Moon Plague by Raymond Z. Gallun

Author:Raymond Z. Gallun [Gallun, Raymond Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi Short Story
Publisher: Wonder Stories
Published: 1934-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

SOMETHING seemed to snap in the old sailor’s mind. As he dangled from the plant-man’s grasp, his feet were about on a level with the mid-portions of the monster’s legs. Steve saw his chance, measured its slim possibilities and its great hazards, then took it. He swung his body inward, and grasped one of his captor’s legs firmly with his knees, at the same time struggling violently.

It was over in a moment. Tripped and thrown off balance, the ungainly lunarian pitched forward, releasing his grasp on his two captives. As the monster rolled and tumbled down the slope, amid a shower of ash and rock fragments, Steve caught hold of a firmly embedded piece of hardened lava, and saved himself. He had the advantage of lightness, and vastly superior agility. The limp body of Claire Melconne had started, less precipitately, to follow the plant-man; but Steve darted to it, and caught him in time.

“Now,” old Steve muttered, very softly to himself. His eyes fairly blazed in his glistening, sweat-streaked face. Brother or no brother, Garth Jubiston would pay, and pay dear.

Tossing Claire to his shoulder, he descended the rocky slope. Picking out the crater behind which the flier had disappeared, he hurried forward. Garth couldn’t be more than a mile distant from him.

But he’d have to hurry. He’d have to arrive before his brother could finish fixing the stabilizer. The task might already be completed. If it was, Garth would be leaving the ground in a second or two; then it would be too late for Steve to act, to gratify the dark

thoughts in his mind.

A grim smile creased the old sailor’s hard face. It did not detract any from the fiendishness of his expression; rather it added to it. If he could attract Garth’s attention to him by talking, he might delay the take-off of the flier for a few moments. Then—Steve’s metal-cased fingers crooked suggestively.

He began to curse, to groan, to cry out for mercy, as though he were being unbearably tortured. The sounds he made were realistic enough, and they were all for Garth’s benefit.

All through those histrionic evolutions, Steve’s terrible smile persisted. He advanced more like some huge, vengeful beast than a human being.

His ruse was having its effect. He heard Garth Jubiston’s voice cursing him, taunting him, laughing at him with that horrible, harsh laugh. In a way, the sound was pitiable, but there was no room in old Steve Jubiston’s heart for pity now. Irony! It was too bad Garth didn’t know that he, Steve, was hastening toward him with murder in his heart. But Garth was still clever, with the cunning of the maniac he had become.

Panting and sweating with exertion, and because of his tumultuous emotions, Steve topped a rise in the ground. He peeped cautiously over the summit. The flier rested down there among the volcanic ash and debris. It seemed deserted. No, something moved out of the long ebony shadow it cast. Garth was walking unsteadily around the vessel, apparently making a tentative survey of its outer mechanisms.

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