CHAPTER IV

_The Return to the Dark Moon_

No man faces death in so shocking a form without feeling the effects.

Death had flicked them with a finger of flame and had passed them by.

Chet Bullard found his hands trembling uncontrollably as he fumbled for

a book and opened it. The tables of figures printed there were blurred

at first to his eyes, but he forced himself to forget the threat that

was past, for there was another menace to consider now.

And uppermost in his mind, when his thoughts came back into some

approximate order, was condemnation of himself for an opportunity that

was gone.

"I could have jumped him," he told himself with bitter self-reproach; "I

could have grabbed the pistol from Kreiss--the man was petrified." And

then Chet had to admit a fact there was no use of denying: "I was as

paralyzed as he was," he said, and only knew he had spoken aloud when he

saw the puzzled look that crossed Harkness' face.

Harkness and Diane had drawn near. In a far corner of the little room

Schwartzmann had motioned to Kreiss to join him; they were as far away

from the others as could be managed. Schwartzmann, Chet judged, needed

some scientific explanation of these disturbing events; also he needed

to take the detonite pistol from Kreiss' hand and jam it into his own

hand. His eyes, at Chet's unconscious exclamation, had come with instant

suspicion toward the two men.

"Forty-seven hours, Walt," the pilot said, and repeated it loudly for

Schwartzmann's benefit; "--forty-seven hours before we return to this

spot. We are driving out into space; we've crossed the orbit of the Dark

Moon, and we're doing twenty thousand miles an hour.

"Now we must decelerate. It will take twenty hours to check us to zero

speed; then twenty-seven more to shoot us back to this same point in

space, allowing, of course, for a second deceleration. The same figuring

with only slight variation will cover a return to the Dark Moon. As we

sweep out I can allow for the moon-motion, and we'll hit it at a safe

landing speed on the return trip this time."

* * * * *

Chet was paying little attention to his companion as he spoke. His eyes,

instead, were covertly watching the bulky figure of Schwartzmann. As he

finished, their captor shot a volley of questions at the scientist

beside him; he was checking up on the pilot's remarks.

Chet was leaning forward to stare intently from a lookout, his head was

close to that of Harkness.

"Listen, Walt," he whispered; "the Moon's out of sight; it's easy to

lose. Maybe I can't find it again, anyway--it's going to take some nice

navigating--but I'll miss it by ten thousand miles if you say so, and

even the Herr Doktor can't check me on it."

Chet saw the eyes of Schwartzmann grow intent. He reached ostentatiously

for another book of tables, and he seated himself that he might figure

in comfort.

"Just check me on this," he told Harkness.

He put down meaningless figures, while the man beside him remained

silent. Over and over he wrote them--would Harkness never reach a

decision?--over and over, until--

"I don't agree with that," Harkness told him and reached for the stylus

in Chet's hand. And, while he appeared to make his own swift

computations, there were words instead of figures that flowed from his

pen.

"Only alternative: return to Earth," he wrote. "Then S will hold off;

wait in upper levels. Kreiss will give him new bearings. We'll shoot out

again and do it better next time. Kreiss is nobody's fool. S means to

maroon us on Moon--kill us perhaps. He'll get us there, sure. We might

as well go now."

* * * * *

Chet had seen a movement across the room. "Let's start all over again,"

he broke in abruptly. He covered the writing with a clean sheet of paper

where he set down more figures. He was well under way when

Schwartzmann's quick strides brought him towering above them. Again the

detonite pistol was in evidence; its small black muzzle moved steadily

from Harkness to Chet.

"For your life--such as is left of it--you may thank Herr Doktor

Kreiss," he told Chet. "I thought at first you would have attempted to

kill us." His smile, as he regarded them, seemed to Chet to be entirely

evil. "You were near death twice, my dear Herr Bullard; and the danger

is not entirely removed.

"'Forty-seven hours' you have said; in forty-seven hours you will land

us on the Dark Moon. If you do not,"--he raised the pistol

suggestively--"remember that the pilot, Max, can always take us back to

Earth. You are not indispensable."

Chet looked at the dark face and its determined and ominous scowl.

"You're a cheerful sort of soul, aren't you?" he demanded. "Do you have

any faint idea of what a job this is? Do you know we will shoot another

two hundred thousand miles straight out before I can check this ship?

Then we come back; and meanwhile the Dark Moon has gone on its way. Had

you thought that there's a lot of room to get lost in out here?"

"Forty-seven hours!" said Schwartzmann. "I would advise that you do not

lose your way."

Chet shot one quizzical glance at Harkness.

"That," he said, "makes it practically unanimous."

Schwartzmann, with an elaborate show of courtesy, escorted Diane

Delacouer to a cabin where she might rest. At a questioning look between

Diane and Harkness, their captor reassured them.

"Mam'selle shall be entirely safe," he said. "She may join you here

whenever she wishes. As for you,"--he was speaking to Harkness--"I will

permit you to stay here. I could tie you up but this iss not necessary."

