choose among yourselves who will be the One."

"The One?" Blake whispered to Devries. "What does he mean, the One?"

"For the Ritual," V'Naric said, as though they should have known.

"And suppose," Janus said, "none of us chooses to be the One?"

V'Naric shrugged in a purely Earthian manner and raised the
flame-pistol a bit higher. "Then it will be a pleasure for me to choose
for you."

"No, thanks." Janus glanced at the others questioningly, hesitated,
then took a notebook from his pocket and tore a page into four strips
of varying length.

Devries was watching his friends' faces. Either they didn't know what
was going to happen or were pretending not to. Devries said: "You know
what he means by the Ritual! It's just his polite word for the torture
I was telling you about!"

None of them answered, and he knew that they knew.

V'Naric's emotionless black eyes watched them.

They drew, recklessly, and Blake held the shortest slip. His face went
suddenly pale but he did not say a word.

V'Naric was disappointed. He stared past Blake at Ketrik. He said, "I
wish it were you," as his eyes tinged with the angry orange again. He
glanced around at them, then he went on musingly: "The _Lahk-tzor_
need not know, and it can make no difference. Yes, it will be you!" He
gestured with the flame-pistol.

"That's all right with me," said Ketrik contemptuously. Blake started
to protest but Ketrik brushed him aside. "It's all right, I know what
I'm doing. I defy these devils to do their worst." But he flashed them
a look that said, "be ready!"

But V'Naric watched too closely. As they moved to the doorway he kept
the pistol trained. He produced the key that shut off the electrical
barrier. They passed outside, and it leaped up again.

The three men inside could dimly see through it. And they saw V'Naric's
eyes turn away for a half-second.

Ketrik bent and lunged forward in one swift motion, flooring the frail
Proktol in a vicious tackle. He snatched up the flame-pistol and
sprayed it in a semi-circle as other Proktols came rushing in. Four or
five fell with holes burned through their frail bodies. Still others
came. Ketrik's arms flailed. His fist caught one squarely in the
middle, and the brittle shell-like skin popped open in a wide gap as a
thick colorless fluid oozed out. He hit another in the head, something
snapped and the head dangled grotesquely. Ketrik's knee came up and
another Proktol popped open, exuding a viscous stuff.

But there had been too many out there waiting. Their bodies were frail
but their limbs were like steel cables. The men just inside the room
could only look on helplessly as Ketrik went down, still swinging
elbows and knees. A dozen wiry arms lashed him to the floor.

V'Naric rose to his feet, staggering a little, holding his middle as
though he wished to vomit. He snatched a flame-pistol, aimed it, and
changed his mind. He gave a staccato command in his own language.

"Can't blame me for trying!" Ketrik sang out to his friends, as he was
hurried down the stairs.

       *       *       *       *       *

Through the window they could see the horde of tiny Proktols still
gathered in the square below. Suddenly the murmuring leaped to a louder
clamor. Then they saw the reason for it. Ketrik was being dragged out
into the square, through the throng toward a little dais. From the dais
rose a single pillar of stone.

They fastened him securely to the pillar. The clamoring subsided a
little. Those savages were waiting for something--just as the three
Earthmen were waiting, watching the scene below them.

Some of the larger Proktols brought a huge metal disc, perhaps three
feet in diameter. A hole was in the center. They put it over Ketrik's
head and it rested on his shoulders.

"I don't like the looks of that," Janus muttered tensely. "What are
they going to do?"

But they weren't through. Next, over Ketrik's head they placed a
spacious wire cage which clicked into place on the rim of the disc.

"My God!" Blake said suddenly, staring. "Do you suppose they're going
to run some kind of voltage through that thing?"

"That's a nice pleasant thought!" Janus snapped at him.

Devries turned away from them both. He knew better. "No," he told
Blake hoarsely. "No, not that. Better come away."

But they couldn't come away. Horror, especially an unknown horror, has
a fascination. They saw some of the Proktols seemingly in consultation.
Presently a couple of them hurried away, and all that could be
heard from that massed throng was a gentle murmuring as they swayed
restlessly, waiting.

Then in the room behind them they heard the electrical crackling in the
doorway cease. V'Naric stood before them again, ever watchful with the
flame-pistol.

"That was a very noble effort on the part of your friend," he said,
"but quite useless as you can see. Moreover, he killed some of my
men, and I do not think he helped the rest of you by that." His eyes
glittered. "Yes, before the Ritual ends this time I think all of you
will have participated."

"We haven't got your damned Shining Stone," Blake grated through
clenched teeth, "and we never even heard of it!"

