SPACE-WOLF
By RAY CUMMINGS
The lure of precious zolonite drew Morgan
to barren Titan—to find a weird beast-empire
ruled by a cold-eyed Earth-girl queen.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1941.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Solo Morgan laid his small portable spectroscope on the rock and satdown beside it to rest. He was panting, breathless from the climb upto these precipitous heights, even though the gravity here on Titanwas less than that of Earth. It was night. The pallid little Sun hadswiftly set behind a distant line of jagged mountain peaks. At theother horizon Saturn was rising, a monstrous glowing ball with aforeshortened segment of the rings spreading in a great iridescentflame of pale prismatic color across half the sky.
From here, Solo Morgan could just see the tiny blob of his one-manspace-ship where he had left it down in the hollow. "He travels fastestwho travels alone," had always been Solo Morgan's motto. But now atthe age of twenty-eight, a big, rangy, handsome fellow with curly,crisp brown hair, it seemed to Morgan that he was somewhat a failure.So far he had failed to strike it rich; and a single big strike hadalways been what he was after. He set his jaw grimly as he thought ofit. Well, now was the time. There was a lode of Zolonite here on thismoon of Saturn. The spectroscopic evidence of it had been faint, yetunmistakable. Doubtless it was a single, small concentration; Zoloniteperhaps in an almost pure state. Immensely more valuable than radium;more valuable, than any other radioactive substance known to earth.
Morgan stood up, rested, to continue his climb. By all that he hadbeen able to determine from the faint spectroscopic bands, and theintensity registers which he had so carefully used in that circlingflight around the bleak, uninhabited satellite, the Zolonite depositmust be somewhere in this neighborhood. The radiometer had seemed toindicate gathering strength as he climbed. Perhaps it would be beyondthis next rise, where now he could see a ragged plateau thick with alush, fantastic blue-gray vegetation.
He started forward; and suddenly from nearby there was a sharp crack,an explosive report with a stab of yellow-red flame that mingled withthe iridescent sheen of Saturn's glow. And there was a ping, a tangingwhistle past his head with a thud against one of the nearby rocks wherea leaden pellet flattened itself and dropped beside him.
An old-fashioned bullet! Morgan dropped to the rocks, into a shadowfrom which in a moment he cautiously raised his head. There was nothingto be seen, except that from a distant clump a little spiral of smokewas rising. What in the devil was this? Titan, so far as anyone knew,was uninhabited. For a second it had flashed to Morgan that it mightbe a band of space-pirates who had followed him here.
But an old-fashioned bullet-projector! Modern space-pirates wouldlaugh at such a thing! They had nothing but the most modern electronicflash-guns, as Morgan himself in several classes could well testify.Explosive bullet-projectors were museum pieces now. Yet here was one onTitan, handled by somebody, trying to drill him!
Thoughts are instant things. Morgan was flat in the rock hollow. Andas he cautiously raised his head there came another crack. The bulletthudded into the metal of his tri-cornered hat, knocking it off. Tooclose for comfort. His flash-cylinder was in his hand. He sent a boltsizzling against the