There was the familiar tension in the air as the space field built up
and they were hurled suddenly forward; the star-like dot of the planet
suddenly expanded as they rushed forward at a speed far greater than
that of light. In a moment, it had grown to a disc; Arcot stopped the
space control. Again they were moving forward on molecular drive.
Very shortly, Arcot began to decelerate. Within ten minutes, they were
beginning to feel the outermost wisps of the cloud-laden atmosphere. The
heat of the blazing sun was intense; the surface of the planet was, no
doubt, a far warmer place than Earthmen would find comfortable. They
would have been far better suited to remain on the other planet, but
they very evidently were not wanted!
They dropped down through the atmosphere, sinking for miles as the ship
slowed to the retarding influence of the air and the molecular power.
Down they went, through mile after mile of heavy cloud layer, unable to
see the ground beneath them.
Then, suddenly, the thick, all-enveloping mists that held them were
gone. They were flying smoothly along under leaden skies--perpetual,
dim, dark clouds. Despite the brightness of the sun above them, the
clouds made the light dim and gray. They reflected such an enormous
percentage of the light that struck them that the climate was not as hot
as they had feared.
The ground was dark under its somber mantle of clouds; the hills, the
rivers that crawled across wide plains, and the oddly stunted forests
all looked as though they had been modeled in a great mass of
greenish-gray putty. It was a discouraging world.
"I'm glad we didn't wait for our swim here," remarked Wade. "It sure
looks like rain."
Arcot stopped the ship and held it motionless at ten miles while Wade
made his chemical analysis of the air. The report looked favorable;
plenty of oxygen and a trace of carbon dioxide mixed with nitrogen.
"But the water vapor!" Wade said. "The air is saturated with it! It
won't be the heat, but the humidity that'll bother us--to coin a
phrase."
Arcot dropped the ship still farther, at the same time moving forward
toward a sea he had seen in the distance. Swiftly, the ground sped
beneath them. The low plain sloped toward the sea, a vast, level surface
of gray, leaden water.
"Oh, brother, what a pleasant world," said Fuller sarcastically.
It was certainly not an inspiring scene. The leaden skies, the heavy
clouds, the dark land, and the gray-green of the sea, always shaded in
perpetual half-light, lest the burning sun heat them beyond endurance.
It was a gloomy world.
They turned and followed the coast. Still no sign of inhabitants was
visible. Mile after mile passed beneath them as the shining ship
followed up the ragged shore. Small indentations and baylets ran into a
shallow, level sea. This world had no moon, so it was tideless, except
for the slight solar tides.
Finally, far ahead of them, and well back from the coast, Arcot spotted
a great mountain range.
"I'm going to head for that," he told the others. "If these people are
at war with our very inimical friends of the other planet, chances are
they'll put their cities in the mountains, too."
They had such cities. The _Ancient Mariner_ had penetrated less than a
hundred miles along the twisted ranges of the mountains before they saw,
far ahead, a great, cone-shaped city. The city was taller, larger than
those of the other planet, and the cone ran up farther from the actual
city buildings, leaving the aircraft more room.
Arcot stopped and watched the city a long time through the telescope. It
seemed similar to the others in all respects. The same type of
needle-like ships floated in the air above it, and the same type of cone
ray projectors nestled in the base of the city's invisible protection.
"We may as well take a chance," said Arcot. He shot the ship forward
until they were within a mile of the city, in plain sight of the
inhabitants.
Suddenly, without any warning signal, apparently, all the air traffic
went wild--then it was gone. Every ship seemed to have ducked into some
unseen place of refuge.
Within a few minutes, a fleet of battleships was winging its way toward
the invisible barrier. Then it was out, and, in a great semi-cylinder a
quarter of a mile high, and a quarter of a mile in radius, they advanced
toward the _Ancient Mariner_.
Arcot kept the ship motionless. He knew that their only weapon was the
magnetic ray; otherwise they would have won the war long ago. And he
knew he could cope with magnetism.
Slowly the ships advanced. At last, they halted a quarter of a mile from
the Earth ship. A single ship detached itself from the mass and
advanced to within a few hundred feet of the _Ancient Mariner_.
Quickly, Arcot jumped to his feet. "Morey, take the controls. Evidently
they want to parley, not fight. I'm going over there."
He ran the length of the corridor to his room and put on his power suit.
A moment later, he left the airlock and launched himself into space,
flying swiftly toward the ship. He had come alone, but armed as he was,
he was probably more than a match for anything they could bring to bear
on him.
He went directly toward the broad expanse of glass that marked the
control room of the alien ship and looked in curiously.
The pilot was a man much like Arcot; quite tall, and of tremendous
girth, with a huge chest and great powerful arms. His hands, like those
of the Venerians, had two thumbs.
With equal curiosity, the man stared at Arcot, floating in the air
without apparent means of support.
Arcot hung there a moment, then motioned that he wished to enter. The
giant alien motioned him around to the side of the ship. Halfway down
the length of the ship, Arcot saw a port suddenly open. He flew swiftly
forward and entered.
The man who stood there was a giant as tall as Wade and even more
magnificently muscled, with tremendous shoulders and giant chest. His
thighs, rounded under a close-fitting gray uniform, were bulging with
smooth muscle.
He was considerably larger than the man in the pilot room, and whereas
the other had been a pale yellow in color, this man was burned to a more
healthy shade of tan. His features were regular and pleasing; his hair
was black and straight; his high forehead denoted a high degree of
intelligence, and his clear black eyes, under heavy black eyebrows,
seemed curious, but friendly.
His nose was rather thin, but not sharp, and his mouth was curved in a
smile of welcome. His chin was firm and sharp, distinct from his face
and neck.
They looked each other over, and Arcot smiled as their eyes met.
"Torlos," said the alien, pointing to his great chest.
"Arcot," replied the Earthman, pointing to himself. Then he pointed to
the stranger. "Torlos." He knew he hadn't pronounced it exactly as the
alien had, but it would suffice.
The stranger smiled in approval. "Ahcut," he said, pointing to the
Earthman.
Then he pointed to the comparatively thin arms of the Earthman, and to
his own. Then he pointed to Arcot's head and to the mechanism he wore on
his back, then to his own head, and went through the motions of walking
with great effort.
Again he pointed at Arcot's head, nodding his own in approval.
Arcot understood immediately what was meant. The alien had indicated
that the Earthman was comparatively weak, but that he had no need of
muscle, for he made his head and his machines work for him. And he had
decided that the head was better!
Arcot looked at the man's eyes and concentrated on the idea of
friendship, projecting it with all his mental power. The black eyes
suddenly widened in surprise, which quickly turned to pleasure as he
tried to concentrate on one thought.
It was difficult for Arcot to interpret the thoughts of the alien; all
his concepts were in a different form. At last, he caught the idea of
location--but it was location in the interrogative! How was he to
interpret that?