E. K. Jarvis NEVER TRUST A MARTIAN (Amazing Stories January 1950)

Amazing Stories January 1950

E. K. Jarvis

NEVER TRUST A MARTIAN

CHAPTER I

JOHN POST came out of the cafe.

"Get your hands up, you!"

What surprised Post was not the order to get his hands up. Here in this old section of the city of Trego which even the Martians called the "native quarter", anything not only could happen but usually did. You could get stabbed here, you could get drugged, you could get your throat cut, you could get held up.

But there wasn't a chance in a million that you could be told, "Get your hands up, you!" by what was unmistakably the voice of a woman.

So when he came out of the cafe and a woman's voice yelled behind him, "Get your hands up, you!" John Post was surprised almost out of his wits.

He started to tell himself he was hearing things, that he was drunk. He also started to turn around to get a look at this woman who was yelling at him to get his hands up.

The act of turning around was a mistake, as it turned out. In the time it took to do so, they came at him from two directions.

The tall bean-pole of a man came at him from behind a loaded cart sitting on the edge of the crowded street. The bean-pole man came from the left and he swung a pair of brass knuckles aimed straight at Post's jaw.

"Oh!" Post thought. He didn't have time to say it. All he meant by the single "Oh!" was that he had met brass knuckles before and knew exactly how they felt when they landed on a man's jaw.

They didn't feel like anything that Post ever wanted to experience again.

As the brass knuckles came at his jaw from the left, he lifted his shoulder and ducked his head to the right. The knuckles went up above his head and accomplished nothing more than knocking his hat off.

Simultaneously, he hit the bean-pole man a jolt in the stomach that doubled him over in the middle. At the same instant, he jerked the man in front of him.

For the very good reason that he had caught a glimpse of the gun the girl was waving around. It was a sten gun.

The sten gun will shoot ninety-nine explosive slugs in the space of five seconds, if operated at full automatic and if the magazine contains that much ammunition. But nobody ever operates a sten gun at full automatic for the space of five seconds, simply because there is no need for such action if the target is human and can be hit with the first shot.

If the target is human and can be hit with one shot, the other ninety-eight shots are not needed. There is nothing left of the target after the first violently explosive slug hits it.

A simple thing, the sten gun.

As simple as death itself.

The girl had such a gun and was waving it in the air.

"You blasted idiot, if that thing goes off, you'll hurt somebody," Post yelled at her.

"I'm going to hurt you if you don't get your hands up," she answered, trying to draw a bead on him.

"But you'll hit him before you hit me," Post yelled, holding the bean-pole man between the muzzle of the gun and himself.

The girl flinched. She didn't want to hit the bean-pole man. The bean-pole man let out a ripping yell and tried to jerk free. Post held him all the tighter.

At the same moment, the fat waddling gorilla-man coming from the right hit both of them. The gorilla man had had a little farther to come than the bean-pole man. He had arrived late on the scene. But when he got there, he hit like an avalanche sliding forty miles down a mountain.

"Uh!" Post grunted.

THE GORILLA man hit him at full speed, with lowered head and shoulders down. Post and the bean-pole man were hurled across the sidewalk and into the street. They hit the cart and the cart went over, scattering Martian fruits like garbage thrown from a bucket. A shrill volley of Martian profanity cut the air. The owner of the cart promised on the honor of his mother that he would have the heart's blood of these three cursed aliens who had disturbed him in the proper conduct of his business. It was one thing for aliens from Earth to fight—no Martian would object if all the Earth aliens spent their entire time on Mars cutting each other's throats—but it was quite another thing for these aliens to interfere with a moderately honest Martian who was minding his own affairs and not bothering anybody and only stealing when he got the chance.

Shrill Martian curses promised instant death and destruction.

John Post was not particularly worried about the peddler, nor about the bean-pole man nor even about the gorilla man. But he was worried about the girl. And the sten gun.

As he hit the cart, he released his grip on the bean-pole man, who sprawled headlong into the middle of the street where the peddler promptly kicked him in the head. The beanpole man got to his feet and swung those brass knuckles again.

"Yuck!" the peddler said, as the knuckles connected.

Post shoved the gorilla man. The fellow clawed at him, tried to grab him. Post's fist came up, connected solidly. The gorilla man blinked. Post hit him again.

Simultaneously the sten gun went off, a single shot.

At the sound of that explosion, Post started to throw himself flat on the street. When a sten gun went off every human being in hearing range who had good sense always took evasive action instantly. If you didn't, you might never take it. Post started to throw himself to the ground.

At the same instant he saw that the girl had fired the gun by accident. Fortunately she had had the muzzle pointed skyward at the time she had pulled the trigger with the result that the explosive slug was racing hell for leather up through the thin air of Mars. It would come down somewhere miles away and either blow some Martian to bits or scare him out of a year's growth.

Which, at the moment, was not important to Post. What was important was the fact that the girl, startled by the shot she had accidentally fired, was looking at the gun. The expression on her face said, "Heavens! what happened? I just pressed it here somewhere and it went off."

Since she was looking at the gun, she wasn't looking at Post.

He changed his fall to a dive straight at her. His outstretched hands caught the sten gun, jerked it from her grasp. At the same time his charge carried her backward straight into the hard stone wall of the building. She gasped, "Oof!" and went down in a flurry of kicking legs which revealed not only very fancy undergarments but some remarkably good-looking legs as well.

"You crazy fool!" Post shouted.

The girl looked up at him from wounded eyes.

THEN HE became aware of something else. All around them there had instantly formed a circle of grinning Martian faces. Fierce eyes glinted at them, tongues went out to lick dry lips as if this sight even tasted good. The faces were swarthy, bronzed red. The eyes and the lips were hungry. Knives were appearing.

If the aliens from Earth wanted to kill each other, the Martians would enjoy nothing more than watching such a pleasant sight. If the fight stopped suddenly before any alien was dead—well, in these circumstances, why shouldn't an honest Martian move in with a knife and help the situation along?

So the Martians would reason.

So they were reasoning at this instant!

Post turned his attention to the Martians.

"Freeze, you framgullions!" he spoke, in Martian.

One Martian already had a knife out and was starting to move forward. Post shifted the muzzle of the sten gun ever so slightly, shifted it just enough to call attention to the fact that it covered this Martian.

The Martian became aware of the gun. A startled expression passed over his face. His skin started to turn white. His eyes bugged out as he regarded the muzzle of that gun.

He froze. He didn't move a muscle, he didn't blink an eye, he didn't even seem to breathe.

Post took a deep breath. There was sweat on his face and sweat running down under his arms. In a dozen different ways he had been so close to death that he could not at this moment begin to guess why he wasn't dead.

He let that breath out in a harsh burst of sound.

"Beat it! If I even catch a glimpse of one of you after I have counted three, I promise you I will blow your hind end into the middle of next week. Beat it!" He spoke in Martian and every Martian understood him. Every Martian also understood exactly what was expected of him.

"One!" Post shouted, beginning his count.

It was like a herd of cattle stampeding. They went at top speed and they didn't look back. One minute there was a tight close ring of hostile faces and hot eyes surrounding the humans. The next minute the street was deserted. The sound of running feet was coming from the distance.

The bean-pole man and the gorilla man were also trying to beat it.

"Come back here, you two," Post said. "I didn't mean you."

They came back with their hands high in the air. The expression on their faces was that of licked dogs expecting a beating.

"Well," Post said. "Well!"

Neither of the two men said anything. Like the Martians, they seemed utterly fascinated by the sight of the sten gun. If they had anything to say, it was information each was going to keep completely to himself until asked for it. But if he was asked, he was fully prepared to deliver the information.

Or to deliver anything else that the man with the sten gun wanted.

The girl got slowly to her feet. Her face was white arid she was madder than a wet hen. But she wasn't crying. Post looked carefully to make sure. No, there were no traces of tears visible on her brown cheeks.

He liked that. His eyes roved along the street until he found what he wanted.

"There's a joint over there," he said, nodding his head in the direction he meant. "Suppose we all go over and have a drink?"

The expression on the faces of the two men said they would go and go gladly. The girl's face had little expression on it. But her eyes said she would go.

"Okay, let's go," Post said. "And while we're having those drinks, you three can tell me exactly why in hell you tried so blasted hard to kill me!"