"The Shining Stone? Oh, yes, I had quite forgotten I told you about it;
but I neglected to say that it is quite safe. It is always quite safe,
even when it is stolen; because, you see--_we_ stole it."

"_You_ stole it!" Janus repeated. "But didn't you say the Stone meant
little to such as you?"

"Only as a means to an end. Commander Janus, you are a scientific man
above all else. For that reason I respect you as much as I despise
your stupid friend down there. I shall explain the Ritual you are
about to witness. First: those little savages think you Earthmen stole
their Shining Stone, because we wish them to think that; and you could
never convince them otherwise. Therefore they must have their revenge.
All this is very necessary for a certain reason you will understand
shortly."

"I'm beginning to already," Blake said bitterly. "It's a high-powered
racket and we're the fall guys."

V'Naric looked at him as though he didn't quite understand such English
words.

A sudden, louder murmur came up from below.

"It has begun," V'Naric said, nodding toward the window. "If you will
observe, please."

The men turned back to the window and watched. Devries at least half
knew what to expect; but he felt the other two tense beside him as they
realized the purpose of that cage over Ketrik's head.

A little door in the side of it was open, and one of the official
Proktols was thrusting several tiny animals inside. They were
sharp-fanged, scaled, almost reptilian. But they had beady little
rodent eyes, and the eyes blinked as the animals scurried around the
disc under the cage. Ketrik's head jerked convulsively at the nearness
of them.

"Little inhabitants of our desert," came V'Naric's calm voice across
the room behind them. "Ordinarily quite tame and harmless. But these
are trained for this. They are very hungry."

The Earthmen's minds were too numbed just then. They didn't feel the
full horror until sometime later. They just stood there in terrible
fascination, staring down, unable to move; and behind them they could
still hear V'Naric's cold voice, as though he were a class-room
lecturer. He didn't even need to look as he spoke. He knew what was
happening. He had seen this many times.

"The little creatures are a bit restless now. I imagine the way your
friend moves his head frightens them. But they will become used to that
presently, and then their work will begin."

But something else was happening down there. The crowd had become
silent, not even a murmuring. They all seemed to be looking in the same
direction, away from the dais where the Earthman was fastened. Then a
path opened up. A procession of the large Proktols came through, with
something on a movable platform in the midst of them.

Again V'Naric's voice: "I suppose the _Lahk-tzor_ is entering now. Or
the Brain as you would undoubtedly call it."

"Good Lord, yes," Janus murmured at last, staring. "That's what I'd
call it, for that's what it is!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The Brain was huge, five feet or more across, convoluted and pale
but red-streaked. A dome of glass enclosed it. Beneath the bulging,
pale-pink mass was something that might have been two tiny eyes and
the veriest excuse of a chin, but from their distance the Earthmen
could not be sure.

V'Naric's voice droned on, beating through their numbed consciousness:
"You are wondering about the Brain. Long ago one of our race, one far
ahead of his time, created it. In a period of six months he advanced
evolution from a single cell through all its stages to what you see
now. The _Lahk-tzor_--pardon me--the Brain down there is the most
advanced evolutionary product yet to exist in this solar system. It
slew its creator, but seemed to exhaust all its energy in so doing.
For a long, long time it lay dormant. Such scientists as there were at
the time tried to activate it, for they knew it wasn't dead; but their
efforts were clumsy and futile.

"Then one day it began to pulse and think again, feebly. Do you know
when, and why? I think you could guess, Commander Janus. It was the
day the Shining Stone came flashing to land here. That event caused a
tremendous religious hysteria among the savages, and it wasn't hard
to connect that with the Brain's revival; the Brain was absorbing the
accumulative mental flow that was impacting against it! Of course
it has long been proven that thought is material just as light is
material."

Of the three, Janus alone was beginning to show a gleam of interest
as he listened to the toneless words. "I think I see the whole system
now," he said bitterly. "Periodically you pull this Ritual business and
get those little savages down there religiously worked up, in order
to--" The idea was so ghastly he choked on the words and couldn't go on.

"In order to keep the Brain mentally activated," V'Naric finished for
him. "Precisely. To those savages it is nothing more than a religious
ritual, brought about by the revenge motive. But to us it is a
scientific necessity. The Brain teaches us much. It was the Brain which
thought out all our technicalities of space travel and most of our
other achievements. By now it realizes we have no intention of letting
it die; but periodically its thought-processes seem exhausted. When it
feels that happening it informs us. Then we must activate it again,
through the accumulative mental-hysteria of those thousands of little
Proktols. It is easy to steal their Shining Stone, keep it safely in
our custody awhile, and bring some hapless spacefarer here for them to
vent their hysteria upon. A little complex and a little sardonic, but
very necessary."

