 section 22 of astounding stories of super science, September 1930. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. CHAPTER XIX Stranger, more thrilling even than had been the flight of the Earth after being forced out of its orbit, was the flight of those dozen air-cars of the Moon bearing the rebels of Dalius's Gens back to Earth. For the light which glowed from the bodies of the rebels which had been given them by their passage through the white flames was transmitted to the cars themselves so that they glowed as with an inner radiance of their own, like comets flashing across the night. Strange alchemy which Sarka wondered about and, wondering, looked ahead to the time when he should be able, within his laboratory, to analyze the force it embodied, and thus gain new scientific knowledge of untold value to people of the Earth. As the cars raced across outer darkness, moving at top speed, greater than ever attained before by man, greater than even these mighty cars had traveled, Sarka looked ahead and wondered about the fearful report his father had just given him. That there was an alliance between Mars and the Moon seemed almost unbelievable. How had they managed the first contact? The first negotiations leading to the compact between two such alien peoples. Had there been any flights exchanged by the two worlds? Surely the scientists of Earth would have known about it, but there had not, though there had been times and times when Sarka had peered closely enough at the surface of both the Moon and of Mars to see the activities, or the results of the activities of the peoples of the two worlds. Somehow, however, communication, if Sarka the Second had guessed correctly, had been managed between Mars and the Moon, and now that the Earth was a free-flying orb, the two were in alliance against it, perhaps for the same reason that the Earth had gone of voyaging. Side by side sat Sarka and Jaskar, their eager eyes peering through the forward end of the flashing air-car toward the Earth, growing minute by minute larger. They were able, after some hours, to make out the outlines of what had once been continents, to see the shadows in valleys which had once held the oceans of Earth. And always, as they stared and literally willed the cubes which piloted and were the motive power of the air-cars to speed and more speed, that marvellous display of interplanetary fireworks which had aroused the concern of Sarka the Second. What were those lights? Whence did they emanate? Sarka the Second had said that they came from Mars, yet Mars was invisible to those in the speeding air-cars which argued that it was hidden behind the Earth. There was no way of knowing how close it was to the home of these rebels of Dalius's Gens. And ever as they flashed forward, Sarka was recalling that vague hint on the lips of Jaska to the effect that Luar, for all her sovereignty of the Moon, might be, nonetheless, a native of the Earth, but how? Why? When? There were no answers to any of the questions yet. If she were a native of Earth, how had she reached the Moon? When had she been sent there? Who was she? Her name, Luar, was a strange one, and Sarka studied it for many minutes, rolling the odd syllables of it over his tongue, wondering where, on the Earth, he had heard names or words similar to it. This produced no result until he tried substituting various letters, then again adding various letters. When he achieved a certain result at last, he gasped, and his brain was a whirl. Luar, by the addition of the letter N between the U and the A, became Lunar, meaning of the Moon. Yet Lunar was unmistakably a word derived from the language of the Earth. It was possible, of course, that this was mere coincidence, but taken in connection with the suspicions of Jaska and the incontrovertible fact that Luar resembled people of the Earth, Sarka did not believe this particular whim of coincidence. Who was Luar? His mind went back to the clucking sounds which, among the gnomes of the Moon, passed for speech. He pondered anew. He shaped his lips as nearly as possible to make the clucking sounds he had heard, and discovered that it was very difficult to manage the letter N. The conclusion was inescapable. This woman, Luar, had once been Lunar, the N down the centuries being dropped because difficult for the gnomes to pronounce. Yes, Jaska, he said suddenly, somewhere on Earth when we reach it, we may discover the secret of Luar, and know far more about Dalius than we have ever known before. Jaska merely smiled her inscrutable smile and did not answer. By intuition she already knew. Let Sarka arrive at her conclusion by scientific methods if he desired, and she would simply smile anew. Sarka thought of the manner in which Jaska and he had been transported to the Moon of how much Dalius seemed to know of the secrets of the laboratory of the Sarkas. Might he not have known, two centuries ago, of the secret exit dome, and somehow managed to make use of it in some ghastly experiment, and still the one question remained unanswered. Who was Luar? The Earth was now so close that details were plainly seen. The Himalayas were out of sight over the Earth, and by a mental command Sarka managed to change slightly the course of the dozen air-cars. By passing over the curve of the Earth at high altitude he hoped also to see from above something of the result of the strange aerial bombardment of which his father had spoken. In their flight, which had been to them a flight through the glories of a super-heavenly universe, they had lost all count of time. Neither Sarka nor Jaska, nor yet the people in those other air-cars, could have told how long they had been flying. When, coming over the curve of the Earth at an elevation of something like three miles, they were able at last to see into the area which had once housed the Gens of Dalius. A gasp of horror escaped the lips of Sarka and of Jaska. The Gens of Dalius had occupied all the territory northward to the pole, from a line drawn east and west to the southernmost of what had once been the Hawaiian Islands. Upon this area had struck the strange blue light from the deep cone of the moon. Here, however, the light was invisible, and Sarka flew on in fear that somehow his air-cars would blunder into it and be destroyed. For that, the blue light was an agent of ghastly destruction, became instantly apparent. The dwellings of the Gens of Dalius were broken and smashed into chaotic ruins. Over all the area, even into the area of the Gens southward of that which had been Dalius, the blind gods of destruction had practically made a queen sweep. Sarka had opportunity to thank God that, at the time the blue column had struck the earth, it had struck at a spot which had been almost emptied of people, and realized that blind chance had caused it. For, in order for the Gens of Dalius to be in position to launch their attack against the moon, he had managed, by manipulating the speed of the barrels, to bring that area into position directly opposite the moon. Had it been otherwise, the blue column might have struck anywhere, and wiped out millions of lives. God, Jessica, murmured Sarka, look! Think of a shoreline, once lined with mighty buildings, after the passage of a tidal wave greater than ever before known to man. The devastation would be indescribable. Multiply that shoreline by the vast area which had housed the Gens of Dalius, and the mental picture is almost too big to grasp. Chaos, catastrophe, approaching an infinity of destruction. The materials of the vast buildings set close together had been made, had been twisted into grotesque nightmare-as-shapes, and the whole fused into a burned and gleaming mass which covered half of what had once been a mighty ocean. As though a bomb larger and more devastating than ever imagined of man, a bomb large enough to rock the earth, had landed in the midst of the area once occupied by the Gens of Dalius. Yet Sarka knew, remembering the murmuring of the blue column as it came out of the cone, all this devastation had been caused in almost absolute silence. People could have watched and seen these deserted buildings slowly fuse together, run together as molten metal runs together like the lava from a volcano of long ago under the ponderous moving to and fro of some invisible juggernaut-like agency. Sarka shuddered, trying to picture in his mind the massing of the minions of Mars who thus saw a new country given into their hands, if they could take it. Had the earth been taken by surprise? Had Sarka the second been able to prepare for the approaching catastrophe? Father, he sent his thoughts racing on ahead of him. Are those lights which are striking the earth causing any damage? Only, came back the instant answer, in that they destroy the courage of the people of the earth. The people, however, now know that Sarka is returning, and their courage rises again. The flames are merely a hint of what faces us, but the people will rise and follow you wherever you lead. So as they raced across the area of devastation, the face of Sarka became calm again. On a chance he sent a single sentence of strange meaning to his father. The ruler of the moon is a woman called Luar, which seems a contraction of Lunar. For many minutes Sarka the second made no answer. When it came, it startled Sarka to the depths of him, despite the fact that he expected to be startled. There was a woman named Lunar. End of Section 22, Recording by Richard Elwood. Section 23 of Astounding Stories of Super Science, September 1930. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Richard Elwood. Earth, the Marauder, by Arthur J. Birx, Chapter 20. Sarka commands again. A head through the storms which still hung tenaciously to the roof of the world flashed those dozen air-cars of the moon. Now Sarka could plainly see the dome of his laboratory, and from the depths of him welled up that strange glow which Earthlings recognize as the joy of returning home, than which there is none save the love for a woman greater. Now we could see the effect of those flares, or lights from Mars which impinged on the face of the earth, though he could see no purpose in them, no reason for their being, since they seemed to do no damage at all, though the effect of them was weird in the extreme. Outer darkness, rent with ripping, roaring storms, flurries of ice, snow and sleet, shot through and through by balls of lambant flames and unguessable numbers. Every light which struck the surface of the earth bounded away and half a mile or so from the surface again burst into flaming pinwheels like skyrockets of ancient times, strange lights causing weird effects but producing no damage at all, save to lessen to some extent the courage of Earthlings, because they did not understand these things, and always, down the ages, man had stood most in fear of the unknown. Sarka peered off across the heavens where a ball of flame now seemed to be rising over the horizon, and was amazed at the size of this planet. Mars was close to Earth, so close that, had they possessed air-cars like those of the moon-people which remained to be seen, they could easily have attacked the earth. Across the face of the earth flashed those fiery will of the wisps from Mars without rhyme or reason, yet Sarka knew positively that they possessed some meaning and that the earth had been forced thus close to Mars for a purpose. What that purpose was must yet be discovered. Then under the air-cars the laboratory of Sarka. Down dropped the air-cars to a landing near the laboratory and to the cubes in the forepeak of each, Sarka sent the mental command. Assure yourselves that the air-cars will remain where they are, muster inside the laboratory, keeping well away from the master barrel. Then to the people who had returned, clothed in strange radiance, from the moon with Sarka and with Jaska he spoke, leave the cars and enter my laboratory, where further orders will be given you. With Jaska still by his side, Sarka entered the laboratory through the exit dome. Inside clothing was swiftly brought for the rebels, for Sarka and for Jaska. But even when they were closed, these people who had come back seemed to glow with an inner radiance which transfigured them. Sarka II, his face drawn in pale, came from the observatory to meet his son, and the two were clasped in each other's arms for a moment. Sarka II, who had looked no older than his son, seemed to have aged a dozen centuries in the time Sarka had been gone. But it was not of the threatened attack by Martians that Sarka II spoke. He made no statement. He merely asked a question. Was Lunar very beautiful, and just a bit unearthly in appearance? Sarka started. Yes, beautiful, wondrously, fearfully beautiful, but I had the feeling that she had no heart or soul, no conscience, that she was somehow, well, bestial. A moan of anguish escaped Sarka II. Dalius again, he ejaculated, but much of the fault was mine. Before you were born, we scientists of earth had already several times realized the necessity of expansion for the children of earth, if they were to continue. Dalius' proposal to my father was discarded, because it involved the wholesale taking of life. But after the oceans had been obliterated, and the human family still outgrew its bounds, Dalius came to my father and me with still another proposal. It involved a strange otherworldly young woman whom he called Lunar. Her family? Well, nothing was known about her, for her family could not be traced. Wiped out, I presume, in some inter-family quarrel, leaving her alone. Dalius found her, took an interest in her, and the very strangeness of her gave him his idea, which he brought to my father and me. His proposal was somewhat like that which you made when we sent the earth out of its orbit into outer space, save that Dalius' scheme involved no such program. His was simply a proposal to somehow communicate with the moon by the use of an inter-planetary rocket that should carry a human passenger. He put the idea up to this girl, Lunar, and she did not seem to care one way or another. Dalius was all wrapped up in his ideas and gave the girl the name of Lunar as being symbolical of his plans for her. He coached and trained her against the consummation of his plan. We knew something, theoretically at least, about the conditions on the moon, and everything possible was done for her to make it feasible for her to exist on the moon. My error was in ever permitting the experiment to be made, since if I had negatived the idea, Dalius would have gone no further. But I, too, was curious, and Lunar did not care. Well, the rocket was constructed and shot outward into space by a series of explosions. No word was ever received from Lunar, though it was known that she landed on the moon. I say no word was ever received, yet what you have intimated proves that Dalius has either been in mental communication with her, hoping to induce her to send a force against the earth and assist him in mastering the earth, overthrowing we Sarkas, or has been biding his time against something of the thing we have now accomplished. This seemed to clear up many things for Sarka, though it piled higher upon his shoulders the weight of his responsibilities. The other worldliness of Lunar, now called Luar, explained her mastery of the gnomes, and through them the cubes and her knowledge of the omnipotent qualities of the white flames of the moon's core, which might have been, it came to Sarka in a flash the source of all life on the moon in the beginning. But father went on Sarka, I don't see any sense in this aerial bombardment by Mars. I believe, said Sarka the second sadly, that before another ten hours pass we shall know the worst there is to be known. But now, son, instead of going back into attack against the moon, we go into battle against the combined forces of Mars and of the moon. Sarka now took command of the forces of the earth. Swiftly he turned to the people of the Gens of Dalius who had come back with him. You will be divided into eleven equal groups, as nearly as possible. Father, will you please arrange the division? Each group will be attached to the staff of one of the spokesmen of the Gens, so that each spokesman will have the benefit of your knowledge with reference to conditions on the moon. Each group will re-enter its particular air-car, retaining control of the cube in each case, of course, and will at once repair to his proper station. Telepathy is the mode of communication with the cubes, and you rule them by your will. Each group, when assembled by my father, will choose a leader before quitting this laboratory, and such leader will remain in command of his group, under the overlordship of the spokesmen to whom he reports with his group. You understand? Your loyalty is unquestioned. You will consecrate your lives to the welfare of the Gens to which you are going, since you no longer have a Gens of your own. Sarka turned to the cubes, which had formed in a line just inside the exit dome, and issued a mental command to the cube that had piloted his air-car from the moon. The cube faded out instantly, appearing immediately afterward on the table of the very colored lights. Father, said Sarka, while I am issuing orders to the spokesmen, please see if you can discover the secret of these cubes, how they are actuated, the real extent