Even while that inexplicable heavenly pageant still burned against the
heavens, something else took place, a thing of much greater importance
to Chick. And, it happened right before his eyes.
In the front of the car was a dial, slightly raised above the level of
the various controlling instruments. And all of a sudden this dial, a
small affair about six inches across, broke into light and life.
First, there was a white blaze that covered the whole disc; then the
whiteness abruptly gave way to a flood of colour, which resolved itself
into a perfect miniature of the tri-coloured cloverleaf in the sky
ahead. Chick saw, however that the positions of the red and green were
just the obverse of what glowed in the distance; and then he heard the
voice, strong and distinct, speaking with a slight metallic twang as
from a microphone hidden in that little, blazing, coloured leaf:
“Listen, ye who have ears to listen!”
It was said in the Thomahlian tongue. The Geos breathed:
“The voice of the Prophet Jarados!”
But the next moment the unseen speaker began in another language--clear,
silver, musical--in English, and in a voice that Chick recognised!
“Chick! You have done well, my boy. Your courage and your intuition may
lead us out. Follow the prophecy to the letter, Chick; it MUST come
to pass, exactly as it is written! Don't fail to read it, there on the
walls of the Temple of the Bell, when you encounter the Bar Senestro on
the Day of the Prophet!
“I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent. Your
coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my own kind,
and take with me the secrets of life. You have done right to trust your
instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if you--if we--make one false
step we are lost.
“Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro, I
shall send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.
“Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of Carbon.
Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you can put full
confidence in the Rhamdas.”
Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the
Thomahlian tongue again: “It is I who speak--I, the Prophet; the Prophet
Jarados!”
All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.
The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was
glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good
to believe. The first actual words from the missing professor! Each
syllable was frozen into Watson's memory.
The Geos was clutching his arm.
“Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet! What
did he say?”
“Yes, I understand. He used his own language--my language. And he
said”--taking the reins firmly into his hands--“he said that we must
return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars.”
There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos'
command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson glanced at
the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded of the soldier:
“How can we get back? How do we find our way?”
For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from
that uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of the
Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of fliers.
But the soldier touched a button, and instantly another and larger dial
was illumined above the instruments.
It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On the
farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent water, and
adjoining this area was a square spot labeled “The Mahovisal.” And about
midway from this point to the near edge of the dial a red dot hung,
moving slowly over the chart.
“The red dot, my lord, indicates our position,” explained the Jan. “In
that manner we know at all times where we are located, and which way we
are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal shortly.”
As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling at
an even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at an
astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull of
gravity, now; apparently they would make the journey in a few minutes.
But incredible though the speed might be, there was nothing but the red
dot to show it.
The Geos felt like talking. “My lord, the sign is conclusive. It is a
marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have produced; with all
our science we could not duplicate such splendour. Only once before has
the Thomahlia seen it.”
Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the clustered,
blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead of them queer
streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness. Watson recognised
them as the beams of the far-distant searchlights; and then and there
he gave thanks for one thing, at least, in which the Thomahlians had
seemingly progressed no further than the people of the earth.
Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright, glittering,
insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights. The Jan Lucar said:
“The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if they
can.”
“The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some honour.”
“It is not the prince's work, my lord,” replied the soldier. “His
D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as to
how they might slay the 'false one', as they think you.”
“Suppose,” hazarded Watson, “suppose I WERE the false one?”
Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure
as he replied:
“If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself.”
They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable
opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as
sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the
lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming alive with the
beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in safety?
But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:
“My lord is not uneasy?”
“Of course not,” with unconcern. “Why?”
“Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord, that
were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not even the
Bars,” with magnificent confidence, “can stand before us now! We have
had the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no matter what the odds,
he will carry us through.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I propose to shoot it, my lord.” And without explaining the Jan asked
the Geos: “Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the prophet will
protect us.”
“Surely,” returned the Rhamda. “There is nothing to fear, now, for those
who are in the company of the chosen.”
Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June Bug
and began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight into the
heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes, they hurtled
towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city dimmed until only
the searching shafts could be seen. Chick began to guess what they
were going to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly as reckless as he was
handsome.
At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared along
horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the red dot. And
when it was directly above the black square he stated:
“It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop. If we
make it from this height, not only will we break all records, but will
have proved the June Bug the superior in this respect, as she is in
speed. It is our only chance in any circumstances, but with the Jarados
at our side, we need not fear that the craft will stand the strain. We
shall go through them like stone; before they know it we shall be in the
drome--in less than a minute.”
“From this height?” Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show of
scepticism. “A minute is not much time.”
“Does my lord fear the drop?”
“Why should I? I have in mind the June Bug; she might be set afire
through friction, in dropping so quickly through the air.” Watson had a
vivid picture of a blazing meteorite, containing the charred bodies of
three men, dropping out of--
“My lord need not be concerned with that,” the Jan assured him. “The
shell of the car is provided with a number of tiny pores, through
which a heat-resisting fluid will be pumped during the manoeuvre. The
temperature may be raised a little, but no more.
“You see this plug,” touching a hitherto unused knob among the
instruments. “By pulling that out, the mechanism of the craft is
automatically adjusted to care for every phase of the descent. Nothing
else remains to be done, after removing that plug, save to watch the red
dot and prepare to step out upon the floor of our starting-place.”
“Has the thing ever been done before?” Watson was sparring for time
while he gathered his nerve.
“I myself have seen it, my lord. The June Bug has been sent up many
times, weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by clockwork; and
in fifty-eight seconds she returned through the open end of the drone,
without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have always envied her that plunge.
And now I shall have the chance, with the hand of the Jarados as my
guide and protector!”
Chick had just time to reflect that, if by any chance he got through
with this, he ought to be able to pass any test conceivable. He ought
to be able to get away with anything. He started to murmur a prayer; but
before he could finish, the Jan Lucar leaned over the dial-map for the
last time, saw that the red dot was now exactly central over the square
that represented the city, and unhesitatingly jerked out the plug.
Of what happened next Watson remembered but little. The bottom seemed to
have dropped out of the universe. He was conscious of a crushing blur
of immensity, of a silent thundering within him--then mental chaos and a
stunned oblivion.