The Snare 1

The Snare 1

The Snare

 

Author: Richard R. Smith

 

I glanced at the path we had made across the _Mare Serenitatis_. The

Latin translated as "the Sea of Serenity." It was well named because,

as far as the eye could see in every direction, there was a smooth

layer of pumice that resembled the surface of a calm sea. Scattered

across the quiet sea of virgin Moon dust were occasional islands

of rock that jutted abruptly toward the infinity of stars above.

Considering everything, our surroundings conveyed a sense of serenity

like none I had ever felt.

 

Our bounding path across the level expanse was clearly marked. Because

of the light gravity, we had leaped high into the air with each step

and every time we struck the ground, the impact had raised a cloud of

dustlike pumice. Now the clouds of dust were slowly settling in the

light gravity.

 

Above us, the stars were cold, motionless and crystal-clear.

Indifferently, they sprayed a faint light on our surroundings ... a

dim glow that was hardly sufficient for normal vision and was too weak

to be reflected toward Earth.

 

We turned our head-lamps on the strange object before us. Five beams

of light illuminated the smooth shape that protruded from the Moon's

surface.

 

The incongruity was so awesome that for several minutes, we remained

motionless and quiet. Miller broke the silence with his quavering

voice, "Strange someone didn't notice it before."

 

* * * * *

 

Strange? The object rose a quarter of a mile above us, a huge, curving

hulk of smooth metal. It was featureless and yet conveyed a sense

of _alienness_. It was alien and yet it wasn't a natural formation.

Something had made the thing, whatever it was. But was it strange that

it hadn't been noticed before? Men had lived on the Moon for over a

year, but the Moon was vast and the _Mare Serenitatis_ covered three

hundred and forty thousand square miles.

 

"What is it?" Marie asked breathlessly.

 

Her husband grunted his bafflement. "Who knows? But see how it curves?

If it's a perfect sphere, it must be at least two miles in diameter!"

 

"If it's a perfect sphere," Miller suggested, "most of it must be

beneath the Moon's surface."

 

"Maybe it isn't a sphere," my wife said. "Maybe this is all of it."

 

"Let's call Lunar City and tell the authorities about it." I reached

for the radio controls on my suit.

 

Kane grabbed my arm. "No. Let's find out whatever we can by ourselves.

If we tell the authorities, they'll order us to leave it alone. If we

discover something really important, we'll be famous!"

 

I lowered my arm. His outburst seemed faintly childish to me. And yet

it carried a good measure of common sense. If we discovered proof of

an alien race, we would indeed be famous. The more we discovered for

ourselves, the more famous we'd be. Fame was practically a synonym for

prestige and wealth.

 

"All right," I conceded.

 

Miller stepped forward, moving slowly in the bulk of his spacesuit.

Deliberately, he removed a small torch from his side and pressed the

brilliant flame against the metal.

 

A few minutes later, the elderly mineralogist gave his opinion: "It's

steel ... made thousands of years ago."

 

Someone gasped over the intercom, "Thousands of years! But wouldn't it

be in worse shape than this if it was that old?"

 

Miller pointed at the small cut his torch had made in the metal. The

notch was only a quarter of an inch deep. "I say _steel_ because it's

_similar_ to steel. Actually, it's a much stronger alloy. Besides that,

on the Moon, there's been no water or atmosphere to rust it. Not even

a wind to disturb its surface. It's _at least_ several thousand years

old."

 

* * * * *

 

We slowly circled the alien structure. Several minutes later, Kane

shouted, "Look!"

 

A few feet above the ground, the structure's smooth surface was broken

by a circular opening that yawned invitingly. Kane ran ahead and

flashed his head-lamp into the dark recess.

 

"There's a small room inside," he told us, and climbed through the

opening.

 

We waited outside and focused our lamps through the five-foot opening

to give him as much light as possible.

 

"Come on in, Marie," he called to his wife. "This is really something!

It _must_ be an alien race. There's all kinds of weird drawings on the

walls and gadgets that look like controls for something...."

 

Briefly, my lamp flickered over Marie's pale face. Her features

struggled with two conflicting emotions: She was frightened by the

alienness of the thing and yet she wanted to be with her husband. She

hesitated momentarily, then climbed through the passage.

 

"You want to go in?" my wife asked.

 

"Do you?"

 

"Let's."

 

I helped Verana through the opening, climbed through myself and turned

to help Miller.

 

Miller was sixty years old. He was an excellent mineralogist, alert

mentally, but with a body that was almost feeble. I reached out to help

him as he stepped into the passageway.

 

For a brief second, he was framed in the opening, a dark silhouette

against the star-studded sky.

 

The next second, he was thrown twenty yards into the air. He gasped

with pain when he struck the ground. "_Something_ pushed me!"

 

"Are you all right?"

 

"Yes."

 

He had fallen on a spot beyond our angle of vision. I started through

the passage....

 

... and struck an invisible solid wall.

 

* * * * *

 

My eyes were on the circular opening. A metal panel emerged from a

recess on one side and slid across the passage. The room darkened with

the absence of starlight.

 

"_What happened?_"

 

"The door to this damned place closed," I explained.

 

"_What?_"

 

Before we could recover from the shock, the room filled with a

brilliant glare. We turned off our lamps.

 

The room was approximately twelve feet long and nine feet wide. The

ceiling was only a few inches above our heads and when I looked at the

smooth, hard metal, I felt as if I were trapped in some alien vault.

 

The walls of the room were covered with strange drawings and

instruments. Here and there, kaleidoscopic lights pulsed rhythmically.

 

Kane brushed past me and beat his gloved fists against the metal door

that had imprisoned us.

 

"Miller!"

 

"Yes?"

 

"See if you can get this thing open from the outside."

 

I knelt before the door and explored its surface with my fingers. There

were no visible recesses or controls.

 

Over the intercom network, everyone's breath mingled and formed a

rough, harsh sound. I could discern the women's quick, frightened

breaths that were almost sobs. Kane's breath was deep and strong;

Miller's was faltering and weak.

 

"Miller, get help!"

 

"I'll--" The sound of his breathing ceased. We listened intently.

 

"What happened to him?"

 

"I'll phone Lunar City." My fingers fumbled at the radio controls and

trembled beneath the thick gloves.

 

I turned the dials that would connect my radio with Lunar City....

 

Static grated against my ear drums.

 

_Static!_