Chapter IX

During the next ten sleeping periods an epidemic of small parties broke out in the human colony. The Sinn Fein Society from its tiny spark had spread into a conflagration. Apartment F12 was rapidly being converted into an arsenal as the men hid rocket shells, ray rifles, dum-dums and dart guns in the basement. Furthermore, twelve bales of green insulation suits had been added to the one Norman and the Duchess had stolen.

The Duchess had made good her promise and a steady stream of suits was being slipped into the hands of the Sinn Feiners. She was ensconced in the third bedroom of Norman's apartment. Jennifer had not relented.

"When you add any more wenches to your collection," Jennifer replied, coolly skeptical, "quarter them with the Duchess. I absolutely refuse to share my room with any of your paramours."

Norman had returned from a meeting of the Sinn Feiners where he had learned that most of the ships were back already and were being refitted for the attack on Ganymede. Time pressed. He said:

"Jennifer, I'm going to drive out into the country to try to get a line on the vegetation. I came back to the apartment to ask you to come along."

"No," she said perversely. "Why don't you ask Alicia?"

"Alicia?"

"Yes, Alicia, the elevator operator. She's been asking about you."

Norman's ire mounted. "Jennifer," he said wrathfully, "I've been exceptionally lenient."

"Lenient?" repeated the girl.

"That's right, lenient." He advanced on her threateningly. She backed off in consternation. "It's not uncommon for disobedient slaves to be given a sound thrashing, locked up on bread and water."

"You wouldn't dare." The girl compressed her lips.

"Now then," he went on, "are you coming with me peacefully or must I descend to force?"

She stamped her foot. "No!"

Norman grabbed her, slung her over his shoulder, started for the door.

"Put me down! Put me down!" she cried, kicking vigorously.

"Are you coming along quietly?"

"No!"

He carried her into the hall, made for the elevator, pressed the button.

"Norman," she pleaded in consternation. "Put me down before that elevator gets here."

"Are you coming quietly?"

"Yes. For heaven's sake, yes!"

He placed her on her feet. She brushed her black hair from her eyes, straightened her white tunic with a wriggle.

"Oh!" she said, "of all the indignities!" But the corners of her lips kept trying to break into a grin. "Would you really have hauled me to your car like that in front of everybody?"

"Yes," he replied seriously.

In spite of herself Jennifer burst into laughter. "You know, sometimes you're the most amazing rogue I've ever met. I can't stay angry at you for ten minutes."

The city of Behrl had been built around the enormous blow hole through which escaping gasses in some distant geological age had burst to the surface of Neptune. Beyond its outskirts lay a hilly country matted with undergrowth. The road kept getting worse and worse until finally it ended abruptly on the slope of a hill.

Norman brought the car to a stop. "End of the line," he said and hopped out. Jennifer followed him.

"Well," said Jennifer glancing at the weird vegetation about them. "Where do we start?"

"I don't know," he confessed. His eyes swept the country. A thick growth of small shrubs matted with creepers cloaked the hillside. The air smelled rich, hot, fertile.

"By Jove," he exclaimed, "what's that?" He pointed to a bare spot a quarter of a mile away. It was several acres in extent. And even in the rosy sunlight it seemed to pulse with a phosphorescent light.

Jennifer shivered. "What makes the light?"

"Let's take a look at it," he suggested.

* * * * *

Norman in the lead, they began to force their way through the grotesque, waist-high jungle. The sun beat down hotly on their uncovered heads. He wiped the perspiration from his face, swatted vindictively at a small persistent insect.

Jennifer tripped on a thick purple creeper, muttered something under her breath which sounded like cursing. Norman grinned, plowed ahead. It took them almost half an hour to reach the edge of the bare spot.

"A landslide," he ejaculated.

The slide had gouged a deep gash in the loamy soil of the hillside. It was from this gash that the glow emanated. For yards on either side the vegetation was dead. He crossed the belt of dead plants, approached the gash. On the brink, he paused, shaded his eyes, backed off hastily.

"Stay away!" he cautioned the girl. "Don't look in there!"

"Why?" she cried, halting in her tracks.

"Radium! I'm not sure, but I think it's almost pure radium. Jennifer, do you realize? The landslide has uncovered a fortune. We're rich!"

She looked at him sadly. "What difference does it make?"

But his jubilation was not to be dampened. "We won't be here forever. Um-um!" He smacked his lips, almost danced. "Radium! We'd better get back a ways, we're too close to the stuff as it is."

They retreated to the edge of the stricken vegetation. Even here the plants were sickly, wilted. Half a dozen of them were coated with red, rust-like scales.

Jennifer suddenly grabbed his shoulder, shook him. "Come out of your daze, Midas," she laughed a little hysterically. "Look at the plants. They're dead. Don't you see. It's killed them. Wouldn't it kill the plant men, too."

But Norman shook his head. "They know as much if not more about radium than we do. It's dangerous, yes, but it's not a weapon." Suddenly he dropped to his knees beside a dwarf shrub. It was one of those covered with the red scales. "But, by Jupiter, this may be."

"What is it?" said the girl in a stifled voice.

"Blight!"

"What?" she asked in astonishment.

"Blight!" he repeated. "Don't you see? It's blight. Look." He pointed to the scabrous red scale attacking the shrub.

She shook her head in bewilderment.

"If the Dohlmites aren't blight resistant, Jennifer, this may be the weapon." His voice was hoarse with excitement, the radium forgotten. He said, "In the early days in America, blight attacked the chestnut trees. It wiped out every American chestnut from coast to coast."

"What about the other trees?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well," he admitted, "it didn't harm them."

"Maybe the plant men aren't susceptible to this disease, either."

"Maybe not, but it's a chance. It's the only chance that's presented itself, and we haven't much time left before the Dohlmites will order the attack on Ganymede." Tenderly, he dug up the infected plant, wrapped its roots in his handkerchief.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"I'm going to infect a Dohlmite with this blight!" he replied grimly.

Jennifer giggled.

"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.

"Blight! It does seem such an odd method of attack."

Once back in the apartment, Jennifer dived beneath a cold shower. Norman, though, went straight to the kitchen where he transplanted the infected plant into a saucepan and took it out on the balcony.

He heard the front door open and close with a loud bang. He started guiltily, thought who could that be? Should the Dohlmites discover the infected plant that he was nurturing on his balcony, the penalty would be swift and final. He dashed into the hall.

Jennifer's head stuck beyond her door revealing one bare wet shoulder. Her blue eyes were panicky. "Who is it?"

He shook his head, went into the living-room. With a sigh of relief, he recognized the Duchess.

"Norman, you're back!" cried the Duchess wildly. "I didn't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

The young man's reassurance evaporated. The Duchess's blond hair was disheveled. She was panting as if she'd been running.

"What's wrong?"

"We've been betrayed!" said the Duchess in a frightened voice.