I don’t know where.”
“We’ll find out where!” he promised savagely.
“And bring her back!
And Eric Ulnar———”
“Of course.”
It was the low, calm voice of Jay Kalam.
“Of course we shall attempt her rescue, at any risk.
The safety of the System demands it, if it were not our simple duty to Aladoree.
The first thing, I suppose, is to find where she is—which won’t be easy.”
“We must get away from here,” added John Star.
“Is there a radio?”
“A little ultra-wave transmitter.
We must report to Legion headquarters, at once.”
John Star winced, and added bitterly:
“Yes, of course. Report what a fool Eric Ulnar made of me!”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Jay Kalam urged him. “Others, higher up, were deceived, too, or he wouldn’t have been sent here.
You could have done little alone.
Your only guilt was obedience to your officer.
Forget your regrets, and let’s undo the harm!” “But I can’t help feeling———”
“Come on.
We’ll send a message to the base—if they didn’t smash the transmitter before they left!”
But the little transmitter, located in a small tower room, had been systematically and utterly destroyed.
Tubes were smashed, condensers hammered to shapeless metal, wires cut to bits, battery jars emptied and broken.
“Ruined!” he said.
“We must repair it!” cried John Star.
But with all his optimistic determination, he soon had to admit the impossibility of the task.
“Can’t be done.
But there must be something.
The supply ship?”
“Won’t be back for a year,” said Jay Kalam.
“They came seldom, to avoid attracting attention.”
“But when the station here remains silent, won’t they know something is wrong?”
“It was only for emergencies.
We had never used it.
The signals might have been picked up, and located.
We depended on absolute secrecy—together with the power of AKKA itself.
And of course Aladoree didn’t keep her weapon set up, for fear it would be stolen —that was what gave the traitors time to take her.
We weren’t prepared for treason.”
“Could a man walk out?”
“Impossible.
No water in the desert.
This is the most isolated spot on Mars.
We wanted no accidental visitors.”
“But there must be something———”
“We must eat, lad,” insisted Giles Habibula.
“Even if it is the same mortal day.
Nothing like good food to quicken the mind.
A good supper, lad, with a bottle of the old wine to wash it down, and you’ll have us away from here this blessed night!”
And, indeed, it was while he sipped a glass from the old man’s precious cellar that inspiration came.
“We’ve light-tubes!” he cried.