CHAPTER II

"I DIDN'T try to kill you," the girl protested, over and over again. "I swear I didn't. Killing was the last thing I wanted to do to you although—"

Post glanced sideways at Bean-pole and Gorilla. He looked down in his lap at the sten gun there. It struck him that he did not know the names of any of these people, and that possibly they might not know his name either, that this might be a case of mistaken identity. But there was one factor in the situation about which there could be no mistake—the sten gun. You used this weapon only when you intended to kill.

"I swear I didn't," the girl insisted. "I didn't think that even John Post would have the courage to resist a person who had covered him with a sten gun!"

"Oh, you know who I am?"

''Of course I know."

"But I didn't!" The words literally burst from Bean-pole's lips. Across on the other side of the table in the secluded booth, Bean-pole looked as if he was about to explode. His eyes were bugging out of his head and his Adam's apple was jumping up and down. "Are—are you actually Johnny Post?"

"Yeah," Post said. "What's eating you?"

"Good God, I tackled Johnny Post!" Bean-pole gasped. The expression on his face said that he felt he had committed a mortal sin. Tremors passed up and down his body. His hand holding the glass on the table top began to jump. The glass jumped with it, making a harsh rattling sound. "I swear I didn't know it, Johnny!" Bean-pole whispered, agony on his face. "I swear I didn't. She didn't tell us it was you we were to tackle. She just said there was a guy she wanted to hire us to take. She said his name was John Smith, or something like that. I didn't know it was Johnny Post. She lied to us, Johnny, I swear she did. Johnny, you got to believe us."

Post stared at this evidence of his reputation coming from the lips and the face of Bean-pole. In every way he knew how, Bean-pole was trying to say that tackling John Post was about the last act any man in command of his senses would try to undertake.

"Honest, Johnny, you got to believe me. I've heard about you, I know about you! I wouldn't have done it, Johnny, if I had knowed it was you! I wouldn't have done it under no circumstances."

"Well," Post said. "Thanks for the boost." He glanced sideways at the girl. "Did you sort of maybe lie a little to these men?"

"Tell him you lied!" Bean-pole pleaded.

THE GIRL'S face looked wretched.

"I lied," she said, "From what I have heard of you, I was afraid they wouldn't help me, if they knew it was you they were after. So I didn't tell them the truth."

"I oughta turn you over my knee and spank your britches for you!" Bean-pole growled.

"The lady has admitted she lied," Post said. "We ought to let it drop at that, don't you think?"

Bean-pole's adam's-apple jumped up and down. "Anything you say, Johnny," he said fervidly.

Gorilla was making the same kind of noises, was insisting that he, too, had not known the identity of John Post.

"Forget it," Post said.

The expression on Gorilla's face said there was nothing in the universe he would be more glad to forget.

Post turned to the girl. "You were starting to say something. You said: 'Killing was the last thing I wanted to do to you although—' How about finishing that sentence?"

The girl's face said she didn't want to finish it. "Go on," Post said. "What comes after that although?"

"Although that is exactly what you deserve!" the girl shot the words at him.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. He tried hastily to think over his past life and recall things he had done that deserved killing. He had whipped a few men. They might think he deserved killing for that but they wouldn't be likely to tackle the job and even less likely to send a girl to do it for them. He had killed a few men. But he had had to kill them, he had never killed a man in any way except in a fair fight. So far as he knew, dead men wouldn't be sending anybody to kill him.

The whole thing made less than no sense to him. He shook his head. "It beats me. Why do I deserve killing, sweetheart?"

"Because of what you did to Slug Hardesty!" the girl said defiantly. "And don't call me sweetheart."

"My God, this gets madder and madder!" Post gasped. "Because of what I did to Slug Hardesty? I didn't do a damned thing to Slug Hardesty. Slug Hardesty happens to be my best friend. I would back him with my life any old day in the week. He would back me on the same terms. As a matter of fact, I'm here in Trego right now trying to find out exactly—" He checked himself abruptly. If he was dealing with a mad woman—and any woman who accused him of harming Slug Hardesty was certainly as mad as the Hatter in Alice in Wonderland—maybe he ought not to tell too much about his reasons for being here in Trego. "What do you mean: 'Because of what I did to Slug Hardesty?' Speak your piece and speak it fast. What did I do to Slug Hardesty?"

For a moment the girl's face faltered as if some inner doubt had come upon her. Then again she was spitting out words.

"Because you betrayed him, you double-crossed him, you went off and left him to—to—to die!" She blubbered out the words at the end. "You double-crossed him and left him to die, that's what you did!"

"I did that?" Post was now sure he was dealing with a mad woman. "Bless me, sweetheart, when you say those words you really beat hell out of me. Didn't you know that Slug and I are pals? I mean, real pals?"

"You were, once," the girl blubbered. "That was before you double-crossed him!"

POST GLANCED sideways at Bean-Pole. "Did you ever hear of Johnny Post double-crossing a pal?" he said.

"Never in my life!" Bean-pole said firmly.

"Did you ever hear of such a thing?" Post said to Gorilla.

"No, and I ain't expecting ever to hear about it, either," Gorilla answered.

Post turned to the girl. "You're the only person who has ever heard of such a thing as that. And what does that make you, sweetheart?"

"I don't know what it makes me," the girl blubbered. "But it's the truth, so help me God. It's the truth."

"Hell on wheels!" Post said, awed in spite of himself. "You say that as if you mean it."

"I do mean it."

"But how can you mean it?" he protested. "Say, who are you anyhow?"

"Eden Hardesty," she answered.

John Post had always thought that nothing on Earth or on Mars could surprise him. But he was surprised now, probably more startled than he had ever been in all his life. "No!" he burst out. "You can't be Eden, Slug's kid sister. If he has told me about you once, he has told me about you a million times. But you're not Slug's sister, you can't be. You're not here on Mars, you're on Earth—"

"I landed on the last rocket, about two weeks ago," the girl said.

Post took a deep breath. There was a slight giddiness in him, he had the dim impression that the room was going round and round. He forced the giddiness out of him. "But how could Eden Hardesty, of all people in this solar system, accuse me of double-crossing Slug Hardesty?"

She was fumbling with the strap purse hanging from her shoulder. She got it open and took from it a square of the rough gray paper the Martians manufacture. It was an envelope, he saw, with her name and the address of a hotel scrawled on it. The name and the address were in the sprawling writing of Slug Hardesty. Inside was a sheet of crumpled paper, with more of the same sprawled writing on it.

"Dear Sis:

I know you are coming by the next rocket so I am bribing a native to get this letter to the hotel where you will stay.

Sis, I need help, bad. You're the only person I can trust so I am turning to you. That dirty Johnny knows where I am and he could help me if he would, but he double-crossed me and got me in this jam in the first place.

Come to the Martian temple city called Jedvark and look up the high priest, Sumarez. Sumarez is my friend and he will be your friend. He will help you find me.

Sis, if I don't get help pretty soon, I'm a dead duck and that's for sure.

Love,

Your brother"

The signature scrawled at the bottom of the note was unquestionably that of Slug Hardesty.

POST FINISHED the note and shoved it across the table to the girl. "Eden, if I'd a been in your place with that note in my pocket and a sten gun in my hand, I would probably have used the gun."

"Well?" Eden Hardesty challenged. "Is the note true?"

"The note is true enough," Post answered. "But the facts it relates aren't true."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't double-cross Slug Hardesty. In fact, I was having a heck of a time keeping from figuring it the other way around."

"I don't understand."

"My big job was to keep from thinking that Slug had double-crossed me!"

The girl's eyes were fastened on his face. "How can you say that, Mr. Post?"

"I'll tell you how I could have figured it. Slug and I were up in Jedvark all right, the whole town is really nothing but a bunch of temples way up in the hills. We were up there at the invitation of the high priest, that Martian Sumarez Slug mentioned in his note. We were up there doing just one thing, trying to locate some treasure the priests claim was buried, lost or hidden over a thousand years ago."

"How could you find this lost treasure when the priests hadn't been able to find it in a thousand years?" the girl shot at him.

Post was unruffled. "Easy enough. We took with us a gadget that the priests had never seen before. They thought it was pure magic. But Slug and I knew it was nothing except a development of the old magnetic detector they've been using on Earth for quite a spell. We were using this detector and trying to find the treasure with it."

