The Merchandise Guide
Annual 1975

Bergman snapped his fingers. Now his eyes were shining. "It's got to be! And this device--the Green Light. It has remained functional over all these years! Our men found it--and were affected! Perhaps the same thing has happened to the com- mander and to Doctor Russell! I move that we send a task force immediately to subdue them and bring them off!"    "I agree. On the basis of mere theory." The computer clicked off, and at once, Main Mission became a hive of feverish activity! Precious time was running out. To mount a rescue was no slight operation . . . and yet it had to be done and achieved before the Moon ran past the limits of contact with the alien planet! Commander John Koenig threw the dismantled Comlock away from him in furious exaspera- tion. It couldn't be repaired! And now he could hear noises of the pursuit, drawing nearer and nearer!    "This is going to hurt you, Helena. But better to suffer pain than suffer death!" He grasped hold of his injured colleague, trying to ignore her cry of pain as he lifted her across his back. Then, mercifully, she fainted! Now he stumbled back into the recesses of the chamber, towards the heavy slab of doorway that led to heaven-knew-where.    His boot crashed against the crumbling structure, and it gave. Another passage. A glance behind him, and he saw the shadow of a space-suited technician on a distant wall, gun in hand!    Breath rasping his lungs, Koenig staggered along, tripping over fallen stones, slithering on patches of slippery moss. Ahead of him, another door!    Something--some sixth sense--stopped him bat- tering his way though. An instinct of danger! Gently, he lowered Helena to the ground and felt the edges of the barrier. It was as though there was a detectable vibraion there! Then--it was just the faintest glow beneath the crack of the door at his feet--he saw the thin wash of light. Green light!    "Good grief! I can't go in here! I'll see whatever Durmaine saw! The same thing'll happen to me !" He turned, desperately. The approach of the killer technicians was growing louder! "I'm--we're trapped !"    Feverishly, he looked above him. There was light there. Daylight. Some kind of ventilator shaft! The top was blocked by fallen rubble--but if he could clamber up, and shift it, then he could heave Helena through--gain a little more time!    Near to exhaustion, for the atmosphere was colder and thinner than on Earth, Koenig squeezed himself up the narrow channel, using shoulders and knees to climb. He slipped. Shrugged off the space-suit to give himself better purchase. Began again! He had to be quick . . . so quick! Once those men saw Helena, they'd shoot . . .

His muscles in agony, Koenig got his hands over the lip of the shaft. With neck and shoulders, he fought aside the rubble, sheer desperation lending him strength! And then he was through!    Yet in that same instant, he heard the flat dis- charge of a stun-gun! Sickness welled up inside him as he released his grip and shot feet-first back down the shaft. He'd failed. Lost. Now he would die--but not before he himself had killed. Released his men from their unknown torment!    He landed asprawl beside Helena. And his wide eyes took in the sight of one solitary technician, flat against the wall, his eyes closed in induced unconsciousness. His eyes took in the sight of Pro- fessor Victor Bergman, gun in hand, and Paul Morrow behind him. "The U.S. Cavalry," said Koenig, with a shrill laugh . . . and pitched forward to lie across the body of the doctor . . . On the mysterious planet, the Green Light still burned. As the computer had reckoned, an end- less booby-trap to vanquish intruders. But now the Moon was far out of contact with the deadly sphere. In the nick of time, the Eagles had gone back to Moonbase Alpha, and while Helena Russell lay in her own hospital, recovering, the four technicians had been released by deep neuro-therapy from the alien force that had fogged their brains.    Koenig was back on duty. And, like Bergman and the others, he thought with regret of the home that fate had cheated them from occupying.    It was Sandra Benes who brought him out of his musings. "Scanners report a planet, sir. Direction four-three-one, green scale. Distance ten thousand. Permission to instigate long-range probe . . .?    "Okay, Sandra. Go ahead." Koenig turned to Bergman and smiled. "Start again, square one!"

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