family, Hart and George awaiting me in the hall. Had I known what was to
transpire before the end of the war, I am certain I would have been in
much less of a hurry.
We rushed to the hangar, where Secretary Simler and his party awaited us
in the office. Rather, I should say, they waited for Hart Jones.
"Mr. Jones," said the Secretary of War, when the introductions were
over, "it is up to you to get the _Pioneer_ in shape to go out after
these terrible creatures before the forty-eight hours have expired. We
have replied to their ultimatum and have told them we will have our
answer ready within the appointed time, but it is already agreed between
the nations of the World Alliance that our reply is to be negative.
Better far that we submit to the utter destruction of our civilization
than agree to their terms."
"I believe I can do it, Mr. Secretary," was Hart Jones' simple comment.
"At least I will try. But you must let me have an experienced astronomer
at once with whom to consult."
"Astronomer?"
"Yes--immediately. I have a theory, but am not enough of a student of
astronomy myself to work it out."
"You shall have the best man in the Air Naval Observatory at once."
Secretary Simler chewed his cigar savagely. "And anything else you might
need," he concluded.
"There is nothing else, sir." Hart turned from the great men who
regarded him solemnly, some with expressions of hope, others with plain
distrust written large on their countenances.
* * * * *
They left in silence and we returned to our work with renewed vigor.
Within an hour there arrived by fast plane an undersized,
thick-spectacled man who presented himself as Professor Linquist
from the government observatory. He was immediately taken into the
office by Hart and the two remained behind closed doors for the best
part of four hours.
Meanwhile the hangar hummed with activity as usual. We in the chemical
laboratory were engaged in compounding the high explosive used as fuel
in the _Pioneer_. This was being compressed to its absolute limit and
was stored in long steel cylinders in the form of a liquid of extremely
low temperature. These cylinders were at once transferred to a special
steel vault where the temperature was kept at a low enough point to
prevent expansion and consequent loss of the explosive, not to speak of
the danger of destroying the entire lot of us in its escape.
The generating apparatus of the _Pioneer_ was to be dispensed with for
this trip, since it was of no value outside the atmosphere where there
was no air from which to extract the elements necessary for the
production of the explosive. Instead, the entire supply of fuel for the
trip was to be carried aboard the vessel in the cylinders we were
engaged in filling. Hart had calculated that there was just sufficient
room to store fuel for a trip of about two hundred thousand miles from
the earth and a safe return. We hoped this would be enough.
* * * * *
On the scaffolding around the _Pioneer_ there were now so many workers
that it seemed they must forever be in one another's way. But the work
was progressing with extreme rapidity. Already there projected from her
blunt nose a slender rod of shining metal which was the projector of one
of the destructive rays whose generator and auxiliaries were being
installed under the supervision of the government experts. The force had
been trebled and was now working in shifts of two hours each, the pace
being so exhausting that highest efficiency was obtained by using these
short periods.
Additional rocket tubes were being installed, and the steel framework of
a bulge now showed on the hull, this bulge being an additional fuel
storage compartment that would provide a slight additional resistance
and consequently lower speed in the lower levels, but would prove little
hindrance in level six and none at all in outer space.
When Hart emerged from his office he appeared to be very tired, indeed,
but his face bore an expression of triumph that could not be mistaken.
He and this little scientist from Washington had evidently arrived at
some momentous conclusion regarding the enemy.
"Jack," he said, when he reached my bench during his first round of the
hanger, "celestial mechanics is a wonderful thing. I had a hunch, and
this astronomer chap has proved it correct with his mathematics. Our
friend the enemy is out there in space at a point where his own mass and
velocity are exactly counteracted by those of the earth and its
satellite, the moon. He is just floating around in space, doing no work
whatsoever to maintain his own position. He has temporarily assumed the
role of a second satellite to us and is revolving around us at a
definite period that was calculated by Lindquist. The gravitational pull
of the moon keeps him from falling to the earth and that of the earth
keeps him from approaching the moon. The resultant of the set of forces
is what determines his orbit and the disturbance in the normal balance
is what has been observed by the astronomers who reported changes in the
tides and in the moon's orbit."
* * * * *
"But Lindquist's figures prove that the vessel or fleet of the enemy
must be of tremendous size to produce such discrepancies,
infinitesimally small though they might seem. We have a big fellow with
whom to deal, but we know where to find him now."
"How can he work from a fixed position to make his attacks on the earth
at such widely separated points?" I asked.
"It isn't a fixed position in the first place, and besides the earth
rotates once in twenty-four hours, while the moon travels around the
earth once in about twenty-eight days. But, even so, the widespread
destruction could not be accounted for. He must send out scouting
parties or something of that sort. That is one of the things we are to
learn when we get out there. We'll have some fun, Jack."
"Will the _Pioneer_ be ready?" I asked. Evidently I was to go.
"She will, with the exception of the acceleration neutralizers. But I'm
having some heavily-cushioned and elastic supports made that will, I
believe, save us from injury. And I guess we can stand the discomfort
for once."
"Yes," I agreed, "in such a cause, I, for one, am willing to go through
anything to help keep this overwhelming disaster from our good old
world."
"Jack," he whispered, "we must prevent it. We've got to!"
Then he was gone, and I watched him for a moment as he dashed headlong
from one task to another. He was a whirlwind of energy once more.
* * * * *
Forty-three hours and twenty minutes had passed since the receipt of the
enemy's ultimatum. The last bolt was being tightened in the remodeled
_Pioneer_, and Secretary Simler and his staff were on hand to witness
the take-off of the vessel on which the hopes of the world were pinned.
The news of our attempt had been spread by cable and printed news only,
for there was fear that the enemy might be able to pick up the
broadcasts of the news service and thus be able to anticipate us. As
usual, there were many scoffers, but the consensus of opinion was in
favor of the project. At any rate, what better expedient was there to
offer?
The huge airport, now unused on account of the complete cessation of air
traffic, was closed to the public. But there was quite a crowd to
witness the take-off, the visitors from Washington, the officials of the
field, and the two hundred workers who had enabled us to make ready for
the adventure in time. There were four to enter the _Pioneer_: Hart,
George, Professor Lindquist, and myself. And when the entrance manhole
was bolted home behind us, the watchers stood in silence, waiting for
the roar of the _Pioneer's_ motor. As the starter took hold, Hart waved
his hand at one of the ports and every man of those two hundred and some
watchers stood at attention and saluted is if he were a born soldier and
Hart a born commander-in-chief.
* * * * *
We taxied heavily across the field, for the _Pioneer_ was much
overloaded for a quick take-off. She bumped and bounced for a
quarter-mile before taking to the air and then climbed very slowly
indeed, for several minutes. Our speed was a scant two hundred miles an
hour when we swung out over New York and headed for the Atlantic. And
then Hart made first use of the rocket tubes, not daring to discharge
the hot gases below while over populated land at so low an altitude. He
touched one button, maintaining the pressure for but a fraction of a
second. The ocean slipped more rapidly away from beneath our feet and he
touched the button once more. Our speed was now nearly seven hundred
miles an hour and we made haste to buckle ourselves into the padded,
hammocklike contrivances which had been substituted for the former
seats. In a very few minutes we entered level six and the motor was cut
off entirely.
A blast from a number of the tail rockets drove me into my supporting
hammock so heavily that I found difficulty in breathing, and could
scarcely move a muscle to change position. The rate of acceleration was
terrific, and I am still unable to understand how Hart was able to
manipulate the controls. For myself, I could not even turn my head from
its position in the padding and I felt as if I were being crushed by
thousands of tons of pressure. Then, the pressure was somewhat relieved
and I glanced to the instruments. We were more than a thousand miles
from our starting point and the speed indicator read seven thousand
miles an hour. We were traveling at the rate of nearly two miles a
second!
* * * * *
Another blast from the rockets, this one of interminable length, and I
must have lost consciousness. For when I next took note of things I
found that we had been out for nearly two hours and that the tremendous
pressure of acceleration was relieved. I moved my head, experimentally
and found that my senses were normal, though there was a strange and
alarming sensation of being wrong side up. Then I remembered that I had
experienced the same thing when we first searched the upper levels of
the atmosphere for the origin of the destructive rays of the enemy.
But this was different! I gazed through a nearby port and saw that the
sky was entirely black, the stars shining magnificently brilliant
against their velvet background. Streamers of brilliant sunlight from
the floor ports struck across the cabin and patterned the ceiling.
Looking between my feet I saw the sun as a flaming orb with streamers of
incandescence that spread in every direction with such blinding
luminosity that I could not bear the sight for more than a few seconds.
Off to what I was pleased to think of as our left side, there was a huge
globe that I quickly made out as our own earth. Eerily green it shone,
and, though a considerable portion of the surface was obscured by
patches of white that I recognized as clouds, I could clearly make out
the continents of the eastern hemisphere. It was a marvelous sight and I
lost several minutes in awed contemplation of the wonder. Then I heard
Hart laugh.
"Just coming out of it, Jack?" he asked.
* * * * *
I stared at him foolishly. It had seemed to me that I was alone in this
vast universe, and the sound of his voice startled me. "Guess I'm not
fully out of it yet," I said. "Where are we?"
"Oh, about sixty thousand miles out," he replied carelessly; "and we are
traveling at our maximum speed--that is, the maximum we need for this
little voyage."
"Little voyage!" I gasped. And then I looked at George and the professor
and saw that they, too, were grinning at my discomfiture. I laughed
crazily, I suppose, for they all sobered at once.
Traveling through space at more than forty thousand miles an hour, it
seemed that we were stationary. Movement was now easy--too easy, in
fact, for we were practically weightless. The professor was having a
time of it manipulating a pencil and a pad of paper on which he had a
mass of small figures that were absolutely meaningless to me. He was
calculating and plotting our course and, without him, we should never
have reached the object we sought.
Time passed rapidly, for the wonders of the naked universe were a
never-ending source of fascination. Occasionally a series of rocket
charges was fired to keep our direction and velocity, but these were
light, and the acceleration so insignificant that we were put to no
discomfort whatever. But it was necessary that we keep our straps
buckled, for, in the weightless condition, even the slightest increase
or decrease in speed or change in direction was sufficient to throw us
the length of the cabin, from which painful bruises might be received.
* * * * *
The supports to which we were strapped and which saved us from being
crushed by the acceleration and deceleration, were similar to hammocks,
being hooked to the floor and ceiling of the cabin rather than suspended
horizontally in the conventional manner. This was for the reason that
the energy of the rockets was expended fore and aft, except for
steering, and the forces were therefore along the horizontal axis of the
vessel. The supports were elastic and the padding deep and soft. Being
swiveled at top and bottom, they could swing around so that deceleration
as well as acceleration was relieved. For this reason the controls had
been altered so that the flexible support in which Hart was suspended
could rotate about their pedestal, thus allowing for their operation by
the pilot either when accelerating or decelerating. How he could control
the muscles of his arms and hands under the extreme conditions is still
a mystery to me, however, and George agrees with me in this. We found
ourselves to be utterly helpless.
My next impression of the trip is that of swinging rapidly around and
finding myself facing the rear wall of the cabin. Then the tremendous
pressure once more at a burst from the forward tubes. We had commenced
deceleration. For me there were alternate periods of full and
semi-consciousness and, to this day, I can remember no more than the
high spots of that historical expedition.
