A NEST OF VERMIN
There are some things which may be pictured by a shuddering
imagination. But one does not voluntarily put them into spoken words;
certainly they are never printed. History will say that for twenty-four
hours, August 14 and 15 of 1957, our earth was swept by a wild insanity.
The burning of Cape Town by a maddened mob will be mentioned--the glare
of the city against the night sky, the thousands who, bereft of reason,
cast themselves with screams into the flames. The wrecking of the two
great surface liners, with three thousand lives lost. The major riots
of a dozen great cities.
The attack by crazed men and women on the Biskra arsenal; the frenzied,
half-crazed soldiers who waded heedlessly into the mob, wildly firing;
the ten government planes circling over the city whose aviators, crazed
by what they saw in the streets and the red madness of the air, firing
down with machine guns and then plunging their planes to crash headlong
into the crowd.
All high lights. History will only hint at the million individual
incidents. Marauding, lustful men, breaking by night into dwellings.
Lone criminals, crazed into thoughts unspeakable, prowling the dark
streets, seeking victims.
But the details, the full or the real truth will never be known. They
revolt all but an imagination most morbid. The Red Madness of 1957 had
best be forgotten.
It was late in the afternoon of August 15 before the frantic chemists
in the government laboratories at Miami could assemble the purple globe
and begin the broadcasting of its healing waves. All that evening they
were flung out into the ether. The radio was again working--though
badly, because the purple vibrations also interfered with it. The
world was assured by radio that the danger was over--the Red Madness in
a few hours would be gone.
By midnight, August 15, the "ether-plane," as scientists now term it,
had regained normality. The current was cut from the purple globe. The
world rested, exhausted, bewildered, gazing back stupefied at what it
had been through.
For hours more, governments, soldiers, police, with sanity come at
last, fought sanely with the eddies and backwash of the storm. It wore
itself out. Order was restored. There remained the smoking ruins of
property destroyed, and the dead, the maimed, and the thousands of poor
miserable creatures with reason permanently gone.
A single day of the Red Madness! May there never be, on this or any
other world, another day such as that!
On the night of August 15 we were all with Kean in the Miami War
Department. He was ready to start back to Xenephrene with the purple
globe. Zetta and I were sure that we had destroyed the Red Control;
Graff could not use it again. Earth had no further need of the purple.
Nature would hold our ether-plane at normality, as it always had
before. But not so on Xenephrene. Its Infra-red world would not, like
earth's remain hidden. What we had been through soon would be coming
upon them. Xenephrene was very far from earth now; it would take Kean a
month to get there.
Opposition developed in Miami to our sending the purple globe away so
soon. But it was overruled; Kean was told to take it and go. He stood
before us, bidding good-by. The same quiet dignity he always bore was
on him. He turned to our officials who were gathered in a group to wish
him well.
"My worl' has brought great disaster upon you. I am sorry. I think you
will defeat Graff easily now. I hope so."
Our air force was to start at Graff within a day or two; we were
all tense with the thought of it. Kean said good-by to Zetta; shook
her hand in our earth fashion. "You choose a ver' wonderful worl',
Zetta--and a man ver' good."
A wave of color swept her, but he turned away. His gaze went to Dan
and Hulda, who were standing together. "I shall never see you again. I
think now, Dan, at the las', you will not mind if I say how ver' much
I--love Hulda."
Dan's hand went out and gripped his heartily.
"No, of course not, Kean. You--you are very complimentary. I mean,
Hulda and I appreciate how manly--"
Dan was floundering. Good old Freddie came to the rescue. He clapped
Kean on the back.
"Kean, listen. You think you're going back to Xenephrene to eat your
heart out over a girl you didn't get. That the idea?"
"Why, I--"
"Well, listen. Look at me--I'm a bachelor."
A gleam of humor came to Kean's blue eyes. "I understan', Freddie."