Janus, listening, nodded dully. He was remembering the huge fleet of
space-ships they had seen waiting out on the desert; but he did not
mention them. Instead he said: "And right now, what scientific problem
is the Brain working on?"

V'Naric seemed proud to talk of the Brain, appreciative of Janus'
scientific interest in it. "We can never quite tell what the Brain is
thinking," he explained. "It propounds scientific theories to us, we
put them to the test, and they are usually practical. But this I know:
lately a change has come over it. We are sure it is planning something
big. It never used to question us much, but now it is beginning to,
about other planets, the solar system, the universe. Then it ponders.

"You see, it has never been away from here. It is restless now and
I think it has ambitions! But we shall learn its plans when it has
thought them through. From the astronomical data we have furnished
it propounds vast calculations. Mathematically it is supreme! And it
ponders...."

       *       *       *       *       *

Now, suddenly, the sound below burst forth into a tremendous surge of
unified shrilling. Hysteria. That's the word V'Naric had used, and this
sounded like it! As if something interesting had started to happen.

They turned quickly to the window again. Yes, something had begun
to happen. There was a wide flow of red down Ketrik's cheek. The
sharp-fanged little beasts under the cage had begun their work, just as
V'Naric had said they would. Another of them darted forward. Ketrik's
head jerked, but it was useless. Another flow of red started down;
again came the surge of hysterical sound.

No man should have watched that scene long, but they couldn't tell how
many minutes they stood there at the window. Blake cracked first. He
whirled away suddenly toward the doorway.

But V'Naric had silently gone, and the crackling sheet of flame across
the entrance filled the room with a bluish glow. Blake stood tottering
a moment, horror still in his eyes, a little moan deep in his throat;
then he staggered over and flopped into a bunk at the side of the room,
turning his face away.

Janus and Devries continued to look, but only for a few minutes more.
V'Naric had said those vicious little animals were hungry; now,
becoming bolder, they darted frequently at Ketrik's twisting head only
a foot or so away. Ketrik didn't utter a sound, but every time another
red streak started down they saw his features were contorted. Pretty
soon they couldn't even see his features.

His eyes were shut tight, but once he opened them and twisted his head
around and saw the men looking down. He tried to smile, but it was a
grimace. He called, "Devries, remember what you swore! Do it! Get back
to Earth if you can, then bring men out here and blast these devils to
the hell where they belong! If you promise somehow to do that, I won't
mind this so much. Don't watch any more, no telling how long--"

Ketrik stopped on that word, as his head jerked violently away again.

And all the while came the shrillings from the immense, watching
throng. The men heard it rise and fall, rise and fall, in regular
cadence. They could almost feel the impact of the hate going out, the
hate for that Earthman who supposedly had violated their sacred Stone.
Those savages didn't wish to tear Ketrik limb from limb; they had been
trained in _this_, and it was a better revenge, more to their enjoyment.

A little apart, carefully guarded, was the huge Brain, grotesque and
convoluted under its glass dome. Janus even thought he could see it
pulsing rhythmically as the bursts of sound and thought-force swelled
out to it. That tangible force was being absorbed, and gradually the
Brain was taking on a deeper hue than the pale-pink.

Savagely the men paced the stone room. They examined the electrical
barrier across the door, which was too obviously deadly. "How long does
that go on?" Janus asked in horror, nodding toward the window.

"To the very end, I'm afraid," Devries replied. Twice more in the
following hours he moved to the window, only to look quickly away when
he saw the horrible thing was still going on. He couldn't see Ketrik
moving any more, but the beasts were still at work.

And then, it must have been hours later, Devries awoke from a fitful
sleep. He was conscious that all was silent as a tomb below. He crept
to the window and saw that a weird kind of greenish, shadowy nightfall
had come over the place. All those savage Proktols had gone away, and
the Brain was gone, and the square below was empty. Save for Ketrik. He
was still there, and the cage was still over his head, but it was empty.

Thank God, Devries thought, it's all over for him. But who will be next?

       *       *       *       *       *

When next he awoke it was day again, or what served for day on that
shadowy world; and the first thing he saw was Blake over at the window.

"You fool, come away from there!" Devries cried, springing up. "What
good is it to watch? It's all over now for Ketrik anyway."

Blake turned to face him, and Devries saw a look in his eyes similar to
that he had seen in the Martian's.

"He's alive, still alive!" Blake cried. "And it's still going on!"