"I see." Comprehension showed on the face of Eden Hardesty. Across the table both Bean-pole and Gorilla were getting bug-eyed again, this time at the story Post was telling. Post glanced at them and noticed the eager way in which they were following the story.

"What happened then?" the girl continued.

Post spread his hands. "Why, Slug up and vanished. He disappeared. He went away in thin air. He was there with me one night; when I woke up the next morning, he was gone."

"He deserted you?" Horror sounded in the girl's voice.

"Well, no, I didn't say that. He just went away. But he went away just after we had gotten some mighty exciting readings on the magnetic detector, and when he went away, he took the detector with him."

The horror was on the girl's face now. "Oh, I don't believe it, I simply don't believe it."

"I don't believe it, either," Post answered. "I don't believe Slug went away of his own free will."

"Why did he go away then?"

"I kinda suspect maybe somebody slipped him a dose of what the Martians call spico."

ACROSS the table, the faces of Bean-pole and Gorilla said they understood everything now. But Eden Hardesty didn't seem to understand.

"What's spico?"

"It's a drug the Martians have. It's a most peculiar drug. It sort of turns a man completely around in his mind. It makes him think, for instance, that his best friend is his worst enemy. It's a known fact that after taking a little spico a man has been known to slip up behind his best friend and kill him."

"Is—can this be true?"

"So help me, it can be true. So help me, it has happened."

"And you think that Slug was given some of this drug?"

"Nothing else makes any sense to me," Post answered. "Slug wouldn't take our magnetic detector and slip away in the night, if he was in his right mind. He wouldn't say I had double-crossed him, if he was in his right mind. He'd know better. Just as I know he didn't double-cross me."

His tone was light but something about it seemed to carry conviction. The girl was beginning to believe him. Bean-pole and Gorilla had always believed him. Anything he chose to say, they would believe.

"What did you do then?" the girl asked.

Post spread his hands again. "Just staying alive around these Martians is a two-man job. While one man works, the second man keeps watch to make certain nobody slips up behind the man who is working and slams a knife in his back. I couldn't stay in Jedvark without Slug, or somebody. I would have to sleep sometime. Sooner or later, no matter what I did, I wouldn't wake up. So I came back here to Trego—for two reasons."

"What reasons?"

"One was to get another magnetic detector. Those priests made a fair and square contract with me and they're going to keep it. The second reason was to find somebody to watch not only while I worked, but also while I looked around for Slug."

The girl's face brightened. "Would you take me to Jedvark, to watch while you work and look?"

Post's heart jumped. He hadn't really expected this but he knew, the instant it happened, that he ought to have expected it. This girl was Slug Hardesty's sister, wasn't she? Sure, she would want to help.

"It's a deal, Eden."

A glow appeared in the girl's eyes. "When do we start?"

"As soon as we arrange one other thing."

"What?"

"As soon as we can find a couple of other people to go along and help watch and help look."

"A couple of other people—" The girl seemed confused.

Post's eyes went across the table. Bean-pole's adam's-apple was already working. "Count me in, Johnny. Count me in. I'll go with you to Jedvark, or to hell."

"Count me in too," Gorilla was echoing "With you I'll go to Jedvark, or to any other place on this blasted planet."

"Good," Post said. "We'll start for Jedvark in the morning."

CHAPTER III

SUMAREZ, the high priest of the temple city of Jedvark, received them in a thundering, roaring, spitting rage.

"Who are these people with you?" he screamed at Post, pointing at Eden Hardesty, at Bean-pole, and at Gorilla. "I gave you no permission to bring others here. Why did you bring them here?"

"Because I need somebody to stand guard while I'm working," Post answered, unperturbed. "I wouldn't want a knife in my back, for instance."

"A knife?" the hot hawk eyes of Sumarez seemed to withdraw inward for a moment. For a Martian, Sumarez was tall. His skin was drawn tight over a face that seemed all bone, like wet parchment stretched over a skull and then allowed to dry there. "But you will want to cut them in. I will not allow it. Not for one moment, will I allow it." He became almost incoherent with rage. He was speaking in rapid Martian.

"Oh, so that's what's biting you," Post said. "Our agreement was that Slug Hardesty and I were to get half of everything we found, you and your priests to get the other half. That agreement still holds. What I will do with my share is my business. If I wish to cut these people in, you don't have much to say about it!"

"Oh, I see. I thought you were trying to demand that they share equally. But you aren't. That is different." Sumarez seemed to become much easier in his mind. Then he was angry again. "But where have you been? Where is this human—Hardesty? Where is the magic detector which will find the treasure? Where—"

"One question at a time," Post answered. "I have been to Trego, to get another magic detector. As to where Slug is, that is one of the questions I want answered."

"You do not know where he is?" Surprise showed on the parchment-covered skull that Sumarez used for a face. "I thought he went with you. I didn't know where you went. I thought both of you had gone together. I thought you had perhaps found—"

"The treasure?" Post supplied. "Well, it happens you are not thinking very good these days." He explained what had happened.

"Then Hardesty is gone?" Sumarez screamed. "He has taken the magic detector and has been using it himself, thinking thus to get the treasure for himself—"

Post cleared his throat. "I said you weren't thinking very good these days, Sumarez. Slug and the detector are both gone. But Slug doesn't double-cross his pals."

"Then what did happen?"

"We think maybe somebody slipped him a little spico," Post answered.

"Spico?" The priest's mouth hung open with surprise. He spat out words. "That Girondel. I'll have his throat cut before morning."

"Girondel?"

"Yes. If Hardesty was drugged, Girondel did it. And for one purpose. He hopes to get the entire treasure for himself. I will have his throat cut as soon as I can arrange it. You continue with your search. I will take care of Girondel."

"Taking care of Girondel may be a little tough, huh?" Post said.

Sumarez looked blank. "He has a certain following, I admit. But I will take care of him. Begin anew your search for the lost treasure of Jedvark. Begin at once. Do you understand? Take your new magic detector and begin at once!"

POST LIT a cigarette. He looked thoughtfully at the high priest. Sumarez was sitting in a big chair that was more nearly a throne. A Martian page stood on either side, ready to run at his bidding. "I'm not in quite as big a hurry as you are," Post said slowly.

"But—" Sumarez sputtered.

"I guess maybe our sense of values is different," Post said. "You want this lost treasure. And that's important, I admit. But there's one thing I want more."

"What is that? You will get it, at once. Is it a group of special guards?"

"No special guards. What I want is Slug Hardesty."

Behind him, he heard Eden Hardesty take a deep breath. It was as if she hadn't been breathing up until then.

"But he is gone. You say yourself he is gone."

"Yeah. But I want him."

"Well, find him." Sumarez spread his hands in a gesture which indicated that to his mind these aliens from across space were all crazy. Putting a man ahead of money! Who had ever heard of such a thing? "You have my permission to hunt for him, if he is still alive."

"I want a little more than your permission; I want your help," Post said.

"But—"

"I kind of doubt that I'll ever be able to find that treasure without Slug there to help me. I'm superstitious, maybe."

"But you have to find it. You have to begin searching immediately. I order you—"

Post moved the sten gun from its comfortable niche on his left arm. "I want Slug," he said. "I want him fast." He turned, moved away without bothering to ask permission. "Come on, guys," he said to the others.

They moved out of the audience room where Sumarez had received them, out to a long wide porch-balcony that encircled the entire building. Around them, rising up the side of the mountain, was the city of Jedvark. "We actually think the treasure is hidden in the caves under this temple," Post said. "The whole mountain is honey-combed with caves and passages. Something is down there in one spot which sure sets off a magnetic detector. Trouble was—Slug and I couldn't ever pick exactly the right spot. Something funny, something we couldn't get at." He frowned at the thought of his experiences down there in the caves under the temple.

From an open window behind and above him, he caught a flicker of movement. "Down," he yelled.

He and the others went flat instantly.

The thrown knife whistled through the air. It struck the stone floor and rattled along it, reached the edge of the balcony and slid off.

POST HAD turned and covered the window with the sten gun. The knife had come from there. It had been aimed at him.

The window was open and empty. No curious face appeared in it.

"Somebody tried to kill you!" Eden Hardesty gasped.

"Sure did," Post answered. He glanced at her, saw she was shocked and scared.

