Chapter I

Ric Martin could feel the excitement already, as he eased his gyro closer to Mount Palomar and saw the great Observatory dome just below him. The night was dark, ideal for observation. The greatest minds of Earth would be here this night, to watch a world and its people in their death-throes.

Ric's face went grim at the thought of it. For weeks the tele-casts had been jammed with the news. Mars was dying, and Mars had been a friendly neighbor for decades. Earth had been helpless to act. No one, not even the Martians, knew where the mysterious Red Plague came from; it had appeared simultaneously in a score of places across the planet, quickly spreading and destroying everything before it.

After prolonged hesitancy, the Earth Council had agreed to accept the Mars refugees. Thereupon a brooding dread and mistrust had swept across Earth like a patina. A new political faction, the anti-Mars sect, had arisen and was gathering strength. There would surely be trouble....

A shrill siren blast brought Ric out of his revery. He glanced back, saw a white-winged police 'copter descending upon him.

"Damn!" Ric set his plane down on the broad field atop Palomar, as the police 'copter came down beside him. Ric stepped out, straightened his uniform and waited.

"How'd you ever get through our lines?" the officer demanded suspiciously. "Don't you know this is the night of the Mars take-off? No one's permitted up here!"

"Sure, I know. But I have a special pass to this shindig." Ric produced a card signed by Professor George Broxted, and the name was magical.

"Very good, sir. Sorry to have detained you!" The officer stared after Ric's departing figure as though wondering how a Captain of the Interstellar Fleet could gain admittance here where so many big-names had failed.

And even Ric didn't realize what an occasion this was until he reached the tower. Every outstanding figure in the scientific as well as the political world was here, gathered in tense groups about the huge tele-panel in the center of the room. This Mars take-off was certainly the most dramatic event in all Mars' history and perhaps Earth's as well!

Professor Broxted spied him, came over and shook hands.

"Good evening, Ric! I won't bother with introductions. No one cares about that tonight. Glad you could make it!"

"So am I, Professor. I wouldn't have missed this. How much time?"

"Take-off's in twenty minutes, but we've already got the scene in focus. We can bring it to a distance of a few miles, thanks to the new magni-beams. Come."

They threaded their way toward the huge screen to stare at the scene pictured there.

* * * * *

It was a terribly changed Mars that Ric looked upon. The blood-red metallic haze covered all but a mile-wide strip of clear atmosphere; and along this strip Ric could see tiny dots of white light, which he guessed must be the Ionization Towers.

"There's the _Valiant_," Broxted said. "You can just see it on the lower edge of the screen."

Ric peered--then gave a gasp of disbelief. Even at this distance, it was apparent that the ship had tremendous bulk and stretched for fully a mile!

"They're going to hoist gravs in that? It will fall apart!"

"There are some here tonight," Broxted's voice lowered, "who hope that will happen. The _Valiant_ was built in record time under supervision of Dar Mihelson. It's supposed to have a new type of anti-grav." Broxted paused. "I knew Dar Mihelson well, when I was at Mars University two years ago. A fine man, and I trust him still. He's given his word that not a spore will reach Earth, and every precaution will be taken!"

"It's a ticklish situation."

"Yes. And believe me, the anti-Mars faction here has grown more than anyone dreams! There've been secret meetings, and tonight may set everything off. Ric ... if the _Valiant_ manages to up gravs, keep your eyes open! Wessell's here!"

Ric's brows furrowed, beneath his shock of blond hair. Yes, Wessell _would_ be here. Felix Wessell was Supreme Commander of Earth's Interstellar Fleet, and he'd been particularly bitter in his denunciation of the Earth Council's decision to accept the Mars refugees. There had even been rumors that Wessell was holding the Fleet in readiness, if necessary, to prevent the _Valiant_ from landing on Earth. The man wielded a powerful influence.

Ric looked about him now but didn't see his superior, Wessell, and didn't want to. He did see Lal Disbro, the Martian Ambassador. Disbro and his aides had been stranded on Earth when the sudden malady struck his planet. Now the man was a disconsolate figure who seemed to have aged ten years in as many weeks, knowing that only a few of his people were left and even their fate was an imponderable.

It was largely due to Disbro's frantic efforts that the Earth Council had agreed to accept the _Valiant_--and then only after appeals to Venus and Mercury had been coldly refused. Looking at Disbro now, Ric felt truly sorry for him.

* * * * *

"It's almost time!" Broxted touched Ric's arm. The telescopic sights were being set to follow the _Valiant_ in its flight. There was tension in the room and sudden, deathly silence. Could the clumsy bulk of the _Valiant_ really hoist gravs, or would it crack up against the wastes of Mars? The future of a race was in the balance.

The televise took on a deeper glow. The entire planet of Mars was a backdrop across the screen. The seconds ticked off. Suddenly then ... the _Valiant_ moved! It seemed to shudder for a moment under unleashed power. Then it slid slowly forward across sand.

For a few seconds the scene wavered. The watchers couldn't tell what was happening. Ric gave a quick glance at Lal Disbro. The man's face had gone pale.

Now it was apparent that the great ship was rising as a bulk, to hang poised, fighting against gravity. Then the flash of rockets was plainly seen--literally dozens of them, spaced in parallel rows across the long underhull.

The scene was silent and unreal. But there was no doubt in any man's mind, now--the ship had lifted gravs and was blasting! Slowly, the great lumbering shape widened the distance. The scene resolved to the blackness of outer space where a glitter of stars was seen. There the _Valiant_ steadied on her course.

The worst was over. It had been dramatic, momentous. Ric heard sighs of relief about him. People were congratulating Lal Disbro, whose face was wreathed in smiles.

But there were men in this room who did not smile, who were strangely silent. Again Ric allowed his gaze to sweep about--and this time he spotted Wessell.

The man was tall, hard-featured, crisp of manner. His eyes were stern as he leaned a little forward to peer at the screen. Ric watched him. Wessell's only show of emotion was a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth. Now that the _Valiant_ had gained free space he was studying it, studying it hard. His lips curled a little in disdain.

Ric glanced again at the screen. The Martian ship _was_ clumsy, there was no denying it. On its slow and careful course it would take perhaps six days to reach Earth. Much could happen in six days....

Then he saw Wessell rise. The man crossed to the private room where the communicators were kept. Through the partly open door Ric saw him lift a tube and speak into it with crisp authority.

"Trouble," Ric muttered. "I knew it!" And there were cold, coiling knots in the pit of his stomach.

When he bade Broxted goodbye a few minutes later, and headed back for the city, it was with a feeling of dark events brewing--events that were going to touch him whether he liked it or not.