of their intelligence. The rest of you, with your cubes, depart immediately and report to your new Gens. Within ten minutes the divisions had been made, and the radiant people had entered the air-cars, and outside the laboratory, risen free of the earth, and turned each in its proper direction for the Gens of its assignment. The Sarkas and Jaska watched them go. They remained but one air-car, standing outside on half a dozen of those grim tentacles, with two tentacles swinging free, undulating, two and fro like serpents, harnessed electricity actuating the tentacles, cars and tentacles subservient to the cubes. The air-cars safely on their way, Sarka stepped to the master barrel, turned it down to normal speed, and signaled the spokesmen of the Gens. The moon and Mars are an alliance against us, and Dalius has allied himself and his Gens with the ruler of the moon. I don't know yet what form the attack will take, but know this, that the safety of the world, of all its people, rests in your hands, and that the war into which we are going is potentially more vast than expected when this venture began, and more devastating than the fight with the air-cars of the moon. Coming to you in air-cars which we managed to take from the moon-people are such of the people of the Gens of Dalius as were able to return with me. Question them. Gather all the information you can about them, and through them keep control of the cubes which pilot the air-cars, for in the cubes, I believe, lies the secret of our possible victory in the fight to come. Sarka scarcely knew why he had spoken the last sentence. It was though something deep within him had risen up, commanded him to speak, and deeper yet, far back in his consciousness was a mental picture of the devastation he had witnessed on his flight above the area that had once housed the Gens of Dalius. For in that ghastly area he believed was embodied an idea greater than more wanton destruction, just as there was an idea back in the fiery lights from Mars greater than mere display. Somehow the two were allied, and Sarka believed that between the blue column and the fiery lights from Mars the fate of the world rested. He could, he believed, by manipulation of the barrels that yet remained, maneuver the world away from that blue column, which on the earth was invisible. But to have done so would have thwarted the very purpose for which this mad voyage had begun. The world had been startled on its mad journey into space for the purpose of attacking and colonizing the moon and Mars. The moon had been colonized by the Gens of Dalius already in potential revolt against the earth. Mars was next, and by forcing the earth into close proximity to Mars the people of the moon had played into the hands of the earth people, if the people of earth were capable of carrying out the program of expansion originally proposed by Sarka. If they were not, well, Sarka thought somewhat grimly. The resultant cataclysmic war would at least solve the problem of overpopulation. In as much as the earth was already committed to whatever might transpire, Sarka believed he should take a philosophic view of the matter. Sarka turned to an examination of the master barrel, and even as he peered into the depths of it he thought gratefully how nice it was to be home again in his own laboratory upon the world of his nativity. He even found it within his heart to feel somewhat sorry for Dalius, and to feel a shame that he had even in his heart mistreated him. Then he thought with a tightening of his jaw muscles, the casual way in which Dalius had destroyed Sarka the first, of his forcing his people to undergo the terrors of the lake of the white flames without telling them the simple secret of his betrayal of the earth in his swift alliance with Luar, or Luar herself win as Lunar a strange wave of earth. Dalius had sent her out as the first human passenger aboard a rocket to the moon. All his pity vanished, though he still believed he had done right in sparing Dalius's life. Suddenly there came an ominous humming in the barrel, and simultaneously signals from the very colored lights on the table. Sarka whirled to the lights, noting their color, and mentally repeating the names of the spokesman who signaled them. Even before he gave the signal that placed him in position to converse with them, he noted the strange coincidence. The spokesman who desired speech with him were tutelary heads of the Gens, whose borders touched the devastated area where Dalius had but recently been overlord. An icy chill caressed his spine as he signaled the spokesman to speak. Yes, Svardi, prul, classer, cleric? The report of each of them was substantially the same, though touched in different words, words freighted heavily with strange terror. The devastated area has suddenly broken into movement. Throughout that portion of it, visible from my Gens area, the fused mass of debris is bubbling, fermenting, walking into life. An aura of unearthly menace seems to flow outward from this heaving mass, and the hole is assumed to most peculiar radiance, cold gleaming, like distant starshine. Wait! replied Sarka swiftly. Wait until the people I have sent you have arrived. Report to me instantly if the movement of the mass is noticeably augmented, and especially so if it seems to be breaking up, or collagulating into any sort of form, whatever. Then he dimmed the lights, indicating that, for the moment, there was nothing more to be said. Just then his father, face very gray and very old, entered the room of the master barrel from the laboratory. Son, he said, the crisis is almost upon us. The Martians are coming. End of section 23. Recording by Richard Elwood. Section 24 of astounding stories of super science, September 1930. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Richard Elwood. Earth, the Marauder by Arthur J. Birx. Chapter 21. Cubes of Chaos. Sarka raced into the observatory, wondering as he ran how the attack of the Martians would manifest itself, but scarcely prepared for the brilliant display which greeted his gaze. After the oncoming flames from Mars, the preceding display of lights had been as nothing. The whole heavens between the Earth and Mars seemed a light with an unearthly glare, as though the very heart of the sun had burst and hurled part of its flaming mass outward into space. On it came with unbelievable speed. But there was no telling yet the form of the things which were coming. What are they? whispered Jaska, standing fearlessly at Sarka's side. Interplanetary cars, rockets, balls of fire, or beings of Mars. I think, said Sarka, after studying the display for a few minutes, that they are either rockets or fireballs, perhaps both together. But the Martians cannot consolidate any position on the Earth without coming to hand grips. Since they must know this, we can expect to see the people of Mars themselves win, or soon after, those balls of fire strike the Earth. Sarka raced back to the room of the master barrel, as a strident humming came through to him. The spokesmen of the Gens whose borders touched those of the devastated Dalius area were reporting again, and their voices were high-pitched with fear that threatened to break the bounds of sanity. The ferment in the devastated area, was the gist of their report, is assuming myriads of shapes. The fused mass has broken up into isolated masses, and each mass of itself is assuming one of the many forms. What forms? snapped Sarka quickly. Cubes, thousands and millions of cubes, and the cubes themselves are forming into larger cubes. Some square, some rectangular. In the midst of these formations are others, mostly columnar, each column consisting of cubes which have coalesced into the larger form from the same small cubes. The columnar formations are topped by globes, which emit an ethereal radiance. Listen! Sarka's voice was vibrant with excitement. Spokesmen of the Gens, make sure that every individual member of your Gens is fully equipped with flying clothing, including belts and ovoids, prepared for an indefinite stay outside on the roof of the world. Get your people out swiftly, keeping them in formation. Keep about you, these people of Dalius whom I sent you, and understand before you break contact with your barrels that instructions received from these people come from me. In turn, after you have quitted the hives, anything you wish to say to me you can repeat to any of the glowing people of the Dalius. The contacts were broken. Sarka stared into the barrel, glancing swiftly in all directions to see whether his orders were obeyed. Out of the myriads of hives were flying the people of all the Gens of Earth, their vast numbers already