"Good. Now, listen. I've got some advice for you--the advice of a man
who's a bachelor and always will be. I've got some deep theories about
women--"
Freddie winked broadly at Zetta and Hulda. "All women are marvelous
things, Kean--one is as good as another, and maybe better. Remember
that! You'll save yourself a lot of trouble in life. And if you miss
out with one, just stand still--another one will be along in a minute!"
The strain we had all been under for so long made us laugh
immoderately. All but Kean. He was twinkling; but his voice was quietly
solemn.
"I thank you, Freddie. It is ver' good advice."
He bowed quaintly; his fingers barely touched Hulda's outstretched
hand. He left us hastily.
* * * * *
From the roof of the War Department we watched his tiny globe ascending
into the star-filled night. Would he ever reach Xenephrene? We never
knew; to this day we do not know. But we think so. Father told us
then what astronomers, just before the Red Madness, had discovered.
Xenephrene had broken the orbit of her eclipse about the sun! She
seemed heading outward again. Leaving our Solar System, perhaps? Father
thought so.
He had suspected, back in those days of Garla, that it might happen.
He had mentioned it in his letter to us, saying that Freddie would
understand. It had now probably occurred. Xenephrene, the wanderer,
might soon be gone from our ken forever.
Best for them--without our sunlight, their purple moon would hold the
Infra-red in check, even if Kean, with the purple globe, never reached
them. I have wondered since if perhaps those scientists of Garla were
not capable of directing, to some extent, their planet's movements?
Perhaps their departure was their own method of saving themselves from
the Red Terror.
There was another thing which father hinted at now. He believed, with
Xenephrene gone, our earth's axis might swing back to its former
inclination. He thought--but this no one yet knew--that it was already
swinging. The old order of the day and night, the familiar progression
of seasons, would return to us. Our great cities--New York, London,
Paris, Buenos Aires--now almost abandoned but not yet fallen into ruin,
would come back into their own.
"Oh, Peter," he exclaimed, "if you lads can now overcome this enemy!
Stamp out these vermin! I will live yet to see my old familiar world
restored!"
On the morning of August 18, our air force was ready to start. From
Brazil news came that Graff's encampment outwardly showed no change.
But it was thought, and afterward we decided it was a fact, that he
was planning a new flight of devastation with his flying platforms. It
never took place; our attack was first.
Our expedition consisted of a hundred and fifty Arctic A warplanes,
each with two or three men, pilot and gunners. We were all garbed in
the black garments, with glasses and ear-grids. One plane carried
nothing but our lone crimson ray; four other planes carried the four
purple-ray projectors and Essen-Bloc long-range guns. The rest carried
guns only--the Essen-Blocs and the short-range, old-fashioned machine
gun.
Dan, Freddie and I were to fly together. Our plane carried a purple
projector, an Essen-Bloc, and a machine gun. We were chosen to lead
the expedition because of our familiarity with the Garland weapons,
and my knowledge of Graff's lines. The most skillful, most daring
young aviators of the world--the pick of a dozen nations--comprised
this force we commanded. The plane carrying the crimson projector was
flown by Davis and Robinson, sons of the men who had given their lives
attacking the Xenephrenes near New York during Graff's first invasion.
We were all linked together by the modern Rand system of air
phones--the first time it had been given a practical demonstration. For
a test we circled that morning above Miami. Dan ordered them to wheel,
to loop, to execute a variety of movements which they did with the
skilled precision of a regiment on parade ground.
The people thronged Miami's streets and roof-tops, and cheered.
Biscayne Bay was crowded with boats, as at a holiday festival. People
everywhere cheered us to battle.
I had just a moment alone with Zetta before we started. How many
warriors, in all the ages, of every race and every time, have parted
thus upon the eve of battle from the woman they loved!
Zetta at first held out her hand timorously. "Be ver' careful, Peter."
She had said it like that, back in Garla!
"Zetta, aren't you sure now?" I pleaded.
"Of what, Peter?"
"Your love for me. Our love--Kean said. 'You've chosen a good world,
Zetta, and a good man.' Do you think that? Have you--chosen--me?"
My arms were outstretched. Oh, it was sweeping me, this love for her,
as always it did when I would let it! But I would not force her.
