Monsoons of Death.

by Gerald Vance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Dreadful weaving shapes slithered through the storm toward him]

[Sidenote: Ward Harrison got himself into a barrel of trouble when he accepted a job at the Martian Observation Station. There were fearful "things" on Mars....]

The gleaming insignia stripes on Lieutenant Ward Harrison's broad shoulders were less than two days old when he received his first a.s.signment.

"Lieutenant Harrison," his commanding officer said, glancing from the papers he held in his hands to the young man who stood at attention before his desk, "this will be your first touch of action since you were commissioned. A lot depends on how you handle yourself."

"Yes sir," Ward answered. He straightened his already poker-straight spine. His face was young and serious and intent. There was a blaze of zeal in his blue eyes and grimness in the tightness of his jaw. But a lock of blonde hair that fell over his forehead lent an incongruously boyish cast to his grimly set features.

His commander, a Planetary Colonel, with thirty years of void experience behind him, smiled slightly and looked down at the papers in his hands again.

"Your training record has been excellent, Harrison," he said, "and I am gratified to note that you apparently realize the seriousness of our work." He leaned back in his chair, looked up at the young Lieutenant.

"It took science hundreds of years to lick the problem of crossing the void of s.p.a.ce to the outer planets. Now, that that much has been accomplished, the task of exploring and possibly developing and colonizing those planets is ahead of us. The most important part of that work is up to men like you, Lieutenant Harrison. You are attached to the meteorology department with the job of doing the preliminary a.n.a.lysis and exploration on the various planets whose raw materials are essential to Earth. Never for a minute underestimate the importance of that work."

Ward cleared his throat. "I won't sir."

"Good. There are other branches of the service that might seem more glamorous, but all of them are dependent on your research and findings.

Without meteorological survey the entire network of s.p.a.ce stations we have established would have been impossible. And the need today for accurate and thorough research on atmospheric conditions in the Universe is greater than ever before. Always keep that in mind."

"I will, sir," Ward answered.

"Good," the colonel said. He ran a heavy hand through his silver-dusted hair and then picked up again the sheaf of papers from his desk.

"Your first a.s.signment is to one of our established observation stations on Mars," he said.

Ward kept his face woodenly expressionless; but it was hard to conceal his disappointment. He wanted adventure and danger. He wanted to prove his courage and loyalty on some perilous journey to an uncharted, unexplored area, and there was little hope for such action on an established base.

"The station to which you are being sent," the colonel went on, "was established three years ago by the man who is still in command there, a civilian by the name of Thomas Halliday. He is alone there, now. His a.s.sistant died about six months ago. You will act as Halliday's a.s.sistant in atmospheric experimentation and in the collection of meteorologic data. Despite the fact that he is a civilian you will take your orders from him. Is that much clear?"

"Yes," Ward said. He had to fight to keep the bitterness he was feeling from showing in his voice. He had been prepared for anything, but this was too much to accept cheerfully. Serving on a dull, one-man base, under the domination of a civilian, who had probably been rejected by the regular service for timidity or incompetence, was a bitter pill to swallow. Ward found a real, though illogical, resentment welling in him.

And the object of this resentment was Thomas Halliday.

"Thomas Halliday," the colonel said, "is a very careful, painstaking meteorologist. He is completely dependable and reliable. The information he has sent us to date is accurate and thorough. Moreover he is extremely cautious." The colonel paused and frowned and his thick strong fingers drummed irritably on the top of his desk.

"d.a.m.n it!" he said with sudden explosive impatience. "Sometimes I think the man is too cautious. He's been there three years now and he still hasn't sent us a complete report on conditions there. Caution and care are fine qualities but, like all things, they can be overdone. We're planning on erecting a large special base in his locality when we finally get all the information. But we can't make a move until Halliday comes through."

"Is there any reason why the research might have been delayed?" Ward asked.

The colonel shook his head.

"Not as far as we know. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not d.a.m.ning any man until I know all the facts. I'm not a pot-bellied, arm-chair admiral.

