The Empire of Earth was crumbling. Space-liners fell
prey to savage phantom crews. A weird, green wave
of terror engulfed the Universe. Enslavement of the
Empire was near, and only a handful of men could halt
the final blow ... a handful of men who could not
act—for a single movement would mean their death.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Somewhere aboard the Super Space Liner, Jupiter, a resonant gongsounded three times. Norman Saint Clair started, glanced uneasilyabout the magnificent lounge. A gray fear gnawed at his vitals. Witha sinking heart, he watched the crowd, who had come to see off thepassengers, hurry out the port. This was his last chance to get off theship.
"Excuse me," said a voice at his elbow.
Norman Saint Clair spun around, recognized a Universal Lines steward,grinned embarrassedly.
"First trip?" asked the yellow-clad steward.
The young man nodded.
"I wouldn't be too uneasy, sir. We'll pick up our escort this side ofthe moon. A full ship of the line, sir. We're carrying radium, youknow. They wouldn't dare attack a ship of the line. May I see yourbook, sir?"
Norman Saint Clair fumbled in his wallet, handed the steward his book.Since Terra's ships had begun to disappear on the Earth to Jupiter run,the Terrestial Intelligence Service required them of everyone travelingthrough space. It contained his photograph, a three-dimensionallikeness showing a gaunt likeable face crowned by short, crisp blondhair, a photostatic copy of his birth certificate, his description,nationality, business, fingerprints, history.
Satisfied, the steward said: "This way, sir," and led him to anacceleration chair at the after end of the lounge. "Strap yourself in,sir. We start in a few moments."
The young man eased his lank, six-foot-two frame into the seat,nervously fastened the belt. In spite of the steward's words, he wasnot reassured. Ship after ship had vanished into the blue. Nor had thevaunted Terrestial Navy or the T.I.S. been able to discover any traceof them thereafter. Somewhere beyond the orbit of Mars their radioscrackled and blanked out. Space opened and swallowed them. It wasunprecedented. Never before in the history of space travel had anythingremotely like it occurred.
His eyes roved among the few passengers strapped in their chairs. Theywere subdued. The sailing, unlike the gay hectic affairs before thecoming of the terror, was grim, quiet. No one, he realized, was makingthe trip unless it was unavoidable.
With a touch of panic, he considered demanding to be set back on Terrawhile there was yet time, but a stubborn streak made him hold to hiscourse. It was the same stubborn streak which had led him to bookpassage aboard the Jupiter in spite of the terror. A hundred timeshe had regretted accepting the post of Lecturer on Ancient History atdistant Ganymede. He loved the quiet sanctuary of his library withits collection of twentieth century authors. He had no ambition toexchange his secure academic life for the uncertainty of a crude, rowdyfrontier. But the post had offered a good salary, much better than hecould expect on Earth for years.
A party of Colonial Guards swaggering across the lounge drew hisattention. They were a hard-faced lot, recruited from Earth's far-flungfrontiers. They constituted, he knew, a special armed guard, travelingaboard the Jupiter at the company's request. Universal was takingno risk with the precious cargo of radium.
From the Colonial Guards his eyes