Part 55 (1/2)

I might be able to reach the manual hull lock, rip it open and let the air out. If I could get into its pressure chamber and unseal the inner slide....

”It would wreck the s.h.i.+p, Anita: exhaust all its air. Shall we try it?”

”Whatever you say, Gregg.”

We seemed to be un.o.bserved. We skimmed close to the valley floor, a mile from the s.h.i.+p. We headed slowly toward it, sailing low over the rocks.

Then we landed, left the platform. ”Let me go first, Anita.”

I held a bullet projector. With slow, cautious leaps, we advanced.

Anita was behind me. I had wanted to leave her with the platform, but she would not stay. And to be with me seemed at least equally safe.

The rocks were deserted. I thought that there was very little chance that any of the enemy would lurk here. We clambered over the pitted, scarred surface; the higher crags, etched with Earthlight, stood like sentinels in the gloom.

The brigand s.h.i.+p with its surrounding darkness was not far from us. No one was out here. We pa.s.sed the wreckage of broken projectors, and gruesome, shattered human forms.

We prowled closer. The hull of the s.h.i.+p loomed ahead of us. All dark.

We came at last close against the sleek metal hull side, slid along it to where I was sure the manual lock would be located.

Abruptly I realized that Anita was not behind me! Then I saw her at a little distance, struggling in the grip of a giant helmeted figure!

The brigand lifted her--turned, and ran.

I did not dare fire. I bounded after them along the hull-side, around under the curve of the pointed bow, down along the other side.

I had mistaken the hull port location. It was here. The running, bounding figure reached it, slid the panel. I was only fifty feet away--not much more than a single leap. I saw Anita being shoved into the pressure lock. The Martian flung himself after her.

I fired at him in desperation, but missed. I came with a rush. And as I reached the port, it slid closed in my face, barring me!

x.x.xVII

With puny fists I pounded the panel. A small pane in it was transparent. Within the lock I could see the blurred figures of Anita and her captor--and it seemed, another figure there. The lock was some ten feet square, with a low ceiling. It glowed with a dim tube-light.

I strained at it with futile, silent effort. The mechanism was here to open this manual; but it was now clasped from within so would not operate.

A few seconds, while I stood there in a panic of confusion, raging to get in. This disaster had come so suddenly. I did not plan: I had no thought save to batter my way in and rescue Anita. I recall that I finally beat on the gla.s.site pane with my bullet projector until the weapon was bent and useless. And I flung it with a wild despairing rage at my feet.

They were letting the s.h.i.+p's air-pressure into this lock. Soon they would open the inner panel, step into the secondary chamber--and in a moment more would be within the s.h.i.+p's hull corridor. Anita, lost to me!

The outer panel suddenly opened! I had lunged against it with my shoulder; the giant figure inside slid it. It was taken by surprise! I half fell forward.

Huge arms went around me. The goggled face of the helmet peered into mine.

”So it is you, Haljan! I thought I recognized that little device over your helmet bracket. And here is my little Anita, come back to me again!”

Miko!

This was he. His great bloated arms encircling me, bending me backward, holding me helpless. I saw over his shoulder that Anita was clutched in the grip of another helmeted figure. No giant, but tall for an Earth man--almost as tall as myself. Then the tube light in the room illumined the visor. I saw the face, recognized it. Moa!