But, as the Terrestrials drew near, a hundred hidden panels flew wide all over the asteroid, exposing dark recesses. From each of these, shot ship after ship, like angry hornets disturbed in their nests, hurtling silently and fiercely to battle.
What followed might seem but a small engagement compared to the later and final conflict between Earth and Mars, wherein full two million ships took part. Yet, for display of grim courage, desperate endeavor and in proportion to the casualties, the fight that ensued around and within the asteroid has no parallel in the history of either planet.
Records show that the Martian commander of the garrison in the huge hull foresaw and planned his part of the battle from the moment the enemy group left Earth. He hoped to launch a surprise attack that it would have been impossible for the Terrestrials to forestall, and to that end he awaited the very instant when the attacking party bunched to close in. Then he sent his entire space-force, something more than two thousand fighting craft, out and at them. Only the smallest possible crews were at the battle stations of these ships and the bulk of the asteroid garrison, more than five hundred thousand strong, remained inside.
The four at the television watched eagerly the miniature reflection of the engagement. The Martians, less in number and lighter in craft, did their best to take advantage of every opportunity. Bunching close together in fours and fives, they hurled into action. They were all raiding models, more maneuverable than most of the battleships and heavy cruisers among the Terrestrials. A quick dash through the ranks of the oncoming enemy, and they might be able to effect an equally quick turn and an attack from the rear.
From every Martian ship streaked forth a volley of roving bombs. These projectiles propelled by ultra-swift rocket-engines, were aimed and guided by radio controls so that they could be turned to seek a target missed at first attempt. Some of the foremost Terrestrial ships were silently exploded into nothingness before they could fight or avoid the enemy. The others, frantically plied their disintegrator rays, swinging the lean, glowing fingers of flame back and forth in an attempt to blot out the whizzing bombs and the ships that were launching them.
“Say, I’m missing some wonderful fighting,” said Yaxa suddenly. “You three will excuse me.”
“We three will do nothing of the sort,” replied Neil with the utmost calm. “You’re staying here with us.”
The young Martian looked up with wondering eyes, first at Neil, who stood with drawn pistol, then at Bull Mike and Sukune, who had risen to bar the door. His hand dropped to his belt in search of a weapon.
“Stand still, Yaxa, or I’ll kill you,” called Neil warningly. Yaxa’s hand ceased its motion. Bull Mike reached out and possessed himself of the Martian’s weapon. Then, holding the prisoner by the shoulder, he walked toward the door, which Sukune was opening.
Outside the startled sentry brought up his rifle, but paused when he saw Bull Mike interpose the body of Yaxa as a shield.
“Shoot, fool!” screamed the latter. “Don’t mind me, destroy these men before they escape!”
The sentry still hesitated for a moment and in that moment Neil shot him down. Sukune sprang out and possessed himself of the fallen man’s rifle, pistol and bomb-thrower.
Neil still remained at the television screen for a moment before following the men he had liberated. “Our battleships are already raying the outside,” he said, as he came away at last. “We haven’t a minute to lose.”
“What are you going to do?” demanded Yaxa in a voice that still reflected overwhelming astonishment. “I don’t understand—”
“It’s perfectly simple,” said Sukune. “We were deathly afraid that you’d guess before this, but now you may as well know. The whole business of your rescue, our capture, the flight from Earth, was arranged by our intelligence staff. They wanted to get three determined men inside this shell, where we could in some way lay the innards open to Terrestrial disintegrators.”
“That’s why you were so curious about the cable,” Yaxa accused Neil.
“Right,” admitted the other. “Well, we have little time to lose. Follow me.”
Suddenly Yaxa began to struggle. “Help! Help!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, and at his cry a little group of Martians came running to view from a side-passage. Bull Mike clouted Yaxa with his fist and the prisoner fell insensible, while the three Terrestrials ran swiftly up the corridor. Behind them came a summons to stop, followed by a scatter of shots. A few leaps, however, left the pursuit well behind.
“There’s the cable-pillar, ahead of us,” said Neil, pointing ahead. Sure enough they were approaching a pole on their level.
The two guards on duty by the device looked up at the sound of hurriedly approaching feet. Before they could challenge, however, they fell beneath a volley from the Terrestrials. Ignoring the still quivering bodies, the three comrades gathered around the pillar.
“How can we cut it?” panted Sukune.
“I smuggled this along,” said Neil, producing a hand disintegrator appliance, about the size of a pistol. With it he began to fuse the metal facings of the pillar.
The Martians who had come at Yaxa’s call were approaching now. Bull Mike sent a stream of bullets at them from the rifle of one of the cable-guards. Sukune did likewise. Several of the pursuers fell while the others ducked into sheltering doorways without returning the fire.
“They’re afraid they’ll hit and damage this pillar,” said Neil. “Hang close to it, you two.”
He had cut well into one facing of the great upright. Still he had not pierced the layer of metal that protected the cable. On he worked while his comrades faced in opposite directions, rifles at the ready.
The shots had
