Chapter II

Barry opened his eyes as the red sun climbed over the rim of the rolling desert. His head was clear, his mind refreshed and alert. These symptoms strengthened his convictions that he'd been hypnotized.

The power of a highly trained mind was being used in this campaign against Earthmen. Perhaps the mist was produced both to hide the operator and to frighten the victim--making the latter easier prey to the force that invaded the brain, and had literally torn out the life essence of the other victims.

Shrugging off further speculation for the moment, Barry climbed painfully to his feet. His muscles were stiff and cramped from lying hours on the ground. He flexed his arms and legs, worked his fingers, getting out the soreness. Then he started for his spaceship.

As the rockets throbbed behind him, Barry tried all the controls. The little ship whipped through every intricate maneuver he'd ever known. It slowed his progress, this senseless stunting, but it showed him the ship was in prime condition, answering his every touch on the controls.

Why was he doing this? It was as if he were going on a trip. Yet he had no such intention. The mist had spared him, and was gone.

The mist! The thought brought the answer to his strange preparations--hypnosis again--post-hypnotic suggestion!

Having spared him and ordered him to flee the planet, the being behind the mist had meant him to remember the advice.

Barry's lips set in a straight line, and hard little muscles stood out on his cheek, along his strong jaw. He hadn't the slightest intention of fleeing Mars. He'd been sent here for a purpose by the Terrestrial Government, and he had come to realize the whole deadly threat of this Martian scourge against Earthmen was tied up with the reason for his being here. Barry William was staying on Mars till he'd finished his job.

Below him, the circular, thick-walled, high-domed Center flashed over the horizon and loomed larger in the lower view-plate before Barry on the control board. Soon he was close enough to see the narrow apertures, where, in the early days of Terrestrial occupation, mighty ray cannon had blasted against bands of Martians who still had crude weapons to use against the victors.

Barry put his ship down neatly in a semi-circular row of other craft. There were, he noticed, more ships parked outside than was usual for a post not close to the bigger mine. One of them was a large, ornate cruiser type, on which was painted in neat gold letters: "_Grey Enterprises, Inc._"

It was the personal, space-going ship of Craig Grey, billionaire ore-king, himself. The latter was probably inside the Center. That would account for the unusual number of ships, for Grey never travelled anywhere without a large following.

As Barry stepped through the door-lock onto the field, a small knot of men, dressed for travel, stopped outside the building door. They stared open-mouthed at the Government identification letters on Barry's craft, then at him.

Obviously, they'd turned and bolted inside--bolted with a speed and singleness of purpose that seemed like panic!

Puzzled, Barry pushed aside the heavier, outer door. From inside, an excited murmuring of voices came through the second door.

* * * * *

Silence fell over the big room within, as he entered. Every man there, most of them free-lance ore-seekers, was in the crowd pressing around one man who stood against the bar. That man was easily recognizable, for his picture had been printed from Mercury to Pluto. He was Craig Grey. A subordinate stood on each side of him, keeping the others at a respectable distance.

Grey looked at Barry with bleak, cold eyes. The ore-king was a dapper little man, who apparently fought his advanced years with the aid of science. His hair was coal black, as was the tapering, precise mustache--though both should have been gray long ago. He lifted a well-manicured hand, and sucked on a cigarette through a long holder. Despite his culture and small stature, Barry Williams sensed that this man could be a deadly enemy.

The glowing cigarette in its long holder swept out in a graceful arc toward the men Barry had seen outside. "This is the searching party that was about to set out for you, Williams," said Grey in a flat, thin voice. "A spaceship reported seeing you last night on the desert--with the white mist closing in."

"Very decent of you fellows to worry," Williams said amiably. "I came in under my own power."

His words fell into a silence that was tenser than before. They had just been discussing him, Williams was positive. Grey, who had never seen him, had known his name!

Barry said nothing. He waited calmly for the answer to this odd reception. Somehow, he sensed hostility in the Earthmen here.

