The Toonlian tore off his harness, and pitched all of his weapons in the direction of the approaching behemoth.

I was about to suggest that he be taken to a medical transport, when a tremendous wrenching of wood and steal erupted behind us. I turned in time to see the Thoris, a ten-thousand man warship named for my great grandsire, ripped from its moorings. It tumbled end over end in the direction of the Juggernaut, the outlines of which were becoming visible in the glow of dawn.

The mighty ship of Helium crashed into the Juggernaut's side and hung there, a heap of wreckage and men too horrible to comprehend.

"The magnet!" cried Bal Zak, his voice small before the roar of the machine. "It will draw any steel to it!"

I quickly grasped the Toonolian's meaning as more ships, large and small, were pulled irresistibly forward. Men, too, had begun to be dragged through space by their swords, grappling hooks and other metal objects attached to their bodies. I saw them crushed against the titanic bulk of the Juggernaut.

Divesting myself of all steel, I clutched at a Ptarthian warrior who'd not been quick enough to follow Bal Zak's example. Hovan Du slipped through my grasp and was lost in a whirlwind of hurtling debris.

The Juggernaut plowed forward at a maddeningly slow pace -- a swift man could run faster. It towered far above us, ten- thousand feet tall, a shapeless bulk that was quickly becoming buried in the warships of Helium and Ptarth.

Yet it still moved.

Pedantic.

Lumbering.

Deadly beyond belief.

The green men had retreated. It was our turn to do likewise. There is no shame in it, for to live another day is to fight another day.

We ran for the Great Marsh.

Slowly, the Juggernaut turned to follow -- now firing upon the fleeing red men before it. Shells burst all about us as the sun rose to detonate them. Circular blades, razor sharp, shot forth from canons in the monstrosity's hull, mowing down men in a bloody slaughter that could not rightly be called war.

After the blades traveled as far as the force that expelled them could push, they were caught up in the magnetic force and returned to the Juggernaut -- to be belched forth again. And again. And again.

"Will it get mired in the bogs of the marsh?" I called to Bal Zak.

"Nothing will slow it, or turn it from its path," the Toonolian answered. His face was nearly as white as Hora San's.

Incredibly, Kaolian fliers were whizzing past we men of Helium and Ptarth. Sometimes, they paused long enough to pick up passengers. But the machines were strained to carry more than two riders.

Kulan Tith paused his machine at my side.

"No metal parts," he cried. "The rubber trees of Kaol are unusually versatile. And so are my draftsmen. Come! I've already carried thy father to safety."

I looked for Shis-Inday, but did not see her. Able to run faster by far than any man on that field of death, she was likely safe. But not knowing for certain her fate worried me.

I was about to clamber to Kulan Tith's side, when a thought struck me.

"Is there a way inside?" I asked Bal Zak, gesturing at the Juggernaut.

The Toonolian pondered that a moment.

"Quickly!" I hissed.

"Yes," he said. "I can get you inside."

"Kulan Tith," I said. "My kingdom for your flier."

"If you are successful, the gratitude of my own kingdom shall be yours, Tardos Mors," the Jeddak returned.

I expected resistance -- such a vehicle could carry thousands of men.

But I found no one.

A voice rang in my ears, however, carried by speakers that were situated all about the Juggernaut.

"My ship is impregnable, Prince of Helium," said the voice. "Think you to disable it? I saw your approach, and allowed you to enter."

Hora San.

But where did he hide?

I knew the answer before the question had been fully formed in my mind: The High Priest was in Phundahl. The ship was remotely controlled; the voice I heard carried by radio wave. Photostatic devices probably recorded my every move, within and without the ship.

"You are killing Barsoom," said Hora San.

"How do you, who plan genocide with this obscenity, figure that?" I muttered, continuing in the direction that Bal Zak had plotted for me.

"Because you are trying to stop me from saving her," said Hora San.

I ignored him.

"Matai Shang did not listen to reason, either. Perhaps you, a red man of some limited resourcefulness, will understand the logic of our situation."

Logic? From a mad man?

I'd found the room where the great engines that powered the Juggernaut were housed. But every instrument, every control panel, every device that appeared to have any import at all was encased in a seamless alloy that I could not open or smash. I was powerless to do ought but listen to the ravings of Hora San.

"The Great Toonolian Marsh is shriveling away," he said. "Perhaps not in your eyes, accustomed as they are to less fertile portions of Barsoom. But it disappears more rapidly than you can imagine. The River Iss recedes into herself more and more each year. The Valley Dor, of which you know nothing -- nothing! -- is parched. Omean, of which even Matai Shang is ignorant, is a shallow pool. The northern ice caps are melting. In time, the rot of the Carrion Caves will wash down upon the burnt hulk of a dead planet. But even that mositure will quickly disappear into the dry dust of our forgotten world."

He was indeed mad.

"Only I can save her," said the white priest of Tur. "Only I can foresee her doom. If it means wiping out nine-tenths of Barsoom's population to provide for the rest, by Issus, that's what I'll do!"

"`By Issus?'" I repeated. "A strange oath, coming from one who quotes the scripture of Tur so eloquently."

"If you knew her, you'd swear in that old hag's name as well," said the High Priest. "Tur is smoke and mirrors, nothing more. I quote the Turgan so well because I wrote it. But Issus lives -- to the everlasting horror of us all."

