LANDING TO FACE THE UNKNOWN
To one of omniscience who could have observed us three as we sat there,
it must have been a very strange scene indeed.
The tiny white globe which was our world, rotated slowly on its
vertical axis, a mere white speck hanging in the black intensity of
space. With its concave, encircling shell, that lower compartment, with
the iron ladder leading above; the three of us sitting there at the
table; Freddie alert, with keenly roving eyes, his hand out of habit
resting idly beside the control buttons; Dan's great length sprawled in
his low chair, his shirt open at the throat, a growth of blond stubble
on his face, his hair tousled--he lounged in an attitude of ease,
yet the tenseness of him was obvious; myself, sitting upright, with
father's papers in my trembling hands; shadows around us; one small
light casting its glow upon me; and through the window beneath our
feet, the upflung glare of Xenephrene, like a tremendous crescent moon
bathing us in its purple light.
The silence! There is no silence like that of Space! Upon earth we hear
always a myriad tiny sounds and are unaware of them; without them, in
Space, the silence seems to scream its emptiness.
Dan cleared his throat nervously. "Go ahead, Peter--what does it say?"
I rustled the papers. Father's script began with characteristic
abruptness.
"If you have done as I requested you are now within a quarter of
a million miles of this world. Comparatively so close to us--oh,
my son, I do hope that you are there! Soon, then, I shall see
you--have you with me. I am growing old, Peter. The ties of blood
seem to strengthen as we grow older. It has been lonely without
you, my son, even though I have had dear Hulda--and little Zetta,
of whom we grow more fond every day.
"But this is no time for sentiment. I assume that Frederick and Dan
are with you, I must be brief, succinct. There are several things
which now I must make plain to you three. If there is anything
here, Peter, which Dan and you do not understand, Frederick will
make it clear."
"Hah!" I exclaimed, "a little gibe at us, Dan!"
Freddie smiled as Dan gestured. "Go on. Let's hear it."
Good old dad! My heart warmed to him. I resumed:
"The few astronomical facts concerning Xenephrene which now
you should know, are these: It is a globe flattened at the
poles, expanded at the equator. Rather more so than the earth.
Polar diameter, sixty-five hundred miles. Equatorial diameter,
seventy-eight hundred miles. Thus it is similar in size, though
slightly smaller than our earth. Its average density, I believe
is about that of earth. Its mass, hence, is but little less than
earth. Gravitation, about the same. You will notice, in this
respect, hardly any difference.
"Xenephrene's present orbit about our sun is an ellipse rather
more eccentric than earth's--more comparable to that of Mercury.
I believe it is not yet stabilized. There may even be a tendency
toward a breaking of the ellipse at its aphelion--I sometimes
shudder at the thought--if we should all be here on Xenephrene.
Frederick will understand--"
I glanced at Dan. "Well, if he does, we don't."
"Never mind," said Freddie. But he did not smile.
I read on:
"Xenephrene rotates on its axis once in twenty-two hours,
thirty-seven minutes, ten seconds, as we measure time on earth.
This is very similar to our earth. This axis is not inclined to the
plane of its orbit, but is almost exactly vertical. Hence we have
here no change of seasons. And throughout the year, the periods of
day and night alternate in exact and unchanging relative lengths.
"Here in the country of the Garlands, we are situated at about
eight degrees south latitude. Thus, near the equator, our days are
always some eleven hours and nineteen minutes long; and our night
but a few seconds shorter.
"Xenephrene has one moon. Pyrena, we call it. You will already
have seen it, even with your small telescope, no doubt. I will
not go into the elements of its orbit now, or describe its phases
as we nightly see them. A beautiful sight, Peter. It is really
the sun for Xenephrene--or at least it was, before Xenephrene
came to bathe in our own greater sunlight. It is a small world of
incandescent gas--blazing purple. You should see our dim purple
nights--strangely beautiful.