Beneath the poised, still friendly gaze of his blue eyes, the others grew restless. Feet shuffled. Murmurs came from the rear of the group.

"These Martian savages are behind this mist."

"They're out to kill all us Earthmen," came another voice.

And a third questioned: "How could a man get out of that mist alive?"

"Unless he's a friend of those killers," finished another.

The color of Barry's eyes deepened into the blue-grey of carbon steel. "I owe explanations only to Earth Government!" he snapped. "Is that clear?"

Murmurs rose again--angry now, and the faces of the men grew dark and menacing. But Grey waved his long cigarette holder for silence. He was the unquestioned leader on Mars. His company owned most of the largest mines.

He spoke coolly: "What you say may be true, Williams, but we feel we've a right to some answer. After all, my company has billions invested here. And these men," his gesture took in the miners and ore-seekers, "have their lives invested. All of _us_ are threatened by this mist."

"Fair enough," said Barry Williams. "I'll be glad to tell you, since you're _asking_."

He told them briefly of his encounter with the mist. When he'd finished, the taut silence in which they'd listened was snapped by angry mutterings. This time the anger seemed directed against the accusations of the Martian maiden, rather than against Barry.

"Those savages calling _us_ murderers!"

* * * * *

Craig Grey's voice was scornful. "Ridiculous of course. These creatures are human only in superficial resemblance." He drew deeply through his long holder, and blew a great cloud of smoke toward Barry. "Of course, _you_ know that Earth laws have declared them savages, and provided that none save humans of Earth descent can hold property on Mars, or citizenship in the Earth state. How could we murder or rob them--since they're not human and own nothing?"

"True--and interesting," conceded Williams. "I know too the laws were passed on suggestion of exploring parties sent here by three big inter-planetary combines, of which your own was the largest. That was fifty years ago. You were at the head of your company then--excuse me for giving your age away." Williams was speaking slowly, thinking his way. Some of the puzzle of Mars was unfolding as he spoke, against this background of resentful Earthmen.

"Those laws gave you and your friends control of great wealth in the ore mines. You broke the resistance of the Martians, and used some as cheap labor in the mines. The others had to find ore dust and sell it to you for a song, to buy food and other things from you at your price. And they had to avoid being shot by ore-seekers who wanted the dust."

Again the other men growled toward Barry.

"Martian lover!"

"Justice from the Crypt, eh? We'll send you back there!"

"'Tain't murder or robbery to kill savages!"

"Go running back to Earth with that phoney story."

"No!" he answered them. "I'm not leaving Mars until I finish my job. The Bureau of Martian Affairs sent me here to see if some educational program could be started among the Martian savages. I think it could. These people could pass for Earth citizens in the streets of Washington itself. As soon as I get to the bottom of the mist, and stop it, I'll be ready to go back with my recommendation."

The men began to surge toward Barry. Apprehension, as well as anger showed in their faces. What he suggested would mean the end of their chances to exploit the planet and its people so freely--and of Mars as a frontier.

"I don't think you'll get away with this, Williams," Craig Grey said softly. "You've admitted being on the side of the Martians who are trying to kill us!"

"I'll put the first man who raises a hand under arrest," said the other just as softly.

"That's a bluff I'll call," snarled a big man. He was one of the subordinates who'd stood beside the ore-king. Now he hulked forward, hand dropping slowly toward the belt where two ray guns dangled. "You won't be arresting anyone! Every Earthman on Mars will be after you--just like I am!"

"I'll have to take your weapons," Barry began. To exert his authority as a representative of Earth Government now might save the situation--if he could make it stick.

But an ugly look, spreading across the big man's face, pulling at his thick lips and blazing from his eyes was the answer. It was the look of a murderer, and there was no mistaking his intention as he brought up a ray gun.

"You can have them--this way," he sneered. The other men in the Center scattered for cover, their faces relieved that the threat Barry represented was to be so quickly removed.