It was then Devries heard those sounds of hate surging up again, and
knew that the throng had again gathered to watch; but it was Blake's
voice, and the look in his eyes, that made Devries' blood run cold.

"And I should have been down there instead of him!" Blake said; but the
voice didn't sound like his any longer.

Devries should have watched him closer. He turned to wake Janus. Blake
sprang suddenly past him, toward the doorway. Devries made a grab at
him and missed. Blake leaped straight into that crackling sheet of
electrical blueness.

But he didn't get through. He seemed to hang suspended in the air for
a few seconds; then he crashed to the floor across the doorway, as the
electrical flame enveloped and crackled over his body.

There was nothing they could do about Blake except keep their faces
averted from the entrance where his charred body lay. But they couldn't
close their ears to the waves of sound that came up from below. It
seemed even more suggestive than before. Blake's words kept hammering
in Devries' brain: "He's alive, still alive!" Blake had been the last
to look out that window. Devries hated to think of what he had seen
down there.

Grimly they examined the room again, although they'd done so a hundred
times before. Two bare stone walls. In the third wall the window, far
too narrow, and the adjacent stones solid and unmovable. In the fourth
side the doorway, open except for the deadly sheet of blue crackling
across it.

"That's the only way," Devries said, nodding toward it. "I'm sure
V'Naric will be around here again; when he comes, watch for my nod and
we'll make a rush. If we die, at least it won't be the way Ketrik did."

V'Naric did come again. He stared down at Blake's charred body and
shook his head distressfully as he shut off the flame. He motioned for
some of his men to take the body away.

"That is too bad," he said. "Very wasteful. It leaves only two of you."
He nodded to the window. "It will soon be over with your friend down
there, and I regret that. The fools have allowed it to progress too
rapidly!"

Janus' attention was more on the flame-pistol than on the words. He
glanced quickly at Devries, but the latter flashed him a look that said
no.

V'Naric must have seen it. He raised the pistol slightly so that it
leveled between them. "You are quite right," he said, "it would not be
wise."

Janus tried to engage him in more conversation, but V'Naric seemed to
know his purpose. He left, still watching them carefully as he shut off
the flame and stepped out and turned it on again. His last words were:
"I will leave you to decide between yourselves who will be next. It
will be soon."

       *       *       *       *       *

Janus whirled angrily. "Why didn't you take the chance? Now we're
sunk. We'll probably never have another!"

"You're wrong," Devries replied. "Empty your pockets, quick!"

Janus stared at him, uncomprehending. "That slot in the doorway!"
Devries explained. "I watched how V'Naric worked that key. I can't hope
to duplicate it, but if we have a pocket knife or something--we _might_
make a short circuit! Should have thought of that before."

Already he was searching his own pockets, and Janus quickly followed
his example.

But their hopes waned. Neither of them had a knife, and what was worse,
they had nothing else that might serve the purpose.

Devries turned away in despair. "Wouldn't you know it! And I always
carry a knife--all except this time!"

Janus was still searching. Suddenly he gave a shout as he produced
something from an inside pocket. A round, flat metal object. Devries
saw that it was an ancient half-dollar. He had seen very few of them,
and only in museums.

"My good luck charm," Janus said wistfully. "I've carried it with me
ever since my first space flight."

Devries seized it eagerly. "We'll see how lucky it is!" He examined the
narrow slot in the doorway, but its length was considerably less than
the diameter of the coin. Nor could he tell how deep that slot was.

"We've got to get this down to proportion," Devries said grimly. "Even
then it may not work, but we've got to try anything." He began rubbing
the edge of the coin against the bare stone, and the rounded edge
flattened infinitesimally. "Quite a job on our hands; we've got to get
this diameter down to less than half!"

Taking turns, they kept at it, holding the coin in strips of cloth to
protect their fingers from the heat of the metal. While one worked
the other watched the doorway. Occasionally a Proktol passed by, but
V'Naric did not come again.

Once Janus moved to the window and ventured to look down at the Brain
again, but carefully kept his gaze averted from the spot where Ketrik
was. Now he could distinctly see the huge mass of the Brain pulsing
with the impact of the thought-force that swelled out to it. And now
it was not pale-pink, it was red. It was even more than blood-red, it
seemed fiery. He could sense the pulsing power of it, the super-mental
force, and it seemed diabolic. Here, he knew, was a dangerous thing, a
thing that should not exist in this solar system.

"Do you know what I think?" Janus said, turning back to Devries who
was again working on the coin. "That Brain is mad! It's bound to be.
God knows how long it's been receiving those Proktols' thought-force,
living and thriving and planning on it--and that thought-force is hate!
V'Naric said it's getting ambitions. Ambitions for _conquest_, I think.
That's all that fleet of space-ships out there can mean!"