"You are now to proceed as follows:
"I attach herewith a rough map of my own, giving the general
conformation of Xenephrene's surface. I drew it from my own
sketches made as I came down from outer Space. It is of necessity
vague, and inexact.
"These people are not explorers. They know little about their
own world. And only a fraction--a very small fraction of the
globe's surface seems habitable. Much of it is fluid--not water,
not air--you shall see! The vast fluid areas, I have marked so
on the map. And there are areas of tumbled, jagged mountains of
metal--naked metal. And metal plains, smooth and barren as glass.
"The country of the Garlands I have plainly marked. As you descend,
you will have no difficulty in recognizing the globe's larger fluid
areas, the larger configurations--and thus in locating, as you come
closer, our little land. It is very small--on earth we would call
it some three hundred miles, roughly oval.
"We are only a million and a half people here--we of the Garlands.
The Brauns are scarce a hundred thousand. I have marked their one
city on the map, where it lies at the northern edge of our domain,
with the equatorial mountains and the fluid lake of Tyre and the
Tyre plain near it.
"Beware this region, Frederick! Come up from the south! I suggest
now that you head for our south pole. If you have made the voyage
in my calculated time, you will find Pyrena ascending from her
southern swing. She rotates in retrograde, Frederick, this moon of
ours--at an average distance of eighty-nine thousand miles.
"Head for the south pole, within Pyrena's orbital distance. Then
come up toward the equator, between our moon and Xenephrene. If you
are on time, you will find our moon at the full.
"As you descend, you will go into Xenephrene's shadow, with her
between you and the sun. It is what I desire--there will be less
chance then of your being seen. In the area of our night, with
Pyrena shining full upon you, descend into our atmosphere. You
will find it extends outward some four hundred miles. Take it very
slowly, Frederick--be careful of the heat of your descent through
it--judge nothing from now on by earthly standards! Remember that!
"You should be about over our ten degrees south latitude when you
descend into the atmosphere. Keep between us and Pyrena--and come
north to eight degrees S.
"You will be in the night, with Xenephrene rotating under you
as you hover. Your altitude now should be about forty miles. If
the clouds bother you, descend to keep under them. If the night
is too overcast, so that from beneath the clouds Pyrena is lost
to you, and the darkness is too great for you to see our surface
readily--wait until it clears. Take no chances! Haste of that sort
is too dangerous! Let Xenephrene rotate for another day and night.
I will see the weather and understand.
"When the country of the Garlands comes into view, watch for my
light. You will see it--a thin, steady white beam, pointing at the
moon. Occasionally I shall send a red flash along its length--at
alternating intervals according to the inclosed code. Thus there
can be no mistake--I fear treachery--one fears everything in such
times as these we are undergoing here!
"When you are convinced that it is my light you see, descend toward
its source. At an altitude of ten thousand feet, cross into my beam
and hold there for a time, that I may see and recognize you. I will
send two swift red flashes. Leave the beam at once, and come back
into it. I will know then for certain that it is you.
"Descend now, down the beam to its source. When I extinguish it,
you will see my glow of lights at your landing field. Descend
there, and land.
"I caution you again. Take everything very slowly! You will be
seated, you three, in the lower compartment. When you land--when
once you are upon solid ground--extinguish all but one very small
light. Then begin to open your door.
"I say, _begin_ to open it! It is to be opened very, very slowly.
You, Frederick, understood, no doubt, that its queer construction
was to some purpose. I was very specific about that!
"You are to undo its inner fastenings, and revolve its main
circular knob, a few turns at intervals of no less than five
minutes each. I want you to take fully thirty minutes to open the
door.
"Let the new air of Xenephrene in slowly, that you may grow
accustomed to it gradually as it comes upon you. This, of course,
you have guessed as my reason for such caution. But it is not only
the changed air you will be admitting! Other things will come in as
well! To them also, you must become accustomed gradually.
