Read Online Manly Wade Wellman - Chapbook 02 by Devil's Planet (v1.1) - Free Book Online Page B

that another dreadful pain was missing, the racking
vibration of the bracelet. He lifted his left hand. The skin of it was scraped,
broken in places, but the wrist was naked. The sinister metal ring was gone.
                 “How
did you get it off of me?” he asked. “It was due to explode if you tinkered
with it.”
                 “And
sso we did not tinkerr with it,” was the calm reply. “Firrsst,
a grreasse to make yourr hand and wrrisst verry sslipperry—then carre- ful
prrying and tugging. We got the brracelet off without injurring it. We
know how to deal with ssuch thingss. One of uss crrept
forrth and laid the brracelet on the ssand farr frrom herre. It was picked up
ass a clue by police ssearcherrs.”
                 Dillon
Stover sighed gratefully. Not only was he free of an awful agony* but there
would now be no following of him by those who hunted him.
                 “I
started to ask you,” he resumed, “why you helped a stranger, a Terrestrial
fugitive from the law, to so great an extent.”
                 “You
arre Dillon Sstoverr,” said the Martian simply. “Beforre you lost yourr
ssenssess, you told uss yourr name.”
                STOVER
looked his mystification. “But what difference—”
                 A
tentacle pointed to a little niche across the dome-den. There nestled a shabby
old radio, near which the other two Martians sprawled. The thing only
whispered, but they were getting news of the universe.
                 “We
have communicationss,” the one with the voice-box told Stover. “We know what
befell you in Pulam- barr, what charrge iss made by the officialss. But we
know, alsso, why you came herre—to do the worrk begun
by yourr grrandfatherr.”
                 “The
work of my grandfather,” repeated Stover. He had almost forgotten it. “You mean
the condenser- ray?”
                 “Yess. The hope of Marrss.”
                 Stover
had recovered enough to tell himself savagely that he had become short-sighted,
selfish, craven . The Martian was right. He, Dillon
Stover, meant the sole chance of a dying world for a new lease on life. He was
fleeing for more than his own life.
                 “I
know so little,” he pleaded. “I’ve been here only three days, and for most of
that time I’ve been running from both police and law-breakers. I have now a
better idea of what water means to this planet, but—”
                 “Come,
if you arre strrong enough,” bade his helper.
                 Stover
got up, having to stoop beneath the low dome, and made his way to the radio.
Quickly the Martian turned on the television power, and a small screen lighted
up. Tentacles turned dials.
                 Stover
saw a gently rolling plain, grown over with hardy, tufty scrub, the chief
vegetation of Mars. From it rose a vast and blocky
structure, acres in extent. The construction seemed to be of massive concrete
or plastic, reenforced by joinings and bands of metal. As the viewpoint of the
television made the building grow larger and nearer by degrees, Stover saw that
it had no visible doors or other apertures. Along walks at the top, and around
railed ways at the bottom, walked armed Martian guards in brace-harness to hold
them upright. The roof bristled with ray-throwers and electro-automatic guns.
                 “A
fort?” said Stover. “I thought Mars was at peace everywhere.” “Therre iss no
peace in the conflict with drrought,” his informant told him. “You ssee yonderr a rresser- voirr. It holdss a
gatherring of the mosst prreciouss thing on thiss planet —waterr.”
                 “It
has to be guarded like that?” “Ssurrely. People would
rrisk anything to ssteal a little—only a little. The only
frree waterr on all thiss worrld iss in the guarrded and rre- sstricted city of Pulambar ,