* * * * *
Unmistakably, it was a structure made of many square blocks of
stone fitted together to form a section rising into the air from a
foundation. Weber flashed his light around. "It ends here."
The men hesitated to go around. What could this enigmatic wall be doing
on this frigid world? The instruments showed the temperature to be many
hundred degrees below zero Fahrenheit. What beings could have built
this great wall? What could it mean?
But at last they did go around the edifice, flashing their lights
before them. And nearly collapsed from the shock of what they saw: a
broad paved street on which bordered many stone houses whose glass
windows reflected the dim glow of the stars above. The tiny sun cast a
faint illumination on it all.
"People!" gasped Mullins.
There were. Standing on the streets and in the doors of the houses were
the dim figures of men. Unmistakably human in form.
"They're not alive," observed Rokesmith.
"At least, they are not moving," replied Barth quickly.
"Come on, then. Why are we waiting? Are you afraid of a lot of
statues?" Captain Wanderman suited action to his words as he strode
forward, stopping directly before the first of the standing figures. He
cast his beam over it from head to foot.
Unmistakably, it was a man. Clad in clothes and undeniably human. Its
features were perfectly normal, bore the flush of life. The feet and
entire body were set in attitude as if in the act of taking a step. But
it was motionless.
"Some statue!" breathed Opp. "I would swear it was a real man."
"It is a real man," said Barth, softly. He bent close to the face. "It
has the pores and tiny hairs that can only be on a true body."
"Then he must have been alive once," murmured Weber. "What do you
suppose happened to him? Is he petrified or only frozen solid?"
"Frozen, I think," said Barth. "Yet, it is very strange. His flesh is
still soft and resilient; it is not natural."
"A land of frozen people!" Captain Wanderman's words struck a chilling
note in all of them. Quickly they investigated the other figures.
Some men, some women, some old, some young. All kinds and types;
all apparently had been frozen solid in the middle of their normal
activities. None showed any sign of being aware that death had struck.
When the terrible freezing occurred it must have happened so swiftly,
instantaneously, as to have caught all unaware.
They moved on, saying little. There was that same eerie atmosphere that
one finds in a wax museum while passing about among the realistic but
silent and motionless figures of apparently ordinary people. Add to
that the grim knowledge that the figures they now saw had been alive,
that in effect the explorers were in a monstrous, planet-wide graveyard.
They went on, coming to wide roads down which lines of marching men
stood silently in attitudes startlingly like some paintings of men
marching to war. Undoubtedly they were soldiers. Once or twice along
the line, the Earthmen saw huge projector-like instruments mounted on
wheels, being taken along with the marchers.
"Say, look at this scene!" called out Rokesmith.
He was standing before an open gate, staring in at the courtyard of a
large, pretentious stone building. Before the gate stood two guards
who evidently had been frozen just as they were turning about to stare
in through the entrance. On their faces was a look of aroused inquiry.
Inside the courtyard was a dramatic tableau.
* * * * *
A young woman of great beauty was fixed in the posture of running. Her
foot was lifted from the ground, her body thrust forward, her face
strained, hair flowing backwards as if the wind were brushing it back.
In one hand, tightly grasped, was a scroll.
Directly behind her stood a young man with a look of astonishment
and anger on a face that was cruel and evil. His hand was still held
outstretched as if to grasp after the scroll that the woman was fleeing
with. All about, in similar positions of astonishment and anxiety, were
other men, some of whom had started forward as if about to commence a
pursuit.
"Some scene, eh?" murmured Barth. "Looks real dramatic. I wish we could
know what it was all about."
"That's an idea!" burst from Wanderman. "Why didn't I think of it
sooner? Barth! We can use the mentascope on these frozen people--with
the attachments that are used to read the minds of the newly dead,
can't we?"
"I think we can, Captain. These people are perfectly preserved; there's
no reason why we can't shoot a current through their brains and get the
information stored there."
