Sure enough, as they walked down the corridor they came to a juncture of four wide passages. Here was a small concourse, thronged with pedestrians, and in its very center a stout metal pillar rose from the flooring to the roof. Two sentries stood vigilantly on opposite sides of it.
“We are now at the point where the four sections meet on this level,” Yaxa pointed out. “As you see, the walls are cut well away to allow the passages to cross. That pillar is made of four pieces—the edges of the sections. Enclosed by them is the cable I told you about. The pillar and the cable extend above and below here, from one pole of the asteroid to the other.”
Neil looked at the arrangement as if fascinated but Yaxa urged him on. They came to the spot where opposite partitions of two adjoining sections came together. There was not enough space to insert a knife-blade, so accurately had the structure been made.
“Not very thick for outer walls,” observed Neil, measuring the partitions with his eye. “A Terrestrial disintegrator-ray could easily pierce them.”
“Of course, but these are only inner walls, after all. The real strong, thick partition is the outside, the tough rind of the fruit. That is too much for the strongest ray or bomb ever made.”
“There aren’t any bolts to hold the sections together.”
“Have you forgotten what I told you about the artificial gravity? That holds everything in place. But here’s the theater. Let’s get inside or we’ll be late.”
IV
The Great Battle
The television drama broadcast from the Martian pleasure city of Pulambar, was one of the cynical tragicomedies that the men of Mars love so well. As it unfolded certain gases were released in the auditorium. They seemed pungent, even acrid, to Neil, who was not used to Martian luxuries, but those around him sniffed the fumes with every evidence of pleasure. He watched the drama progress and was careful to applaud and laugh whenever Yaxa did.
From there they went to an eating-compartment, where a group of young officers first looked askance at the Terrestrial stranger, but crowded around with exclamations of welcome when Yaxa explained his presence in the asteroid. Neil made the best of his limited command of the Martian language. The party seemed to be having a fine time, not the slightest bit worried by the fact that a strong force from Earth was due to attack within a few hours.
“We have only to remain inside our defenses,” said one. “They can hammer away on our surface forever without effect, while we can bomb them out of existence one by one.”
“It’ll be a way to break the tedium of existence,” offered another.
“And excellent practice for our coming raid on Earth,” added a third.
“Will you fight on our side?” the first speaker asked Neil.
“No, I’ll be a noncombatant,” grinned the Terrestrial. “After all, I’ve some old comrades in those ships. However,” he continued, “I’ll drink in the fashion of my planet to your success and that of your friends.”
He was loudly applauded and several raised their glasses in imitation of his courtesy.
The gathering broke up late and Neil confessing himself tired, was allowed to go to bed in quarters near those of Yaxa. Yet he did not sleep for hours and, when he dozed off at last, it seemed but a moment before Yaxa knocked at his door to waken him.
He dressed and went out into the wide passage that served as a street. The carefree attitude of the Martians was gone now; everywhere he saw bodies of troops drawn up into formation, while here and there sped vehicles laden with munitions and supplies.
“The enemy is almost here and we’re getting ready,” explained Yaxa. “The commander has told me to bring you to him, that he may ask what part you want to take in the action.”
“I’ve already said that I don’t want to fight,” said Neil. “As a matter of fact, I think that I’d do best as a guard over the Terrestrial prisoners who came with us. I’m built along the same mental and physical lines that they are, and so I ought to be ideal for the job.”
When he faced the Martian chief he made the same suggestion and it was accepted on the spot. Yaxa conducted him to an elevator and they descended, it seemed for miles. At last they stepped out into a narrow corridor the floor of which was sharply curved.
In front of a nearby panel a Martian soldier stood, armed with automatic rifle, pistol and bomb-thrower. Yaxa explained their errand and showed a stamped bit of metal as badge of authority. The fellow saluted and opened the door.
Inside, Sukune and Bull Mike rose from the pallets on which they sat. They were courteous, even cheerful, in their greeting to the newcomers.
“We’ve been getting ourselves an eyeful of the show that’s coming,” said the Japanese, pointing to the television screen that was part of the chamber’s furnishings. Sure enough, he had dialed in a viewpoint in space from which the artificial asteroid appeared as a sphere about two feet in diameter, while in the distance the “curtain front” of the Terrestrial ships’ advance could be seen like a puff of luminous dust.
“There’s a lot of friends of ours in that mob,” added Bull Mike. “They’ll take this little pill of yours without so much as a swallow of water. Then we’ll be free, speaking a good word for you, Yaxa.”
“That’s kind of you,” smiled the Martian. “However, I don’t think that there will be that much of a reverse.”
“We’ll soon know,” said Neil. “Look, the Terrestrials are about ready to close in.”
The attacking fleet had indeed drawn near its objective. They could see the face of the “curtain” changing, the edges coming forward and the center receding. This was the first move toward the gradual formation of a great net or basket in