"When the door is nearly ready to open wide, extinguish your
remaining light. Sit quiet! Do not attempt to move about! Let
Frederick then join you, when he has flung wide the door. Sit
quiet, all three of you. Do not be afraid! There is nothing to
fear! It will be strange at first.
"I will give you a minute or so to gather your composure. Then I
will come in to you--oh, I pray now as I close, that this may all
transpire as I have outlined! God grant that you will come safely
to me at last, over such a distance! I will be waiting so anxiously
for that first sight of you in my beacon beam!
"Your affectionate father."
* * * * *
My voice trembled and broke as I ended. Emotion swept me; not only an
answering love for my father which sprang to meet his dear affection as
it came from the written words, but a fear as well. And an awe--what
was this into which we were plunging that he should be constrained to
caution us in such a fashion?
I laid down the letter. Dan did not speak; his questioning eyes were on
my face. Freddie said huskily, "Well--" and stopped.
"Well," I said, "that's all."
We stared at one another. As though by consent, with a common dread we
avoided discussion of what now lay before us--the landing, the opening
of our door to admit this strange new world. Its air, different from
that to which we were accustomed, would come in. _And other things!_
What other things?
The three words abruptly held for me an uncanniness almost intolerable.
Something not to be faced--yet we would have to face it. "Absurd!" I
thought. "Why, father is there--and Hulda. And Zetta--" In truth, it
was more an unreasoning dread than fear; for, as I examined it, I found
that, more than anything in life, I desired now to reach Xenephrene and
my loved ones; and all the vague, mysteriously uncanny things in the
Universe could not have served to keep me from them.
"Hey!" said Freddie. "You seeing ghosts already, Peter?"
"Where's the map?" said Dan. "Let's look it over."
We examined it. A crude drawing upon animal skin the same as served
for father's letter paper. It seemed plain enough. We discussed it,
and many of the other phases of father's letter. It all seemed very
explicit. We were, according to father's calculated time, exactly where
in imagination his hopes would now be placing us.
If all went well--as, indeed, why should it not?--we would arrive upon
one of those nights in the full of the moon during which he would
expect us. As he surmised, our small telescope had long since showed us
Xenephrene's moon. A tiny blazing point--purple like the planet itself.
It showed now, just plunging behind its parent disk; a purple point of
light, with its leaping tongues of flame even to the naked eye a quite
visible corona.
Our approach to Xenephrene! I might write for hours and barely touch
upon the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of it. A purple disk, a
tinging with red as we neared it. Convex now--a full, round, glowing
world, banked and mottled with clouds, beneath which the faint
configurations of its surface-marking gradually became visible.
We headed for its south pole; rounded over it at some fifty thousand
miles' distance. We saw over us, hanging to the left, the blazing
purple moon. It was night, as father said, on this moonlit side of
the planet. For what would have been an earth-day of twelve hours or
more, we dropped downward into the shadow. The sun was hidden behind
Xenephrene now; the moon blazed on us in all its purple glory.
[Illustration: It was night on this moonlit side of Xenephrene as we
dropped down toward it. The sun was hidden behind the planet and the
moon blazed up through the glass floor of our space ship in all its
purple glory.]
Freddie, during these hours, was busy with constant observations and
calculations; Dan and I sat enthralled with the magic of the coloring.
As we slid upward toward Xenephrene's equator and gradually descended,
the planet's rotation showed quite visibly under us. I could see the
cone of Xenephrene's shadow as it swung off into space. It barely
missed the moon; a few more of her inclined swings and doubtless she
would pass into eclipse.
* * * * *
The time came when all the visual heavens beneath us were encompassed
by Xenephrene's bulk. There were at the moment but few clouds to hide
its moonlit surface.
"Here," said Freddie, "take a look."