"Zetta--haven't you--aren't you sure, now?"
She came suddenly drawn into my arms. Unresisting at last; our
love sweeping her into my opened arms; her lips seeking mine. And
whispering, "Yes, Peter--I am sure now."
All my dreams of all my life came into reality with the coming of her
love.
* * * * *
In the sunlight of that morning of August 18, our shining planes left
the Miami airport, and, like silver birds soaring with motionless
spread of wing, flew southward.
It was full night when, out of the star-lit sky, we sighted Graff's
barrage. Our four planes with the purple ray were leading, the others
were massed behind and below us. Graff had a brief warning no doubt. We
were several miles off when one of his red beams swung down. We could
see it coming--a broad band of crimson, like a giant searchlight beam.
It missed us with its first swing. Dan roared his orders into the
Rand-phone. I was at the controls. I headed the ship down, in advance
of our line, to protect the planes behind us. Freddie leveled our
projector. Its narrow purple beam sprang forward at the barrage.
Behind us the planes were strung out. Davis and Robinson were well
behind.
We were determined not to use the crimson projector in the mêlée of
battle. It would confuse our other planes, and be too dangerous to
them. We also wanted to protect it, for use in case of last, desperate
need. Davis and Robinson were ordered to keep close behind our purple
rays.
This showing of our purple ray was Graff's first real knowledge that
here on earth the Garland weapons were to be used against him. There
must have been panic sweeping the Xenephrene camp at that instant!
Freddie evidently had caught the range. Our purple light mingled with
the crimson--mingled and merged into a vacant blackness through which
the farther stars showed dimly. The whole front crescent of the barrage
swung down at us now; but our four purple beams held it. We roared
forward. Black holes of neutral emptiness were ahead; the front face of
the Xenephrene red line was broken by our rays.
At two miles we began firing the Essen-Blocs. Graff's crimson beams
were waving confusion now from every part of his line. Some of our
shells were caught and fired in mid-air; but some got through,
undoubtedly. It was soon a chaos, as we darted in. It was to be one
brief, desperate, reckless attack; there was not a man of us who had
been willing to plan it otherwise.
At a mile we could no longer hold our phone communication. The air was
snapping and hissing with its mingling, warring vibrations; the phones
went dead. Each plane now had to act for itself.
I headed ours straight in. Freddie was firing the Essen at swift
intervals. Our purple light held steady before us, boring its black
hole in the confusion of crimson--a black hole into which Freddie was
firing as I headed our plane into it.
A few minutes only. It seemed hours. We were so close now that beams
from the side angles of the barrage were coming at us. The edge of one
caught one of our wing-tips, melted it off. We wavered, but I steadied
us.
I had taken off my glasses and ear phones for a moment. The night was a
confusion of hissing, crossing beams. Vivid glares--crimson and purple,
merging black; a myriad sparks snapping around us; and ahead, a growing
yellow-red glare of distant buildings burning. Our shells were finding
their mark!
A chaos of color and of sound! The throb and thrum of our motors; the
steady click and sharp report of our Essen; the screaming howl of the
stricken barrage; the whistling of our shells; the distant crash of
their explosions.
Dan was busy passing up the shells to Freddie, and tossing out the
falling empties. Once he growled at me: "Look over us, Peter! Damn that
fellow Davis--look where he's going!"
Our other three planes, carrying the purple projectors, were flying
level with me. But most of the others had climbed.
* * * * *
The barrage beams were all swinging out and downward. I could see a
hundred of our planes in a group mounting to climb over the camp. Davis
and Robinson were up there. The crimson beam of their projector showed
for a moment, then went out. They seemed climbing higher than all the
other planes--spiraling now, straight up. I lost sight of them.
A stray red beam caught some of the soaring planes; they came wavering
down, spirals of light, vanishing. One melted as it passed near us;
flickered into nothingness like a flame dying.
Our planes up there were firing downward. And then, coming over Graff's
line, they were dropping bombs. The yellow glare from the camp village
was spreading.