And Harkness must have agreed that it was indeed unnecessary, for either

Kreiss or Max, or some other of Schwartzmann's men, was at his side

continuously from that moment on.

* * * * *

Chet would have liked a chance for a quiet talk and an exchange of

ideas. It seemed that somewhere, somehow, he should be able to find an

answer to their problem. He stared moodily out into the blackness ahead,

where a distant star was seemingly their goal. Harkness stood at his

side or paced back and forth in the little room, until he threw himself,

at last, upon a cot.

And always the great stern-blast roared; muffled by the insulated walls,

its unceasing thunder came at last to be unheard. To the pilot there was

neither sound nor motion. His directional sights were unswervingly upon

that distant star ahead. Seemingly they were suspended, helpless and

inert, in a black void. But for the occasional glowing masses of strange

living substance that flashed past in this ocean of space, he must

almost have believed they were motionless--a dead ship in a dead, black

night.

But the luminous things flashed and were gone--and their coming,

strangely, was from astern; they flicked past and vanished up ahead.

And, by this, Chet knew that their tremendous momentum was unchecked.

Though he was using the great stern blast to slow the ship, it was

driving stern-first into outer space. Nor, for twenty hours, was there a

change, more than a slackening of the breathless speed with which the

lights went past.

Twenty hours--and then Chet knew that they were in all truth hung

motionless, and he prayed that his figures that told him this were

correct.... More timeless minutes, an agony of waiting--and a

dimly-glowing mass that was ahead approached their bow, swung off and

vanished far astern. And, with its going, Chet knew that the return trip

was begun.

He gave Harkness the celestial bearing marks and relinquished the helm.

"Full speed ahead as you are," he ordered; "then at nineteen-forty on

W.S. time, we'll cut it and ease on bow repulsion to the limit."

And, despite the strangeness of their surroundings, the ceaseless,

murmuring roar of the exhaust, the weird world outside, where endless

space was waiting for man's exploration--despite the deadly menace that

threatened, Chet dropped his head upon his outflung arms and slept.

* * * * *

To his sleep-drugged brain it was scarcely a moment until a hand was

dragging at his shoulder.

"Forty-seven hours!" the voice of Schwartzmann was saying.

And: "Some navigating!" Harkness was exclaiming in flattering amazement.

"Wake up, Chet! Wake up! The Dark Moon's in sight. You've hit it on the

nose, old man: she isn't three points off the sights!"

The bow-blast was roaring full on. Ahead of them Chet's sleepy eyes

found a circle of violet; and he rubbed his eyes savagely that he might

take his bearings on Sun and Earth.

As it had been before, the Earth was a giant half-moon; like a

mirror-sphere it shot to them across the vast distance the reflected

glory of the sun. But the globe ahead was a ghostly world. Its black

disk was lost in the utter blackness of space. It was a circle, marked

only by the absence of star-points and by the halo of violet glow that

edged it about.

Chet cut down the repelling blast. He let the circle enlarge, then swung

the ship end for end in mid-space that the more powerful stern exhaust

might be ready to counteract the gravitational pull of the new world.

Again those impalpable clouds surrounded them. Here was the enveloping

gas that made this a dark moon--the gas, if Harkness' theory was

correct, that let the sun's rays pass unaltered; that took the light

through freely to illumine this globe, but that barred its return

passage as reflected light.

Black--dead black was the void into which they were plunging, until the

darkness gave way before a gentle glow that enfolded their ship. The

golden light enveloped them in growing splendor. Through every lookout

it was flooding the cabin with brilliant rays, until, from below them,

directly astern of the ship, where the thundering blast checked their

speed of descent, emerged a world.

* * * * *

And, to Chet Bullard, softly fingering the controls of the first ship of

space--to Chet Bullard, whose uncanny skill had brought the tiny speck

that was their ship safely back from the dark recesses of the

unknown--there came a thrill that transcended any joy of the first

exploration.

Here was water in great seas of unreal hue--and those seas were his!

Vast continents, ripe for adventure and heavy with treasure--and they,

too, were his! His own world--his and Diane's and Walt's! Who was this

man, Schwartzmann, that dared dream of violating their possessions?

A slender tube pressed firmly, uncompromisingly, into his back to give

the answer to his question. "Almost I wish you had missed it!" Herr

Schwartzmann was saying. "But now you will land; you will set us down in

some place that you know. No tricks, Herr Bullard! You are clever, but

not clever enough for that. We will land, yess, where you know it is

safe."

From the lookout, the man stared for a moment with greedy eyes; then

brought his gaze back to the three. His men, beside Harkness and Diane,

were alert; the scientist, Kreiss, stood close to Chet.

"A nice little world," Schwartzmann told them. "Herr Harkness, you have

filed claims on it; who am I to dispute with the great Herr Harkness?

Without question it iss yours!"

He laughed loudly, while his eyes narrowed between creasing wrinkles of

flesh. "You shall enjoy it," he told them; "--all your life."

And Chet, as he caught the gaze of Harkness and Diane, wondered how long

this enjoyment would last. "All your life!" But this was rather

indefinite as a measure of time.