* * * * *
Then we were free to move once more, and I turned to face the instrument
board. Our relative velocity had become practically zero; that is, we
were traveling through space at about the same speed and in the same
direction as the earth. The professor and Hart were consulting a pencil
chart and excitedly looking first through the forward ports and then
into the screen of the periscope.
"This is the approximate location," averred the professor.
"But they are not here," replied Hart.
George and I peered in all directions and could see nothing excepting
the marvels of the universe we had been viewing. The moon now seemed
very close and its craters and so-called seas were as plainly visible as
in a four-inch telescope on earth. But we saw nothing of the enemy.
The earth was a huge ball still, but much smaller than when I had first
observed it from the heavens. The sun's corona--the flaming streamers
which the professor declared extended as much as five million miles into
space--was partly hidden behind the rim of the earth and the effect was
blinding. A thin crescent of brilliant light marked the rim of our
planet and the rest was in shadow, but a shadow that was lighted
awesomely in cold green by reflected light from her satellite.
"I have it!" suddenly shouted the professor. "We are all in very nearly
the same line with reference to the sun, and the enemy is between the
blazing body and ourselves. We must shift our position, move into the
shadow of the earth. We have missed our calculation by a few hundred
miles, that is all."
All! I thought. These astronomers, so accustomed to dealing in
tremendous distances that must be measured in light-years, thought
nothing of an error of several hundred miles. But I suppose it was
really an inconsiderable amount, at that.
At any rate, we shifted position and looked around a bit more. We saw
nothing at first. Then Hart consulted the chronometer.
"Time is up!" he shouted.
* * * * *
On the instant there was a flash of dazzling green light from a point
not a hundred miles from our position, a flash that was followed by a
streaking pencil of the same light shooting earthward with terrific
velocity. Breathlessly we followed its length, saw it burst like a bomb
and hurl three green balls from itself which sped at equally spaced
angles to form a perfect triangle. They hovered a moment at about two
thousand miles above the surface of the earth, according to the
professor, who was using the telescope at the time, and shot their
deadly rays toward our world. We were too late to prevent the renewal of
hostilities!
Another and another streak of green light followed and we knew that
great havoc was being wrought back home. But these served to locate the
enemy's position definitely and we immediately set about to draw nearer.
We were still somewhat on the dark side of the object, which had
prevented our seeing it. Now we swung about so that it was plainly
visible. And, what a strange appearance it presented, out here in space!
Fully fifteen miles in diameter, it was a huge doughnut, a great ring of
tubing with a center-opening that was at least eighty per cent of its
maximum diameter. There it hovered, sending out those deadly missiles in
a continuous stream toward our poor world. As we approached the weird
space flier, we saw that a number of objects floated about within the
great circle of its inner circumference. The NY-18, the SF-61 and the
SF-22, without doubt! The theory of Hart's was correct in every detail.
* * * * *
We were still at about ten miles distance from the great ring and the
streaking light pencils were speeding earthward at the rate of one a
minute now. There was no time to lose. Already there was more
destruction on its way than had been previously wrought--several times
over.
Hart was sighting along a tiny tube that projected into the forward
partition and he maneuvered the _Pioneer_ until she was nose on to the
great ring. He pulled a switch and there came a purring that was
entirely new. A row of huge vacuum tubes along the wall lighted to vivid
brilliancy and a throbbing vibration filled the artificial air of the
cabin.
He pulled a small lever at the side of the tube and the vessel rocked to
the energy that was released from those vacuum tubes. The thin rod which
had been installed at the _Pioneer's_ nose burst into brilliant
flame--orange tinted luminescence that grew to a sphere of probably ten
feet in diameter. Then there was a heavy shock and the ball of fire left
its position and, with inconceivable velocity, sprang straight for the
side of the great ring. It was a fair hit and, when the weird missile
found its mark, it simply vanished--swallowed up in the metal walls of
the monster vessel. For a moment we thought nothing was to result. Then
we burst into shouts of joy, for a great section of the ring fused into
nothingness and was gone! Fully a quarter of the circumference of the
ring had disappeared into the vacuum of space. Truly, the governments of
Earth had developed some terrible weapons of their own!
We watched, breathless.
* * * * *
The green light pencils no longer streaked their paths of death in the
direction of our world, which now seemed so remote. The great ring with
the vacant space in its rim wabbled uncertainly for a moment as though
some terrific upheaval from within was tearing it asunder. Then it
lurched directly for the _Pioneer_. We had been observed!
But Hart was equal to the occasion and he shot the _Pioneer_ in the
direction of the earth with such acceleration that we all were flattened
into our supports with the same old violence. Then, with equal violence,
we decelerated. The ring was following so closely that it actually
rushed many hundreds of miles past us before it was brought to rest.
From it there sprang one of the light pencils, and the _Pioneer_ was
rocked as by a heavy gale when it rushed past on its harmless way into
infinity. The enemy had missed.
Meanwhile, Hart was operating another mechanism that was new to the
_Pioneer_ and again he sighted along the tiny tube. This time there was
no sound within, no ball of fire without, no visible ray. But, when he
had pressed the release of this second energy, the ring seemed to
shrivel and twist as if gripped by a giant's hand. It reeled and spun.
Then, no longer in a balance of forces, it commenced its long drop
earthward.
His job finished and finished well, Hart Jones collapsed.
* * * * *
Following his more than three days and four nights of superhuman
endeavor, it seemed strange to see Hart slumped white and still over the
control pedestal. He who had energy far in excess of that of any of the
rest of us had worn himself out. Having had no rest or sleep in nearly a
hundred hours, the body that housed so wonderful a spirit simply refused
to carry on. Tenderly we stretched him on the cabin floor, the _Pioneer_
drifting in space the while. The professor, who was likewise something
of a physician, listened to his heart, drew back his eyelids, and
pronounced him in no danger whatever.
We slapped his wrists, sprinkled his face and neck with cold water from
the drinking supply, and were soon rewarded by his return to
consciousness. He smiled weakly and fell sound asleep. No war in the
universe could have wakened him then, so we lifted him to his
feet--rather I should say, we guided his practically floating body--and
strapped him in George's hammock, preparing for the homeward journey.
Though dangling from the straps in a position that would be vertical
were we on earth, he slept like a baby. George took the controls in
Hart's place and the professor and I returned to our accustomed
supports.
The return trip was considerably slower, as George did not wish to push
the _Pioneer_ to its limit as had been necessary when coming out to meet
the enemy, nor was he able to keep control of the ship against a
too-rapid acceleration. Consequently, the rate of acceleration was much
lower and we were not nearly as uncomfortable as on the outgoing trip.
Thus, nearly ten hours were required for the return. And Hart slept
through it all.
* * * * *
In order to make best use of the small amount of fuel still in the
cylinders, George circled the earth five times before we entered the
upper limits of the atmosphere, the circles becoming of smaller diameter
at each revolution and the speed of the ship proportionately reduced. An
occasional discharge from one of the forward rocket tubes assisted
materially in the deceleration, yet, when we slipped into level five,
our speed was so great that the temperature of the cabin rose
alarmingly, due to the friction of the air against the hull of the
vessel. It was necessary to use the last remaining ounce of fuel to
reduce the velocity to a safe value. A long glide to earth was then our
only means of landing and, since we were over the Gulf of Mexico at the
time, we had no recourse other than landing in the State of Texas.
Passing over Galveston in level three, we found that the Humble oil
fields and a great section of the surrounding country had been the
center of one of the enemy bombardments. All was blackness and ruin for
many miles between this point and Houston. At Houston Airport we landed,
unheralded but welcome.
The lower levels were once more filled with traffic, and one of the
southern route transcontinental liners had just made its stop at this
point. The arrival of the _Pioneer_ was thus witnessed by an unusually
large crowd, and, when the news was spread to the city, their numbers
increased with all the rapidity made possible by the various means of
transportation from the city.
So it was that Hart Jones, after we finally succeeded in awakening him
and getting him to his feet, was hailed by a veritable multitude as the
greatest hero of all time. The demonstrations become so enthusiastic
that police reserves, hastily summoned from the city, were helpless in
their attempts to keep the crowd in order.
* * * * *
It was with greatest difficulty that Hart was finally extricated from
the clutches of the mob and conveyed to the new Rice Hotel in Houston,
where it was necessary to obtain medical attention for him immediately.
He was in no condition at the time to receive the richly deserved
plaudits of the multitude, and, truth to tell, we others from the
_Pioneer_ were in much the same shape.
To me that night will always be the most terrible of nightmares. My
first thought was of my family and, when I had been assigned to a room,
I immediately asked the switchboard operator for a long-distance
connection to my home in Rutherford. There was complete silence for a
minute and I jangled the hook impatiently, my head throbbing with a
thousand aches and pains. Then, to my surprise, the voice of the hotel
manager greeted me.
"Mr. Makely," he said softly, and I thought there was a peculiar ring in
his voice, "I think you had better not try to get Rutherford this
evening. We are sending the house physician to your room at once
and--there are orders from Washington, you know--you are to think of
nothing at the present but sleep and a long rest."
"Why--why--" I stammered, "can't you see? I must communicate with my
family. They must know of my return. I must know if they're safe and
well."
"I'm sorry, sir," apologized the manager, "Government orders, you know."
And he hung up.
Something in that soft voice brought to me an inkling of the truth. An
icy hand gripped my heart as I heard a knock at the door. With palsied
fingers I turned the key and admitted the professor and a kindly-faced
elderly gentleman with a small black bag. One look at the professor told
me the truth. I seized his two arms in a grip that made him wince.
"Tell me! Tell me!" I demanded, "Has anything happened to my family?"
"Jack," said the professor slowly, "while we were out there watching
Hart destroy the enemy vessel, Rutherford was destroyed!"
* * * * *
It must be that I frightened him by my answering stare, for he backed
away from me in apparent fear. I noticed that the doctor was rummaging
in his bag. I know I did not speak, did not cry out, for my tongue clove
to the roof of my mouth. It seemed I must go mad. The professor still
backed away from me; then, wiry little athlete that he was, he sprang
directly for my knees in a beautiful football tackle. I remember that
point clearly and how I admired his agility at the time. I remember the
glint of a small instrument in the doctor's hand. Then all was
blackness.
Eight days later, they tell me it was, I returned to painful
consciousness in a hospital bed. But let me skip the agony of mind I
experienced then. Suffice it to say that, when I was able, I set forth
for Washington. Hart Jones was there and he had sent for me. But I took
little interest in the going; did not even bother to speculate as to the
reason for his summons. I had devoured the news during my convalescence
and now, more than two weeks after the destruction of the Terror, I knew
the extent of the damage wrought upon our earth by those deadly green
light pencils we had seen issuing from the huge ring up there in the
skies. The horror of it all was fresh in my mind, but my own private
horror overshadowed all.
* * * * *
I was glad that Hart had been so signally honored by the World Peace
Board, that he was now the most famous and popular man in the entire
world. He deserved it all and more. But what cared I--I who had done
least of all to help in his great work--that the Terror had been found
where it buried itself in the sand of the Sahara when falling to earth?
What cared I that the discoveries made in the excavating of the huge
metal ring were of inestimable value to science?