"Don't worry about it, Eden. You'll get used to things like that around here." He forced a grin to his face, but was far from feeling the grin inside. He knew, and knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt, that as long as they stayed here in this city of Jedvark, death would be his constant companion.

Death from a knife, death from any of the poisons the Martians were so ingenious in brewing, death from a falling rock in the caves under the temple, death in any of a thousand ways, would always be waiting for a moment of inattention, for one careless slip.

"Who threw that knife?" Bean-pole asked.

"Any of the thousands of Martians who live here," Post answered.

"But why?" Gorilla questioned. Sweat was oozing from the fat man's face.

"For any reason or for no reason," Post said. "It might have been that some Martian was trying to kill me, for a specific reason known only to himself. Or it might have been that some Martian just thought he saw a good chance to kill a damned Earth alien."

"Not a nice place," Eden Hardesty murmured.

"You can say that again," Post said. "Well, we'll head below."

"Aren't you going to try to find out who threw that knife?" Eden protested.

"No. I'm just going to keep my eyes open and put a slug in him the next time he tries it." He patted the stock of the stumpy little sten gun as he spoke.

Eden also had a sten gun, the one he had taken from her in Trego. Bean-pole and Gorilla were armed with automatic pistols and knives. They looked like two pirates straight out of the days of Captain Kidd. In addition to the weapons, Gorilla carried a compact little instrument which was a magnetic detector. Bean-pole carried the batteries and the wires.

They moved from the gallery down a long flight of steps. Martians passed them, glanced at them from surly, smouldering eyes, but did not offer any insults. They passed through an open door and into the beginning of a series of underground passages. Smouldering wall torches provided a dim illumination. In the pack at his back, Post had a heavy-duty flashlight, as did all the others. Post got out his light, the others did likewise. "Keep your eyes peeled in all directions and your ears open," Post said. "If I say 'Drop!' hit the dirt on the double."

"I—I won't have any trouble doing that," Bean-pole spoke, staring around at the dark and gloomy passages through which they were moving.

"Pretty soon we'll come to a huge room," Post said. "It's a big place and, believe it or not, there's a system of mirrors that leads clear to the outside and which pipe down light. The Martians call this room the place of light—isthvog, in their language. Slug and I never did quite figure out what the place was originally—whether a thousand or maybe a couple of thousand of years ago, this place of light was a secret temple or a secret workshop." His voice ran into silence as he considered again the vast mystery that he had always sensed in this place.

"What kind of a workshop would they have had here?" Eden asked.

"We were never certain it was a workshop. But there is some evidence to indicate that these Martians were pretty good scientists a long, long time ago. We think this place may have been a kind of a secret hide-out of a group of temple scientists and that they may have used it as a workshop. There's some funny stuff in the place of light, stuff we didn't understand. We'll be there soon. The treasure is hidden somewhere in this place of light, which is why we are going there."

AHEAD OF them a glimmer of light appeared. As they moved forward, the light grew stronger. They came to an arch which opened out into a huge room. Light poured from a circle of mirrors on the huge ceiling, providing a soft but brilliant illumination over the entire scene. Off to the left was a cluster of statuary. The Martians who had built this place had been artists of a sort. In the center of the room the light came splashing straight downward into a series of reflecting mirrors which flung it up again.

"It looks like a waterfall of light," Eden whispered.

"So it does," Post whispered. "And it is around that waterfall of light that our detectors begin to go crazy—" He broke off to stare at the object sitting on the stone floor beside the waterfall of light.

There, the parts of a magnetic detector strewn around him, lifting his head to stare toward them, an expression of dazed bewilderment on his face, was Slug Hardesty.

At the sight, Eden uttered a little cry of gladness and thanksgiving and went running forward.

"Stop!" Post shouted.

"That's my brother," she answered.

"Stay here and keep watch," Post said, to the two men. He followed the girl, on the run.

She had reached her brother before he could catch her.

"Sis!" Slug Hardesty's voice sounded hoarse and strained. He rose to his feet, clasped his sister in his arms. Then he looked over her at John Post, approaching on the run.

"Give me that sten gun," Post heard Slug Hardesty say to his sister. "I've got a snake to kill."

Then Slug and his sister were struggling for possession of the sten gun. Slug Hardesty's simple straightforward purpose was to get the gun into his possession so he could use it to kill John Post.

CHAPTER IV

"GIVE ME that gun, Sis!"

"No, Slug! Please." She clung to the gun as if her life depended on retaining her grip on the weapon. Her brother tried to jerk it from her grasp. Normally, it would have been no contest. He was many times stronger than she and he should have torn the gun from her hands in spite of anything she could have done to prevent it.

But she held on, somehow, until Post got there.

Post jerked the gun from both of them. "Easy, Slug," he said. "Easy, old man."

He faced a wild man. His face contorted with rage and hate, Hardesty swung a looping right at him. The slowness with which that right moved surprised John Post, and told him something. He had seen this man throw too many punches to have any doubt as to their efficiency under normal circumstances. Post moved his head to one side and let the blow go past him. Hardesty stumbled forward and fell face down. He got to his knees and glared at Post.

"I'll get you yet, you son—"

His sister ran to him.

He stared at her and suddenly began to cry.

"He's got enough spico in him to float a battleship," Post whispered in her ear.

"Are you sure of that?" The girl was frantic and near tears herself.

"Positive. I've seen it before. Just let him cry. He'll be all right."

Hardesty, blubbering and pawing at his eyes, lurched to his feet. Suddenly all animosity was gone from his voice. "Johnny," he whispered. He seemed to know and to remember Post for the first time. "Johnny—"

"Yeah, Slug."'

"I've found it."

"You've—" A cold chill shot up Post's spine. "Found what, Slug?"

"I've found the lost treasure. Jewels, red Martian rubies as big as your fist, diamonds like nothing no Earth Rajah ever saw. Gold. Ornaments. Lot of iron stuff, too, Johnny, which was what we were really getting on our detector."

Slug Hardesty had come out of the spico trance. He had recognized his old friend. Post, knowing that spico was a very peculiar drug, that even the Martians were often scared of it, recalled stories he had heard of Martians who had suddenly come out of a spico seizure. One instant, they had been wild. The next instant, for no apparent reason, they had been cold sober.

"Have you really found it, Slug?" Post said. He could feel his heart jumping. Eden had risen to her feet and was staring from one to the other. Slug winked owlishly at her. "Hi, Sis. Sorry I acted up like I did a minute ago. Must have been something wrong with me."

His eyes turned inward and he seemed to seek the source of the strange behaviour in himself. He shook his head. "I don't get it. But no matter. Johnny, I've really found it."

"Show me, pal."

"Sure thing, Johnny."

Grinning happily, Slug Hardesty took John Post by the arm. Slug radiated happiness from his face, from the tone of his voice. He led Post to the pool of light.

THE POOL was about fifteen feet across and circular in shape. It was possibly two feet deep, or maybe deeper. Mirrors made by some secret process that only the Martians knew ringed it. Concave mirrors were on the bottom. Light came into this pool from up above, was reflected back from mirrors on the ceiling, was reflected back from them to the pool below, performing an endless journey, racing down and up, racing round and round. A milky foam of light seemed to be always present in the pool. Just looking at the foam and into the pool hurt the eyes somehow.

Post had seen the pool many times before. It always kicked up a feeling of pressure somewhere inside his brain. The pressure came back now, his eyes felt twisted and distorted, somehow they seemed to be a little out of focus. He was aware of a feeling of strain.

"Where is it, Slug?" he asked.

Hardesty pointed to the pool. "Down there, Johnny. The pool is filled with it."

"Huh?" Post said.

"Right up to the rim, it's full of diamonds and rubies and golden ornaments. There's billions and billions of dollars of stuff in there." A rapt note of ecstasy sounded in Hardesty's voice.

Post looked at him quickly. Hardesty was staring into the pool. The expression on his face said he was seeing something.

"Look at that blood-red ruby over there!" Hardesty said pointing. "That one little chunk of blood-red stone is worth a million dollars all by itself, or I'm a liar."

"Dear God!" Post breathed.

He caught the expression on Eden's face. She looked hurt, pained, bewildered, lost, and confused. Something was happening that was hurting her. Right down to the bottom of her heart, it hurt. The pain of it was showing in the tight expression on her face. It showed in her eyes as she glanced at Post.

