Meteor-Men of Mars
By Harry Cord and Otis Adelbert Kline
Like tiny meteors, the space-ships plunged
into Earth's atmosphere, carrying death for
all who opposed their flight. The fate of a
world rested in Hammond's hands—and his
wrists were fettered at his sides.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It came out of the dawn sky, slanting like a fiery meteor out of the east. The two men in the skiff saw the glowing streak in the sky and heard the sound of its passage, like the loosing of a nest of angry snakes overhead, a scant second before it plummeted into the calm waters of the Sound.
A geyser of water and steam shot up not a hundred yards from the maroon and gold skiff. The boat rocked and pitched to the disturbance.
Frank Hammond, seated at the bow, clamped a taped hand over the side to hold himself, surprise quickening the intentness of his dark, handsome face. He was a lithe, bronzed figure, clad only in blue trunks and rope sandals. Stroking for his college crew in years that were warm memories had padded naturally wide shoulders.
"What the devil?" he ejaculated. "Did you see that, Pete?"