It gave me passing satisfaction to note that all of Hart Jones' theories
were borne out by the discoveries; that Oradel and his minions were
responsible for this terrible war; that the planet they aligned against
us was Venus and that more than a hundred thousand of the Venerians had
been carried in that weird engine of destruction which had been brought
down by Hart.
It was interesting to read of the fall of that huge ring; how it was
heated to incandescence when it entered our atmosphere at such
tremendous velocity; of the tidal waves of concentric billows in the
sand that led to its discovery by Egyptian Government planes. The
broadcast descriptions and the television views of the stunted and
twisted Venerians whose bodies were recovered from the partly consumed
wreckage were interesting. But it all left me cold. I had no further
interest in life. That the world had escaped an overwhelming disaster
was clear, and it gave me a certain pleasure. But for me it might as
well have been completely destroyed.
Nevertheless, I went to Washington. I felt somehow that I owed it to
Hart Jones, the greatest world hero since Lindbergh. I would at least
listen to what he had to say.
* * * * *
A fast plane carried me, a plane chartered by the government. To me it
seemed that it crawled, though it was a sixth-level ship, and made the
trip in record time. Why I was impatient to reach Washington I do not
know, for I was absolutely disinterested in anything that might occur
there. It was merely that my nerves were on edge, I suppose, and
everything annoyed me.
Hart met me at the airport and greeted me like a long-lost brother. He
talked incessantly and jumped from one subject to the other with the
obvious intention of trying to get my mind off my troubles until we
reached his office in the Air Traffic building.
On his door there was the legend, "Director of Research," and, when we
had entered, I observed that the office was furnished with all the
luxury that suited his new position. I dropped into a deeply upholstered
chair at the side of his mahogany desk, and, for the space of several
minutes, Hart regarded me with concern, speaking not a word.
"Jack, old man," he finally ventured. "I can't talk to you of this
thing. But it makes me feel very badly to see you take it so hard. There
are many things you have to live for, old top, and it is to talk about
these that I sent for you."
"You mean work?" I asked.
"Yes. That is the best thing for us all, in any emergency or under any
circumstances whatever. Preston wants you back for one thing, and he
authorized me to tell you that the job of office manager is waiting for
you at double your former salary."
* * * * *
My eyes misted at this. Preston was a good old scout! But I could never
bear it to return to the old surroundings, even in the city. "No, Hart,"
I said, "I'd rather be away from New York and from that part of the
country. Associations, you know."
"I understand," he replied, "and that is just what I had hoped you would
decide. Because I have a job for you in the Air Service. A good one,
too.
"You know there is much reconstruction work to be done on earth. More
than forty cities and towns have been wiped out of existence and these
must be rebuilt. That will occupy the minds and energies of thousands
who have been bereaved as you have. But, in the Air Service, we have a
program that I believe will be more to your liking. The log of the
_Terror_, in Oradel's handwriting, was found intact, as were a number of
manuscripts pertaining to plans of the Venerians.
"These misshapen creatures were quite evidently educated by Oradel to a
hatred of our world. We have reason to believe that other attacks may
follow, for they were obviously intending to migrate here in millions.
And, according to records found aboard the _Terror_, they are of
advanced scientific accomplishment. We may expect them to construct
other vessels similar to the _Terror_ and to come here again. We must be
prepared to fight them off, to carry the war to their own planet if
necessary. My work is to organize a world fleet of space ships for this
purpose, and I'd like you to help me in this. The work will take you all
over the world and will keep you too busy to think about--things."
It was just like Hart, and I thanked him wordlessly, but from the bottom
of my heart. Yes, I would accept his generous offer. Though I was no
engineer, I had a knowledge of scientific subjects a little above the
average, and I could follow instructions. By George, it was the very
thing! Suddenly I grew enthusiastic.
* * * * *
There was the sound of voices in the outer office, and Hart's secretary
entered to announce the arrival of George Boehm and Professor Lindquist.
This was great!
Chubby George, red-faced and smiling as ever, embraced me with one short
arm and pounded me on the back with his other fist in his jovial, joking
manner. It was good to have friends like these! The professor held forth
his hand timidly. He was thinking of that tackle and the half-Nelson he
had used on me while the doctor slipped that needle into my arm back
there in Houston.
"Don't remove your glasses, Professor," I laughed; "I'm not going to hit
you. That was a swell tackle of yours, and you did me a big service down
there in the Rice Hotel."
He beamed with pleasure and gripped my hand--mightily, for such a little
fellow. George was whispering to Hart, and I could see that they were
greatly excited over something.
"Jack," said Hart, when the professor and I finished talking things
over, "George here wants you to take a little trip over to Philly with
him. He has something there he wants to show you."
I looked from one to the other for signs of a hoax. These two, under
normal circumstances, were always up to something. But what I saw in
their expressions convinced me that I had better go, and somehow, there
rose in my breast a forlorn hope.
"All right," I agreed. "Let's go!"
* * * * *
Once more we four took off together, this time in a speedy little
first-level cabin plane of Hart's design, piloted by the irrepressible
George. I was brimming with questions, but George kept up such a
running fire of small talk that I was unable to get in a single word
throughout the short trip to the Quaker City. It was quite evident that
something was in the wind.
Instead of landing at the airport, George swung across the city and
dropped to the roof landing space of a large building which I recognized
as the Germantown Hospital. We had no sooner landed when I was rushed
from the plane to the penthouse over the elevator shafts. We were soon
on the main floor and George went immediately to the desk at the
receiving office, where he engaged in earnest conversation with the
nurse in charge.
"What are you doing--committing me?" I asked, half joking only. For,
from the mysterious expression of my friends' faces, I was not sure what
to expect.
"No," laughed Hart. "George learned of the existence of a patient here
who may turn out to be a very good friend of yours."
I turned this over in my mind, which did not yet function quite
normally. A friend? Why, I had very few that could really be termed good
friends outside of those that accompanied me. It could mean but one
thing. Possibly one of my children--or even my dear wife--might have
escaped somehow. I followed in a daze as a white-capped and gowned nurse
led us along the corridor and into a ward where there were dozens of
high, white beds.
* * * * *
Some of the patients were swathed in bandages; some sat up in their
beds, reading or just staring; others lay inert and pale. The reek of
iodoform pervaded the large room.
We stopped at the bedside of one of the staring patients, a young woman
who looked unseeingly at our party. Great heavens, it was Marie!
A physician stood at the other side of her bed, finger on her pulse. The
others drew back as I approached her side, raised her free hand to my
lips and spoke to her.
"Marie, dear," I asked gently, forcing the lump from my throat as best I
could, "don't you know me? It's Jack, Honey."
The fixed stare of the great blue eyes shifted in my direction. It
seemed that they looked through and past me into some terrible realm
where only horror held sway. She drew her hand from my grasp and passed
it before those staring, unnatural eyes. There was an audible gulp from
George. But the doctor smiled encouragement to me. I tried once more.
"Marie," I said, "where are Jim and Jackie?"
* * * * *
The hand fluttered to her lap, where it lay, blue-veined and pitifully
thin. The stare focussed on me, seemed to concentrate. Then the film was
gone from the eyes and she saw--she knew me!
"Oh, Jack!" she wailed, "I have been away. Don't you know where they
are?"
My heart nearly stopped at this, but I sat on the edge of the bed and
took her in my arms, looking at the doctor for approval. He nodded his
head brightly and beckoned to the nurse.
"Bring the children," I heard him whisper.
My cup was full. But I must be calm for Marie's sake. She had closed her
eyes now and great tears coursed down her waxen cheeks. Her body shook
with sobs.
"She'll recover?" I asked the doctor.
"You bet. Just an aggravated case of amnesia. Hasn't eaten. Didn't even
know her children. Cured now, but she'll need a few weeks to build up."
He snapped shut the lid of his watch.
Those succinct sentences were the finest I had ever heard.
Marie clung to me like an infant to its mother. Her sobs gradually
ceased and she looked into my eyes. Little Jim and Jack had come in and
were clamoring for recognition.
"Oh, Jack," Marie whispered, "I'm so happy."
She relinquished me and turned her attention to the children. I saw that
my friends had left and that an orderly was placing screens about us. So
I'll close the screen on the remainder of this most happy reunion.
* * * * *
It was several days before I had the complete story. Being lonesome
during my absence when we were preparing for the voyage into space, and
not knowing just when I would return, Marie had packed a grip and taken
the train for Philadelphia, deciding to spend a few days with her Aunt
Margaret, or at least to remain there with the children until I
returned.
She had boarded the train at Manhattan Transfer at about the time we
reached the location of the _Terror_ and the train was just pulling out
of the station when there came the first of the new attacks of the
enemy. She thought that the pillar of fire rose from the approximate
location of Rutherford, but was not sure until they reached Newark, when
the news was spread throughout the train by passengers who boarded it
there. She worried and cried over the loss of our little home and had
worked herself into a state of extreme nervousness and near-hysteria by
the time they reached New Brunswick.
Then, as the long train left New Brunswick, there was another attack,
this one on the town they had just left. The last two cars of the train
were blown from the track by the initial concussion, and the remainder
of the train brought to a grinding, jerking stop that threw the
passengers into a panic.
Already hysterical, Marie was in no condition to bear up under the
shock, and the loss of memory followed. Jack and Jim clung to her, of
course, and were taken to the Germantown Hospital with her when the
wreck victims were transferred to that point. She had no identification
on her person, and it was by sheerest luck that George, who was visiting
a friend in the same hospital, chanced to see her and thought he
recognized her.
That was all of it, but to me it was more than enough. From the depths
of despondency, I rose to the peaks of elation. It was true that we
would have to establish a new home, but this would be a joy as never
before. Those I had given up as lost were restored to me and I was
content. Hart would have to make some changes in the duties of that new
job--the world travel was out of the picture. I had had my fill of
adventure.
Besides, the hot spell was over.
[Illustration]
The Forgotten Planet
_By Sewell Peaslee Wright_
I have been asked to record, plainly and without prejudice, a brief
history of the Forgotten Planet.
[Sidenote: The authentic account of why cosmic man damned an outlaw
world to be, forever, a leper of Space.]
That this record, when completed, will be sealed in the archives of the
Interplanetary Alliance and remain there, a secret and rather dreadful
bit of history, is no concern of mine. I am an old man, well past the
century mark, and what disposal is made of my work is of little
importance to me. I grow weary of life and living, which is good. The
fear of death was lost when our scientists showed us how to live until
we grew weary of life. But I am digressing--an old man's failing.
[Illustration: "It's nothing. Close the exit; we depart at once."]
The Forgotten Planet was not always so named. The name that it once bore
had been, as every child knows, stricken from the records, actual and
mental, of the Universe. It is well that evil should not be remembered.
But in order that this history may be clear in the centuries to come, my
record should go back to beginnings.
So far as the Universe is concerned, the history of the Forgotten Planet
begins with the visit of the first craft ever to span the space between
the worlds: the crude, adventuresome _Edorn_, whose name, as well as
the names of the nine Zenians who manned her, occupy the highest places
in the roll of honor of the Universe.