We were now well over Graff's lines. Every one of our planes, save
those which we had lost, were over the line now. The very desperation
of our attack was irresistible. Graff had no time to prepare a defense.
Once within his lines, his immobile ground projectors were impotent to
harm us. The barrage was flickering; in sections now it was dark even
when our purple rays were turned aside. It was broken, flickering out.
Our shells doubtless had hit many of its ground projectors; the planes
from high up had hit others with their bombs. The distant south segment
of the barrage was still active. Suddenly the whole barrage vanished
completely, as one of our shells must have hit its power house. I knew
the location of that low frame building in by the river bank; I had
been trying to direct Freddie's aim at it.
Five hundred feet above the dead gray ground we flew in toward the
camp itself. The barrage was gone; a single last beam came up from the
river, caught one of our planes full, and suddenly vanished.
Below us now the ground within Graff's lines was glaring yellow-red
from the conflagration of the village. We could see the figures of
people and the giant insects running in aimless panic. Our planes shot
them down.
Flying platforms were standing in a long line, where Graff had had
them ready for his new attack. Panic-stricken Brauns were crowding
onto them. Our planes swung low, firing now with machine guns. Across
the river most of Graff's Space-vehicles were wrecked and burning from
our shellfire. But, at intervals, the small Space-globes were rising.
And from everywhere the flying platforms were trying to get away.
Our planes attacked them; and far overhead I could now see Davis and
Robinson's crimson beam. They were up there, waiting, and any vehicles
which escaped us they caught and annihilated.
From the river bank Graff's huge cylindrical Space-liner now struggled
up. Its end was gone; smoke and flame were rising from its interior
fittings. It rose laboriously, painted red-yellow with the lurid glare
from below. I have often wondered if Graff were on it! Making his last
effort to escape!
It evidently had no weapons; it rose heavily, with our planes darting
after it like wasps, circling it, stabbing its huge vitals with
shellfire. It did not get very high; it came down presently, turned
completely over, crashed and broke into leaping flames and black smoke
rolling up in a cloud.
I had guided our plane across the encampment and back, then circled, as
a score of our other planes were circling. We kept firing steadily with
the machine gun. We had long since abandoned the purple beams. Most of
our planes were now flying low, using the machine guns only.
There were scenes down there in the burning town--where half an hour
before more than fifteen thousand people had been living--scenes which
now I do not like to remember. They filled us at the time only with
triumph--for the memory of the Red Madness was too vivid upon us. No
quarter to be given here!
We had determined upon it--all four hundred of us--when we had planned
our desperate assault which was to win salvation for our world, or
bring death to all of us. No quarter here! A nest of vermin and we were
stamping it out.
But Freddie suddenly flung off his glasses; with his hood pushed back,
I saw that his face was pallid, and wet with sweat.
"Peter, fly higher! I'm done--I can't do it any more! By God, there are
women and children down there! I've been--shooting them down--"
I headed into a climb. Dan tried to use his phone to order the others
to stop. But the phone seemed permanently dead.
And then Davis and Robinson's plane abruptly appeared below us. Its red
beam sprang downward! Under its crimson light the ground was turning
blank! The burning village; the wrecked and burning vehicles; the
panic-stricken people left still alive; the dead bodies now strewn
everywhere about--all melting, vanishing into nothingness.
Dan with a growling curse had fumbled with his phone and then cast it
aside. Perhaps Davis and Robinson, sitting grimly behind their crimson
projector, steeling their hearts with memory of the Red Madness, with
memory, too, of their fathers, and with no desire save to protect their
world--perhaps they were right in doing what they did. It is not for me
to judge.
We climbed, and for a long time I did not again look down. When I did,
the yellow-red glare of the conflagration had vanished. A circular
ten-mile spread of blank, dead-gray ground lay beneath us. Over it,
some of our planes were circling low, with white searchlights examining
it. Vacancy complete--where so short a time before had been the most
diabolical enemy, the greatest menace which ever had assailed our earth!