"Johnny," her whisper was so weak he could hardly hear it. "The pool, it's empty, isn't it?"

Post nodded.

He could see the bottom of the pool, the mirrors on the side. There was light in the pool, nothing but light.

Hardesty's eyes came up to Post's face. "You don't believe me, do you, Johnny?" Hardesty sounded pained and hurt too.

Post said nothing. He kept his face wooden, his eyes expressionless. Here was another manifestation of the effect of spico—hallucination. That was another effect of the drug, the person who had taken it thought he saw impossible things. There were other effects of the drug too, reputed effects.

"I'll show you, Johnny," Hardesty said. His voice sounded normal, his eyes looked normal. He seemed to be making a simple statement. But he pointed to a spot near the edge of the pool. Calmly he said, "See that ruby there. I'll reach down and pull it out and then you can see for yourself."

Calmly he moved forward, reached out his arm, thrust his hand and his fingers into the pool of light. Post held his breath. Hardesty was acting so normal it was almost impossible to believe he was a victim of hallucination. He acted like a man who has had an argument with a friend about a pebble in a brook and is reaching into the water of the brook to pull out the pebble and thus settle the argument.

SLUG HARDESTY groped. He reached out to pick up the pebble. For one mad moment, Post had the illusion that something was actually there to be picked up. For a split second, he had the dazed impression that Slug Hardesty was actually going to reach his hand into that pool of light and come out with a ruby in his fingers.

"Damn it, can this be real!" Post burst out.

He watched from dazed eyes.

Hardesty reached for the pebble in the brook. Seemingly he didn't get it the first time! He reached again. Missed again. He reached the third time, a grab now, and brought up his hand—empty.

He stared at that empty hand from dazed eyes, then fell face forward into the pool. Eden screamed. Hardesty hit the bottom and Post had the fleeting impression that light ought to splash out of that pool like water. But no light splashed. At the bottom, Slug Hardesty grunted, rolled over and sat up. He had fallen like a drunk, limp and easy, and was unhurt.

Post dropped into the pool. It was about three feet deep. He lifted Slug Hardesty to his feet, helped him out of the pool of light. "Something wrong, Johnny," Hardesty muttered.

The light in the pool was warm and pleasant. Post had the sensation of tingling movements passing up and down his legs, passing over his body. The light poured over him, bathed him, felt both good and strange.

He swung himself out of the light like a man swinging himself out of a swimming pool, by catching the edge and throwing himself up over it.

Slug Hardesty sat there on the stone floor, staring over the edge of the pool. "I can see 'em just as plain," he was saying, over and over again. His jaws were sagging and his eyes vacant and expressionless. Eden was kneeling beside him, watching him, trying to talk to him. He didn't seem to know she existed.

"I can see 'em just as plain," he was saying. Tears moved through the weeks-old growth of whiskers on his face, moved through the hollows of his cheeks. Around him on the stone floor were the dismantled parts of the detector.

John Post choked down the sympathy rising in him. He gestured toward the parts of the detector. "Why'd you tear it up, Slug?" His voice was calm and poised, it was deliberately the voice of man asking an utterly unimportant question. This was the only way Post could think of to call Slug Hardesty back to reality, to ask casual questions, to pretend that everything was as it should be.

Slug wiped the tears from his face. "Because the danged thing was nuts," he said.

"Eh? How was it nuts?"

"It kept saying the treasure was here," he gestured toward the pool of light. "I kept seeing the treasure here. But I couldn't reach the treasure, I couldn't touch it. So—the treasure wasn't here. So, the damned detector was lying to me, and that made it nuts. If it was nuts, it was out of order, and if it was out of order, my job was to fix it. Darned things are pretty delicate, you know. Sometimes a little jolt or a jar will throw 'em out of order."

Slug nodded to himself. John Post nodded. There was valid reasoning of a wild type in what Slug Hardesty said. Post sensed the validity of that reasoning, could not put his finger on the exact source. But most of all, the reasoning seemed to mean that Slug was on his way to recover from the effects of spico.

And that was good!

"We'll fix it," Post said, heartily. "Anyhow, we don't need to fix it now. We brought a new detector along with us from Trego. To heck with the old one, we'll use the new one. It'll work fine."

The expression on Slug Hardesty's face said that everything was fine now, all problems were solved. The new detector would enable them to find the treasure. Slug looked very pleased. Eden had a glow of happiness on her face. Her eyes mutely asked Johnny Post if Slug Hardesty wasn't acting better now. Post nodded. The glow on her face deepened, became a silent sort of thanksgiving. She had found two things she wanted, her brother, first. But when she had found him, he had been under the influence of an insidious drug. Now he was getting over the effects of the drug. This was enough to make any girl happy. Tears showed on Eden's face, but they were the tears of happiness now.

Boom!

A single, solitary, crashing shot broke the silence in the place of light, smashed that silence to smithereens. The boom was the report of a heavy pistol.

CHAPTER V

AT THE SOUND of the shot, Johnny Post dropped flat on the stone floor. At the sound of any shot, he would instantly drop flat. Slug Hardesty went flat too. Eden, whose reactions were not yet firmly established, took a second to try and look around. Post's hissed words sent her to the floor too.

Across the big room the voice of Gorilla bellowed. "Hey, Johnny, we're getting visitors. I took a shot at one of 'em."

"Visitors where?"

"Behind us," Gorilla shouted.

"And over there across the room coming out of a hole on the other side," Bean-pole shouted. A second shot rang out, from Bean-pole's gun this time. The bullet whistled through the air above Post's head, smashed against the stone wall opposite.

"There's more of 'em behind us too," Gorilla yelled.

"Hold the ones behind you," Post shouted.

"Here." He shoved the sten gun he had taken from her back to Eden. "Just don't let Slug have it yet. You use it." She took the gun. The expression on her face said she would use it if she had to, but that she didn't want to use such a thing if there was any other way out.

A bulky object that had once been a machine of some kind shut off Post's view of the target that Bean-pole had fired at. He slid along the floor, wiggling like a snake through the thick dust, until he could see the opening.

A Martian was sticking his head out of that opening. Post set the sten gun to fire single shots, took aim, gently pulled the trigger. The shot was aimed to hit the wall above the head of the Martian. It hit that spot. The explosion thundered through the room. Fragments of stone, loosened from the fall, tumbled downward. The head of the Martian vanished from the hole.

Post thought: "He sure went out of sight mighty fast." He was a little amused at the speed with which the Martian had disappeared. A little. He had the grim suspicion that any amusement coming up in him right now was going to be short-lived.

He took careful aim at the top of the hole where the Martian had disappeared. It was an arched doorway opening into the room. The sten gun throbbed. Again the explosion of the slug thundered through the air.

"What are you shooting at?" Eden called.

"At a hole where I saw a rat duck out of sight," he answered. He fired again. A shower of stone came down. A cloud of dust blew up. He hadn't stopped the hole but the sight of that rock piled in front of it, and the sight of that dust, ought to make any Martian mighty cautious about sticking his head out of this hole again. Seeing the stone and the dust, a Martian would stop and think that he might get the hell blown out of him if he showed himself there.

"Survival insurance," Post thought. He also knew that it might take more than insurance to guarantee their survival now.

"How are you making out over there?" he shouted to Gorilla.

"Okay so far," Gorilla answered. "But I don't like this a bit. These devils are up to something, Johnny."

"Keep your eyes open," Post shouted.

He got quietly and cautiously to his feet. Slug and Eden were still lying flat. The girl motioned to him and he moved closer. She pointed to her brother. Slug Hardesty seemed to be asleep.

"Let him be," Post said. "He's probably still coming out of the spico jag."

"But supposing—I mean, you were shooting at something. What about him if we run into trouble?"

"We'll take care of him, Eden. Don't worry about that."

He nodded to her, moved away. The place of light was quiet. Over at the round opening where they had entered, Gorilla and Bean-pole were visible. They were very much alert and were keeping a close watch. He moved to them.

"Mighty damned quiet, Johnny," Bean-pole said.

"Yeah. Too quiet, I suspect," Post answered.

"But I don't see a thing or hear a thing," Gorilla said.

"We have noticed there is nothing to see or to hear. That's what worries us. When you don't see 'em or hear 'em, these Martians are really dangerous."