He had been gazing through the floor window with our telescope. I
took it; gazed upon a purple area of what seemed a liquid haze; to
the left, a jagged mountain range--naked crags of gleaming metal
in the moonlight; to the right, and extending far up to the rim of
the northern horizon, a vast glassy plain, smooth, barely wrinkled,
motionless as a frozen sea congealed, while only a breath of air had
been scratching its polished top. It gleamed like burnished copper in a
purple light. Devoid of even a grain of sand, a twig, a blade of grass.
But there was one place where, in a depression, water seemed to have
gathered--an irregular crescent sea a hundred miles perhaps in length.
I mentioned it to Freddie.
"Yes," he said. "I've identified it on the map. We're on the other side
now from the Garland country, as your father calls it. He's in the
daylight now--"
"Then to-night," Dan began.
"Yes. To-night--eleven hours from now, approximately--our landing
place should be under us. We're eighteen degrees S now, I'll swing us
up to ten degrees S, and we'll wait."
The full moon held level above us. As the hours passed, while we gently
dropped downward, cloud areas began forming beneath us. Freddie set his
jaw. "I'm going down--this is the night he'll expect us. If the clouds
will break away--"
They did. We descended into Xenephrene's atmosphere. Our tiny globe
grew intolerably hot; then Freddie slowed us, and we kept the cold air
circulating. We went through the clouds. A dead purple mist, and then
they broke above us. A rift of moonlight came through. Land beneath us!
We could see it! A vague moonlight landscape, far down.
Freddie was at the telescope constantly; Dan and I worked the controls
at his direction. Forty thousand feet, Eight South Latitude. We were
hovering in the dark over a rolling country of what seemed trees
perhaps--all vague and blurred and purple.
"Know where we are?" I demanded anxiously.
"Yes. Over the Garland country. The south middle of it, I should say.
That Braun city he mentioned--I got a glimpse of it, Peter. Up to the
north. We're all right--if only his light would show!"
Then we saw his light! A thin, motionless white beam, standing up into
the clouds, where occasionally the full moon broke through a rift. His
light! We were sure of it presently. A red wave of color started from
its source at the ground and flashed upward. Then another, and others
at intervals. We timed them; compared them to father's notations.
The time-intervals were correct. It was his light undoubtedly. His
welcoming beacon!
Freddie had been keeping us cautiously away. But now at the ten
thousand foot altitude he swung us into the light. Its white glare
bathed us; came up through our floor window. Presently the two red
flashes came. We moved away, then back again. The moment which father
had awaited so anxiously had come. He knew now we had arrived safely,
we had answered his signal, and holding to the light, we slid slowly
down its motionless length.
I do not know how long it took. It seemed an hour, while we sat in our
lower compartment, with the white glare streaming upon us. Then at
last, without warning, the glare vanished.
We had extinguished our interior light; we were left abruptly in
darkness.
I heard Dan's perturbed voice. "Freddie, shall I stop us?"
Freddie was on the floor, peering down. I knelt beside him. He called
to Dan: "No, let us go. We're still pretty well up."
I half whispered, "Can you see anything?"
It seemed, for a moment, all quite dark. As though we were dropping
into a blank, bottomless pit. Then, as our eyes grew accustomed to the
absence of the glare, outlines below began to take form. The moon was
gone behind a cloud. But there was enough light left to show us a dark
ground, with a faint glow suffusing it, a thousand feet, not much more,
below us. It seemed a solid, open, flat area, flanked with small hooded
lights.
Our landing field. There was nothing else to be seen; the purple
darkness crowded everything. The open space was directly under us.
Freddie made sure of that. He lighted our smallest table light, and at
the controls with his instruments before him, he brought us gently down.
A minute; ten minutes. None of us spoke. There was a very slight thump;
our little world trembled, came to rest.
* * * * *
We had landed! Xenephrene at last! Freddie stood up. His figure wavered
slightly--perhaps because of his excitement, and the new solidity
beneath his feet which made him momentarily unsteady.
"You sit still--I'll start--I'll start opening the door."