They turned, commenced to retrace their steps to the ship. It took them
about ten minutes to reach the street by which they had entered the
city and come to the vessel. Once inside, they hastened to unpack the
mentascope and its attendant apparatus. When at last they were ready,
they left the airlock and started back; the return to the ship had
taken them about twenty minutes.
They entered the street of the city they had first chanced upon. As
they passed the first figure, Weber suddenly whirled around and stared
at it.
"Look! Stop and look at this man!"
The others gathered around.
"Does he look the same to you? It seems to me that it was his other leg
which was being put forward when last we saw him. I'm sure his arms
were in a different position."
They stared amazedly. The figure certainly was not in the identical
posture as before. Weber's observations had been correct.
"All the rest of them seem to be planted in slightly different
postures, too."
Captain Wanderman bent down, studied the arm of the man carefully. He
remained silent for some time, then he stood up. There was a tone of
awe and bewilderment in his voice when he spoke.
"It has moved, and what is more, it is still moving. I saw that hand
pass a given point on the body of the person in a few minutes. It's
like watching the hands of a clock. At first, they do not seem to move
at all, but if you watch closely enough for a time, you can observe the
motion."
"Do you mean this fellow is still alive?"
"It would seem so."
"But why the slow motion?" asked Opp.
"I think," said the captain slowly, "that the mentascope can help us
answer the whole business."
They came to the courtyard of the running woman. The tableau had
changed; it seemed as if a few seconds had passed since they left. Now
the figure of the woman was closer to the gate; the two guards from
outside had passed through and were going forward to seize her, while
the men behind were in full running appearance, as if, having recovered
from a surprise move, they were taking to pursuit.
"All right men: set down the apparatus."
Two men set down a small battery, attached it to wires leading from a
large metal helmet which another was placing over the head of the still
woman-figure. Other wires were attached to the space-suit helmet worn
by Captain Wanderman. Through the glassite panes it could be seen that
he was wearing a somewhat similar helmet himself, having donned this
while back on the ship.
* * * * *
A current of electrical energy was passed from an electrode pressed
against one particular part of the woman's head through to another
leading out. In passing through the brain of the woman, this current
picked up the last and deepest occurrences in the life of the person
subjected to it. It activated the cells on which these events were
recorded in a form much like that of a charged body. Passing out of the
brain, it carried these impressions with it and brought them to the
mind of the operator as distinct thoughts. Since basic thoughts are not
expressed in any language save impressions and pictures, the operator
finds that he has suddenly acquired the knowledge of the other.
Thus, in a brief time, Wanderman told the men of the story concerning
Nimbor and Toom, of the _mataiya's_ part in the drama. The men stood
in wonder, staring at the figures; Opp calmly walked over to Aald and
tweaked his nose. The Nimborian's expression did not change.
"I still can't grasp why these people are all like frozen statues,"
exclaimed Barth. "How can they live and act like everyday terrestrials
when this planet is so lacking in heat and light?"
"I think I can explain," said Wanderman. "It sounds fantastic, but it
is not impossible. And it would account for all the factors. I'll tell
you when we get back to the ship: right now we have work to do."
"What work?"
"We can't stand around and do nothing while this woman is captured. And
I, for one, do not care to see these sneering degenerates win this war.
"So I think we'll take over events on this planet for a while and fix
things to suit ourselves. We can easily move these figures if we adjust
our gravity belt to take care of the extra weight. Every man grab one
person; I'll take Oomith. Rokesmith, you take Aald; Weber, grab the
emperor, and you others pick out those who look important, who appear
like staff officers. And don't forget the mentascope."
In a moment each man was burdened with a native of Planet P swinging
over his shoulder. Thus burdened they marched through the center
of Nimbor, through the columns of the motionless army, back to the
spaceship. Several times they would have to halt and rest because of
the irrepressible laughter that broke out, among them. Imagine earthly
problems being solved like this!