They worked slowly but steadily with the coin, gradually wearing its
diameter down to fit the slot in the doorway. What they feared mostly
now was that the Proktols would very soon be through with Ketrik down
there, and one of them would be next.

But luck was with them. Suddenly, startlingly, that green shadowy
nightfall came again. "Listen!" Devries said. All was silent again
in the square below. He rushed to the window and saw the throng
dispersing. The Brain, on its portable platform, was moving away into
one of the buildings. Apparently the Ritual was over for the day.

"We'll have to work fast!" Devries exclaimed. "This side of the
planet's away from Neptune now, but we don't know how long it'll last.
This is our last chance!"

They worked frantically, risking skinned fingers on the stone wall.
About an hour later Devries tried the mutilated coin in the slot, for
perhaps the twentieth time, and this time it fitted. But would it
reach as far as V'Naric's key had reached? Devries wrapped his fingers
carefully with strips of cloth before he tried.

For a moment he thought it was useless. The metal touched nothing.
Clumsily he managed to slide it forward a tiny bit more, and the silver
oblong barely touched a hard surface.

Instantly at the contact there came a sputter of fused metal. The
silver became suddenly hot under Devries' fingers. Sparks leaped out
and burnt his hand. But he didn't care. He suppressed a joyous shout as
the sheet of electrical flame across the doorway ceased.

They sprang through the door and stood a moment in the dim corridor,
listening. Evidently their tampering had caused no other alarm. They
moved swiftly to the stairs leading down into the square.

Peering down through the greenish dusk, they could see one of the
Proktols at the bottom of the steps, evidently on guard. Devries
gestured downward, and Janus nodded silently.

Those steps were solid stone, and they negotiated them silently by
all Earthly standards, but they had forgotten these creatures had
super-sensitive hearing. They weren't over halfway down when the
Proktol sprang up, whirling to face them.

Devries acted on sheer instinct. He made the remaining distance through
the air in one prodigious leap. The Proktol had reached for its
flame-pistol, at the same time opening its mouth to sound an alarm. But
there was only a shrilling gasp as Devries' shoulder caught it in the
middle and hurled it backward.

Devries climbed to his feet, a little dazed. Janus took only one look
at the Proktol and saw that the frail body was snapped in two; quickly
he confiscated its flame-pistol. They stood quite still, listening, but
there was no alarm.

       *       *       *       *       *

In some of the radiating streets they could see the weird glow of many
colored lights moving about, but the square seemed empty now in the
gloom. They started to move across it, when something caught Janus'
attention. He stopped.

Only a little distance away a stone pillar rose from a dais. A dark
blur of a figure still sagged there with a wide, wire cage over its
head. Janus stared through the gloom. He knew it was Ketrik, but there
was something vaguely wrong, unnatural, about it. Something he could
not immediately make out.

He moved swiftly nearer to find out. Devries, knowing what he would
see, called a warning. But Janus didn't stop. He didn't stop until he
came very near, and the full horror of the sight burst suddenly upon
his vision.

The Ritual had gone on to the very end.

Through the ghastly, greenish dusk all that Janus saw was a white
gleaming skull upon a still living body. He knew the body lived for he
saw it still breathing, faintly, and he saw one of the out-stretched
hands twitch. And from somewhere in the throat he heard a horrible
little gurgling sound as though the skull were trying to speak. The
brain, of course, had not been touched, but Janus knew the brain within
that skull must now be mad. He could no longer think of the thing as
Ketrik.

In those few seconds that he looked, Janus felt his mind slowly
slipping away into a chaos of vertiginous horror, but he caught it on
the brink. Instinctively he raised the flame-pistol, aimed, and made
very sure that the thing which had been Ketrik no longer lived.

Devries gave a cry of warning. Four or five thin, shadowy figures were
leaping from a nearby street. They had probably seen the flash of the
flame-pistol.

Devries tensed. "For Lord's sake fire! Let 'em have it!" he cried
hoarsely to Janus, as the creatures bounded nearer in long leaping
strides. But Janus stood there, swaying a little, still dazed by the
sight he had just seen.

Devries leaped to his side, snatched the flame-pistol just as the
Proktols came within range. One of them reached for its pistol. At the
same time Devries let his flash out in a sweeping path. He was about
two seconds quicker. The Proktols' momentum carried them straight into
it, and they crumpled with hardly a sound.