darkening the roof of the world. The advance fires from Mars seemed to have no effect on them, which Sarka had expected, since the fires seemed to consume nothing they had touched previously. By millions the people came forth, people dressed in the clothing of this Gens or that, wearing each the insignia of the house of his spokesman. A brave show. Sarka could see the faces of many, now in light, now in shadow, as the advance fires of Mars lighted them for a moment in passing, then left them in shadow as the bursting balls of fire faded and died. Strange, too, that the fireballs made no noise. Noiseless flame which rebounded from the surface of the earth broke in silence, deluging the heavens with shooting stars of great brilliance. Through its display flew the people of the Gens, mustering in flight above flight, each to his own level, under command of the spokesman of the Gens. How long, Father? queried Sarka, should it take to empty the Gens' areas? The people of Earth have been waiting for word to go into battle since we first sent the people of Dalius against the Moonmen. They still are ready. The dwellings of our people, all of them, can be emptied within an hour. I wonder, mused Sarka, if that is soon enough. Perhaps yes, perhaps no, it would be a race in any case. Sarka divided his attention between the rapidly changing formations of the Moon cubes in that devastated area and the onrushing charge of the fireballs from Mars. All were visible to him through the master barrel and from the observatory, though the Martian fireballs were now so close that the vanguard of them could be seen even in the master barrel, adjusted to view only activities on the surface of the Earth. Even as the last flights of the Gens of Earth were slipping into the icy air from the roof of the world, the Moon cubes began their terrifying appalling attack, every detail of which could be seen by Sarka from the master barrel. Those columns, composed of cubes, seemed to be the leaders of a vast cube army. The top of each of them was a gleaming globe whose eerie light played over the country immediately surrounding each column, their weird light reflected in the squares, rectangles, and globes that other cubes had formed. Sarka sought swiftly among the columns for the one which might conceivably be in supreme command, but even as he sought the Moon cubes moved to the attack, the globes on the tops of the columns dimmed their lights and the squares, rectangles, and globes got instantly into terrible motion. Southward, from the position in which they had formed, they began to move, the squares and rectangles apparently sliding along the surface of the scarred and broken soil, the globes rolling. Southward, there was the vast wall of the Gens that bordered the devastated area in that direction, and the cube army was instantly at full charge toward this, in what Sarka realized was to be the war of demolition. Within a minute Sarka was conscious of a trembling of all the laboratory, and the eyes of Jasko were wide with fear. Swiftly the trembling grew until sound now was added to the vast awesome tremor, a vast roaring crescendo of sound that mounted and mounted as the speed of the cube army increased, the vanguard of the cube army struck the dwelling of the Gens southward of that of Dalius, and a mighty, rocketing roar sounded in the master barrel, was audible inside the laboratory, even without the aid of the barrel, at whose surface Sarka stared as a man fascinated, hypnotized. The cube army struck the dwellings, disappeared into them as though they had been composed of tissue paper, and continued on. Over the tops of the cube army toppled the roofs of the dwellings, there in the midst of the cubes, to be ground to powder with a sound as of a million avalanches grinding together in some awesome sun-sized valley. Southward, in the wake of the chaotic charge, moved a mighty gigantic crevice whose sides were the walls of the hives left standing, and still the cube army moved on, grinding everything at touch to dust, trampling buildings into nothingness, destroying utterly along a front hundreds of miles wide, and as deep as the dwellings of men. God! cried Sarka, his voice so tense that both his father and Jaskar heard it above the roaring which shook and rocked the world. Do you see? The moon cubes are destroying the dwelling of our people, and the Martians are to destroy the people who have fled. There must be a way, said Sarka the second quietly, to circumvent the cubes. But what? Your will still rules the cubes which piloted you from the moon? Yes, replied Sarka tersely, but there are only a dozen of the cubes. What can they do against countless millions of them? Cubes, which are moon cubes brought to the earth in the heart of that blue column, here reformed to create an army which is invincible because it cannot be slain? It means that the moon people themselves, thousands of miles out of reach, have but to sit in comfort and watch their cube slaves destroy us. When they have laid waste the earth, the Martians have but to finish the fight. If, beloved, said Jaskar, your will commands those 12 cubes, it can also command all the others, for they must be essentially the same. Call on the rebels of Dalius to help you. Then what of the spokesmen of the Gyns who will be out of contact with me? They must stand on their own feet, must fight their own battle. Call to you the people who have passed through the white flames, and fight with the distant will of Luar and of Dalius for control of the cube army. Again that exultation which convinced him he could move mountains with his two hands coursed through the being of Sarka. Quietly he answered Jaskar, I believe you are right, he said softly. Those of us who have passed through the flames which bore these moon cubes will control the cubes, even bend them to our will. The spokesmen must vanquish the Martians or perish. Then he sent his mental commands to the spokesmen. Meet the Martians when they arrive and destroy or drive them back. You live only if you win. We speak no more until victory is ours. People of the Gyns of Dalius go to the areas being devastated by the cubes, taking your cubes and aircars with you, and I will join you there. And Jaskar with me. Sarka had not himself mentally spoken the last four words. Jaskar had thought spoken them before he could prevent. He turned upon her, lip-shaping a command that she remained behind, but she forestalled him. I too have been through the white flames. You may have need of all of us. Stories of Super Science September 1930. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Richard Elwood. Earth The Marauder by Arthur J. Birx Chapter 22 The Struggle for Mastery The people of all the Gyns of Earth were now between two fires. The cube army, ruled by the mistress of the moon, was laying waste the dwellings of the Gyns, destroying them with the speed and surety of which no earthquake, whatever its proportions, would have been capable. The Gyns were forced out upon the roof of the world, where, scarcely had they maneuvered into their prearranged formations, then the Martians struck. Those huge balls of fire, larger even than the air-cars of the moon, landed in vast and awe-inspiring numbers on the roof of the world, landed easily, with no apparent effort or shock. The light of them made all the world a place of vast radiance, save only that portion which was being destroyed by the cube army. And this area had a cold, chill radiance of its own. By groups and organizations, the fireballs of Mars landed and rested quiescent on the surface of the globe. Sarka, pausing only long enough in his laboratory to study this strange attack and to discover how it would get underway, was at the same time preparing to go forth to take his own strange part in the defensive action of the earthlings. A vast confidence was in him. We will lose millions of people, Father, he said softly, but it will end in our victory, in the most glorious war ever fought on this earth. That is true, my son, replied the older man, sadly. For several minutes the vast fireballs, which seemed to be monster glowing octagons, rested where they had landed, and even the gens of the people were closing on them, bringing their ray detectors and atom disintegrators into action. Then when the earthlings would have destroyed the first vast fireballs, and Sarka was noting that the flames which bathed the balls seemed to have no effect whatever on earthlings saved to outline them in mantles of fire, the fireballs wakened to new life. They opened like the halves of peaches falling apart, and out upon the roof of the world poured the first Martians earth had ever