blazing corona shooting out tongues of lambent flame in all directions, grew smaller and smaller. Jupiter, too, had shrunk appallingly. Like a slowly deflating balloon it had contracted until it could scarcely be distinguished from the brilliant stars which stabbed through the shell of blackness from all directions.
Meanwhile, there loomed up ahead of them a magnificent spectacle, which swelled and brightened with incredible rapidity. From thte incomparable, awe-inspiring rings of relatively minute particles which spun magically around the golden ball within their circumference, they all knew that it was the planet Saturn. Swimming about it, at varying distances from the outer edge of the largest ring, were no less than ten moons.
It was an easy matter to pick out Titan, which was considerably larger than any of the other satellites. Circling it at a distance of about a hundred kilometers, Brink scanned the surface of the satellite with the ship's teleview, that marvelous instrument which not only magnified images but also amplified them, just as the loud speaker of a radio amplifies sound. With it the observer could distinguish even the minutest details with a startling clearness at a distance of several hundred kilometers.
Captain Brink soon located the large, orange-colored lake with the city of cones nestling close to its shores. He attributed the peculiar color of the water to the golden light, which emanated from the seething surface of the parent planet.
Not far from the lake was what looked like a forest. It was densely clothed with purple-hued plants of weirdly fantastic shapes. Brink decided to land within this wooded area, near the edge of it, which was closest to the lake. By this means he hoped to conceal the flyer from the eyes of the creatures who dwelt in the city. Thanks to the efficient gravity-regulator with which the ship was equipped, he set the craft down so deftly that scarcely a quiver was felt as it slid gently between the branches. The trees in this fantastic forest reminded Brink of the submarine gardens near Catalina Island, California, which he had once viewed through the glass bottom of a sight-seeing boat.
As soon as the ship touched the ground, Captain Hawkins opened a valve and drew in a sample of air which he analyzed quickly.
Meanwhile, Sullivan had taken a reading of the centigrade thermometer which registered the outside temperature.
"Fourteen point six," he announced. "I expected it would be much colder than that, considering that we are getting only one ninetieth as much heat as the earth gets from the sun."
"The climate here is a good deal like that on Ganymede," Brink explained. "Titan gets plenty of heat and light from its parent planet. We won't even need our electrically heated suits. How is the atmosphere, Al?"
"A trifle shy on oxygen and long on carbon dioxide," Hawkins replied. "But it's perfectly safe to breathe."
"Good!" said the leader. "And, by the way, Al, I think you had better stay in the ship while Jimmy and I go out and reconnoiter. If you want to take a look outside later on, I'll come back and relieve you."
"Yea, yea, Chief!" Hawkins yawned. "Hope you don't mind if I take a bit of a nap."
"If you do you'd better sleep with both eyes and at least one ear open," Brink warned him as he sniffed the outside air suspiciously.
"Smells like a drug store," he announced. "But I guess, if Al says so, it must be all right. Come on, Jimmy."
The spot where the rocket-ship had landed was on the side of Titan which was then facing away from the sun. But above the jagged peaks of the distant horizon nearly half of Saturn's bulk was visible. It looked like the head of a cosmic jockey, the portion of the tilted ring, which was visible, forming the elongated visor of his cap. Though the light was dim, it seemed to have a peculiar, penetrating quality.
Both Brink and Sullivan were equipped for flying, but they decided not to use their wings, deeming that they would be less likely to be seen if they kept close to the ground. They had not walked far when they were startled to see a beam of dazzling brilliancy leap out of the sky. The source of this light was a mystery, since there was absolutely nothing floating or flying in the air. When his eyes became accustomed to the glare, Brink noticed that the light was reflected against an upper stratum of the atmosphere, toward which it was projected from the distant city.
As if operated by a methodical, intelligent being, the beam of light swept back and forth across the valley. Apprehensive that this phonemenon signified danger, Brink whispered, "Let's beat it back to the ship, Jimmy!"
But they had scarcely taken three strides toward the forest, when the beam overtook them, drenching them in a stream of blinding light.
Grasping Sullivan by the wrist, Brink said hoarsely, "Hold it Jimmy. We won't gain anything by betraying where the ship is located. Maybe we can side-step the light."
But, though they jumped and ran and dodged in all directions, the ominous shaft of illumination followed them relentlessly and unerringly.
Then, as mysteriously as it had come, the light was extinguished. For a minute or two they stood there, wondering what would happen next. Meanwhile their nostrils caught a nauseating odor. It was like the smell of decaying vegetation—the fetid odor that comes from a pool of stagnant, polluted water. The source of this scent was not apparent to them until their dazzled eyes became once more accustomed to the semi-darkness. Then they discovered that they were surrounded by a surging band of ghostly, preposterous creatures.
Neither arms, legs, eyes nor ears did these weird beings possess, yet they seemed to be alert and attentive and capable of handling any situation that confronted them. Almost colorless—like great masses of untinted gelatin—their bodies were shapeless and transparent. At the center of each organism was a dark grey spheroid about the size of a large watermelon. Lobed and wrinkled, these cores of living matter were folded into thousands of squirming convolutions.
"Brains! That's what they are," said Brink in a hissing whisper. "Just great big brains with nothing but gobs of protoplasm to support them."
"To me they look more like giant amoebas," Sullivan contended. "What you take for brains, may be nothing but the nuclei."
"Maybe they are oversized amoebas," Brink conceded. "But those grey gobs inside them are brains, and don't you fool yourself."
As if bent on verifying the suppositions which both the Earthmen had voiced, one of the Titanians separated itself from its companions and flowed toward them with a charactistically amoeboid motion. When it had covered