His voice held a quaver; he glanced at the chronometer, crossed the
room swiftly, and took a turn or so at the door wheel. A giant shadow
of him as he moved fell grotesquely misshapen upon our curved wall.
He came back to us and sat down. "Nothing to do now, but wait."
The minutes passed in silence. We did not speak; at intervals of five
minutes, Freddie made his noiseless trip to the door and back. My heart
seemed nearly smothering me; cold beads were dank on my forehead, neck
and chest. Waiting for the Unknown to make itself seen? Heard? Felt?
I wondered which; with every sense alert and straining, I sat waiting.
Fear? It was that, of course. I am not ashamed of it; there is no man
brave enough to front the Unknown with heartbeat undisturbed.
Nothing--as yet. Or perhaps my panting, labored breath was from the
new-world air which now was coming in? The ringing in my head; the
flashes of red in the dimness before my straining eyes--were they
caused only by the tenseness of fear?
Freddie sat down beside me. I heard his whispered words, "Peter! It's
almost open. One more turn will do it--Dan, you all right?--Peter, I'm
frightened--terribly frightened!"
And Dan's gruff answer, "Yes. All right."
Our side windows were black rectangles. What was out there? For a time,
thought of father had left me. He was out there; was he looking in upon
us? I could see nothing; but now the thought of father steadied me. And
Zetta. Was she here--near me at last?
Freddie snapped out our light with a click, thundering, echoing in the
stillness. The darkness leaped upon us. Darkness and silence. But I
could seem to hear my beating heart. Or Dan's. And our breathing.
And then I realized that this was no silence! Around me came thronging
a million tiny noises. Jostling things of sound in the darkness. Things
all alive with sound! I could hear them. Murmuring, whispering like
wraiths of jabbering things alive with sound. Or was it sound I was
hearing? So vague, unreal, it might have been some other sense. But it
was gathering strength; jostling sounds were whirling about my ears,
beating at me, gathering strength and mingling into a hum--
All in the darkness. But there was no darkness! Shapes of color--moving
shapes of sound and color were here, crowding at my elbows. Formless
blobs, impalpable as colored shadows; formless, yet I could imagine
them into any form I chose. Jabbering, impalpable things pushing at
each other as though for a better view of me! Impalpable? Suddenly one
seemed to brush me; I could have sworn I felt it, light as a fairy's
wing, touching my hand.
It may have touched Dan also. I heard his arm lunge; he cursed; an ash
tray on the table crashed to the floor. I jumped to my feet. Panic
seemed surging around us, out of which came Freddie's voice:
"Easy! Sit down, you two! I'll get the door open wide."
His padding footsteps were reassuring--something solid and real for my
confused senses to grip. I could see the moving blob of him, tinged red
with a faint aura that now suffused everything.
The solid hum of him, unbarring the door, was steadying; the sound of
the door grating on its heavy hinges as it swung wide--
"These damned Things." Freddie came back. The poise of him! He
laughed, with an odd, strained break; but still he laughed. "God! It's
queer! But it's nothing. Hold steady, everyone." His laughter seemed
contagious; I heard myself laughing. Was this madness stealing upon me?
A chaos of the undefinable, jostling us. A wild chaos of unreality in
which my confused senses seemed whirling away--
"Peter!" Ah! Reality at last! Father's anxious voice, husky with
emotion! "Peter! Oh, Frederick? Dan? Are you all right?"
Solidity, reality returned; my whirling senses came back. Father was
here! The solid thump of his heavy step sounded; the solid glow of the
purple light he was carrying filled our room. The reality of his voice;
his step; and then his arms were around my shoulders!
And Hulda's happy, welcoming laughter. I kissed her; held the reality
of her dear little body in my arms; and all the red shadows and crimson
whisperings of a moment before were forgotten.
Then came another voice--timorous, gentle, eagerly friendly; and a dear
figure in the doorway. Zetta! Her dear, quaint voice which for all
these months had been ringing in the ears of my memory, was sounding
now in reality at last!