seen. They were more than twice the size on average of earth people. At first glance seemed to resemble them very much, save that their eyes, which each Martian was possessed of two, were set on the ends of long tentacles, which could stretch forth to a length of two feet or more from the eye sockets, and thus be turned in any direction. Each eye was independent of its neighbor, as one could look forward while the other looked backward, or one looked right while the other looked left. Each Martian possessed two arms on each side of a huge powerful torso, and legs that were like the boils of trees compared to the slender limbs of earthlings. All the Martians seemed to be dressed in the skins of strange very colored beasts. Each carried in his upper right hand the slender cane-like thing that some three feet in length, from whose tip there flashed those spurts of flame which had puzzled the earth people before the actual launching of the attack. Beyond these weapons the Martians seemed to possess no weapons of offense at all, nor of defense. With our ray detectors and atom disintegrators, said Sarka, moving into the exit dome with Jasker, we can blast them from the face of the earth. But in a moment he realized he had spoken too hastily. The nearest fireball was, of course, within the area of the Gens of Cleric, and Sarka could see with his naked eyes all that transpired. The Martian passengers, who moved swiftly away from their fireball vehicles, then a flight of the Gens of Cleric descended upon the fireball and its fleeing passengers, with tiny ray detectors and atom disintegrators held to the floor ready for action. The Martians at some distance from their glowing vehicle, paused and formed a ragged line, facing the ball, staring at the descending people of the Gens of Cleric, their tentacle-like eyes waving to and fro, oddly like the tentacles of those air-cars of the moon. The flight was hovering above the first fireball. In a second row, at the command of an underling, the ray detectors would destroy fireball and Martians as thoroughly as though they had never existed at all. But then a strange thing happened. At that exact moment, timing their actions to fractions of seconds, the Martians raised and pointed their cane-like weapons of the spurting flames. They pointed them, however, not at the earthlings, but at the fireball which had brought them to earth. Instantly the fireball exploded as with the roaring of a hundred mighty volcanoes, and the descending flights of the Gens of Cleric was blasted into countless fragments. Bits of them flew in all directions. Many dropped the mangled infitesimal remains of them down to the roof of the earth, while many were hurled skyward through formations above them, while those formations to a height of a full two miles were broken asunder. Many flights above that first flight were smashed and broken, their individual members hurled in all directions by that one single blast of a single fireball. Individuals who escaped destruction were hurled end over end, upward through other flights higher above, and the whole aggression of flights which had been concentrated on that first fireball was instantly demoralized, while full fifty percent of its individuals were instantly torn to bits. Sarka groaned in the depths of him. The leader of the Martians, when a master who sent them here sent them here to win, for they do not win, they cannot return to Mars, as they will have destroyed their vehicles. Their confidence is superhuman. Have faith in the courage of earthling, son, said Sarka. It was much to ask, for if one single of these fireballs could wreck such havoc with the people of earth, what would the destruction by the countless other unexploded fireballs of the Martians? Still, the spokesmen themselves must discover a way to hold their own, to win against the Martians. For Sarka there was greater work to do. He must oppose the wills of Luar and of Dalius in a mighty mental conflict which would decide whether the homes of men would be saved, or utterly destroyed by the moon cubes. But as he left through the exit dome, with Jasker by his side, he shuddered, and was just a little sick inside, as he saw the fearful result of that first explosion of a Martian fireball. Bits of human wreckage were scattered over the earth for a great distance in all directions from where the fireball had exploded, and at that spot a gigantic crater had been torn in the roof of the world, going down to non-new what depths. Even the Martians here, only to consolidate positions which had passed the demolition of the moon cubes, were capable of demolitions almost as ghastly and complete as those of the cubes. The sound was incapable of being described, for outside the laboratory the sound of the advance of the moon cubes eating into the dwellings of men, tumbling them down, grinding them to powder, was cataclysmic in its mighty volume. A million express trains crashing head-on into walls of galvanized iron at top speed simultaneously. Eardrum crashing blows as fireballs exploded, the screams and shrieks of maimed and dying earthlings, of earthlings unwounded but possessed of abysmal fear. Then, resolutely, Sarka turned his back on the conflict between the Martians and the people of earth, and hurtled across the devastated roof of the world toward that area which was feeling the destructive force of the vandal cube army. As he flew, Jaskar, keeping pace with him in silence, his mind was busy. Passage through the white flames of the moon had given him the key. Those white flames, source of all life on the moon, rendered almost godlike those whom it bathed, gave them unbelievable access of mental brilliance, were the source of that blue column which had forced the earth outward toward Mars, were the source, in some way, of the cubes themselves. As he and Jaskar, after passing through them, owed their own near divinity to the same white flames, those flames had made Luar mistress of the moon, therefore, of the gnomes and of the cubes. Therefore, Sarka, having been bathed in the flames, should make himself master of the cubes if he could out-will the combined determinations of Luar and of Dalius. His confidence was supreme as he fled through the outer darkness toward the eerie light which came from the area of demolitions. Looking ahead, he could see tiny glows in the sky which he knew to be the rebels of Dalius's gens, flying to keep their rendezvous with him. Higher mounted his courage and his confidence as he approached the roaring crash, perpetual and always mounting which showed him where the cube army was busiest. The sound vibrated the very air, causing the bodies of Sarka to tingle with it, causing them to flutter and shake in their flight with its awesome power, but they did not hold back, flew onward through the gloom, leaving behind them the brightly lighted areas where the gens of earth battled with the fireballs of the Martians, moving into the area of the eerie glowing of the cubes. Just as he approached the spot where mighty dwellings were tumbling before the march of the cube army, he sent a single command toward the cube which had piloted him from the moon. Come to me on the edge of the crevice nearest the place of most destruction. Would the cube now be subservient to his will? He wondered. Everything depended upon that. If not, then he might as well try to stay the forces of a mighty avalanche with his breath as halt the cube army with his will. But strangely enough, the closer he came to the vast area of tumbling dwellings the calmer he became, the more sure that he would win against the cubes. For when he landed at the lip of the crevice across which he could look for a hundred miles, a single cube gleamed brightly almost at his feet, awaiting his orders. One by one, by twos, threes, fours, dozens came the glowing people who had been bathed in the white flames of the moon's life source and each dropped down beside him. Sarka gave a command. Drop down in the midst of the cubes. Make your own cube the rallying point for this vast army of cubes. Force the cubes to desist in their mighty destruction. Be subservient to your will and do you, each of you, be subservient to my will. A way dropped the rebels, glowing points of white flame, dropping down the sides of the crevice a mighty awesome canyon into the very heart of the activity of the cubes, and from the brain of Sarka, aided by the will of Jaskar, went forth a simple command. Cease your march of destruction, old moon cubes, and harken to the will of Sarka, your master. Draw back from your labours and muster, not as squares, rectangles and columns, but as individual cubes in the area already