I've been in the void myself long enough to realize that you can't pa.s.s judgment on a man's work until you've actually seen the situation he's up against. You can't get the complete picture from a three hundred word report. There may be other factors to consider that we here don't know about. But Halliday's data isn't coming in fast enough and I'm taking steps to get at the bottom of the trouble. I'm sending you there, Harrison, because your record indicates that you're a go-getter. Maybe what Halliday needs is a little more recklessness, a little more impulsiveness and a lot less caution. I'm hoping that you will act as a spur to Halliday. Think you're up to the job?"

Ward's eyes were flashing with excitement. His bitter disappointment had vanished.

"I'll do my absolute best, sir," he said. The colonel's words had crystallized his swiftly-formed animosity for this Thomas Halliday. The man was obviously a timid creature without sufficient guts to do a man's job. Ward felt an itching impatience to get started on this a.s.signment.

He wanted to meet Thomas Halliday. He was very anxious to begin his new duties as a spur to the man.

"Halliday hasn't given us much information about what he's discovered on that section of Mars," the colonel said. "He's confined his reports exclusively to atmospheric data. In his first report he mentioned that the area was inhabited and I got the impression that he hadn't found the natives particularly friendly. But since he hasn't mentioned them since, I gather that he hasn't had any trouble with them....

"I guess that's about all, Lieutenant. This is an important job. And if you find any reason for Halliday's delay in getting that job done, I want you to flash me a message immediately. I'm putting a lot of confidence in you, young man, but I don't think it's misplaced."

The colonel stood up and extended his hand.

"Good luck, son."

Ward took the older man's hand in a firm grip.

"Thank you, sir. I'll do everything I can to justify your confidence in me."

He saluted, right-about-faced smartly and strode toward the door. The colonel followed his straight young back with his eyes and there was a smile of pride on his face. Lieutenant Ward Harrison, in the opinion of the colonel, was definitely an excellent addition to the forces of Earth.

Lieutenant Ward Harrison thought so himself, but he would have suffered his tongue to be torn out before admitting it.

Three days later, at 24:40 inter-Stellar time, Ward Harrison arrived at the Earth observation base located in the uncharted, inaccessible area on the southern plane of the planet, Mars.

As he flashed into the atmosphere of the planet he cut the rear propulsion rockets of his slim single-seater and prepared to land. He sighted the base's small cl.u.s.ter of buildings and the mooring tower in his fore visi-screen and he made quick rapid adjustments on his instrument panel as his slender ship slanted toward them in a screaming dive....

When the nose of his ship made contact with a mooring socket, he set all instruments at zero. He climbed to his feet and stretched wearily. Then he walked to the sliding side door of the ship, released the air lock and stepped out onto the ramp that flanked the mooring tower.

From this position, some two hundred feet above the ground, he had his first look at the terrain of Mars. Great gray wastelands spread endlessly in all four directions and the only break in this monotony was a low ridge of hills on the far-distant eastern horizon.

Ward shivered slightly. He hadn't been prepared for anything this depressing. The small group of squat buildings beneath him looked like tiny objects adrift in a vast, terrible gray sea.

A man appeared at the door of the central building and Ward felt an idiotic sensation of relief at the sight of a human, moving figure in that dead, silent, gray terrain.

The man waved to Ward and walked from the doorway toward the base of the mooring tower.

Ward descended to the ground in the small cage of the tower elevator. He stepped out onto the soft, flaky soil of Mars as the man he had seen from above came up to the tower.

"Lieutenant Harrison reporting for duty, sir," he said. He saluted and noticed with a certain satisfaction the other's embarra.s.sment at this military recognition which he didn't deserve.

"My name is Halliday," the man said, after a short awkward pause. He extended his hand. "I'm certainly glad to have you here, Lieutenant."

As Ward shook hands, he appraised the man carefully, and found nothing in his examination to change his previously acquired opinion.

Thomas Halliday was small and stooped, with sallow features and nervously shifting eyes, which looked startlingly large behind thick strong gla.s.ses. His hair was thin and faded brown in color. There was a peculiar tight look about his mouth and jaw, as if he were in a continual state of faint exasperation.

This, thought Ward, was the man who had been holding up the development of this area for three years. And, looking at him, it was easy to see why.