Devries grasped Janus' arm and shook him out of his daze. "That way!"
he whispered, indicating a wide street across the square. "It's the way
we came in. If we can get out into that desert, we might steal one of
those space-ships we saw!"

But the delay had been fatal. Other Proktols had seen the flash,
and were hurrying toward them. Janus stopped to snatch up a fallen
flame-pistol, then they were leaping away across the square.

But they didn't get far. Now, not dozens, but hordes of Proktols were
converging on the scene. The entire square seemed to resound with their
shrilling cries, bringing others. The Earthmen hadn't even time to
wonder where they all came from. Most of them were the smaller, savage
Proktols, unarmed; but some of the others with flame-pistols were
trying to press through.

As the men swept their flaming fire around, the savages fell back in
shrilling panic. Scores of them were burned down, but more of the
creatures kept surging in. The Earthmen knew it would be only a matter
of seconds before the sheer mass of the creatures overwhelmed them.
Still they pressed forward, slowly burning a way through.

For some foolish reason Devries remembered shouting at Janus: "These
flame-pistols are all right as toys. Wish I had an atom-blast!" Then
the shrilling coppery devils were closing around, clawing. Janus
brought down some more with a sweeping blast, and Devries did the same,
but the flame-charges were getting very weak.

Then the Earthmen stared. The savages were no longer pressing around
them; they were fleeing away! For no reason at all they saw the space
ahead of them open up. They saw a long, clean swath of Proktols
topple like grain cut down by a mower. Those that did not fall fled
frantically, shrilling in thin terror at a strangely invisible death.

The men couldn't quite understand what had happened, but they took
swift advantage of the miracle and darted across the now open square.
But the larger Proktols weren't so superstitious. A dozen of them, now
unimpeded, came leaping to intercept them. But before these Proktols
could raise their flame-pistols, they toppled too, cut clean in two!
All was clear around the men now, and they paused to catch a breath.

"What the devil was it, Janus? What happened?"

"Pure luck! I knew that lucky piece of mine couldn't fail!"

But just then a figure emerged from the dark shadow of a building,
and ran toward them. It was a familiar figure, and it held two
atom-blasts, one of which it thrust into Devries' hands.

"Luck nothing!" Devries yelled, recognizing him. "It's Ross! How did
you escape? We thought you died on the _Wasp_!"

       *       *       *       *       *

"Not quite," Ross said. "Come on, this is no picnic! Let's get out of
here before those devils stop wondering what an atom-blast is."

The men turned and sprinted for the open street ahead of them. But they
hadn't taken five steps when Devries felt a crushing, numbing weight
upon his brain. He staggered, fell to his knees; tried to rise but
couldn't. Then he fell flat, as a force hit him like a giant invisible
hand. Agonizingly he wondered why the others didn't help him; then he
saw that they too were lying flat, dazed and panting heavily.

With a tremendous effort Devries twisted his head around and looked
across the square. He saw the huge Brain under its glass dome. It was
pulsing with a fiery, angry red radiance. And Devries knew it was the
Brain's tremendous thought-force that was reaching out and crushing
them there.

His right hand, still grasping the atom-blast, was doubled under him.
Desperately he tried to move it--and did--about an inch. It seemed
to weigh a ton. With a tremendous effort that took all his strength,
Devries managed to slide his hand around so the atom-blast was trained
on the Brain across the square. With his last ounce of strength he
pressed the power button and held it there.

Devries knew his aim was good, but that dome over the Brain must have
been of tougher substance that he thought. It did not blast, although
he held the weapon there for about five seconds, on full power.

But the Brain must have felt the menace. There came a great surge of
anger, and the atom-blast was suddenly torn from Devries' hand, as was
the one Ross held. Then the men were jerked to their feet by the same
invisible force which had held them prone upon the pavement. The Brain,
still pulsing angrily, held them there until dozens of the official
Proktols came and grasped them; not until then did it withdraw its
powerful thought-force.

Janus and Devries, with Ross accompanying them this time, were hurried
back toward that building from which they had just escaped at such
pains. Now Devries saw the huge, green glowing Neptune rising swiftly
in the heavens, and realized that day was here again. And already the
hordes of savage Proktols were coming again into the square, to await
their Ritual, which would undoubtedly continue so long as there were
victims.

"Too bad you had to come here, Ross," Devries said dully. He was
utterly without hope now. They had come very close to escape, and they
would have made it, had it not been for that diabolical Brain.

       *       *       *       *       *

Devries was just wondering how he could die, but not the way Ketrik
had, when they heard a great cry go up from the gathered throng behind
them. And it was a cry of fear, or awe. Despite the wiry arms that held
them, the men twisted around and looked back.