devastated by you. Rally about the glowing people who have passed through the flames which were your moon mother and wait for orders. Take no further heed of commands from Dalius and Luar. Instantly it seemed to Sarka that he had drawn into some invisible vortex which tore at his brain and his body and his soul. Inside a cold voice seemed to say, Fool Sarka, my will is greater than yours. But though the force of the will of Luar, whose thought he recognized tore at him, almost shriveled the soul and brain of him with its might, he continued to send his thought command out to the moon cubes, forcing it through the wall of Luar's will, hurtling like invisible projectiles at the cube army below. Exaltation possessed him, buoyed him up, gave him greater courage and confidence as the moments passed, for even as his being concentrated on the will command to the cubes, his senses told him that the mighty sound of destruction was dying away, fading out. Slower now the dwellings fell, slower moved the moon cubes and as they slowed in their mighty march through the dwellings of men, so increased the confidence, the power of will, of Sarka and his people, the rebels of the Genes of Dalius. Then after an hour whose mighty mental conflict had bathed Sarka in the perspiration of superhuman effort, the sound of destruction ceased altogether, and the dwelling ceased to fall. A silent shout like an inborn peon of rejoicing surged through Sarka as he noted the retreat from the dwellings of men, of the moon cubes, back and back retreated the squares and the rectangles, the columns and the globes, breaking apart as they retreated. Within fifteen minutes after the destructions had ceased, millions of gleaming cubes winked upward from the bottom of the crevice, motionless, quiescent. Sarka sent forth another thought, I am your master, oh cubes of the moon. No sound, no movement answered him. Luar and Dalius are no longer able to command you. Still no sound or movement of the cubes. Then, taking a deep breath, as of a swimmer preparing to dive into icy water, Sarka gave a new command. Dissolve! Reform on the roof of the world and globes, roll over the face of the earth, destroy the fireballs of Mars, and take prisoners inside the globes, the attackers from Mars. Instantly the gleaming cubes vanished, and darkness as of a mighty pit possessed the crevice of destruction. Then, at the lip of the great crevice, the cube swept into form, myriads of globes which gleamed with the cold blue brilliance of the moon. They had no sooner formed as globes than they were in action again, rolling over the roof of the world as with a rising crescendo of thunder tumbling down the night-black sky, so mighty was their rush that the roof of the world trembled and shook. Above their charge raced Sarka and Jaska, and with them the rebels of the Gens of Dalius. All were present when the cubes crashed into the fireballs from Mars, swept the Martians within themselves as prisoners, held them securely and continued on, destroying the fireballs and myriads. Here and there fireballs exploded on contact, destroying the globes, which immediately reformed again as though the explosions had not been felt at all. Sarka had won the allegiance of the moon cubes, which had defeated and taken prisoners the Martians, destroying the vehicles in which they might have returned to Mars. And as realization came, darkness settled over the roof of the world, the last flare of Mars faded and died. This done, the cubes formed in mighty rows, facing the laboratory of Sarka. His heart beating madly with exaltation, Sarka studied them. Then he stepped into the observatory, gazed away across the space which separated the Earth from the moon, sent a menial message winging outward. Luar, Dalius. Faintly, fearfully came the answer. We hear, oh Sarka. Shift the blue column away from the Earth, do not interfere as we return to our orbit about the Sun. Obey, or I combine the total wreckage of Mars, the Earth, and the moon in an attack against you and your Martian ally. Inform your ally that their people will not return, that the Earth has need of them, but that two gens of Earth will be received by Martians in perfect amity and these gens allowed biding places on Mars. Unless your ally obeys, the Martian in my hands will be destroyed. In an hour the answer came, the snarling thought answer of Dalius. We hear, we obey, but Dalius has never beaten while he lives, his day welcome. Sarka found himself feeling even a little sorry for the sorely beaten Dalius, but his face was grim as he sent another command to the people of Dalius who had passed through the life source of the moon. Take command of the cubes and force them to repair the damage which has been done to the dwellings of men, to repair them completely over all the face of the Earth. As the glowing people hurried to obey, Sarka softly asked his father, but what shall we do with the Martians? Sarka the second smiled, release them, and send them to the lowest level where guarded by the cubes they will be sent constructing fireballs like those in which they arrived for the use of Earth if Dalius or the Martians ever attack again, and son, yes, oh my father, asked Sarka softly. I have another suggestion for the employment of the cubes. Let them build air-cars to be used by the Gens of Prool and of Classar as transportation to Mars whenever you are ready for them to go. Sarka smiled boilishly, happily. Yes, oh my father, and is there anything else? Yes. Take Jaska as your mate. Do you not see that she is waiting for you to speak? Sarka turned to Jaska, whose face was glorious in her surrender, and whose lips were parted in a loving smile, which faded only when Sarka's lips caressed it away. The end. End of section 25. Recording by Richard Elwood. Section 26. The Reader's Corner. From Astounding Stories of Super Science, September 1930. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Belona Times. The Reader's Corner. A meeting place for readers of astounding stories. From Australia. Dear Editor, I am taking the privilege of writing to you in an endeavor to show my appreciation of your magazine Astounding Stories. Although I am an inveterate reader, I must say that I have never read any book or magazine to come up to the above, and confess that though I am ignorant of the intricacies of science, and lacked interest in same prior to my reading your first issue, same is described so plainly that I have no trouble in fully understanding exactly what the author confes. I must thank you for this other interest in the monotony of life. Have pleasure of informing you that through my enthusiasm have created several subscribers and, on occasions, when adopting the age-old custom of placing my foot upon the rail and bending the elbow, have entered into many a conversation and discussion read the different stories included in your magazine. I assure you of my wholehearted support in the furthering of the popularity of your enjoyable and unique work in my country, and wish you every success in your venture. M. B. Johnson. Melbourne, Australia. Mr. Neal's Favorites. Dear editor, the other day I saw Astounding Stories on one of the newsstands. I purchased it, and after reading Brigands of the Moon I eagerly finished the rest of the magazine. I did not like out of the dreadful depths. In my opinion it should not be in a science fiction magazine. The only thing that matters with your magazine is that it is too small. I would like to read some stories in our magazine by Ed Earl Rep, David H. Keller M.D., Miles J. Brewer M.D., and Stanton Hopkins. Francis Neal, Kokomo, Indiana. No ghost stories. Dear editor, I received your April issue, and I think it is the best yet. I have but one complaint to make. And that is, your magazine seems to print some good science stories, but also has some stories which do not belong in a science fiction magazine. They might come under the name of Weird Tales. Is your magazine devoted to pure 100% science fiction? If so, I think you ought to leave out the ghost stories. Lewis Wensler, Brooklyn, New York. From The Other Sex. Dear editor, you will be surprised to hear from a girl, as I notice only boys wrote to praise your new magazine. I tried reading some of the science fiction magazines my brother buys every month, but I would start reading a story only to leave it unfinished. But your magazine is different. When I picked it up to read it, I thought I'd soon throw it down and read something else. But the moment I started to read one of the stories of your new magazine, I read it to the finish. I never read such vivid and exciting stories. Even my brother, who loves all kinds of science