"Hey, what's that?" Bean-pole said, pointing high up on the wall.

POST JERKED his eyes upward. From a spot high up on the wall, a little plume of smoke was shooting outward. It was a pretty sight, a spray of water or of smoke shooting from a hole in the wall. It struck the light flowing downward into the pool and spread out, glowing like a rainbow.

"What is that?" Gorilla whispered.

"I'm damned if I know. Look, there's another one."

Another plume of smoke spray had sprung out from the wall. Striking the light, it too glowed with all the colors of the rainbow.

"Danged pretty, that's for sure," Bean-pole said.

"Yeah, too pretty. As pretty as a desert snake," Post said. He was referring to the rainbow-colored snakes sometimes found on the Martian deserts. Deadly things, more deadly than Earth's cobra, than Earth's bush-master.

Another spray sprang into existence. The whole room was beginning to fill with spray. It was drifting downward, slowly. Something about that slow drift caught Post's attention.

"By God, that's gas!" he gasped.

As he spoke he caught a faint whiff of the rainbow spray floating downward. It did not sting his nostrils, it soothed the smell glands. The odor was pleasant, fragrant. Just getting a whiff of this odor, you wanted more of it.

The odor rang a thousand alarm bells in Post's mind. This was gas!

"Get back in the tunnel!" he yelled at the two men. "I'll get Eden and Slug."

Yelling, he ran to the center of the room. Eden was already on her feet looking for him. She saw him coming, bent down and tried to lift the unconscious form of her brother's body. The effort was too great for her. Rainbow colored gas was drifting around her. Post saw her go down.

Holding his breath, he ran into the gas. He grabbed Slug in one hand, Eden in the other, began to drag them. The gas swirled around him. He held his breath.

He was still holding his breath when he stumbled and went down. Before he became unconscious, he had stopped holding his breath. He had realized that this rainbow colored gas penetrated almost equally quickly through the skin as it did through the lungs.

The rainbow colors in front of his eyes faded out, turned into the blackness. His mind went completely blank.

POST REGAINED consciousness slowly. Around him were noises, voices shouting in Martian. He listened to the voices without really comprehending them. One voice was raised in anger. Somehow it seemed to be the voice of Sumarez, screaming an order to kill somebody.

Post stiffened. Was he the one who was to be killed. A scream, a struggle, a voice yelling in Martian, the sound of the ending of the struggle, reassured him on this point. He wasn't the one whom Sumarez had ordered killed.

He opened his eyes and sat up. His head was dizzy, his whole body seemed to be whirling. He was still in the place of light. Eden and Slug Hardesty were there. Off to the right, Martians were lugging in the bodies of Bean-pole and Gorilla. The room seemed to be filled with Martians, all of whom were wearing funny clamps over their nose and strange clothes that completely covered their body. Gas protective devices of some kind, Post decided. His gaze centered on an object lying on the floor beside him. The sten gun.

He reached a quick hand for it, grabbed it, pulled it into his lap.

Off to his left a Martian was dying. The one who had screamed, Post guessed. He gathered, vaguely, that it was Girondel. Girondel was dead, Sumarez had ordered him killed, and Sumarez was bending over Girondel and was watching the Martian die with every evidence of satisfaction and interest. Post wondered why Sumarez had had Girondel killed. For that matter, what was Sumarez doing here?

Post reached into his pocket, searching for a cigarette, found the crumpled package was empty. He had smoked his last one. Sumarez stopped looking at Girondel and turned his attention to Post. The Martian priest grinned.

"Cigarette, Johnny?" He came forward, extending a package of his own. Sumarez liked Earth cigarettes. Post took the white tube from the solid gold case that Sumarez extended, lit it, drew the smoke into his lungs.

"Thanks," he said. He nodded toward the body of Girondel. "Things have been going on around here while I was off the scene," he said. The words were a question. As he spoke them, he hugged the sten gun.

"That Girondel!" Sumarez spat out the words. "Johnny, I am very sorry. That Girondel, he must have given spico to your friend, the one you call Slug. And why? He hoped that you and Slug would kill each other and then he, Girondel, would get the magic detector and find the treasure for himself."

SUMAREZ flung the words out of his mouth as if they were too nauseous to have them inside of him any longer. "That traitor! He would have stolen the treasure not only from you but from me."

"I see," Post said. "Is that why you had him killed?"

"But of a certainty. Killing was too good for him."

"How did you happen to get here so soon?"

"I was searching for Girondel. Did I not tell you to leave him to me, that I would take care of him. I found him just after he and the traitors with him had loosed the mist gas into this room. We caught them with gas in the room and you and your friends knocked senseless by the gas. We captured them and brought them down here. I had Girondel's throat cut. I will have no traitors around me."

Sumarez spoke as if he meant every word he said. His eyes glittered. The parchment skin over the skull that he used for a face darkened with rage. Then, abruptly he changed. "I am sorry, Johnny. Very sorry. Now, as soon as you and your friends get over the effects of the gas, which will be soon, I assure you, you will begin again searching for the treasure, yes?"

Post shook his head, to clear the gas fumes from it. He got slowly to his feet, walked over to Eden and to Slug. Both were beginning to revive. He examined Bean-pole and Gorilla. They were alive and were beginning to regain consciousness.

Post nodded. "We will certainly begin searching for the treasure, Sumarez."

The face of the Martian broke into a smile.

Post began to revive the others. Eden Hardesty responded readily, Bean-pole and Gorilla returned to consciousness next. Slug Hardesty took longer.

"Spico," Sumarez said. "Sometimes it takes a little longer. But he will be all right, soon."

Slug finally awakened and blinked at John Post. "Johnny, where in the hell have you been? What the hell happened? Where am I? Where'd Eden come from? I knew she was coming from Earth but how'd she get here. Johnny, what the hell goes on here?"'

Slug Hardesty was not only all right but he had shaken off the effects of the drug. He recognized and knew his friends. But his memory of what he had done while under the influence of the drug was a total blank.

"It's all gone, Johnny," Slug said, after trying vainly to remember. "I don't remember a damned thing that happened, how I got the dose of spico, or anything else." His skin wrinkled on his forehead as he tried to think.

"But there does seem to be one thing I remember, Johnny."

"What's that?"

"I'm not sure but I seem somehow to remember seeing the treasure we were hunting. Did I see it, Johnny?"

"If you didn't see it, Slug, you soon will. I brought back a new detector. We'll find it with the new detector and you will get to look at it, but quick."

"Please put new magic finder into operation immediately," Sumarez urged.

"As soon as we can," Post answered. Sumarez seemed content with the answer.

To John Post, everything seemed wonderful. He had found Slug, and his pal was back to normal. He had not one but four friends to stand beside him now. Under those circumstances, what could go wrong, what could happen?

Again he thought: "This is too smooth, it's too easy—to be real."

But he couldn't put his finger on any possible source of trouble. All he knew was that somehow, somewhere, the trouble was still there.

Somehow, someway, the situation was more dangerous, more deadly, than it had ever been.

That was what Johnny Post felt, deep in his mind, as he began to work.

CHAPTER VI

"SON-OF-A-GUNI!" Post said, staring at the dial of the detector.

Clustered close around him was Slug and Eden Hardesty, Bean-pole and Gorilla, the former very nervous and alert and on guard, and Sumarez and two of his temple adherents.

Slug bent over to examine the dial reading. "This danged thing is crazy too," he blurted out. "It gives exactly the same reading the other one did." Slug's worried face peered up at John Post. "Can it be that the treasure is actually around here somewhere?"

They were still in the middle of the vast room, near the waterfall of light, near the pool of light.

"I couldn't guess," Post said. "It doesn't seem hardly reasonable that two detectors would make the same mistake."

"It sure doesn't," Slug Hardesty answered. His eyes wandered over to the pool of light. His face twisted, he shook his head and closed his eyes. His muttered words fell away into silence.

"What was that you said, Slug?" Post asked.

"I just said that I thought I remembered seeing the treasure in there," Slug answered, pointing at the pool. "Must have been when I was full of dope." He lifted his head, stared at the pool for a moment, turned his gaze away. "Nothing in there now and that's for certain."

"What is the delay?" Sumarez broke in. "Will not the second magic detector work?"

"It works all right," Post answered. He took the cigarette that Sumarez was offering him, lit it, blew smoke upward. "Damned mystery around here somewhere. I don't get it."

