Part 3 (1/2)
There it was, a speck rapidly growing larger, headed straight for them, and gaining velocity with every foot it covered.
Edwards worked frantically with the controls, diving in a zig-zag path toward the strange craft. Captain Linet rushed in, carrying one of the light _hexoxen_ guns. Holden hurried to help him place it in a specially designed aperture in the bow, while Erickson and the regular radio man endeavored to establish communications with the intruder. A voice suddenly spoke from their instrument.
”You will consider yourselves our captives. Land at once as close as possible to the white spot you see at the base of the cliff. If you do not obey instructions, we will ram you immediately.”
”Don't reply for a moment,” Holden commanded, focusing his gla.s.ses in the direction indicated. As the powerful lenses brought out every detail of the scene below, he paled visibly.
”What's the matter?” demanded Erickson.
”Matter enough,” was the amazing reply. ”We've run into a den of some bandits. They must be the fiends who have been preying on the Earth-Mars s.h.i.+pping!”
The tremendous speed of the dive had brought them so close that all could see, without the aid of binoculars, the great skeletons of wrecked s.h.i.+ps piled up at the base of the precipice.
”Tell those rats to go to h.e.l.l,” snapped Holden, ”and get in touch with our own s.h.i.+ps; use code and tell them to get here as quickly as possible, prepared for a fight. Get near enough to this pirate s.h.i.+p to open on it with the _hexoxen_ guns. Can you keep them from ramming us, Edwards?”
”I think so, for a time, at least.”
The enemy's craft was now only a few hundred yards away, and Holden scrutinized it closely for any sign that might give a clue to the original builders or present owners. Not over a hundred and fifty feet in length, with no visible openings, it looked like a slightly fattened steel needle. Its stern tubes were of the ordinary type; they glowed red against the silvery background, as the enemy swooped and circled, trying to get into position for a final, crus.h.i.+ng blow.
”Every man in s.p.a.ce suits,” Holden ordered. ”Good work, Linet,” he cried, as he saw a sudden pock-mark appear in the pirate's side, where the devastating _hexoxen_ bullet had struck.
”They've certainly got thick plates,” remarked the Captain, as another direct hit failed to do more than scratch the metal. ”Probably heavier up in front, if they mean what they say about ramming. I'm going to concentrate on the stern.”
The dull red surface of the moon, the black walls of the crater, and the twinkling stars of outer s.p.a.ce mingled in a fantastic whirl as Edwards skilfully kept the _San Francisco_ out of the enemy's reach, at the same time giving Linet and the men in the observation compartment sufficient opportunity to train their guns on vital spots. It was a hopeless game, though, for the smaller s.h.i.+p was incredibly fast.
Erickson straightened up from his position behind the operator of the s.p.a.ce-phone. ”We can't make any connections with either the _Ganymede_ or the _Los Angeles_. Probably these pirates have developed a s.h.i.+eld which, thrown around their victims, prevents any message from getting to the outside.”
That looked bad. Erickson switched the receiver back to the wave-length of the enemy. A continual stream of taunts and threats came from the loudspeaker.
”Why don't you surrender?” the gruff voice barked. ”You haven't a chance against us, but if you surrender you may be allowed to work with us, for your own benefit as well as ours.”
”Go to h.e.l.l,” the formerly meek Erickson roared into the transmitter, surprised at his own rage.
Then finally, with a desperate dash, the tiny pirate s.h.i.+p darted in.
Edwards did his best to swerve away from the needle-point, but in vain.
There was a shattering crash; Holden felt himself hurled through the air, but his heavy s.p.a.ce-suit saved him from being crushed as he hit the wall of the room. Edwards stayed with the controls, somehow, cursing savagely.
”Only a glancing blow, but it smashed all the main stern tubes, and evidently disabled the anti-gravitational s.h.i.+eld transmitter. We're going down.”
Holden dashed to a port and glanced out. A welcome sight met his eyes.
The enemy, also injured, was heading for home as fast as his disabled engines permitted.
”Those _hexoxen_ bombs must have weakened his plating, so that it sprang when he rammed us,” Edwards exclaimed when he saw what was happening.
Slowly the _San Francisco_ sank toward the red and black volcanic ash of the crater floor. A hasty inspection revealed that Edwards had been correct in his diagnosis of the trouble. Extensive repairs would be necessary before they could proceed, but, fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, and the main sh.e.l.l showed no signs of strains or leaks.
As soon as Edwards had brought them safely to rest on the ground, Holden called a council of war.