"Kantos Kan has
just told me of your rash plan-it cannot possibly succeed, and you
will only be sacrificing yourself uselessly. Stay with me, my
chieftain, and we shall die together!" John Carter strode across
the room and took his princess in his arms-perhaps for the last
time. She pillowed her head on his broad chest and cried softly. He
held her close for a brief moment before he spoke.
"Upon Mars," he said, "I have found a free and kindly people
whose civilization I have learned to cherish. Their princess is the
woman I love.
"She and her people to whom she belongs are in grave danger.
While there is even a slight chance for me to save you and Helium
from the terrible catastrophe that threatens all Mars, I must
act."
Dejah Thoris straightened a little at his words and smiled
bravely as she looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, my chieftain," she whispered. "For a minute, my love
for you made me forget that I belong also to my people. If there is
any chance of saving them, I would be horribly selfish to detain
you; so go now and remember, if you die the heart of Dejah Thoris
dies with you!"
A moment later John Carter was seated behind the controls of the
fastest, one-man airship in the entire Helium Navy.
He waved farewell to the two forlorn figures who stood at the
rail of the flagship.
Then he opened wide the throttle of the quiet radium engine. He
could feel the little craft shudder for an instant as it gained
speed. The earthman pointed its nose upward and rose far above the
battleground.
Then he nosed over and dove down. The wind whistled shrilly off
the craft's trim lines as its increased momentum sped it,
comet-like, downward-straight toward the giant!
Chapter 12
THE FATE OF A NATION
Neither Pew Mogel nor the giant Joog had yet seen the lone craft
diving toward them from overhead. Pew Mogel, seated inside the
armored howdah that was attached to Joog's enormous helmet, was
issuing attack orders to his troops by shortwave.
A strip of glass, about three feet wide, completely encircled
the howdah, enabling Pew Mogel to obtain complete, unrestricted
vision of his fighting forces below.
Perhaps if Pew Mogel had looked up through the circular glass
skylight in the dome of his steel shelter, he would have seen the
earthman's speedy little craft streaking down on him from
above.
John Carter was banking his life, that of the woman he loved and
the survival of Helium upon the hope that Pew Mogel would not look
up.
John Carter was driving his little craft with bullet
speed—straight toward that circular opening on top of Pew Mogel's
sanctuary.
Joog was standing still now, shoulders hunched forward. Pew
Mogel had ordered him to be quiet while he completed his
last-minute command to his troops.
The giant was on the plain between the mountains and the city.
Not until he was five hundred feet above the little round window
did Carter pull back on the throttle.
He had gained his great height to avoid discovery by Pew Mogel.
His speed was for the same purpose.
Now, if he were to come out alive himself, he must slow down his
hurtling craft. That impact must occur at exactly the right
speed.
If he made the crash too fast, he might succeed only in killing
himself, with no assurance that Pew Mogel had died with him.
On the other hand, if the speed of his ship were too slow it
would never crash through the tough glass that covered the opening.
In that case, his crippled plane would bounce harmlessly off the
howdah and carry Carter to his death on the battlefield below.
One hundred feet over the window!
He shut off the motor, a quick glance at the speedometer—too
fast for the impact!
His hands flew over the instrument panel. He jerked back on
three levers. Three little parachutes whipped out behind the craft.
There was a tug on the plane as its speed slowed down.
Then the ship's nose crashed against the little window! There
was a crunch of steel, a splinter of wood, as the ship's nose
collapsed; then a clatter of glass that ended in a dull, trembling
thud as the craft bore through the window and lodged part way in
the floor of Pew Mogel's compartment.
The tail of the craft was protruding out of the top of the
howdah, but the craft's door was inside the compartment.
John Carter sprang from his ship, his blade gleaming in his
hand.
Pew Mogel was still spinning around crazily in his revolving
chair from the tremendous impact. His earphones and attached
microphone, with which he had directed Joog's actions as well as
his troop formations, had been knocked off his head and lay on the
floor at his feet.
When his foolish spin finally stopped, Pew Mogel remained
seated. He stared incredulously at the earthman.
His small, lidless eyes bulged. He opened his crooked mouth
several times to speak. Now his twisted fingers worked
spasmodically.
"Draw your sword, Pew Mogel!" spoke the earthman so low that Pew
Mogel could hardly hear the words. The synthetic man made no move
to obey.
"You're dead!" he finally croaked. It was like the man was
trying to convince himself that what he saw confronting him with
naked sword was only an ill-begotten hallucination. So hard, in
fact, did Pew Mogel continue to stare that his left eye behaved as
Carter had seen it do once before in Korvas when the creature was
excited.
It popped out of its socket and hung down on his cheek.
"Quickly, Pew Mogel, draw your weapon-I have no time to waste!"
Carter could feel the giant below him growing restless, shifting
uneasily on his enormous feet. Apparently he did not yet suspect
the change of masters in the howdah strapped to his helmet; yet he
had jumped perceptibly when Carter's craft had torn into his
master's sanctuary.
Carter reached down and picked up the microphone on the
floor.
"Raise your arm," he shouted into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause; then the giant raised the right arm high over
his head.
"Lower arm," Carter commanded again. The giant obeyed. Twice
more, Carter gave the same command and the giant obeyed each time.
The earthman half smiled. He knew Kantos Kan had seen the signal
and would follow the orders he had given him earlier.
Now Pew Mogel's hand suddenly shot down to his side. It started
back up with a radium gun.
There was a blinding flash as he pulled the trigger; then the
gun flew miraculously from his hand.
Carter had leaped to one side. His sword had crashed against the
weapon knocking it from Pew Mogel's grasp. Now the man was forced
to draw his sword.
There, on top of the giant's head, fighting furiously with a
synthetic man of Mars, John Carter found himself in one of the
weirdest predicaments of his adventurous life.
Pew Mogel was no mean swordsman. In fact, so furious was his
first attack that he had the earthman backing around the room
hard-pressed to parry the swift torrent of blows that were aimed
indiscriminately at every inch of his body from head to toe.
It was a ghastly sensation, fighting with a man whose eye hung
down the side of his face.
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