Carl Selwyn

“ Rusty looked at the dense wall of plants about them. There was barely room for a man to pass between the twisted trunks and vines. Overhead was the same thick mass of green. Faint light seeped through. But here was a single, tangible thing—something one could grasp with the hands, fight for life—a goal at the end. There was a hope! It was better than Pluto.
The others came up.
"What now?" said one of the Martians in his toneless voice.
"Cross jungle, cross sea," said Lothar.
"Let's get going," said Spike. He turned to the seemingly impenetrable growths surrounding them. ”

“ Spike sprang back as the monstrosity reached out a hairy tendril. Rusty stood hypnotized by the pale hideousness of the creature.
With a quick movement it swung toward them.
Rusty broke his trance. He leaped aside. A tentacle slapped across his face as he sprawled into the mire.
He started up, saw the insect crouched upon the writhing form of a Martian. Shrill, animal screams cut the air as the red man struggled frantically to escape the tightening white claws. The gaping man drew close.
"Get him, Lothar!" shouted Spike from the edge of the jungle. ”

“ Walking aimlessly, Rusty left the deserted clearing, plodded up a sparkling path. He wandered amid the ghastly spangled crags, neither knowing nor caring where he went. It did not matter and nothing mattered, for he was dead inside. The three moons of Pluto hung low in the east and the enormous Great Moon, the nearby satellite of the planet, arose beside their departing light, a darker green.
Soon, another day. The cold wind. The Bugs. Haunted, restless sleep. The scream of a lonely soul in dreaming delirium. But what matter the cold and the Bugs? They could bring death. ”

“ His wife was sole heir to the Tele-news plant.
Rusty sank down to a rock.
A sense of wild terror gripped him as he realized he was trapped here, for the rest of his life—he had been legally convicted of robbery, murder. Skipper was the only person who could save him. But Skipper was dead!
Men howled, laughed as they passed him. And Rusty Carter knew he was now one of them. No more was there the glow of a secret thought, that soon he could leave—he was to stay until he died just as these others died, screaming or with a voiceless stare in the cold glare of Pluto. ”

“ The air about it was a nausea.
"Mud animal," explained Spike. "Life here came from the mire instead of the sea. With the exception of the Plain, the whole planet is covered with soft mud, thousands of miles deep. It is there that most of the life exists. This one probably got wounded, came blindly up and died."
As the Earthian spoke, he halted, his face suddenly darkened.
Rusty, advancing to him, felt a strong suction beneath his feet. Go back! But he could not turn back, nor go forward.
"Lothar!" yelled Spike, but the mighty Vulcanian was also caught fast in the grim pull. ”

“ Weary to falling, sick of mind with the heat and the moist air, Rusty plodded along at Spike's side, marveled at his fellow Earthian's endurance. But pirating about every planet of the system, had hardened Spike to anything the Universe could inflict. The little Venusian was not affected at all, but rather thrived in the dank heat which was little different from his native world. And immuned on a world that spun ceaselessly from hot to cold, his native Vulcan, nothing fazed the mighty Lothar. ”

“ Lothar swung. Before the green man could squeeze the trigger. Fast. A heavy arm struck the scaly hand, snapped the gun from a broken wrist. The vib-ray fell to the floor.
Rusty watched him, motionless. Lothar grasped the green neck with one hand, placed iron fingers deftly over the squirming head and—as a man would pick up a marble—he plucked out the single eye. Rusty cringed.
Fish screamed. His reptilian arms flailed the air. Lothar slowly dismembered him, tore off his limbs one by one. He yanked the head from the twitching body—hurled the gory thing across the room. ”

“ Warily moving around the body of the shuddering insect, Rusty followed them into the jungle.
The great moon's vast vegetal areas were a monotony of green. Pools of water, matted plants, glaucous mire underfoot, even the atmosphere was a virescent mist, tinted by an unknown gas. But the life there had not the monotony of the scene.
Pluto was a dying world; the moon, still upon its first step along the timeless path of evolution. Every mile brought new terrors. Carnivorous beetles. ”