Ame Baove, the commander and historian of the _Edorn_, made but brief
comment on his stop at the Forgotten Planet. I shall record it in full:
"We came to rest upon the surface of this, the fourth of the
planets visited during the first trip of the _Edorn_, eighteen
spaces before the height of the sun. We found ourselves surrounded
immediately by vast numbers of creatures very different from
ourselves, and from their expressions and gestures, we gathered
that they were both curious and unfriendly.
"Careful analysis of the atmosphere proved it to be sufficiently
similar to our own to make it possible for us to again stretch our
legs outside the rather cramped quarters of the _Edorn_, and tread
the soil of still another world.
"No sooner had we emerged, however, than we were angrily beset by
the people of this unfriendly planet, and rather than do them
injury, we retired immediately, and concluded our brief
observations through our ports.
"The topography of this planet is similar to our own, save that
there are no mountains, and the flora is highly colored almost
without exception, and apparently quite largely parasitical in
nature. The people are rather short in stature, with hairless heads
and high foreheads. Instead of being round or oval, however, the
heads of these people rise to a rounded ridge which runs back from
a point between and just above the eyes, nearly to the nape of the
neck behind. They give evidence of a fair order of intelligence,
but are suspicious and unfriendly. From the number and size of the
cities we saw, this planet is evidently thickly populated.
"We left about sixteen spaces before the height of the sun, and
continued towards the fifth and last planet before our return to
Zenia."
* * * * *
This report, quite naturally, caused other explorers in space to
hesitate. There were so many friendly, eager worlds to visit, during the
years that relations between the planets were being established, that an
unfriendly people were ignored.
However, from time to time, as space-ships became perfected and more
common, parties from many of the more progressive planets did call. Each
of them met with the same hostile reception, and at last, shortly after
the second War of the Planets, the victorious Alliance sent a fleet of
the small but terrible Deuber Spheres, convoyed by four of the largest
of the disintegrator ray-ships, to subjugate the Forgotten Planet.
Five great cities were destroyed, and the Control City, the seat of the
government, was menaced before the surly inhabitants conceded allegiance
to the Alliance. Parties of scientists, fabricators, and workmen were
then landed, and a dictator was appointed.
From all the worlds of the Alliance, instruments and equipment were
brought to the Forgotten Planet. A great educational system was planned
and executed, the benign and kindly influence of the Alliance made every
effort to improve the conditions existing on the Forgotten Planet, and
to win the friendship and allegiance of these people.
For two centuries the work went on. Two centuries of bloodshed, strife,
hate and disturbance. No where else within the known Universe was there
ill feeling. The second awful War of the Planets had at last succeeded
in teaching the lesson of peace.
Two centuries of effort--wasted effort. It was near the end of the
second century that my own story begins.
Commander at that time of the super-cruiser _Tamon_, a Special Patrol
ship of the Alliance, I was not at all surprised to receive orders from
the Central Council to report at emergency speed. Special Patrol work in
those days, before the advent of the present de-centralized system, was
a succession of false starts, hurried recalls, and urgent, emergency
orders.
* * * * *
I obeyed at once. In the Special Patrol service, there is no questioning
orders. The planet Earth, from which I sprang, is and always has been
proud of the fact that from the very beginning, her men have been picked
to command the ships of the Special Patrol. No matter how dangerous, how
forlorn and hopeless the mission given to a commander of a Special
Patrol ship, history has never recorded that any commander has ever
hesitated. That is why our uniform of blue and silver commands the
respect that it does even in this day and age of softening and
decadence, when men--but again an old man digresses. And perhaps it is
not for me to judge.
I pointed the blunt nose of the _Tamon_ at Zenia, seat of the Central
Council, and in four hours, Earth time, the great craft swept over the
gleaming city of the Central Council and settled swiftly to the court
before the mighty, columned Hall of the Planets.
Four pages of the Council, in their white and scarlet livery, met me and
conducted me instantly to a little anteroom behind the great council
chamber.
There were three men awaiting me there; three men whose faces, at that
time, were familiar to every person in the known Universe.
Kellen, the oldest of the three, and the spokesman, rose as I entered
the room. The others did likewise, as the pages closed the heavy doors
behind me.
"You are prompt, and that is good," thought Kellen. "I welcome you.
Remove now thy menore."
I glanced up at him swiftly. This must surely be an important matter,
that I was asked to remove my menore band.
It will, of course, be understood that at that time we had but a bulky
and clumsy instrument to enable us to convey and receive thought; a
device consisting of a heavy band of metal, in which were imbedded the
necessary instruments and a tiny atomic energy generator, the whole
being worn as a circlet or crown upon the head.
Wonderingly, I removed my menore, placed it upon the long, dark table
around which the three men were standing, and bowed. Each of the three,
in turn, lifted their gleaming circlets from their heads, and placed
them likewise upon the table before them.
* * * * *
"You wonder," said Kellen, speaking of course, in the soft and liquid
universal language, which is, I understand, still disseminated in our
schools, as it should be. "I shall explain as quickly and as briefly as
possible.
"We have called you here on a dangerous mission. A mission that will
require tact and quickness of mind as well as bravery. We have selected
you, have called you, because we are agreed that you possess the
qualities required. Is it not so?" He glanced at his two companions, and
they nodded gravely, solemnly, without speaking.
"You are a young man, John Hanson," continued Kellen, "but your record
in your service is one of which you can be proud. We trust you--with
knowledge that is so secret, so precious, that we must revert to speech
in order to convey it; we dare not trust it, even in this protected and
guarded place, to the menore's quicker but less discreet communication."
He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully as though dreading to
begin. I waited silently, and at last he spoke again.
"There is a world"--and he named a name which I shall not repeat, the
name of the Forgotten Planet--"that is a festering sore upon the body of
the Universe. As you know, for two centuries we have tried to pass on to
these people an understanding of peace and friendship. I believe that
nothing has been left undone. The Council and the forces behind it have
done everything within their power. And now--"
He stopped again, and there was an expression of deepest pain written
upon his wise and kindly face. The pause was for but an instant.
"And now," he went on firmly, "it is at an end. Our work has been
undone. Two centuries of effort--undone. They have risen in revolt, they
have killed all those sent by the Alliance of which this Council is the
governing body and the mouthpiece, and they have sent us an ultimatum--a
threat of war!"
"_What?_"
* * * * *
Kellen nodded his magnificent old head gravely.
"I do not wonder that you start," he said heavily. "War! It must not be.
It cannot be! And yet, war is what they threaten."
"But, sir!" I put in eagerly. I was young and rash in those days. "Who
are they, to make war against a united Universe?"
"I have visited your planet, Earth," said Kellen, smiling very faintly.
"You have a tiny winged insect you call _bee_. Is it not so?"
"Yes."
"The bee is a tiny thing, of little strength. A man, a little child,
might crush one to death between a thumb and finger. But the bee may
sting before he is crushed, and the sting may linger on for days, a
painful and unpleasant thing. Is that not so?"
"I see, sir," I replied, somewhat abashed before the tolerant, kindly
wisdom of this great man. "They cannot hope to wage successful war, but
they may bring much suffering to others."
"Much suffering," nodded Kellen, still gently smiling. "And we are
determined that this thing shall not be. Not"--and his face grew gray
with a terrible and bitter resolve--"not if we have to bring to bear
upon that dark and unwilling world the disintegrating rays of every ship
of the Alliance, so that the very shell of the planet shall disappear,
and no life ever again shall move upon its surface.
"But this," and he seemed to shudder at the thought, "is a terrible and
a ruthless thing to even contemplate. We must first try once again to
point out to them the folly of their ways. It is with this mission that
we would burden you, John Hanson."
* * * * *
"It is no burden, but an honor, sir," I said quietly.
"Youth! Youth!" Kellen chided me gently. "Foolish, yet rather glorious.
Let me tell you the rest, and then we shall ask for your reply again.
"The news came to us by a small scout ship attached to that unhappy
world. It barely made the journey to Jaron, the nearest planet, and
crashed so badly, from lack of power, that all save one man were killed.
"He, luckily, tore off his menore, and insisted in speech that he be
brought here. He was obeyed, and, in a dying condition, was brought to
this very chamber." Kellen glanced swiftly, sadly, around the room, as
though he could still visualize that scene.
"Every agent of the Alliance upon that hateful planet was set upon and
killed, following the working out of some gigantic and perfectly
executed plan--all save the crew of this one tiny scout ship, which was
spared to act as a messenger.
"'Tell your great Council,' was the message these people sent to us,
'that here is rebellion. We do not want, nor will we tolerate, your
peace. We have learned now that upon other worlds than ours there are
great riches. These we shall take. If there is resistance, we have a
new and a terrible death to deal. A death that your great scientists
will be helpless against; a horrible and irresistable death that will
make desolate and devoid of intelligent life any world where we are
forced to sow the seeds of ultimate disaster.
"'We are not yet ready. If we were, we would not move, for we prefer
that your Council have time to think about what is surely to come. If
you doubt that we have the power to do what we have threatened to do,
send one ship, commanded by a man whose word you will trust, and we will
prove to him that these are no empty words.'"
* * * * *
"That, as nearly as I can remember it," concluded Kellen, "is the
message. The man who brought it died almost before he had finished.
"That is the message. You are the man we have picked to accept their
challenge. Remember, though, that there are but the four of us in this
room. There are but four of us who know these things. If you for any
reason do not wish to accept this mission, there will be none to judge
you, least of all, any one of us, who know best of all the perils."
"You say, sir," I said quietly, although my heart was pounding in my
throat, and roaring in my ears, "that there would be none to judge me.
"Sir, there would be myself. There could be no more merciless judge. I
am honored that I have been selected for this task, and I accept the
responsibility willingly, gladly. When is it your wish that we should
start?"
The three presiding members of the Council glanced at each other,
faintly smiling, as though they would say, as Kellen had said a short
time before: "Youth! Youth!" Yet I believe they were glad and somewhat
proud that I had replied as I did.
"You may start," said Kellen, "as soon as you can complete the necessary
preparations. Detailed instructions will be given you later."
He bowed to me, and the others did likewise. Then Kellen picked up his
menore and adjusted it.
The interview was over.
* * * * *
"What do you make it?" I asked the observer. He glanced up from his
instrument.
"Jaron, sir. Three degrees to port; elevation between five and six
degrees. Approximate only, of course, sir."
"Good enough. Please ask Mr. Barry to hold to his present course. We
shall not stop at Jaron."
The observer glanced at me curiously, but he was too well disciplined to
hesitate or ask questions.
"Yes, sir!" he said crisply, and spoke into the microphone beside him.
None of us wore menores when on duty, for several reasons. Our
instruments were not nearly as perfect as those in use to-day, and
verbal orders were clearer and carried more authority than mental
instructions. The delicate and powerful electrical and atomic mechanism
of our ship interfered with the functioning of the menores, and at that
time the old habit of speech was far more firmly entrenched, due to
hereditary influence, than it is now.
I nodded to the man, and made my way to my own quarters. I wished most
heartily that I could talk over my plans with someone, but this had been
expressly forbidden.
"I realize that you trust your men, and more particularly your
officers," Kellen had told me during the course of his parting
conversation with me. "I trust them also--yet we must remember that the
peace of mind of the Universe is concerned. If news, even a rumor, of
this threatened disaster should become known, it is impossible to
predict the disturbance it might create.