fiction magazines, couldn't stop praising your new magazine. He said, astounding stories beats them all. Some of your readers criticized your new magazine, and I haven't anything but disagreement for them. Yet who am I to judge persons who have read and know all about science fiction? We'll recommend your new magazine to all my friends. Sue O'Bara, Chicago, Illinois. January issue was first. Dear editor, I have just finished reading the April issue of our magazine. Can mere words describe my feelings? I am classing the stories as follows. E. None Brigands of the Moon is getting more and more interesting. Can you please tell me which month's issue was the first one, as I didn't procure the first two copies and should like to do so? Eli Meltzer, Brooklyn, New York. Eclipse's All Dear editor, just as soon as your new magazine came out, I aspired it. It eclipsed all the other magazines on the stand. As a cub magazine, I couldn't ask for more. I am going to comment on your stories now because I know you want me to, for I know you would like to know what sort of stories your readers like. I have a lot to say about Ray Cummings. He is the best writer I have ever seen. His stories couldn't be beat. Phantoms of Reality was a corking good story, but I believe his new serial, Brigands of the Moon, is going to be better. Captain S. P. Meek is a very good writer also. I take immense joy in his Dr. Bird stories. And we must not forget that great writer, Murray Leinster. His stories are really good. I congratulate you on your new magazine, Mr. Editor. Albert Philbrook, Springfield, Ohio. A Unique Magazine Dear Editor, I have been trying to write your magazine for a long time, so here goes. I have bought every copy from the first issue and sure think it is a good magazine. In fact, I should say a unique magazine. There are but few magazines in its class among science fiction magazines. The stories come up to the standards of good science fiction, and some go far above it. A few stories I did not like were The Man Who Was Dead, The Soul Snatcher, The Corpse on the Grading, and The Stolen Mind. The science in all these stories was very poor, but your magazine became better in my eyes when you published Phantoms of Reality, Tanks, Old Crumpton's Secret, Brigands of the Moon, Monsters of Mayan, and all of Captain S. P. Meek's stories. These were extraordinarily good stories. Wes's drawings are very good, and I hope you keep him. I have seen his drawings in another magazine for quite a time. I don't like the illustrations of your other artist. Could you, by chance, secure an artist by the name of Leo Mori or Hugh McKay? They both illustrate for other science fiction magazines and are about as good as Weso. Please keep the letter. And why don't you have him do all of your illustrating? Sorry to seem such a grouch, but I don't like your grade of paper, either. And why not enlarge the magazine to about eleven by nine by one-half inch, and charge twenty-five cents for your thoroughly good magazine, apart from the defects I have mentioned. About your authors. They are, for the most part, good. But they are mostly amateurs at writing science fiction stories. I am delighted to see such expert writers of science fiction as Harle Vincent, Ray Cummings, Victor Rousseau, and Captain S. P. Meek writing for your magazine. But couldn't you include, in your staff of authors, A. Hyatt Verrill, Dr. Miles J. Brewer, Dr. David H. Keller, R. F. Starzy, and a few more such notable authors? I hope to see these authors in your magazine soon. Linus Hoganmiller, Farmington, Missouri. The Star System. Dear editor, one star means fairly good. Two stars, good. Three stars, excellent. Four, extraordinary. No stars, just another story. I give Begans of the Moon by Ray Cummings, three stars. The Atom Smasher by Victor Rousseau, three stars. Murder Madness by Murray Lancaster, two stars. Into the Ocean Depths by S. P. Wright, two stars. And The Jovian Jest by L. Lorraine, no stars. It was short and sweet. Weser sure can draw. I would like to see a full-page illustration for each story by him. My favorite type of stories are Interplanetary and, second favorite, Stories of Future Wars. Will you have many of them in the future? I like long stories like the novelette and the May issue of astounding stories. Jack Darrow, Chicago, Illinois. We expect not to. Dear editor, while going over the readers' corner of the April issue, I notice in your answers to one of the letters that you will avoid reprints. Now many of your readers have not read the older classics of science fiction. Would it not be a good idea to publish a reprint at least once a year? One of the suggestions given was Merritts Through the Dragon Glass. Another very interesting story, and one that I am sure almost all of your followers have not read, is The Blind Spot by Homer Flint. I like the idea of having three members to a volume, as it will be much easier to bind. Now, starting with the April issue, I think that the best story in there is Monsters of Mayan. The Ray of Madness was up to the usual standard of Captain S.P. Meek's stories. The man who was dead was fairly good. Average, I would say. I did not like Vampires of Venus. I say that the May issue was the best of the astounding stories. I was satisfied with every story in it. Into the ocean depths was the best story. The Atom Smasher, being a close second, I liked the way the story into the ocean depths ended. A slight trace of sadness, and not at all like the—and they lived happily ever after—ending. A real story. I was disappointed in not finding any story concerning Dr. Bird and the April issue, while any more be printed soon. Before I close, I would like a definite answer to this question. Will you ever, or in the near future, reprint any of the genre of science fiction stories by the late master Garrett P. Service or from the pen of A. Merritt or H. T. U. Wells? Nathan Greenfield, New York City. Again, reprints. Dear Editor, Although I am a reader of six science fiction magazines, I was more than glad to see the latest one out—astounding stories. Because the stories are all interesting, I consider astounding stories superior to most of the science fiction periodicals on the newsstands today. My favorite stories are those of interplanetary voyages and other worlds. My favorite authors are Ray Cummings, A. Merritt, Victor Rousseau, Murray Leinster, Arthur J. Birx, and Harle Vincent. I hope that you will soon have stories by Edmund Hamilton and David H. Keller. Now here is something I hope you will give some thought and consideration. I notice that many of the readers wrote in requesting reprints. I am one of those who would like to see you publish some reprints, especially stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs, A. Merritt, and Ray Cummings. These authors have written many masterpieces of science fiction. It is very difficult, if not impossible, for a person to get these stories. They could be made available easily if astounding stories would reprint them. Most of the readers who object to reprints do so because they would hate to see a story by H. G. Wells or Jules Verne. I, myself, do not like these authors as they are too dull. But if you have only reprints by the three authors I mentioned and a few other popular writers, I am sure all the readers would welcome them. At least you could have a vote and see how they stand on reprints. Michael Fogarest, Passaic, New Jersey. Likes the Readers Corner Dear editor, your The Readers Corner interests me very much. It surely does show how your magazine pleases its readers. You cannot get too much science in your stories to suit me. Chemistry and physics more than anything else. I surely enjoyed reading mad music and the thief of time. I don't like long stories. They are too interesting to have to wait a month for the next part. I hope that your magazine continues to have as astounding stories as it has in the past. Vern L. Einrich Casey, Illinois From Master Wiener Dear editor, one day coming home from school I saw your magazine. That night I bought it and have since been an ardent reader. But why not give us a change? I prefer stories of the Sargassus Sea, the Maelstrom, and about invasions of the earth. Milton Wiener, age 12 Baltimore, Maryland High Praise Dear editor, in closed you will find twenty cents in stamps for the first copy of Astounding Stories. I have just finished the May issue of Astounding Stories and the rating of the stories is 1. Brigands of the Moon Excellent 2. The Atomsmasher Marvelous 3. Murder Madness Perfect 4. Into the Ocean Depths Good 5. The Jovian Jast Pretty Good The cover designed by H. Wesso is good. Don't lose him. I