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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
28
Now
the
spar-aluminite
outer
skin
of
the
ship
grew
bright
with
the
red
neon
glare.
Another
ship,
from
China,
dropped
slowly
to
its
stage
near
by,
and
the
unloaders
swarmed
about
the
pneumatic
tubes
to
receive
the
mail.
The
teleradio
was
shouting
news
of
a
failure
of
the
Manchurian
wheat
crop.
Nat's
chief
officer,
a
short
cockney
named
Brent,
came
up
to
him.
"Ready
to
start,
Sir,"
he
said.
Nat
turned
to
him.
"Your
orders
are
clear?"
"Yes,
Sir."
"Send
Benson
here."
"I'm
here,
Sir."
Benson,
the
ray-gunner
in
charge
of
the
battery
that
comprised
the
vessel's
armament,
a
lean
Yankee
from
Connecticut,
stepped
forward.
"You
know
your
orders,
Benson?
Axelson
has
seized
the
Moon
and
the
gold-mines
there.
He's
planning
to
obliterate
the
Earth.
We've
got
to
go
in
like
mad
dogs
and
shoot
to
kill.
No
matter
if
we
kill
every
living
thing
there,
even
our
own
people
who
are
inmates
of
the
Moon's
penal
settlement,
we've
got
to
account
for
Axelson."
"Yes,
Sir."
"We
can't
guess
how
he
got
those
gold-ships
that
returned
with
neon
and
argon
for
the
Moon
colonists.
But
he
mustn't
get
us.
Let
the
men
understand
that.
That's
all."
"Very
good,
Sir."
The
teleradio
suddenly
began
to
splutter:
A-A-A,
it
called.
And
instantly
every
sound
ceased
about
the
landing-stage.
For
that
was
the
call
of
Axelson,
somewhere
upon
the
Moon.
"Axelson
speaking.
At
the
next
full
moon
all
the
American
Province
of
the
World
Federation
will
be
annihilated,
as
the
Chinese
Province
was
at
the
last.
There's
no
hope
for
you,
good
people.
Send
out
your
vacuum
liners.
I
can
use
a
few
more
of
them.
Within
six
months
your
world
will
be
depopulated,
unless
you
flash
me
the
signal
of
surrender."
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