"Say nothing to anyone. It is your problem. You alone should leave the
ship when you land; you alone shall hear or see the evidence they have
to present, and you alone shall bring word of it to us. That is the wish
of the Council."
"Then it is my wish," I had said, and so it had been settled.
* * * * *
Aft, in the crew's quarters, a gong sounded sharply: the signal for
changing watches, and the beginning of a sleep period. I glanced at the
remote control dials that glowed behind their glass panel on one side of
my room. From the registered attraction of Jaron, at our present speed,
we should be passing her within, according to Earth time, about two
hours. That meant that their outer patrols might be seeking our
business, and I touched Barry's attention button, and spoke into the
microphone beside my bunk.
"Mr. Barry? I am turning in for a little sleep. Before you turn over the
watch to Eitel, will you see that the nose rays are set for the Special
Patrol code signal for this enar. We shall be close to Jaron shortly."
"Yes, sir! Any other orders?"
"No. Keep her on her present course. I shall take the watch from Mr.
Eitel."
Since there have been changes since those days, and will undoubtedly be
others in the future, it might be well to make clear, in a document such
is this, that at this period, all ships of the Special Patrol Service
identified themselves by means of invisible rays flashed in certain
sequences, from the two nose, or forward, projectors. These code signals
were changed every enar, a period of time arbitrarily set by the
Council; about eighteen days, as time is measured on the Earth, and
divided into ten periods, as at present, known as enarens. These were
further divided into enaros, thus giving us a time-reckoning system for
use in space, corresponding roughly to the months, days and hours of the
Earth.
I retired, but not to sleep. Sleep would not come. I knew, of course,
that if curious outer patrol ships from Jaron did investigate us, they
would be able to detect our invisible ray code signal, and thus satisfy
themselves that we were on the Council's business. There would be no
difficulty on that score. But what I should do after landing upon the
rebellious sphere, I had not the slightest idea.
* * * * *
"Be stern, indifferent to their threats," Kellen, had counseled me, "but
do everything within your power to make them see the folly of their
attitude. Do not threaten them, for they are a surly people and you
might precipitate matters. Swallow your pride if you must; remember that
yours is a gigantic responsibility, and upon the information you bring
us may depend the salvation of millions. I am convinced that they are
not--you have a word in your language that fits exactly. Not pretending
... what is the word?"
"Bluffing?" I had supplied in English, smiling.
"Right! Bluffing. It is a very descriptive word. I am sure they are not
bluffing."
I was sure of it also. They knew the power of the Alliance; they had
been made to feel it more than once. A bluff would have been a foolish
thing, and these people were not fools. In some lines of research they
were extraordinarily brilliant.
But what could their new, terrible weapon be? Rays we had; at least half
a dozen rays of destruction; the terrible dehydrating ray of the Deuber
Spheres, the disintegrating ray that dated back before Ame Baove and his
first voyage into space, the concentrated ultra-violet ray that struck
men down in fiery torment.... No, it could hardly be a new ray that was
their boasted weapon.
What, then? Electricity had even then been exhausted of its
possibilities. Atomic energy had been released, harnessed, and directed.
Yet it would take fabulous time and expense to make these machines of
destruction do what they claimed they would do.
Still pondering the problem, I did fall at last into a fitful travesty
of sleep.
* * * * *
I was glad when the soft clamor of the bell aft announced the next
change of watch. I rose, cleared the cobwebs from my brain with an icy
shower, and made my way directly to the navigating room.
"Everything tidy, sir," said Eitel, my second officer, and a Zenian. He
was thin and very dark, like all Zenians, and had the high, effeminate
voice of that people. But he was cool and fearless and had the uncanny
cerebration of his kind; I trusted him as completely as I trusted Barry,
my first officer, who, like myself, was a native of Earth. "Will you
take over?"
"Yes," I nodded, glancing at the twin charts beneath the ground glass
top of the control table. "Get what sleep you can the next few enaros.
Presently I shall want every man on duty and at his station."
He glanced at me curiously, as the observer had done, but saluted and
left with only a brief, "Yes, sir!" I returned the salute and turned my
attention again to the charts.
The navigating room of an interplanetary ship is without doubt
unfamiliar ground to most, so it might be well for me to say that such
ships have, for the most part, twin charts, showing progress in two
dimensions; to use land terms, lateral and vertical. These charts are
really no more than large sheets of ground glass, ruled in both
directions with fine black lines, representing all relatively close
heavenly bodies by green lights of varying sizes. The ship itself is
represented by a red spark and the whole is, of course, entirely
automatic in action, the instruments comprising the chart being operated
by super-radio reflexes.
* * * * *
Jaron, the charts showed me at a glance, was now far behind. Almost
directly above--it is necessary to resort to these unscientific terms to
make my meaning clear--was the tiny world Elon, home of the friendly but
impossibly dull winged people, the only ones in the known Universe. I
was there but once, and found them almost laughably like our common
dragon-flies on Earth; dragon-flies that grow some seven feet long, and
with gauzy wings of amazing strength.
Directly ahead, on both charts, was a brilliantly glowing sphere of
green--our destination. I made some rapid mental calculations, studying
the few fine black lines between the red spark that was our ship, and
the nearest edge of the great green sphere. I glanced at our speed
indicator and the attraction meter. The little red slide that moved
around the rim of the attraction meter was squarely at the top, showing
that the attraction was from straight ahead; the great black hand was
nearly a third of the way around the face.
We were very close; two hours would bring us into the atmospheric
envelope. In less than two hours and a half, we would be in the Control
City of what is now called the Forgotten Planet!
I glanced forward, through the thick glass partitions, into the
operating room. Three men stood there, watching intently; they too, were
wondering why we visited the unfriendly world.
The planet itself loomed up straight ahead, a great half-circle, its
curved rim sharp and bright against the empty blackness of space; the
chord ragged and blurred. In two hours ... I turned away and began a
restless pacing.
* * * * *
An hour went by; an hour and a half. I pressed the attention button to
the operating room, and gave orders to reduce our speed by half. We were
very close to the outer fringe of the atmospheric envelope. Then,
keeping my eye on the big surface-temperature gauge, with its stubby red
hand, I resumed my nervous pacing.
Slowly the thick red hand of the surface-temperature gauge began to
move; slowly, and then more rapidly, until the eyes could catch its
creeping.
"Reduce to atmospheric speed," I ordered curtly, and glanced down
through a side port at one end of the long navigating room.
We were, at the moment, directly above the twilight belt. To my right,
as I looked down, I could see a portion of the glistening antarctic ice
cap. Here and there were the great flat lakes, almost seas, of the
planet.
Our geographies of the Universe to-day do not show the topography of
the Forgotten Planet: I might say, therefore, that the entire sphere was
land area, with numerous great lakes embedded in its surface, together
with many broad, very crooked rivers. As Ame Baove had reported, there
were no mountains, and no high land.
"Altitude constant," I ordered. "Port three degrees. Stand by for
further orders."
The earth seemed to whirl slowly beneath us. Great cities drifted
astern, and I compared the scene below me with the great maps I took
from our chart-case. The Control City should be just beyond the visible
rim; well in the daylight area.
"Port five degrees," I said, and pressed the attention button to Barry's
quarters.
"Mr. Barry, please call all men to quarters, including the off-duty
watch, and then report to the navigating room. Mr. Eitel will be under
my direct orders. We shall descend within the next few minutes."
"Very well, sir."
I pressed the attention button to Eitel's room.
"Mr. Eitel, please pick ten of your best men and have them report at the
forward exit. Await me, with the men, at that place. I shall be with you
as soon as I turn the command over to Mr. Barry. We are descending
immediately."
"Right, sir!" said Eitel.
* * * * *
I turned from the microphone to find that Barry had just entered the
navigating room.
"We will descend into the Great Court of the Control City, Mr. Barry,"
I said. "I have a mission here. I am sorry, but these are the only
instructions I can leave you.
"I do not know how long I shall be gone from the ship, but if I do not
return within three hours, depart without me, and report directly to
Kellen of the Council. To him, and no other. Tell him, verbally, what
took place. Should there be any concerted action against the _Tamon_,
use your own judgment as to the action to be taken, remembering that the
safety of the ship and its crew, and the report of the Council, are
infinitely more important than my personal welfare. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. Too damned clear."
I smiled and shook my head.
"Don't worry," I said lightly. "I'll be back well within the appointed
time."
"I hope so. But there's something wrong as hell here. I'm talking now as
man to man; not to my commanding officer. I've been watching below, and
I have seen at least two spots where large numbers of our ships have
been destroyed. The remaining ships bear their own damned emblem where
the crest of the Alliance should be--and was. What does it mean?"
"It means," I said slowly, "that I shall have to rely upon every man and
officer to forget himself and myself, and obey orders without hesitation
and without flinching. The orders are not mine, but direct from the
Council itself." I held out my hand to him--an ancient Earth gesture of
greeting, good-will and farewell--and he shook it vigorously.
"God go with you," he said softly, and with a little nod of thanks I
turned and quickly left the room.
* * * * *
Eitel, with his ten men, were waiting for me at the forward exit. The
men fell back a few paces and came to attention; Eitel saluted smartly.
"We are ready, sir. What are your orders?"
"You are to guard this opening. Under no circumstances is anyone to
enter save myself. I shall be gone not longer than three hours; if I am
not back within that time, Mr. Barry has his orders. The exit will be
sealed, and the _Tamon_ will depart immediately, without me."
"Yes, sir. You will pardon me, but I gather that your mission is a
dangerous one. May I not accompany you?"
I shook my head.
"I shall need you here."
"But, sir, they are very excited and angry; I have been watching them
from the observation ports. And there is a vast crowd of them around the
ship."
"I had expected that. I thank you for your concern, but I must go alone.
Those are the orders. Will you unseal the exit?"
His "Yes, sir!" was brisk and efficient, but there was a worried frown
on his features as he unlocked and released the switch that opened the
exit.
The huge plug of metal, some ten feet in diameter, revolved swiftly and
noiselessly, backing slowly in its fine threads into the interior of the
ship, gripped by the ponderous gimbals which, as the last threads
disengaged, swung the mighty disc to one side, like the door of some
great safe.
"Remember your orders," I smiled, and with a little gesture to convey an
assurance which I certainly did not feel, I strode through the circular
opening out into the crowd. The heavy glass secondary door shot down
behind me, and I was in the hands of the enemy.
* * * * *
The first thing I observed was that my menore, which I had picked up on
my way to the exit, was not functioning. Not a person in all that vast
multitude wore a menore; the five black-robed dignitaries who marched to
meet me wore none.
Nothing could have showed more clearly that I was in for trouble. To
invite a visitor, as Kellen had done, to remove his menore first, was,
of course, a polite and courteous thing to do if one wished to
communicate by speech; to remove the menore before greeting a visitor
wearing one, was a tacit admission of rank enmity; a confession that
one's thoughts were to be concealed.
My first impulse was to snatch off my own instrument and fling it in the
solemn, ugly faces of the nearest of the five dignataries; I remembered
Kellen's warning just in time. Quietly, I removed the metal circlet and
tucked it under my arm, bowing slightly to the committee of five as I
did so.
"I am Ja Ben," said the first of the five, with an evil grin. "You are
the representative of the Council that we commanded to appear?"
