Thundering back they came across cold space—eyes
aching for remembered vistas, nostrils flaring
for sweet fresh air, feet itching to tread on
precious soil. They stepped down—into a wasted
lifeless horror! Eying each other in despair, they
wondered. Must they—could they—colonize
an alien world they once called HOME?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Earth!" said Matthew Magoffin happily. "Good old Terra. Soundswonderful, doesn't it?" Elbows on table, he sat listening to thespecially-beamed broadcast from Earth. Half a dozen other members ofthe first expedition to Mars were also in the messroom of the Argus.
"What's first on your program when we land, Lynn?"
They had been out two and a half years, and it was a subject of whichthey never wearied.
Lynn said, "A bath—a real one. Not out of a tea cup." She was theexpedition's photographer and reporter, a small blonde with a softtriangular face.
The music stopped in the middle of a bar. An announcer's voice broke in.
"We interrupt this program to bring you a news flash from the Union ofSouth America."
Everyone stopped talking in the messroom of the spaceship.
"The plague area in the Andean region is spreading out of control.Disease characterized by minute black spots that appear all over thebody from head to foot. The spots are accompanied by a high fever andfollowed in two to three hours by death."
"Whew!" said Matt to the company at large. "What a disagreeable way todie! Wonder what causes it?"
As if in answer to his question, the announcer on Earth said, "Todate, the germ has not been isolated. And all attempts to curb thespread of the disease have proved futile.
"The Pan-American League is meeting now in Lima to considersegregating the entire Andean area where the plague is raging...."
There was an interruption. Everyone in the messroom was tense,conscious of blurred background noises in the far away studio towardwhich they were flashing.
"Here's a special bulletin!" The announcer's voice sounded frightenedand excited. "Marseilles, Liverpool, Hong Kong and San Franciscoreport...."
The speaker went dead.
Matt Magoffin found himself holding his breath, waiting for the news tocome back on. But it never did.
After a minute's silence, he leaped to his feet. "Damn that operator!I'm going to see what's wrong."
He started for the starboard passage, a babble of voices breaking outbehind him. Matt was a stocky, powerfully built man in his thirties,the expedition's palaeobotanist. He reached the starboard ladder, ranup to the control deck and shouldered into the radio shack withoutknocking.
"What's up?" he demanded of the operator, a thin freckled youth who wasstaring at the banks of equipment in perplexity.
Sparks knit his brows.
"Nothing—that I can find."
"What!"
"There isn't a damn thing wrong at this end. The broadcast wasinterrupted. Power failure, maybe."
Matt Magoffin ran his hand through his short crisp black hair, alarm inhis blue eyes.
"Have you tried to contact Earth?"
"No. Not yet."
The operator sat down at his instruments, threw in a switch and spokeinto a microphone.
"Argus calling Earth. Argus calling Earth. Argus calling Earth.Come in Earth."
Silence!
Matt's jaw shut with a click. The operator tried again and again,but without success. H