"I will leave the solution to you," Sumarez said, bowing. "I will call again tomorrow, to check your progress." Drawing his robes about him, he spoke to the two Martians with him. They strode across the room of light. Near the exit, Sumarez turned, called out.

"But remember, I am expecting you to find the treasure. Do not fail me."

"We'll do our best," Post answered. He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it, then let his eyes circle the ceiling, seeking out the vents through which the gas had poured. Those vents were out of order now. Sumarez and his helpers had done the job of destroying the built-in gas blowing equipment, Post had supervised them. Also Sumarez had furnished a supply of gas-proof clothing and inhalators that would stop the gas.

Post decided there was no danger from a gas attack.

IN VIEW of the fact that Sumarez had also posted guards in all the corridors, Post decided there was no danger of an attack from any source.

"So far as I can see, Slug, we're safe," Post said.

Hardesty caught his meaning instantly. "Yeah. But remember, it's when you seem the safest that you are in the most danger."

"I remember," Post answered. He patted the butt of the sten gun. "I'm keeping this baby handy at all times."

"Okay, but what are we going to do now?" Slug Hardesty said.

"We're going to find that treasure," Post answered. "Two detectors won't make the same mistake. Slug, I would bet my last dime we're practically on top of that treasure right now."

"On top of it?" Slug gasped. "Heck, Johnny, are you nuts? This floor is solid rock. We checked that, remember?"

"Well we're as close to it as we would be if we were right on top of it," Post answered. He was a little disgruntled. He walked across the room, trying to think. Slug and Eden continued working with the detector. Bean-pole and Gorilla were on guard. Johnny Post felt lonely in this place of light.

And somehow he felt afraid.

He felt that somebody was trying to trick him, to outwit him, to take advantage of him, to play a dirty trick on him. Who? He didn't know who was about to do it. But somebody was. He was sure of that.

Like bubbles of gas rising in a glass of wine, fear was rising in him. He felt sweat and irritable and angry. Why the hell had Slug asked him if he was nuts? Slug was the one who had been nuts.

And Eden. How did he know she was all right? She had tried to kill him once, hadn't she? She had hired two thugs to jump him in the streets of Trego, hadn't she? Once they had found the treasure, she might try to kill him again? How did he know she wouldn't?

Post wiped sweat from his face. "What the hell's wrong with you, Johnny? Eden's all right." He told himself over and over again that she was all right, "You fool, you love that girl, and you know it. She's got to be all right."

The sweat came out of him in patches now. He could feel his clothes getting damp and sticky. The fear was growing stronger. Across the big room, he heard Eden laugh at something her brother had said. Her laugh was happy and pleasant but just the sound of it set Johnny Post's nerves to jumping.

"You love that girl, Johnny. You know it."

"But what if she is tricking you? What if Slug is tricking you? What if—" The movement of his fingers were tightening on the butt of the sten gun.

As if it had life of its own, one finger was moving toward the trigger.

At the sight, sweat burst out all over Johnny Post.

Something was happening to him, he knew it was happening. What was it? That, he did not know. But he had the dazed impression that he was going crazy. His mouth was full of moisture, evidence that his salivary glands were working full blast, his stomach felt as heavy as a rock. Also—and this scared him worse than anything else—he felt like crying.

Fear and tears and hate. All of these were in him. Such fear as he had never known. Until now, he had never really felt fear in all his life. He had gone across Mars, a swashbuckling adventurer, laughing at fear and laughing at death. Because of that laughter, fear and death had passed him by. But the fear had remained in him, shoved deep down inside his soul. It was coming out now: And he hated it. He hated it, he hated everything. His whole body was trembling.

"Hey, Johnny," Slug called from the pool of light.

POST'S finger was very close to the trigger of the gun. Slug was tricking him, Slug was pretending to ask him to come there. When he got there, Slug would shoot him.

In that case... well, he knew what to do with a double-crosser!

"Coming, Slug," he said hoarsely. He would shoot first. His finger near the trigger of the gun, he moved across the cavern.

Eden saw him. "What's wrong with you, Johnny?" she called out.

"Nothing's wrong with me," he answered, in a voice that he did not recognize as his own. He looked at her. "Kill her too!" a voice shrieked down inside of him.

"Kill Slug! Kill Eden. Kill Slug..."

The voice was a raving maniac shouting commands at him. Commands that he had to obey. His finger moved closer to the trigger.

"Shoot her now!" the voice raged at him.

He looked at her. Somehow his gaze wandered past her and into the pool of light.

What he saw there was the most astonishing sight he had ever seen in his life.

The pool of light was filled now almost to the brim with treasure. Blood-red rubies, diamonds, green emeralds, statuettes of precious jade, gold, iron ornaments. All of it was there, just as Slug Hardesty had described it.

In that dazed moment, John Post knew what was happening, knew also what had been done to him. He threw the sten gun toward Slug. Hardesty, a surprised look on his face, caught it.

"What the hell, Johnny."

"Get ropes and tie me to that statue yonder!" Post shouted, in a raving voice. "Tie me to it but leave me so I can move my arms."

"But, Johnny, why—" Slug Hardesty's face was a mask of baffled bewilderment.

"Obey me!" Johnny Post shouted. Eden was clutching at him, trying to ask him something. He refused to look at her or to listen. "Do as I say!" he shouted again at Slug. It was Johnny Post talking. Men usually did what Johnny Post asked them to do, whether they understood or not.

Slug Hardesty didn't understand. But he obeyed. Five minutes later, he had Johnny Post roped with his back to the statue. "Now get Gorilla and Bean-pole and get them behind me. Eden too. All of you get behind me where I can't see you under any circumstances. And don't get in my sight for five or six hours. No matter what else you do, don't let me see you. I'll kill you, damn it, Slug, I'll kill you if I see you."

Eden, Gorilla, and Bean-pole were already moving hastily to obey. Slug Hardesty stood in front of Johnny Post, looking at him. "If you say so, Johnny, if you say so." Slug was saying over and over.

"I say so," Post said harshly. "Stick a lighted cigarette between my lips."

Hardesty obeyed.

"Now hand me that sten gun. And the instant you give it to me, get out of my sight around this statue. Move faster than you have ever moved before. I'll kill you, Slug."

"Johnny, I know you will," Slug Hardesty said. Gingerly he extended the sten gun, muzzle first. Post grabbed it, turned it in his hands.

Like a flash of light, Slug Hardesty dived behind the statue, dived to a spot where Johnny Post could not see him. The shot Post blasted at him missed.

SWEAT POURED out of Johnny Post. He sucked the smoke from the cigarette into his lungs, tried to control himself. He said to himself, "You're a fool, Johnny, goddam it, you've put yourself in the one spot where they will be certain to kill you."

As the thought came up in him, he began to tear at the ropes that held him. He fought them as a maniac fights a strait-jacket, his one desperate thought being to get loose from them.

Slug Hardesty had done a good job of knotting those ropes. Johnny Post couldn't get loose from them. Finally he quit trying. He could move his arms and his head but he couldn't get loose. He could see half of the vast room that was called the place of light. He could see anybody coming toward him from one direction. Holding the sten gun in his hands, he forced himself to wait. Someone would come, someone would come.

"Johnny!"

Post sought the source from which he came. There across the vast hall, standing in an arched doorway, was Sumarez.

"What is wrong, Johnny?" Sumarez called.

"Nothing," Post answered. "Nothing is wrong."

"Where are the others?" Sumarez shouted.

"They're back here behind me. They're resting for a little while. I'm standing guard."

"Oh, I see," Sumarez said. He came into the hall, came toward Johnny Post.

Johnny Post waited.

Sumarez took another step toward him, stopped, seemed to sense that something was wrong. Johnny Post lifted the sten gun and fired.

The violent explosion took place against the farther wall.

Sumarez had apparently seen the ropes and had guessed that something was wrong. As Johnny Post lifted the sten gun, Sumarez had ducked. The slug had gone over him and had hit the farther wall. Sumarez, diving along the floor, was unhit. He took refuge behind a chunk of solid stone that had apparently served as an altar in some long-gone time.

As Johnny Post fired the first shot, and missed, a second shot came almost as an echo, from behind him.

"Johnny, they're coming at us from this direction," Slug Hardesty shouted.