Coming toward them, low over the city, was a rocket-plane. And it was
undeniably an Earth type of plane! The Proktols holding the three
men jabbered excitedly in their own staccato language; then, still
holding the men, they hurried to the shelter of the nearest building
and crouched there. It sounded very much as if they had seen this
rocket-plane before, and feared it!

The Proktols crowding in the square were trying to flee too; but before
they could all disperse, the plane was over them, letting loose a
wide swath of death. From the extent of it, the Earthmen judged that
rocket-plane must carry a portable atom-blast nearly as large as the
Patrol ships carried! It swept over the square once, veered sharply
and came back. This time the atom-blast swept very close to the line
of buildings where the men crouched. Their captors broke and raced for
shelter.

But the Earthmen were not yet free. As they crouched there, watching
their unknown benefactor, they felt the fierce surge of power from the
Brain again. It alone did not flee. It remained there, on its platform,
in the middle of the now deserted square. And if it was angry before,
it was raging now, with a crimson, crackling radiance.

For it was the Brain which was the object of the rocket-plane's attack.
A third, fourth, and yet a fifth time the plane came sweeping back
over the square. And each time it did so, the Earthmen could feel
part of the crushing thought-force which the Brain hurled upward at
it. Invisible weapon against invisible weapon. Atom-blast versus the
Brain's super mental-force!

And the Brain fought tenaciously. Such was its power that the
rocket-plane was caught in its grip once, veered crazily and was almost
buffeted down until an extra burst of the rockets sent it zooming away.
The watching Earthmen felt that power too, and were sent spinning,
bruised and battered, against the building where they crouched.

But the plane's atom-blast must have begun to find the range, because
soon the Brain propelled itself toward the shelter of one of the
buildings. It was angry, but it was intelligent. It recognized the
danger of that atom-blast. The transparent dome encasing the Brain was
of very tough material, but it would have soon crumbled under a few
direct and powerful blasts.

It was not until the Brain had withdrawn to safety that the tension
eased, and the men dared to leap across the square again, strewn with
the ghastly remains of numberless Proktols. This time they were not
apprehended. The mysterious rocket-plane was speeding away toward the
desert, but the destruction had been so terrible that the remaining
Proktols didn't care or dare to emerge.

Devries spied one of the atom-blasts that he or Ross had dropped. He
snatched it up, stopped and looked back speculatively, weighing the
weapon in his hand.

Janus pulled at him. "Come on, you don't know when you're lucky!"

"Yes, but I'd like to take at least one good blast at that Brain after
the way it slapped and battered us around!" Devries stumbled along
after them, unwillingly.

"Have you got the _Wasp_?" Janus finally managed to ask Ross.

"I didn't get here through the fourth dimension! It's out on the desert
there, just about a mile from here. I had a close call when they turned
that flame on the _Wasp_. I got to a space-suit just in time. Kept
their ship in our visipanel long enough to see they were heading back
for Neptune. Took me hours to repair the _Wasp_, and hours more to find
you." Ross very prudently didn't ask about Blake or Ketrik, and Janus
was glad of that.

       *       *       *       *       *

They reached the _Wasp_, and lost little time in blasting out into
space.

"What about that fleet of space-ships we saw down there?" Devries
asked. "Can't we go down and blast them off the map?"

"It would take days," replied Commander Janus, "and we're lucky to be
away from there as it is!"

"But--"

"Haven't you had enough action this trip?" Janus snapped.

"Look," Ross said suddenly, pointing down at the tiny satellite they
had just left. Blasting out into space from that planet was a sleek,
black space-ship.

Janus exclaimed: "That's Perrin--I'd recognize his ship anywhere! That
must have been his rocket-plane we saw fighting with the Brain! And we
came out here to get that pirate!"

He leaped to the radio, clicked it on. "Attention Perrin! Perrin, in
the _Princess_! Commander Janus of Earth Patrol ship _Wasp_ speaking.
We now have our long-range blast trained upon you, and you cannot
outrun a Patrol ship. You will please go into a drift while we come
over to board you."

A voice replied almost immediately, calm and a little amused: "Very
well, Commander, do not get excited. I was just coming over to you,
but if you wish, come to me instead." The rockets of the _Princess_
immediately ceased blasting, and the pirate ship drifted just a few
hundred miles away.

The _Wasp_ drew near and made contact. Janus spoke again: "Our lock is
ready. I should prefer that you came across, Perrin. No tricks!"