But Earth Investigators were well trained. Barry Williams' ray crossed the other. The big man fell, life burned out of him. Barry swung the weapon in his hand significantly about the men.

"If this is the way you want it, there's an example of what will happen to anyone else who tries to stop me. And don't forget, I represent the authority of Earth Government!"

He backed toward the door, watching them warily. "It won't be wise for the rest of you to try to follow me!"

Outside, he made for his ship at a dead run. Ray beams were splashing into the red sand at his feet, when he entered the port. Safe behind the apertures of the Center, the men were trying to cut him down.

* * * * *

Barry blasted his ship into the air, and watched the Center grow small behind and below him. His lips were set in a straight, tight line, while his mind went over his position.

Grey would fan the hostility of all the Earthmen on Mars against him. Barry was sure from what he'd seen of the Martians that they were far from the savages they'd been called by explorers financed by Grey and his associates. They were an intelligent peaceful race, uneducated and unadvanced, but intelligent.

Earth Government had been misled into oppressing them, and Grey had profited enormously. The ore-king would stop at nothing to keep Barry Williams from destroying the set-up. Already he'd connected Barry with the white mist, a Martian attempt to win freedom and revenge--an attempt that Barry must stop!

The white mist meant the killing of Earthmen, and the rebellion would convince Earth Government that the Martians were savages. Barry Williams wanted to save human lives--even the lives of those who were murdering and robbing on Mars under the flimsy pretext of these laws. And he wanted to see justice done on Mars.

These things were not very probable, though, Barry knew. Grey's clever move had trapped him on Mars. He hadn't enough fuel in his ship to reach Earth, nor was his radio strong enough to contact the planet. With the Earthmen trying to kill him, he'd be unable to get supplies. And the Martians had warned him to leave the planet--a second time the white mist might not spare him!

Still, his only chance was to reach the Martians who were behind the white mist. If he could convince them of his intentions--he had to convince them! Then they might help him reach Earth; and hold off their ominous attacks against Earthmen until he could put the situation before the Government of Earth. If he could manage that, Barry was sure he could save human lives and do justice on Mars!

He had to find the Martians! Barry brought his ship down low over the red sand and started his search. He knew that hostile Earthmen, armed to the teeth and intent on killing him, were searching also.

Their search was successful, while he still looked vainly for Martians. Not even a nomadic wandering native was moving over the sands. And the blazing midday of the red planet brought the end of Barry Williams' opportunity.

"These natives know something is up," he was musing. Above him, the sun was a ball of flame, its rays blistering, blinding through the thin atmosphere.

It was out of this blind spot that a voice snapped across Barry's thoughts like a whiplash: "The game's up, Williams."

He knew then that his thoughts had left him open to attack.

"You heard me, Williams."

The latter knew that cold, precise voice. It was Craig Grey. Barry could not see the ship, but he knew the ore-king's cruiser would be hovering high above, safely out of sight in the sun's rays. And from that focal point of his enemies, the ether began to crackle with orders.

Other craft began to converge rapidly on the spot, very close to where the investigator had the white mist. They ringed Barry as the mist had, closed in. Their blazing ship rays, in the nose of each craft, formed spokes to a wheel of which Barry Williams' ship was to be the hub.

He charged into that ring, broke it! He scattered them before him, some of them dropping downward with blazing hulls.

But, as often as he drove them before him, Grey's cold, hard face appeared in the visa-radio. His commands reformed the others, brought them back to the attack.

Finally, as Barry fought off another encirclement, the space cruiser of Craig Grey dropped unseen from above. Four red rays reached toward the investigator's ship, closed about it like the fingers of a hand.

Barry had no chance to turn and make the prolonged ray contact it would have taken to damage the big, heavily-armored ship. His control board indicators flashed a bitter message in his eyes--his ship was lost! In the visa-plate before him; was Grey's exulting face, the long cigarette holder clamped between the thin, smiling lips. Above, like good dogs closing for the kill, the ships were following Barry down behind the pack-leading cruiser.