"Mow 'em down," Post answered.

Behind him there instantly burst into action what sounded like a full scale battle. The heavy pumping thud of Bean-Pole's heavy pistol was intermixed with the crash of the gun that Gorilla used. Rising over and above both of these weapons was the sound of the sten gun that Eden Hardesty had once handled. From the way it was being used, Post guessed that Slug was operating it now.

THE ROAR was deafening. Post could not turn his head far enough to see what was happening back there, he had to judge the action from the sounds. The shrill screams of Martians resounded through the place of light, Martians charging with drawn knives, Martians dying under the explosive bullets of the sten gun, Martians being knocked down by the slugs from the heavy pistols, but Martians coming on. Dozens of Martians, maybe hundreds of them.

In such a situation as this, they would charge to the death.

They would keep coming until they were dead. Or until their leader was dead.

And their leader was crouched behind a chunk of solid stone too thick for even a sten gun to blast away. From this safe place, he was screaming commands at them.

"Fight. Kill these Earth aliens. Cut their throats. Kill!"

That was the voice of Sumarez, coming from behind the stone altar.

Again Johnny Post fought the ropes that bound him, again he tried to get loose. He had to get loose, he had to get to Sumarez. Otherwise they all would die here!

He fought the ropes and lost again.

"Slug, you did too good a job!" he wailed. "Come and loose me, come and untie me."

The words were lost in the thundering roar coming from behind him. The trumpet of an elephant would not be heard in this place now.

Jerk as he would at the ropes, Post could not free himself.

A running Martian flashed past him, coming from behind. One who had gotten through the hail of lead coming at him, but who had overshot his target. He caught a glimpse of Post, turned toward him, flung a knife. Post felt the knife hit him somewhere, felt a flash of pain. He pressed the trigger of the sten gun. The head of the Martian vanished.

Far across the hall, an object moved. Another Martian, coming from that direction.

Post lifted the sten gun again. The weapon burped. Far across the vast hall, the Martian died.

But when he died, another came out of an opening over there, to charge straight across the room. And another and another.

"They're like a river of rats," Post thought. "When you knock one down, three more pop up to take his place."

The sten gun throbbed in his hands. Where the slugs hit, Martians died. But they kept coming.

Johnny Post knew then that there was going to be one end and only one end to this fight. They would go down under the sheer weight of numbers. The magazines of the sten guns would finally empty. Already the thunder of the pistols had gone into silence. There would come a time when the sten guns would stop too.

Then the Martians would simply cut the throats of the Earth aliens.

Then likewise, Sumarez would have the treasure that he sought. Sumarez knew where that treasure was now, knew it as well as Johnny Post knew. And Sumarez would get it.

Post suddenly took his finger off the sten gun.

"Slug!" he shouted. "Slug, I'm out of ammunition."

There was a slight lull in the sound of furious battle. Maybe not enough of a lull for Slug Hardesty to hear him. But enough for somebody else to hear.

A shadow rose from behind the altar and began a mad dash to get out of the room.

Sumarez, tricked into revealing himself.

Johnny Post lined up the sights of the gun, gently pressed the trigger.

SUMAREZ seemed to burst like a rubber balloon. He seemed to disintegrate, to explode instantly into tiny bits of stinking flesh. One second Sumarez was visible, a running Martian, The next second not even his legs were left in the same spot.

Silence fell.

A Martian screamed. "Sumarez is dead!"

At the yell, there came another sound, that of running feet. Their leader was dead. The Martians were finished.

"Run, rats, run!" Johnny Post screamed. He fired the sten gun over their heads.

Suddenly the gun quit firing. Empty. Finished.

Johnny Post held his breath and waited.

There was silence in the vast hall.

"Slug?" he called softly. "Slug."

"Right here, Johnny," Hardesty's voice came from behind him.

"You all right?"

"I'm bleeding in a couple of places. We've all got some holes in us. But we'll do. How are you, Johnny?" A note of wary caution crept into the voice of Slug Hardesty as he asked this question.

"All right, I think," Post asked.

"Is the spico going out of you?"

"Yeah, most of it has already gone. Come around here, Slug, and let me loose."

"Sure," Slug answered. "But first, throw your gun away."

"I'm all right, Slug, I swear I am. The gun's empty anyhow."

"Sure, I know. But I'm not taking any chances with a man who may still have some spico in him. It makes you want to kill your best friend, that stuff does."

"Yeah, I know." Post carefully slid the gun to the floor, sent it spinning away with a kick from his foot.

Not until then did Slug Hardesty come into sight. The first thing Slug did was to pull the knife from Post's shoulder. The second thing he did was to examine Post very closely. "I think all the spico is worn off," Post said.

"I agree," Slug said. "Where'd you get that load anyhow?'"

"From that damned cigarette that Sumarez gave me," Post answered. He swore vehemently for a second. "Slug, before God I came awful close to killing you. I didn't want to do it, but it was still a close thing."

"I know you didn't want to. But Sumarez."

"That dog! Sure, Girondel probably slipped the spico to you but he was acting on orders from Sumarez. You see, Sumarez wanted the detector, then he wanted all the treasure, all for himself. He figured if he gave spico to you, we would probably kill each other. Then he would get the detector and find the treasure with us out of the way."

"But—" Slug Hardesty's face was a puzzled mask. "Now that you mention it Girondel did give me the dose of spico I had. But Sumarez had Girondel killed."

"Sure thing. When I turned up here with a new detector and with some friends, he knew he had to get rid of Girondel and he had to do it in such a way that he could convince me Girondel had been the only guilty party in the first place. What better way to convince me that Girondel was guilty than to kill Girondel?"

"I get it now."

"We could take lessons in double-crossing from the Martians any day in the week."

"But the treasure?" Slug Hardesty had already released the ropes. Eden and Gorilla and Bean-pole, the latter looking much the worse for wear, had gathered around him.

"Sure there is," Post said firmly. "Sumarez knew where it was the second you told in his presence where you had seen it. That's when he decided to get rid of all of us, simply by loading me up with spico and letting me try to kill you. That's when he gave me the doped cigarette. Luckily, I only took one drag on it."

"All I said was I thought I had seen the treasure in the pool of light," Slug Hardesty protested.

"Sure. Watch." Picking up a heavy hammer from the equipment they had brought with them, Johnny Post began to tap carefully on the stone floor around the pool of light.

Inside the pool the light beat down, performing its endless dance.

POST FOUND the spot he wanted. Vigorously he attacked the floor. The floor gave way, revealing an opening.

"A control of some kind!" Slug Hardesty said. "But what does it control?"

The control system was simple, just a lever to move. "Watch," Post said. He shoved the lever forward. He got the impression that this motion shifted the arrangement of the mirrors inside the light pool. At any rate, the pool changed in appearance. The light no longer moved in its carefully calculated path. As the light shifted, Eden Hardesty gasped.

In appearance, it seemed as if the pool had suddenly become full to the brim, with all the objects that Slug Hardesty had described as being there. They blazed there, blood-red rubies, diamonds, a great glittering heap of them. Johnny Post reached in, grasped the blood-red ruby in his fingers.

He lifted it out of the pool, firm, real, beautiful, and worth a fortune.

"But Johnny, Johnny, I saw that when I was full of spico. When I tried to pick it up, it wasn't there. Now you can pick it up, now it is there. How can this happen?"

"When the light was flowing into the pool, the ruby actually wasn't there. It was, literally, in another dimension. Or maybe it was out of our Time. Or maybe it was out of both. You couldn't touch it because it wasn't there."

"But I could see it when I had spico in me."

"And so could I. It was only when I saw it that I realized I was doped too. Spico is a very peculiar drug. It gives you hallucinations. Only sometimes they aren't hallucinations, they are glimpses of vision reaching clear across space time. Thus, when you were full of spico, you could catch vague glimpses of the treasure hidden right out in the open, hidden in a pool of light. Our detectors said it was there, but we couldn't feel it when we reached for it, and we could only see it when we had spico in us."

The four men and the one woman gathered around the pool, stared into it. Here was wealth beyond the imagining. They had found the treasure. Post moved closer to Eden Hardesty, put an arm around her. She came closer willingly. There was another kind of treasure on Mars besides this vast store of wealth glittering in the pool. And both of them knew it.

They knew also that they had found it.

THE END