"I am John Hanson, commander of the ship _Tamon_ of the Special Patrol
Service. I am here to represent the Central Council," I replied with
dignity.
"As we commanded," grinned Ja Ben. "That is good. Follow us and you
shall have the evidence you were promised."
Ja Ben led the way with two of his black-robed followers. The other two
fell in behind me. A virtual prisoner, I marched between them, through
the vast crowd that made way grudgingly to let us pass.
* * * * *
I have seen the people of most of the planets of the known Universe.
Many of them, to Earth notions, are odd. But these people, so much like
us in many respects, were strangely repulsive.
Their heads, as Ame Baove had recorded, were not round like ours, but
possessed a high bony crest that ran from between their lashless,
browless eyes, down to the very nape of their necks. Their skin, even
that covering their hairless heads, was a dull and papery white, like
parchment, and their eyes were abnormally small, and nearly round. A
hateful, ugly people, perpetually scowling, snarling; their very voices
resembled more the growl of wild beasts than the speech of intelligent
beings.
Ja Ben led the way straight to the low but vast building of dun-colored
stone that I knew was the administration building of the Control City.
We marched up the broad, crowded steps, through the muttering, jeering
multitude into the building itself. The guards at the doors stood aside
to let us through and the crowd at last was left behind.
A swift, cylindrical elevator shot us upward, into a great glass-walled
laboratory, built like a sort of penthouse on the roof. Ja Ben walked
quickly across the room towards a long, glass-topped table; the other
four closed in on me silently but suggestively.
"That is unnecessary," I said quietly. "See, I am unarmed and completely
in your power. I am here as an ambassador of the Central Council, not as
a warrior."
"Which is as well for you," grinned Ja Ben. "What I have to show you,
you can see quickly, and then depart."
From a great cabinet in one corner of the room he took a shining
cylinder of dark red metal, and held it up before him, stroking its
sleek sides with an affectionate hand.
* * * * *
"Here it is," he said, chuckling. "The secret of our power. In here,
safely imprisoned now, but capable of being released at our command, is
death for every living thing upon any planet we choose to destroy." He
replaced the great cylinder in the cabinet, and picked up in its stead a
tiny vial of the same metal, no larger than my little finger, and not so
long. "Here," he said, turning again towards me, "is the means of
proving our power to you. Come closer!"
With my bodyguard of four watching every move, I approached.
Ja Ben selected a large hollow hemisphere of crystal glass and placed it
upon a smooth sheet of flat glass. Next he picked a few blossoms from a
bowl that stood, incongruously enough, on the table, and threw them
under the glass hemisphere.
"Flora," he grinned.
Hurrying to the other end of the room, he reached into a large flat
metal cage and brought forth three small rodent like animals, natives of
that world. These he also tossed carelessly under the glass.
"Fauna," he grunted, and picked up the tiny metal vial.
One end of the vial unscrewed. He turned the cap gently, carefully, a
strained, anxious look upon his face. My four guards watched him
breathlessly, fearfully.
* * * * *
The cap came loose at last, disclosing the end of the tube, sealed with
a grayish substance that looked like wax. Very quickly Ja Ben rolled the
little cylinder under the glass hemisphere, and picked up a beaker that
had been bubbling gently on an electric plate close by. Swiftly he
poured the thick contents of the beaker around the base of the glass
bell. The stuff hardened almost instantly, forming an air-tight seal
between the glass hemisphere and the flat plate of glass upon which it
rested. Then, with an evil, triumphant smile, Ja Ben looked up.
"_Flora_," he repeated. "_Fauna._ And _death_. Watch! The little metal
cylinder is plugged still, but in a moment that plug will
disappear--simply a volatile solid, you understand. It is going rapidly
... rapidly ... it is almost gone now! Watch ... In an instant now ...
_ah!_"
I saw the gray substance that stopped the entrance of the little metal
vial disappear. The rodents ran around and over it, trying to find a
crevice by which they might escape. The flowers, bright and beautiful,
lay untidily on the bottom of the glass prison.
Then, just as the last vestige of the gray plug vanished; an amazing, a
terrible thing happened. At the mouth of the tiny metal vial a greenish
cloud appeared. I call it a cloud, but it was not that. It was solid,
and it spread in every direction, sending out little needles that lashed
about and ran together into a solid mass while millions of little
needles reached out swiftly.
One of these little needles touched a scurrying animal. Instantly the
tiny brute stiffened, and from his entire body the greenish needles
spread swiftly. One of the flowers turned suddenly thick and pulpy with
the soft green mass, then another, another of the rodents ... _God!_
In the space of two heart beats, the entire hemisphere was filled with
the green mass, that still moved and writhed and seemed to press against
the glass sides as though the urge to expand was insistent,
imperative....
* * * * *
"What is it?" I whispered, still staring at the thing.
"_Death!_" grunted Ja Ben, thrusting his hateful face close to mine, his
tiny round eyes, with their lashless lids glinting. "Death, my friend.
Go and tell your great Council of this death that we have created for
every planet that will not obey us.
"We have gone back into the history of dealing death and have come back
with a death such as the Universe has never known before!
"Here is a rapacious, deadly fungus we have been two centuries in
developing. The spores contained in that tiny metal tube would be
invisible to the naked eye--and yet given but a little time to grow,
with air and vegetation and flesh to feed upon, and even that small
capsule would wipe out a world. And in the cabinet,"--he pointed
grinning triumphantly--"we have, ready for instant use, enough of the
spores of this deadly fungas to wipe out all the worlds of your great
Alliance.
"To wipe them out utterly!" he repeated, his voice shaking with a sort
of frenzy now. "Every living thing upon their faces, wrapped in that
thin, hungry green stuff you see there under that glass. All life wiped
out; made uninhabitable so long as the Universe shall endure. And
we--_we_ shall be rulers, unquestioned, of that Universe. Tell your
doddering Council _that_!" He leaned back against the table, panting
with hate.
"I shall tell them all I have seen; all you have said," I nodded.
"You believe we have the power to do all this?"
"I do--God help me, and the Universe," I said solemnly.
* * * * *
There was no doubt in my mind. I could see all too clearly how well
their plans had been laid; how quickly this hellish growth would
strangle all life, once its spores began to develop.
The only possible chance was to get back to the Council and make my
report, with all possible speed, so that every available armed ship of
the universe might concentrate here, and wipe out these people before
they had time to--
"I know what you are thinking, my friend," broke in Ja Ben mockingly.
"You might as well have worn the menore! You would have the ships of the
Alliance destroy us before we have time to act. We had foreseen that,
and have provided for the possibility.
"As soon as you leave here, ships, provided with many tubes like the one
just used for our little demonstration, will be dispersed in every
direction. We shall be in constant communication with those ships, and
at the least sign of hostility, they will be ordered to depart and
spread their death upon every world they can reach. Some of them you may
be able to locate and eliminate; a number of them are certain to elude
capture in infinite space--and if only one, one lone ship, should
escape, the doom of the Alliance and millions upon millions of people
will be pronounced.
"I warn you, it will be better, much better, to bow to our wishes, and
pay us the tribute we shall demand. Any attempt at resistance will
precipitate certain disaster for your Council and all the worlds the
Council governs."
"At least, we would wipe you out first," I said hoarsely.
"True," nodded Ja Ben. "But the vengeance of our ships would be a
terrible thing! You would not dare to take the chance!"
I stood there, staring at him in a sort of daze. What he had said was so
true; terribly, damnably true.
If only--
* * * * *
There was but one chance I could see, and desperate as it was, I took
it. Whirling the heavy metal ring of my menore in my hand, I sprang
towards the table.
If I could break the sealed glass hemisphere, and loose the fungus upon
its creators; deal to them the doom they had planned for the universe,
then perhaps all might yet be well.
Ja Ben understood instantly what was in my mind. He and his four aides
leaped between me and the table, their tiny round eyes blazing with
anger. I struck one of the four viciously with the menore, and with a
gasp he fell back and slumped to the floor.
Before I could break through the opening, however, Ja Ben struck me full
in the face with his mighty fist; a blow that sent me, dazed and
reeling, into a corner of the room. I brought up with a crash against
the cabinet there, groped wildly in an effort to steady myself, and fell
to the floor. Almost before I struck, all four of them were upon me.
They hammered me viciously, shouted at me, cursed me in the universal
tongue, but I paid no heed. I pretended to be unconscious, but my heart
was beating high with sudden, glorious hope, and in my brain a terrible,
merciless plan was forming.
When I had groped against the cabinet in an effort to regain my balance,
my fingers had closed upon one of the little metal vials. As I fell, I
covered that hand with my body and hastily hid the tiny tube in a deep
pocket of my blue and silver Service uniform.
* * * * *
Slowly, after a few seconds, I opened my eyes and looked up at them,
helplessly.
"Go, now!" snarled Ja Ben, dragging me to my feet. "Go, and tell your
Council we are more than a match for you--and for them." He thrust me,
reeling, towards his three assistants. "Take him to his ship, and send
aid for Ife Rance, here." He glanced at the still unconscious figure of
the victim of my menore, and then turned to me with a last warning.
"Remember, one thing more, my friend: you have disintegrator ray
equipment upon your ship. You have the little atomic bombs that won for
the Alliance the Second War of the Planets. I know that. But if you make
the slightest effort to use them, I shall dispatch a supply of the green
death to our ships, and they will depart upon their missions at once.
You would take upon yourself a terrible responsibility by making the
smallest hostile move.
"Go, now--and when you return, bring with you members of your great
Council who will have the power to hear our demands, and see that they
are obeyed. And do not keep us waiting over long, for we are an
impatient race." He bowed, mockingly, and passed his left hand swiftly
before his face, his people's sign of parting.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and, hemmed in by my three
black-robed conductors, was hurried down the elevator and back through
the jeering mob to my ship.
* * * * *
The glass secondary door shot up to permit me to enter, and Eitel
gripped my shoulder anxiously, his eyes smoldering angrily.
"You're hurt, sir!" he said in his odd, high-pitched voice, staring into
my bruised face. "What--"
"It's nothing," I assured him. "Close the exit immediately; we depart at
once."
"Yes, sir!" He closed the switch, and the great threaded plug swung
gently on its gimbals and began to revolve, swiftly and silently. A
little bell sounded sharply, and the great door ceased its motion. Eitel
locked the switch and returned the key to his pocket.
"Good. All men are at their stations?" I asked briskly.
"Yes, sir! All except these ten, detailed to guard the exit."
"Have them report to their regular stations. Issue orders to the ray
operators that they are to instantly, and without further orders,
destroy any ship that may leave the surface of this planet. Have every
atomic bomb crew ready for an instant and concentrated offensive
directed at the Control City, but command them not to act under any
circumstances unless I give the order. Is that clear, Mr. Eitel?"
"Yes, sir!"
I nodded, and turned away, making my way immediately to the navigating
room.
"Mr. Barry," I said quickly and gravely, "I believe that the fate of the
known Universe depends upon us at this moment. We will ascend
vertically, at once--slowly--until we are just outside the envelope,
maintaining only sufficient horizontal motion to keep us directly over
the Control City. Will you give the necessary orders?"
"Immediately, sir!" He pressed the attention button to the operating
room and spoke swiftly into the microphone; before he completed the
order I had left.