A minute later Perrin stepped through their lock with his hands
held high, mockingly. He was tall, darkly handsome, with a
straightforwardness that put Commander Janus ill at ease. Perrin smiled
and looked down at his belt. "My pistol, Commander? That is customary I
believe."

Janus stepped forward and took it. Perrin lowered his hands and said,
"That is better. I was going to come over anyway, and see who it was I
saved down there. I thought you were Earthmen, but I wasn't sure."

There was a slight mockery in the words. Janus flushed a little as he
said: "This is damned awkward, Perrin. You did save our lives, but we
were sent out here to get you, you're wanted on three planets."

"Three? I thought it was four," said Perrin, still smiling. "But I
quite understand, Commander, and I ask no favors. As for saving your
lives, that was a side issue. I really came to take a crack at that
Brain. What did you think of our duel?"

"Interesting," murmured Janus. He was still uncomfortable, wavering
between his duty and his debt of honor.

"Yes, wasn't it?" Perrin said. "You know, that thing's getting more
powerful than I ever thought possible! Oh, sure, I've had a couple of
other encounters with it. It's too canny to let me get a good crack at
it, but how it hates me! I've been hanging around out here to see what
it's up to."

"Then you know about that fleet of space-ships down there," Devries
spoke up. "What do you think? Is that Brain going to direct that fleet
toward the inner planets by remote control?"

"No," replied Perrin, reflectively. "That's not too fantastic a
thought, but the Brain's not that powerful yet. However, those Proktols
might man the ships. I think that's the plan. Did you notice those
antennae they have? That's the way the Brain contacts them, and it
might control them from any distance! Another thing: did you notice
their flame-pistols? Modelled after the ones the Martians use, but an
improvement. If you men left any atom-blasts there, the Brain'll soon
find out how they click, and they'll turn out their own. And _they'll_
be an improvement. That entire space fleet will be equipped with them.
But that fleet's not quite ready to move yet; they've got to have fuel."

"You mean," said Devries, "they haven't any?"

Perrin laughed softly. "They _did_ have. Those Proktols were mining it
on Neptune--greenish grained stuff, something like the Tynyte we get
from the Mars mountains. I watched their operations awhile, secretly.
It seems to be pretty hard stuff to get out. I waited until they had
quite a supply, then I swooped down and blasted it all sky high,
together with a few score Proktols. That's just one more reason they
hate me. But they're still mining, and getting more of the fuel out."

Janus had been listening to the pirate's words. Now he paced the
control room, nervously. "That would give us time," he said softly to
himself. "We could get back to Earth in a week, at full speed." He
stopped and looked up. "Yes," he said aloud, "we're going back to Earth
immediately!"

"Very well, Commander Janus," said Perrin, looking straight at him.
"But I trust you will take the _Princess_ in tow? I love that ship very
much."

"Not you, Perrin! You're not going."

"Not me, Commander? I wonder what you can mean?" The pirate's black
eyes were glowing.

"Perrin, suppose I should get very careless and you suddenly escaped. I
wonder where you'd escape to?"

Perrin glanced out at the glowing ball of Neptune. He was smiling
again, but it was a grim little smile. "I have a hideout," he said,
"which not even those Proktols have found yet. I imagine they have a
lot more of that fuel mined by now, and I just love for them to hate
me."

Janus glanced at the space-lock, and turned his back. When next he
looked he saw the trim, black _Princess_ speeding unerringly back
toward Neptune, a thousand miles away.

Devries alone was regretful, almost bitter. He weighed the familiar
atom-blast in his hand. "And I didn't even get to use this! Damn it,
Janus, you know what that Brain's doing, planning. If they keep on with
those sacrifices, feeding it that mental force, who knows how far it'll
go? It's a potential menace, it oughtn't to be allowed to exist!"

"Devries, stop gibbering!" Once again Janus was in his familiar role,
Commander of the _Wasp_ of the Earth Patrol. "Ross! Stand by in the
rocket room for orders; we're on double duty now."

"Yes, sir! It's a pleasure, sir." Ross hurried away.

"Devries! Start charting our course for Earth."

"Yes sir." Devries turned to the charts, disgruntled but obedient.
Janus took over the controls. But a moment later he turned.

"I know it, Devries. Don't think I'm forgetting what they did to
Ketrik, and what we promised him. You see, that's why I want to be sure
of making a thorough job of it!"

"Yes sir," Devries said again, briskly, and he was satisfied. As the
hideous green ball of Neptune rolled away behind them he didn't even
look back; for he knew they'd be out here again--and soon--with more
than a Patrol ship and a few atom-blasts.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Proktols of Neptune, by Henry Hasse

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 61950 ***