He cackled, nearly choking on his insanity.

Nearly mad myself with rage and frustration, I spun looking for some tool to use.

Nothing.

I slid to my knees, pounding the polished floor with clenched fists. A panel opened in front of me and a viewscreen appeared. It displayed the path that lay in front of the Juggernaut. I watched as more ships of my beloved Navy were drawn toward the irresistible magnet. Some, who still had crews aboard them, fired shots that apparently had no effect. Deep within the bowels of the massive ship, I could not even feel their impact.

"I'll conquer Barsoom," said Hora San, when he'd regained some germ of coherent thought. "And then Dor. After that, I'll rid our planet of that diseased tyrant, Issus, and take her place upon the Throne of Eternal Life!"

A hissing sound was my first warning of the gas. It seeped into the engine room, and I lost consciousness.

Hora San stood beside me, gazing through an eyepiece. When he saw that I was conscious, he bid me lean forward and look into the great hall.

Shis-Inday stood in the place where we'd both been before, chained in the manner as that other time.

And, as that other time, she stared defiantly into the face of the malevolent god. Also as before, the temple was filled with a jeering crowd, who heaped foul curses and vile epitaths at my princess.

Hora San put a mouthpiece to his lips, and spoke in a voice that was amplified throughout the temple.

"Witness the death of a blasphemer!" he cried. "Witness the fate any who defies Tur!"

A tremendous explosion rocked the entire building. I could tell from Hora San's expression that it was not the fate he planned. Another explosion. And another.

I knew from the first that shells were falling upon Phundahl. Besides the detonations near the temple, which brought great stones from its walls crashing to the floor, I could hear others in the distance. The entire city was under attack!

But the fire seemed concentrated upon the temple, and the place shook so much that I expected the walls to cave inward momentarily.

Apparently, the assembled crowd felt likewise. I could hear their terrified screams as they rushed for the doors.

"Hold!" Hora San shouted into the mouthpiece. "Tur will destroy those who defile his sacred places! And he will destroy those of his people who flee from him!"

Although I could not see what was happening, it was clear from the High Priest's expression that his subjects were too terrified by the current onslaught to worry about one that was threatened. They continued to flee, as the bombs continued to fall.

One of those bombs must have fallen directly on the roof, for the balst seemed nearly to topple the statue-god. I felt us sway horribly to the left, as I ground my feet into the platform to retain my balance. We rocked back to the right, and then bobbled and back and forth.

Hora San lost his precarious balance, and tumbled five stories to the stone floor below. I looked over the edge of the platform, and saw him lying motionless, a red pool encircling his crumpled and twisted form.

"The death of a blasphemer," I said.

Shis-Inday remained chained to the dais, staring up at the statue. It's not every day one sees a god nearly fall on his side. But she was the only one to see it, for the temple was empty.

"Quite a sight, eh, my princess?" I said through the mouthpiece.

Her eyes went wide.

"I have the feeling your Usen never wobbles," I added.

"Tardos Mors?"

"None other. Now, how the devil do we get out of these chains again?"

As the Juggernaut crawled back toward Phundahl, with me captive aboard her, the men of Helium, Ptarth and Kaol had regrouped. It took three days for repairs and plans to be made, and then the assault was carried out. I'd witnessed, from my limited vantage point, the first wave. At the behest of Moros Tar, Thuvan Dihn came in search of me and Shis-Inday.

"And the Juggernaut?" I asked the Prince of Ptarth, as he cut the chains from my wrists with his sword.

"Inert, standing before the gates of Phundahl," he replied. "The magnetic force is deactivated. Our ships are unaffected. But, teeth of Issus! It's an ominous sight."

Shis-Inday and Thuvan Dihn stood with me upon the upper platform inside Tur.

"Is that this Hora San I've been hearing so much about from thy sire?" asked the Prince, pointing at the corpse below.

"It was," I said.

More bombs began to fall, shattering the silence of the temple.

The sensitive device that transmitted every sound within the Great Hall of Tur told us that someone had entered through the door at the opposite end. We heard the approach of faltering footsteps, shaken by the unremitting fusillade from above.

Through the eyepiece, I saw that it was Xaxa. She was alone.

I was tempted to speak in the voice of Tur, but something in her hesitant approach kept me from it. I watched, curious. For a long moment, she stared up at the face of the statue. Her gaze seemed to bore into my own hidden eyes.

"Speak, Tur!" the woman cried, her voice on the verge of breaking. "Your people and your Jeddara are afraid. We need the guidance of Tur's wisdom."

Silence.

Dashing to the foot of the immobile statue, Xaxa pounded upon its base with tiny hands. I strained forward, trying to see through the eyepiece the scene taking place directly below. Xaxa's heaving sobs echoed across the cavernous chamber. Stony idols, hanging from the walls and half-hidden by clouds of incense, looked upon the pathetic figure with indifference.

"Speak!" she begged the living god. "O, Tur, what shall we do?"

Xaxa collapsed upon the floor, kicking and thrashing at first. But then her struggles slowed. Finally, they stopped. She lay very still. But the piercing wail of a lost soul continued.

We departed the statue without another thought for the Jeddara of Phundahl and her silent deity.