* * * * *
We were already ascending when I reached the port forward atomic bomb
station. The man in charge, a Zenian, saluted with automatic precision
and awaited orders.
"You have a bomb in readiness?" I asked, returning the salute.
"Those were my orders, sir."
"Correct. Remove it, please."
I waited impatiently while the crew removed the bomb from the releasing
trap. It was withdrawn at last; a fish-shaped affair, very much like the
ancient airplane bombs save that it was no larger than my two fists,
placed one upon the other, and that it had four silvery wires running
along its sides, from rounded nose to pointed tail, held at a distance
from the body by a series of insulating struts.
"Now," I said, "how quickly can you put another object in the trap,
re-seal the opening, and release the object?"
"While the Commander counts ten with reasonable speed," said the Zenian
with pride. "We won first honors in the Special Patrol Service contests
at the last Examination, the Commander may remember."
"I do remember. That is why I selected you for this duty."
With hands that trembled a little, I think, I drew forth the little vial
of gleaming red metal, while the bombing crew watched me curiously.
"I shall unscrew the cap from this little vial," I explained, "and drop
it immediately into the releasing trap. Re-seal the trap and release
this object as quickly as it is possible to do so. If you can better the
time you made to win the honors at the Examination--in God's name, do
so!"
"Yes, sir!" replied the Zenian. He gave brisk orders to his crew, and
each of the three men sprang alertly into position.
* * * * *
As quickly as I could, I turned off the cap of the little metal vial and
dropped it into the trap. The heavy plug, a tiny duplicate of the exit
door, clicked shut upon it and spun, whining gently, into the opening.
Something clicked sharply, and one of the crew dropped a bar into place.
As it shot home, the Zenian in command of the crew pulled the release
plunger.
"Done, sir!" he said proudly.
I did not reply. My eye fixed upon the observation tube that was
following the tiny missile to the ground.
The Control City was directly below us. I lost sight of the vial almost
instantly, but the indicating cross-hairs showed me exactly where the
vial would strike; at a point approximately half way between the edge of
the city and the great squat pile of the administrating building, with
its gleaming glass penthouse--the laboratory in which, only a few
minutes before, I had witnessed the demonstration of the death which
awaited the Universe.
"Excellent!" I exclaimed. "Smartly done, men!" I turned and hurried to
the navigating room, where the most powerful of our television discs was
located.
The disc was not as perfect as those we have to-day; it was hooded to
keep out exterior light, which is not necessary with the later
instruments, and it was more unwieldy. However, it did its work, and did
it well, in the hands of an experienced operator.
With only a nod to Barry, I turned the range band to maximum, and
brought it swiftly to bear upon that portion of the city in which the
little vial had fallen. As I drew the focusing lever towards me, the
scene leaped at me through the clear, glowing glass disc.
* * * * *
Froth! Green, billowing froth that grew and boiled and spread
unceasingly. In places it reached high into the air, and it moved with
an eager, inner life that was somehow terrible and revolting. I moved
the range hand back, and the view seemed to drop away from me swiftly.
I could see the whole city now. All one side of it was covered with the
spreading green stain that moved and flowed so swiftly. Thousands of
tiny black figures were running in the streets, crowding away from the
awful danger that menaced them.
The green patch spread more swiftly always. When I had first seen it,
the edges were advancing as rapidly as a man could run; now they were
fairly racing, and the speed grew constantly.
A ship, two of them, three of them came darting from somewhere, towards
the administration building, with its glass cupola. I held my breath as
the deep, sudden humming from the _Tamon_ told me that our rays were
busy. Would they--
One of the enemy ships disappeared suddenly in a little cloud of dirty,
heavy dust that settled swiftly. Another ... and the third. Three little
streaks of dust, falling, falling....
A fourth ship, and a fifth came rushing up, their sides faintly glowing
from the speed they had made. The green flood, thick and insistent, was
racing up and over the administration building now. It reached the roof,
ran swiftly....
The fourth ship shattered into dust. The fifth settled swiftly--and then
that ship also disappeared, together with a corner of the building. Then
the thick green stuff flowed over the whole building and there was
nothing to be seen there but a mound of soft, flowing, gray-green stuff
that rushed on now with the swiftness of the wind.
* * * * *
I looked up, into Barry's face.
"You're ill!" he said quickly. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"
"Yes," I said, forming the words with difficulty. "Give orders to ascend
at emergency speed!"
For once my first officer hesitated. He glanced at the attraction meter
and then turned to me again, wondering.
"At this height, sir, emergency speed will mean dangerous heating of the
surface; perhaps--"
"I want it white hot, Mr. Barry. She is built to stand it. Emergency
speed, please--immediately!"
"Right, sir!" he said briskly, and gave the order.
I felt my weight increase as the order was obeyed; gradually the
familiar, uncomfortable feeling left me. Silently, Barry and I watched
the big surface temperature gauge as it started to move. The heat inside
became uncomfortable, grew intense. The sweat poured from us. In the
operating room forward, I could see the men casting quick, wondering
glances up at us through the heavy glass partition that lay between.
The thick, stubby red hand of the surface temperature gauge moved slowly
but steadily towards the heavy red line that marked the temperature at
which the outer shell of our hull would become incandescent. The hand
was within three or four degrees of that mark when I gave Barry the
order to arrest our motion.
When he had given the order, I turned to him and motioned towards the
television disc.
"Look," I said.
* * * * *
He looked, and when at last he tore his face away from the hood, he
seemed ten years older.
"What is it?" he asked in a choked whisper. "Why--they're being wiped
out; the whole of that world--"
"True. And some of the seeds of that terrible death might have drifted
upward, and found a lodging place upon the surface of our ship. That is
why I ordered the emergency speed while we were still within the
atmospheric envelope, Barry. To burn away that contamination, if it
existed. Now we are safe, unless--"
I pressed the attention button to the station of the chief of the ray
operators.
"Your report," I ordered.
"Nine ships disintegrated, sir," he replied instantly. "Five before the
city was destroyed, four later."
"You are certain that none escaped?"
"Positive, sir."
"Very good."
I turned to Barry, smiling.
"Point her nose for Zenia, Mr. Barry," I said. "As soon as it is
feasible, resume emergency speed. There are some very anxious gentlemen
there awaiting our report, and I dare not convey it except in person."
"Yes, sir!" said Barry crisply.
* * * * *
This, then, is the history of the Forgotten Planet. On the charts of the
Universe it appears as an unnamed world. No ship is permitted to pass
close enough to it so that its attraction is greater than that of the
nearest other mass. A permanent outpost of fixed-station ships, with
headquarters upon Jaron, the closest world, is maintained by the
Council.
There are millions of people who might be greatly disturbed if they knew
of this potential menace that lurks in the midst of our Universe, but
they do not know. The wisdom of the Council made certain of that.
But, in order that in the ages to come there might be a record of this
matter, I have been asked to prepare this document for the sealed
archives of the Alliance. It has been a pleasant task; I have relived,
for a little time, a part of my youth.
The work is done, now, and that is well. I am an old man, and weary.
Sometimes I wish I might live to see the wonders that the next
generation or so will witness, but my years are heavy upon me.
My work is done.
* * * * *
ASTOUNDING STORIES
_Appears on Newsstands_
THE FIRST THURSDAY IN EACH MONTH
* * * * *
[Illustration: "_And I would have been the greatest man in the world._"]
The Power and the Glory
_By Charles W. Diffin_
There were papers on the desk, a litter of papers scrawled over, in the
careless writing of indifferent students, with the symbols of chemistry
and long mathematical computations. The man at the desk pushed them
aside to rest his lean, lined face on one thin hand. The other arm,
ending at the wrist, was on the desk before him.
[Sidenote: Sadly, sternly, the old professor reveals to his brilliant
pupil the greater path to glory.]
Students of a great university had long since ceased to speculate about
the missing hand. The result of an experiment, they knew--a hand that
was a mass of lifeless cells, amputated quickly that the living arm
might be saved--but that was some several years ago, ancient history to
those who came and went through Professor Eddinger's class room.
And now Professor Eddinger was weary--weary and old, he told himself--as
he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the interminable papers and
the stubby wrist that had ended forever his experiments and the delicate
manipulations which only he could do.
He reached slowly for a buzzing phone, but his eyes brightened at the
voice that came to him.
"I've got it--I've got it!" The words were almost incoherent. "This is
Avery, Professor--Avery! You must come at once. You will share in it; I
owe it all to you ... you will be the first to see ... I am sending a
taxi for you--"
Professor Eddinger's tired eyes crinkled to a smile. Enthusiasm like
this was rare among his youngsters. But Avery--with the face of a poet,
a dreamer's eyes and the mind of a scientist--good boy, Avery!--a long
time since he had seen him--had him in his own laboratory for two
years....
"What's this all about?" he asked.
"No--no!" said a voice; "I can't tell you--it is too big--greater than
the induction motor--greater than the electric light--it is the greatest
thing in the world. The taxi should be there now--you must come--"
A knock at the office door where a voice said, "Car for Professor
Eddinger," confirmed the excited words.
"I'll come," said the Professor, "right away."
* * * * *
He pondered, as the car whirled him across the city, on what this
greatest thing in the world might be. And he hoped with gentle
skepticism that the enthusiasm was warranted. A young man opened the car
door as they stopped. His face was flushed, Eddinger noted, hair pushed
back in disarray, his shirt torn open at the throat.
"Wait here," he told the driver and took the Professor by the arm to
hurry him into a dilapidated building.
"Not much of a laboratory," he said, "but we'll have better, you and I;
we'll have better--"
The room seemed bare with its meager equipment, but it was neat, as
became the best student of Professor Eddinger. Rows of reagent bottles
stood on the shelves, but the tables were a litter of misplaced
instruments and broken glassware where trembling hands had fumbled in
heedless excitement.
"Glad to see you again, Avery." The gentle voice of Professor Eddinger
had lost its tired tone. "It's been two years you've been working, I
judge. Now what is this great discovery, boy? What have you found?"
The younger man, in whose face the color came and went, and whose eyes
were shining from dark hollows that marked long days and sleepless
nights, still clung to the other's arm.
"It's real," he said; "it's great! It means fortune and fame, and you're
in on that, Professor. The old master," he said and clapped a hand
affectionately upon a thin shoulder; "I owe it all to you. And now I
have--I have learned.... No, you shall see for yourself. Wait--"
* * * * *
He crossed quickly to a table. On it was an apparatus; the eyes of the
older man widened as he saw it. It was intricate--a maze of tubing.
There was a glass bulb above--the generator of a cathode ray,
obviously--and electro-magnets below and on each side. Beneath was a
crude sphere of heavy lead--a retort, it might be--and from this there
passed two massive, insulated cables. The understanding eyes of the
Professor followed them, one to a terminal on a great insulating block
upon the floor, the other to a similarly protected terminal of carbon
some feet above it in the air.
The trembling fingers of the young man made some few adjustments, then
he left the instrument to take his place by an electric switch. "Stand
back," he warned, and closed the switch.
There was a gentle hissing from within glass tubes, the faint glow of a
blue-green light. And that was all, until--with a crash like the ripping
crackle of lightning, a white flame arced between the terminals of the
heavy cables. It hissed ceaselessly through the air where now the tang
of ozone was apparent. The carbon blocks glowed with a brilliant
incandescence when the flame ceased with the motion of a hand where
Avery pulled a switch.