“ How could he fight a man he couldn't hurt? He went ill as his foot slid upon one of the Venusian's severed arms. The star of Earth gleamed brightly in the window and Rusty died a little death of sorrow.
The great Lothar plodded forward.
Rusty glanced wildly about, heart trembling. His shirt was growing wet. There was nothing—he almost fainted at what he saw. Beneath his feet was the weapon dropped by the Venusian.
Rusty snatched at the pistol as the Vulcanian swept upon him. He fired into the hairy chest. The mighty arm came on, knocked Rusty from his feet. Rusty fired again as he fell. ”

“ Lothar arose, his upper body a mass of pink, gelatinous fluid. Rusty revolted at the gory figure.
The Martian was dead. His fellow red man searched his pockets, shrugged and did not look at him again.
Lothar returned from a pool where he had washed away the "blood."
"Poke hands in soft middle," he grinned. "Pull insides out!"
Spike laughed uproariously. He stepped toward the plants.
They laugh, thought Rusty, and one of us is dead! They'll laugh when the next one dies. Who will it be? All? He looked into the green walls and the question arose from fact, not pessimism. ”

“ Even the actors whose "bodies" were immediately claimed by their families, knew nothing of their work's significance. After two months, the city editor would confess to the hoax, pay whatever fine was imposed, and Rusty would be released—with a priceless story.
The two months were over, and the story was priceless. Dealing intimately with the primitive simplicity of souls without hope and their degenerate abandon of all that civilization had bestowed, his tale would weave a pattern of remorse that such conditions should exist anywhere in the universe. ”

“ Rusty ran to the left, the others to the right. He tried the door to the next room. It was locked. The others had disappeared into the forward compartments, the door closed behind them. Rusty no longer felt fear nor panic. He was an animal now, fighting to live. He silently crept to the side of the seared hole in the hull. A dim glow of light entered from the field.
A sleek vib-ray poked its long nose in the doorway. Rusty waited. The gun was followed by an arm. A man came into view. His skin was red, Martian. He climbed into the ship, followed by six more. ”

“ With the engineering skill of the Martians, six of these had been fixed together, forming a squat hull, blunt at one end. Powered by fuel salvaged from countless near-dry tubes, it was planned, he was told, to wait till the nearby satellite was directly overhead, then release the ship, allowing it to drift upward. After a few miles—with an over-load of fuel they would drift fast—they would be caught by the pull of the larger planet, sucked into it. The gravity of the Great Moon would overcome their diminished power and they would drift down. ”

“ The others whirled.
Rusty leveled the vib-ray at them. They stared and their guns clattered to the floor. Slowly, their hands raised.
"Spike!" yelled Rusty.
The door opened and the Earthian peered out. Lothar and the Venusian crowded behind him.
"What's the best ship here?" Rusty demanded of the tight-lipped Martians. There was no answer. What did one do when one had a gun, wanted a man to speak and he wouldn't?
Spike entered the room. "I'll make 'em talk!" he said. He picked up a fallen gun, and before Rusty could stop him had fired into the group. ”

“ The rest was insect-infested jungle, shallow oceans. If they waited till it was overhead, they could not miss the moon. But they must hit that little spot upon its surface.
"We're waiting till the Plain comes around again," Spike answered Rusty's thoughts. "Have to leave navigation to the Martians. They have an uncanny sense of precision."
"What—" began Rusty.
He heard a slithering in the plants behind them.
They turned. Rusty saw three Bugs crawl into the dim light. Yellow horrors, they moved swiftly. Sharp feelers waving, they advanced like giant cockroaches. Others came behind them. ”

“ A man was speaking to him. Did he have anything to say? What could he say? But one should die with a flourish, a purple passage. Oddly none came. He merely wished the business over. He could rest then. ”