THE INVADING ASTEROID

By MANLY WADE WELLMAN

Science Fiction Series No. 15

Published By STELLAR PUBLISHING CORPORATION 96-98 PARK PLACE NEW YORK

©1932, Gernsback Publications, Inc. Printed in U.S.A.

[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Higher and higher through the night mounted the small, trim space-launch. Far below the lights of St. Louis, capital of the Terrestrial League, shone as myriad stars and reflected gleams on the flat surfaces and soaring spires of the uppermost levels. From a great height the city resembled a rambling building of tremendous size, wherein little specks of surface-cars scampered over miniature traffic-ways and clouds of air and space-vehicles danced around and over the town like midges.

It was a fighting ship that was mounting upward, one of the many that sped through space in the days of 2675, when Earth and Mars were in the throes of that gigantic and regrettable conflict, the Interplanetary War. However, the disintegrating ray apparatus, a deadly weapon that enabled Terrestrial forces to compete on something like equal terms with the overwhelming numbers of the space-navies of Mars, had been removed from bow and stern. Most of the space inside the cigar-shaped hull was occupied by engines to insure highest maneuverability and speed, but in the center was a cushioned chamber large enough to allow its three occupants to ride in comfort.

They were in Terrestrial uniform, but did not look like the sternest of warriors. A year ago they had been students together at the International University in St. Louis, looking forward to graduation in 2675. But 2675 was here, and already they had participated in the bitter conflicts that marked the beginnings of the war. Even now, when the two worlds had drawn far apart in their orbits and the interplanetary passage was too far for war parties to travel, they were kept in intensive training and their school days seemed memories of a thousand years ago.

"This is a squadron-commander's gig, at the very least," chuckled Bull Mike Tishinev, former star athlete of his university, as he squared his colossal shoulders. "We'll never have a softer trip, nor a freer one, so long as we're in the service."

"And, inasmuch as we are in the service, we're apt to catch it for absence without leave, and also for using property of the Terrestrial government for private purposes," suggested Neil Andresson, slim and handsome.

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I had thought there would be danger," assured Sukune, the little Japanese, his young Oriental face shining with a smile. "However, I had free run of the rocketport for my experimentation, and nobody thought anything of it when I checked the ship out. And we have all had two days' liberty and won't be missed. They won't check the rocketport until the day after tomorrow, so we'll have full forty-eight hours in space—first chance we've had to do such a thing without some officer on our necks, directing every move of our fingers."

Into the stratosphere, with the speed steadily and carefully increasing, the ship made its way. The broad Mississippi lay across the terrain beneath them, shrunk to the apparent dimensions of a silver thread. St. Louis was now only a vari-colored, light-flecked blotch lying across the river's course, with the smaller dark areas of suburbs close at hand.

"What a lot of Martian culture could be spread by dropping two or three roving bombs down there!" observed Sukune.

"Where is Mars from here?" asked Neil. The Japanese spun the dial of the television, showing an orange disk blotched with gray-green.

"There you are—seat of Earth's troubles," he said.

"What's that lump traveling along between us and Mars?" was Bull Mike's question.

"That appears to be the asteroid that strayed from its path, the astronomers say," replied Sukune. "It's not more than a mile or so in diameter, and its distance has been computed to be about a hundred and twelve million miles from the sun. That puts it nearly twenty million miles beyond the Earth's orbit, or half-way between us and Mars. However, science doesn't know much more about the thing. It's a bit too far away for exploration just now, especially since all ships are now built for war-service. It ought to come into opposition with us in the spring of 2676."

He delivered this little lecture with the utmost fluency, and his companions, less versed in sky-lore than he, listened admiringly. Bull Mike grinned and patted the Japanese on the back.

"Never knew you to be stumped by anything yet," he cried. "No wonder the ancients used to be afraid that your people would conquer the world!"

Returning to the television, the three young men looked curiously at the new phenomenon in the heavens. They knew, of course, about the asteroids—fragments of exploded planets revolving just inside the path of mighty Jupiter—but this one, so far from its fellows, presented a different problem.

Leaving the atmospheric envelope, the ship sailed beyond danger of overheating from friction. Like a comet it rose through empty space. A glance from one port showed Earth at quarter-full, a warm, gleaming crescent that clasped a round globe of shadowy blue. Beside and beyond, glowed the white incandescence of the sun, its light intensified by the soft blackness of space. Jewel-like stars were scattered in all directions.

"If Commander Raws could only see us now!" said Bull Mike, boyishly delighted by a sense of freedom.

"If he could, he'd order us all into confinement," Sukune reminded him. "Eh, Neil?"

Before them hung the full moon. Toward this they laid their course and, after twelve hours' flight, they slowed down to drift like a vagrant bit of thistledown above the silent, dead valleys and mountain ranges. Once they dropped down and rested on the ashy surface of the satellite. In a few moments they were able to appreciate the depressed spirits that afflicted the occasional explorers of the lunar wilderness.

For, despite the heavenly-aspiring peaks, the abysmal depths, the far-reaching plains, there was a certain sameness about the moon's scenery. They could see no movement save the shadow of their own craft sliding along beneath them. No green of grass, no brilliant color of flowers showed. No creatures scampered, crept or flew. There was not so much as a heat-flurry in the atmosphere—for there was no atmosphere. Nothing but the glaring white of sun-drenched rock, the inky black of airless shade.

"I wouldn't live here for all the money in St. Louis," said Bull Mike. "As far as that goes, I couldn't."

"I don't see why not," argued Sukune. "Mars' two moons are smaller and rockier than this, and haven't any more air, water or natural comfort. Yet the Martians have built cities under glass domes; pumped in artificial air, and settled right down to keep house."

"That's because they're crowded at home," was Bull Mike's rebuttal. "Well, there's room enough on Earth for me just now. Plenty of girls to keep me company and wine to keep me healthy and excitement to keep me occupied."

They gladly left the Moon behind and continued their journey. They passed the time by eating part of the provisions they had brought along, by observing the heavens and by working practise problems in astronautics and space-maneuvers. At last they idled, a little more than half a million miles from Earth—twenty hours by direct space flight at top speed.