The man's voice was quiet now. "You do not know, yet, what you have
seen, but there was a tremendous potential there--an amperage I can't
measure with my limited facilities." He waved a deprecating hand about
the ill-furnished laboratory. "But you have seen--" His voice trembled
and failed at the forming of the words.
"--The disintegration of the atom," said Professor Eddinger quietly,
"and the release of power unlimited. Did you use thorium?" he inquired.
The other looked at him in amazement. Then: "I should have known you
would understand," he said humbly. "And you know what it means"--again
his voice rose--"power without end to do the work of the world--great
vessels driven a lifetime on a mere ounce of matter--a revolution in
transportation--in living...." He paused. "The liberation of mankind,"
he added, and his voice was reverent. "This will do the work of the
world: it will make a new heaven and a new earth! Oh, I have dreamed
dreams," he exclaimed, "I have seen visions. And it has been given to
me--me!--to liberate man from the curse of Adam ... the sweat of his
brow.... I can't realize it even yet. I--I am not worthy...."
* * * * *
He raised his eyes slowly in the silence to gaze in wondering
astonishment at the older man. There was no answering light, no
exaltation on the lined face. Only sadness in the tired eyes that looked
at him and through him as if focused upon something in a dim future--or
past.
"Don't you see?" asked the wondering man. "The freedom of men--the
liberation of a race. No more poverty, no endless, grinding labor." His
young eyes, too, were looking into the future, a future of blinding
light. "Culture," he said, "instead of heart-breaking toil, a chance to
grow mentally, spiritually; it is another world, a new life--" And again
he asked: "Surely, you see?"
"I see," said the other; "I see--plainly."
"The new world," said Avery. "It--it dazzles me; it rings like music in
my ears."
"I see no new world," was the slow response.
The young face was plainly perplexed. "Don't you believe?" he stammered.
"After you have seen ... I thought you would have the vision, would help
me emancipate the world, save it--" His voice failed.
"Men have a way of crucifying their saviors," said the tired voice.
The inventor was suddenly indignant. "You are blind," he said harshly;
"it is too big for you. And I would have had you stand beside me in the
great work.... I shall announce it alone.... There will be
laboratories--enormous!--and factories. My invention will be perfected,
simplified, compressed. A generator will be made--thousands of
horsepower to do the work of a city, free thousands of men--made so
small you can hold it in one hand."
The sensitive face was proudly alight, proud and a trifle arrogant. The
exaltation of his coming power was strong upon him.
"Yes," said Professor Eddinger, "in one hand." And he raised his right
arm that he might see where the end of a sleeve was empty.
"I am sorry," said the inventor abruptly; "I didn't mean ... but you
will excuse me now; there is so much to be done--" But the thin figure
of Professor Eddinger had crossed to the far table to examine the
apparatus there.
"Crude," he said beneath his breath, "crude--but efficient!"
* * * * *
In the silence a rat had appeared in the distant corner. The Professor
nodded as he saw it. The animal stopped as the man's eyes came upon it;
then sat squirrellike on one of the shelves as it ate a crumb of food.
Some morsel from a hurried lunch of Avery's, the Professor
reflected--poor Avery! Yes, there was much to be done.
He spoke as much to himself as to the man who was now beside him. "It
enters here," he said and peered downward toward the lead bulb. He
placed a finger on the side of the metal. "About here, I should
think.... Have you a drill? And a bit of quartz?"
The inventor's eyes were puzzled, but the assurance of his old
instructor claimed obedience. He produced a small drill and a fragment
like broken glass. And he started visibly as the one hand worked
awkwardly to make a small hole in the side of the lead. But he withdrew
his own restraining hand, and he watched in mystified silence while the
quartz was fitted to make a tiny window and the thin figure stooped to
sight as if aiming the opening toward a far corner where a brown rat sat
upright in earnest munching of a dry crust.
The Professor drew Avery with him as he retreated noiselessly from the
instrument. "Will you close the switch," he whispered.
The young man hesitated, bewildered, at this unexpected demonstration,
and the Professor himself reached with his one hand for the black lever.
Again the arc crashed into life, to hold for a brief instant until
Professor Eddinger opened the switch.
"Well," demanded Avery, "what's all the show? Do you think you are
teaching me anything--about my own instrument?" There was hurt pride and
jealous resentment in his voice.
"See," said Professor Eddinger quietly. And his one thin hand pointed to
a far shelf, where, in the shadow, was a huddle of brown fur and a bit
of crust. It fell as they watched, and the "plop" of the soft body upon
the floor sounded loud in the silent room.
"The law of compensation," said Professor Eddinger. "Two sides to the
medal! Darkness and light--good and evil--life ... and death!"
* * * * *
The young man was stammering. "What do you mean?--a death ray evolved?"
And: "What of it?" he demanded; "what of it? What's that got to do with
it?"
"A death ray," the other agreed. "You have dreamed, Avery--one must in
order to create--but it is only a dream. You dreamed of life--a fuller
life--for the world, but you would have given them, as you have just
seen, death."
The face of Avery was white as wax; his eyes glared savagely from dark
hollows.
"A rat!" he protested. "You have killed a rat ... and you say--you
say--" He raised one trembling hand to his lips to hold them from
forming the unspeakable words.
"A rat," said the Professor--"or a man ... or a million men."
"We will control it."
"All men will have it--the best and the worst ... and there is no
defence."
"It will free the world--"
"It will destroy it."
"No!"--and the white-faced man was shouting now--"you don't
understand--you can't see--"
The lean figure of the scientist straightened to its full height. His
eyes met those of the younger man, silent now before him, but Avery knew
the eyes never saw him; they were looking far off, following the wings
of thought. In the stillness the man's words came harsh and commanding--
"Do you see the cities," he said, "crumbling to ruins under the cold
stars? The fields? They are rank with wild growth, torn and gullied by
the waters; a desolate land where animals prowl. And the people--the
people!--wandering bands, lower, as the years drag on, than the beasts
themselves; the children dying, forgotten, in the forgotten lands; a
people to whom the progress of our civilization is one with the ages
past, for whom there is again the slow, toiling road toward the light.
"And somewhere, perhaps, a conquering race, the most brutal and callous
of mankind, rioting in their sense of power and dragging themselves down
to oblivion...."
* * * * *
His gaze came slowly back to the room and the figure of the man still
fighting for his dream.
"They would not," said Avery hoarsely; "they'd use it for good."
"Would they?" asked Professor Eddinger. He spoke simply as one stating
simple facts. "I love my fellow men," he said, "and I killed them in
thousands in the last war--I, and my science, and my poison gas."
The figure of Avery slumped suddenly upon a chair; his face was buried
in his hands. "And I would have been," he groaned, "the greatest man in
the world."
"You shall be greater," said the Professor, "though only we shall know
it--you and I.... You will save the world--from itself."
The figure, bowed and sunken in the chair, made no move; the man was
heedless of the kindly hand upon his shoulder. His voice, when he spoke,
was that of one afar off, speaking out of a great loneliness. "You don't
understand," he said dully; "you can't--"
But Professor Eddinger, a cog in the wheels of a great educational
machine, glanced at the watch on his wrist. Again his thin shoulders
were stooped, his voice tired. "My classes," he said. "I must be
going...."
* * * * *
In the gathering dusk Professor Eddinger locked carefully the door of
his office. He crossed beyond his desk and fumbled with his one hand for
his keys.
There was a cabinet to be opened, and he stared long in the dim light at
the object he withdrew. He looked approvingly at the exquisite
workmanship of an instrument where a generator of the cathode ray and an
intricate maze of tubing surmounted electro-magnets and a round lead
bulb. There were terminals for attaching heavy cables; it was a
beautiful thing.... His useless arm moved to bring an imaginary hand
before the window of quartz in the lead sphere.
"Power," he whispered and repeated Avery's words; "power, to build a
city--or destroy a civilization ... and I hold it in one hand."
He replaced the apparatus in the safety of its case. "The saviors of
mankind!" he said, and his tone was harsh and bitter.
But a smile, whimsical, kindly, crinkled his tired eyes as he turned to
his desk and its usual litter of examination papers.
"It is something, Avery," he whispered to that distant man, "to belong
in so distinguished a group."
A STAR THAT BREATHES
Beta Cephei, the mysterious Milky Way star which expands and contracts
as though it were breathing, at last has a biography.
A summary of known facts concerning the star, interpreted in the light
of recent observations at the Lick Observatory at the University of
California was completed recently by H. S. Mendenhall, graduate student.
Mendenhall's interpretations were said to lend weight to the theory that
Beta Cephei is contracting and expanding once in every four and one-half
hours. This is such a terrific rate of speed from a terrestrial point of
view that it appears to be moving toward and away from the earth at a
velocity reaching a maximum of about nine and one-half miles per second.
Beta Cephei is a variable star in the Constellation Cepheus. It is best
visible in the northern sky during July or August. Its distance from the
earth is estimated roughly at 2,000,000,000,000,000 miles, and
Mendenhall estimates its diameter at almost 2,000,000 miles, more than
twice that of the sun.
In addition to the apparent velocity caused by contraction and expansion
of its surface five times a day, Beta Cephei seems to have another
motion. This was said by Mendenhall to be a rotation around some other
star in a period of 20 years. Velocity of this rotation is something
over three miles a second.
Variable stars are of particular interest to astronomers because the
light from them pulsates regularly, flaring and dying as though fuel
were replenished at regular intervals. The rate of this pulsation has
been found to be a measure to the candle power of the star. Its distance
then can be determined by contrasting its actual candle power with the
apparent magnitude as seen from the earth.
[Illustration: _"Oh my God!" gasped Bell. He'd known this man before. A
Secret Service man--one of the seven who had vanished._]
Murder Madness
PART THREE OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL
_By Murray Leinster_
Seven United States Secret Service men have disappeared in South
America. Another is found--a screaming homicidal maniac. It is rumored
that they are victims of a diabolical poison which produces "murder
madness."
[Sidenote: More and more South Americans are stricken with the horrible
"murder madness" that lies in The Master's fearful poison. And Bell is
their one last hope as he fights to stem the swiftly rising tide of a
continent's utter enslavement.]
Charley Bell of the "Trade"--a secret service organization which does
not officially exist--discovers that a sinister system of slavery is
flourishing in South America, headed by a mysterious man known only as
The Master. This slavery is accomplished by means of a poison which
causes its victims to experience a horrible writhing of the hands,
followed by a madness to do murder, two weeks after it is taken.
The victims get relief only with an antidote supplied through Ribiera,
The Master's Chief Deputy; but in the antidote there is more of the
poison, which again in two weeks will take effect. And so it is that a
person who once receives the poison is forever enslaved.
Ribiera kidnaps Paula Canalejas, daughter of a Brazilian cabinet
minister who, on becoming a victim, has killed himself, preferring
death to "murder madness." Bell rescues Paula, and they flee from
Ribiera in a plane. They find The Master's hidden jungle stronghold, and
Bell destroys it with a bomb attack from the air. As he is getting away
his motor quits. Paula jumps for her life, and shortly afterwards Bell
follows, drifting straight down towards his enemies below.