THE STAR OF SATAN
By HENRY HASSE
More than the wreck of the Martian
Princess lay on the lazily spinning
asteroid. That uncharted star of Satan
harbored madness in awful, human form.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Hype Garth was suddenly awake. He lay there on his cot in the dark,listening intently for the sound he knew would shortly come throughthe receptor. It almost frightened him, this subconscious awarenessof his. He often wondered about it and wished he could explain it.Always, during their sleep period, just a minute before a message camethrough he was wide awake and waiting, knowing. He supposed nerves hadsomething to do with it. Or the time he'd spent out here? Nerves werebound to go raw and perhaps play strange tricks when two men werethrown together in this black isolated hell of outer space. And Garthhad been out here for twenty-three full years and seen his partnerscome and go.
From the other side of the room came Prokle's slow, sonorous breathing.Garth suddenly hated his partner for his ability to sleep at thismoment. Garth reached out and touched the huge, nine-foot receptube byhis bed; a faintly glowing violet permeated the darkness. His wholeattention centered in a strained, concentrated listening.
Then the sound came, as he knew it would: first the crisp, cracklingstatic; then the familiar and hated voice of the sender at Martianheadquarters, stabbing the darkness almost viciously:
"Salvage Station M3! Attention M3! Passenger liner Callisto, enrouteJupiter to Mars, radios they have just encountered uncharted asteroidswarm on the Martian side of the belt. They have passed throughunscathed. But attention to this, M3: Captain Lambert of the Callistoreports that he detected a light on the surface of one of the largermasses! This may have been a distress signal-flare, and if so, can meanbut one thing: that the sole remaining life-boat unaccounted for fromthe wreck of the Martian Princess twenty days ago landed on thisasteroid; and the party, or some of them, have managed to survive. Thisseems hardly possible, but we must investigate.
"Proceed at once in search of this uncharted swarm. Approximateposition when encountered by the Callisto, exact center of the belt,two hours behind the Lanisar group, orbital plane about twenty degreesfrom regular passenger route. Mass in question cannot be mistaken,largest of the group, about twenty miles diameter. Proceed at once, M3!End of message."
Garth knew it was not the end of the message. That Martian senderalways reserved some little sardonic touch to send to Garth. Garth'sjaw tightened, he waited about five seconds, and then, raspingly, itcame:
"Oh, just a moment, M3—Garth listening I hope—here's a tip for you.As you probably know, J. P. Chiswell is among those still missing inthat life-boat. If you two can locate that party, who knows—it maymean unconditional pardon for both of you! End of message."
There came the hint of an amused chuckle before the tube went dead.Garth's face was grim. J. P. Chiswell, President of EMV Lines!Unconditional pardon. Yes, for Prokle, perhaps, if they were lucky,but never for him, and that rat of a Martian sender knew it. Garth,in the early days, had been a source of considerable annoyance in thespaceways, and he was now serving forty years. The longest sentence inthe entire history of