would like more stories by Victor Rousseau and Ray Cummings. Where are some stories by H. G. Wells, Stanton Koblin's, Gawain Edwards, Francis Flagg, Henrik Jarve, and Dr. Keller? My favorite stories are interplanetary stories. Here are some things that may improve your magazine, though I must say that your magazine is about perfect as it is. More pictures and long stories. About two novelettes in each issue. About two short stories in each issue. More interplanetary novels and novelettes. About one serial in one issue. Smoother paper. Isidore Horowitz New York City Fairly Good Satire Dear Editor, I have read your two issues of Astounding Stories and I feel that they will fill a very much needed place in literature. I am especially interested in the stories like The Vampires of Venus and the Begans of the Moon. The Vampires of Venus can be classified as a fairly good satire on earth beings. I consider that story one with a moral. It reminds one of Voltaire's Micro-Megas and it's taking us to another planet to show us our faults at home will stimulate interest in social improvement. I have kept tab on Edgar Rice Burroughs' writings because he teaches evolution in a way that makes it easy for the ordinary reader to grasp. You have a great field. If you can keep up the interplanetary stories and mix some evolutionary stories with them. The true stories are playing a valuable part in stimulating people to take a deeper view of life and you have a field in Astounding Stories almost without a competitor. J. L. Stark, Louisville, Kentucky. He is H. W. Wesolowski. Dear Editor, since I have read every copy of Astounding Stories since it was inaugurated, I feel well qualified to contribute a few bouquets and also some criticism. The cover illustrations are wonderful, but I cannot find the artist's name on it. So good and so good an artist should put his moniker on his productions. I am glad to see that the words Super Science are on the top of the cover and bright red letters. Some other science fiction magazines seem desirous of disguising the contents of their magazines for some obscure and mysterious reason. And now a brick-bat. It is my humble opinion that the science should be examined more carefully before the stories are printed in this excellent magazine. The story should be not only astounding but should contain some science information that will be remembered after the fiction is forgotten. The man who was dead is an excellent ghost story or a weird tale, but is out of place in our magazine. I take the liberty to call it our magazine since a department is given over to the readers and we express our choice of the kind of stories that are printed. However, taken altogether, our magazine is steadily improving. Each issue up to now has been distinctly better than the one before. I have graded the stories in the April and May copies as follows. Excellent. Vampires of Venus, the Ray of Madness, Briggans of the Moon, Murder Madness, Into the Ocean's Depths, and The Jovian Jest. Good. Monsters of Moyan, The Atom Smasher, and The Soul Searcher. Poor. The man who was dead. My favorite authors are Dr. David H. Keller, Harle Vincent, Lilith Lorraine, Anthony Peltier, Captain SP Meek, Dr. Miles J. Brewer, and Ray Cummings. I can hardly wait a month for my next copy. Wayne D. Bray, Campbell, Missouri. Story says Chromagnons fled to Europe. Dear editor, ever since I was first introduced to astounding stories by a cousin, I have been a steady reader. I have not missed a single issue so far. I hope you will have stories by Hyatt Verrell, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Edmund Hamilton, Leslie Stone, Stanton A. Cubilance, and Francis Flag. The stories I like best in each issue, not counting serials, are Phantoms of Reality, Spawn of the Stars, Vandals of the Stars, Vampires of Venus, and The Atom Smasher. In The Atom Smasher, it says that all Europeans descended from the Atlanteans. Now, when the hero killed them all with the disintegrating ray, would he not have affected their birth? Wesso is some artist. I saw a mistake on the cover of the March issue. The color of space is a deep black, not blue, because the blue color of the heavens, when viewed from the earth, is due to the reflection of light by the atmosphere. George Brandt, Schenectady, New York. The Readers' Corner All readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to come over in The Readers' Corner and join in our monthly discussion of stories, authors, scientific principles, and possibilities, everything that's of common interest and connection with our astounding stories. Although from time to time the editor may make a comment or so, this is a department primarily for readers, and we want you to make full use of it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses, brickbats, suggestions—everything's welcome here. So come over in The Readers' Corner and discuss it with all of us, the editor. Number 1. Editor's Note The Forgotten Planet, July 1930 issue of Astounding Stories. Number 2. Mr. Bond has made a laughable error in his description. Like all of the Koliaptra, the Macurians or Hexapata, six-legged, what Mr. Bond continually refers to in his narrative as upper arms were really the antenna of the insects, which split at the end into four flexible appendages resembling fingers. His mistake is a natural one, for the Macurians use their antenna as extra arms. James S. Carpenter. End of Section 26. Section 27. Astounding Stories' Addenda By various. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. Reading by Bologna Times. Astounding Stories of Super Science. On sale the first Thursday of each month. W. M. Clayton. Publisher. Harry Bates. Editor. Dr. Douglas M. Dold. Consulting Editor. The Clayton standard on a magazine guarantees that the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid by leading writers of the day and purchase under conditions approved by the Author's League of America. That such magazines are manufactured in union shops by American workmen. That each news dealer and agent is insured a fair profit. That an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages. The other Clayton magazines are Ace High Magazine, Ranch Romances, Cowboys Stories, Clues, Five Novels Monthly, All Star Detective Stories, Rangeland Love Story Magazine, Western Adventures, and Forest and Stream. More than two million copies required to supply the monthly demand for Clayton magazines. Volume 3. Number 3. Contents. September 1930. Cover Design. H. W. W. Wesolowski. Painted in watercolors from a scene in Marooned Under the Sea. A problem in communication. Miles J. Brewer, M.D. Page 293. The delivery of his country into the clutches of a merciless, ultra-modern religion can be prevented only by Dr. Hagstrom's deciphering and extraordinary code. Jetta of the Lowlands. Ray Cummings. Page 310. Fantastic and sinister are the Lowlands into which Philip Grant descends on his dangerous assignment. Beginning a three-part novel. The Terrible Tentacles of L. 472. Sewell Peasley Wright. Page 332. Commander John Hansen of the Special Petrol Service records another of his thrilling interplanetary assignments. Marooned Under the Sea. Paul Ernst. Page 346. Three men stick out a strange and desperate adventure among the incredible monsters of the dark sea floor. A complete novelette. The Murder Machine. Q. B. Cave. Page 377. Four lives laid helpless before the murder machine. The uncanny device by which hypnotic thought waves are filtered through men's minds to mold them into murdering tools. The Attack from Space. Captain S. P. Meek. Page 390. From a far world came monstrous invaders who were all the more terrifying because invisible. Earth. The Marauder. Arthur J. Birx. Page 408. Martian Fireballs and the Terrific Moon Cubes wreak tremendous destruction on helpless Earth in the final death struggle of the Warring Worlds. Conclusion. The Reader's Corner. All of Us. Page 423. A meeting place for readers of astounding stories. Single copies. Twenty cents. In Canada. Twenty-five cents. Yearly subscription. Two dollars. Issued monthly by Publishers Fiscal Corporation. 80 Lafayette Street. New York. New York. W. M. Clayton. President. Nathan Goldman. Secretary. Entered as Second Class Matter December 7, 1929 at the Post Office at New York, New York under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a trademark in the U.S. Patent Office. Member Newstand Group. Men's List. For advertising rates address E.R. Crow and Company Incorporated. Twenty-five Vanderbilt Avenue, New York. Or 225 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago. End of Section 27. End of Astounding Stories of Super Science.