Beyond the Point of Unknown (Space Travel & Alien Contact Novels). Ray Cummings

      We crouched on the little ledge. A cave mouth was behind us. A gully was beside us, a break in the ledge; and at our feet the sheer wall dropped.

      We had extinguished our lights. We crouched, silently gazing up into the stars.

      The ship, when we first distinguished it, was centered over Archimedes. We thought for a while that it might descend into the crater. But it did not; it came sailing forward.

      I whispered into the audiphone, "It's coming over the crater."

      Her hand pressed my arm in answer.

      I recalled that when, from the Planetara, Miko had forced Snap to signal this brigand band on Mars, Miko's only information as to the whereabouts of the Grantline camp was that it lay between Archimedes and the Apennines. The brigands now were following that information.

      A tense interval passed. We could see the ship plainly above us now, a gray-black shape among the stars up beyond the shaggy, towering crater rim. The vessel came upon a level keel, hull down. Slowly circling, looking for Miko's signal, no doubt, or for possible lights from Grantline's camp. They might also be picking a landing place.

      We saw it soon as a cylindrical, cigarlike shape, rather smaller than the Planetara, but similar of design. It bore lights now. The ports of its hull were tiny rows of illumination, and the glow of light under its rounding upper dome was faintly visible.

      A bandit ship, no doubt of that. Its identification keel plate was empty of official pass code lights. These brigands had not attempted to secure official sailing lights when leaving Ferrok-Shahn. It was unmistakably an outlaw ship. And here upon the deserted Moon there was no need for secrecy. Its lights were openly displayed, that Miko might see it and join it.

      It went slowly past us, only a few thousand feet higher than our level. We could see the whole outline of its pointed cylinder hull, with the rounded dome on top. And under the dome was its open deck with a little cabin superstructure in the center.

      I thought for a moment that by some unfortunate chance it might land quite near us. But it went past. And then I saw that it was heading for a level, plateaulike surface a few miles further on. It dropped, cautiously floating down.

      There was still no sign of Miko. But I realized that haste was necessary. We must be the first to join the brigand ship.

      I lifted Anita to her feet. "I don't think we should signal from here."

      "No. Miko might see it."

      We could not tell where he was. Down on the plains, perhaps? Or up here, somewhere in these miles of towering rocks?

      "Are you ready, Anita?"

      "Yes, Gregg."

      I stared through the visors at her white solemn face.

      "Yes, I'm ready," she repeated.

      Her hand pressure seemed to me suddenly like a farewell. We were plunging rashly into what was destined to mean our death? Was this a farewell?

      An instinct told me not to do this thing. Why, in a few hours I could have Anita back to the comparative safety of the Grantline camp. The exit ports would doubtless be repaired by now. I could get her inside.

      She had bounded away from me, leaped down some thirty feet into the broken gully, to cross it and then up on the other side. I stood for an instant watching her fantastic shape, with the great rounded, goggled, trunked helmet and the lump on her shoulders which held the little Erentz motors. Then I hurried after her.

      It did not take us long—two or three miles of circling along the giant wall. The ship lay only a few hundred feet above our level.

      We stood at last on a buttelike pinnacle. The lights of the ship were close over us. And there were moving lights up there, tiny moving spots on the adjacent rocks. The brigands had come out, prowling about to investigate their location.

      No signal yet from Miko. But it might come at any moment.

      "I'll flash now," I whispered.

      "Yes."

      The brigands had probably not yet seen us. I took the lamp from my helmet. My hand was trembling. Suppose my signal were answered by a shot? A flash from some giant projector mounted on the ship?

      Anita crouched behind a rock, as she had promised. I stood with my torch and flung its switch. My puny light beam shot up. I waved it, touched the ship with its faint glowing circle of illumination.

      They saw me. There was a sudden movement among the lights up there.

      I semaphored:

       I am from Miko. Do not fire.

      I used open universal code. In Martian first, and then in English.

      There was no answer, but no attack. I tried again.

      This is Haljan, one of the Planetara. George Prince's sister is with me. There has been disaster to Miko.

      A small light beam came down from the brink of the overhead cliff beside the ship.

       Continue.

      I went steadily on: Disaster—the Planetara is wrecked. All killed but me and Prince's sister. We want to join you.

      I flashed off my light. The answer came:

       Where is the Grantline Camp?

       Near here. The Mare Imbrium.

      As though to answer my lie, from down on the Earthlit plains, some ten miles or so from the crater base, a tiny signal light shot up. Anita saw it and gripped me.

      "There is Miko's light!"

      It spelled in Martian, Come down. Land Mare Imbrium.

      Miko had seen the signaling up here and had joined it! He repeated, Land Mare Imbrium.

      I flashed a protest up to the ship: Beware. That is Grantline! Trickery.

      From the ship the summons came, Come up.

      We had won this first encounter! Miko must have realized his disadvantage. His distant light went out.

      "Come, Anita."

      There was no retreat now. But again I seemed to feel in the pressure of her hand that vague farewell. Her voice whispered, "We must do our best, act our best to be convincing."

      In the white glow of a searchbeam we climbed the crags, reached the broad upper ledge. Helmeted figures rushed at us, searched us for weapons, seized our helmet lights. The evil face of a giant Martian peered at me through the visors. Two other monstrous, towering figures seized Anita.

      We were shoved toward the port locks at the base of the ship's hull. Above the hull bulge I could see the grids of projectors mounted on the dome side, and the figures of men standing on the deck, peering down at us.

      We went through the admission locks into a hull corridor, up an incline passage, and reached the lighted deck. The Martian brigands crowded around us.