In the ship, they dumped the Nimborians in a spare storehouse, while
the _mataiya_ was propped up on a seat in one of the cabins. The ship's
course was set for the general direction of Toom.
* * * * *
"You men understand what is meant by time?" began Wanderman as the crew
gathered around. "It is the flow of events. It is the way we conceive
things happening. We place an arbitrary measurement of time by using
the period it takes our planet to rotate once on its axis. That is
a day. Dividing the day into sections, we get hours, minutes, and
seconds. To us, a second is a very short space of time.
"We move and live at a certain rate of speed: our heart pumps about 72
beats per minute. Our senses perceive a thing in a certain space of
time. Small as it may appear, it actually requires time for your eye to
see an object or for your hearing to function. Also for an impression
of feeling to travel from the skin to the brain and to be recognized.
"To these people of Planet P, their world appears as one delightful
to live in. For them a bright warm sun shines in a blue sky. For them
life moves at as quick a pace as it does for us on Earth. Their day
is approximately 24 hours also. To us, it may appear to be as long as
656 Earth days, since their world requires 656 Earth days to complete
one of its days, and I am figuring in proportion. To them, a day is no
longer than to us. Ten and four-fifths hours to us is only one of their
minutes.
"That is why they live so slowly; they are living at a different
time-rate than ours. Time moves for them exactly 656 times more slowly
than it does for us.
"They could not possibly live at our pace. For, to us, Planet P is
terribly cold; the sun is but little more than a bright star. But when
they see the sun, it takes 656 times longer before they observe it.
Thus, they actually get a time exposure. You know that if you want to
take a picture at night you must leave the lens open for a long time;
the longer it is open, the brighter the picture appears. Thus with
them: they see the sun as a brilliant ball; they see objects as highly
illuminated because their eyes are absorbing so much more light than
are ours.
"Thus their bodies are not cold and frozen: of a makeup to conform with
the time-rate on this planet, their bodies absorb and hold the heat
radiated by the sun until it appears to be hot. If you examine any of
these bodies now without your gloves, you will notice that they are as
warm as ours.
"These people seem to be motionless, or at least moving extremely
slowly. To them, they are moving at a normal pace. Here is where the
size of this planet comes in: under the huge gravity of this world,
they could not move fast. Their bodies must normally weigh a terrific
amount. That was another factor working in their evolution toward the
strange rate of time-flow."
Wanderman left the room. He went back to where he had placed Oomith
seated upright in a cabin. Seating himself directly before her eyes,
he stared into them. He fixed himself motionless as possible, remained
unmoving until the ship was ready to come to a halt at its destination.
Before he left, he had the satisfaction of noticing the _mataiya's_
pupils had finally focused on his; he felt certain that some impression
would be carried back with her.
* * * * *
Landing at Toom, they placed Oomith where she was later to regain
control of her senses. They carried Aald and the others down to the
dungeons, imprisoning them there. Then they returned to the ship.
One more task remained: the war machines of Nimbor. Cruising over the
enemy lines, they dropped cables whenever they saw a projector and
attached them. Then they swung them up into the air, letting them
hang below until all had been thus captured. Once more they returned
to Toom, this time to place the projectors where they would be found
quickly.
The nature of the "burning death" of Nimbor they found to be simple.
It was nothing more or less than electric heaters, such as are sold in
winter on Earth. A polished reflector sent a beam of heat from the wire
coil in the center. To a terrestial, of course, this was nothing more
than a pleasantly warm current; but to a native of Planet P, with their
slower perceptions and great absorption of tiny amounts of heat, it was
a ray of pure destruction.
Thus, for a brief instant in the history of the cosmos, two similar
races and life forms met, the one greatly altering the course of
development the other would take. Although a few well-guarded
expeditions to Planet P have been made since, the Terrestial Council
is slow to permit these, inasmuch as the gross difference in
time-rate cannot permit fair intercourse with its people. It is felt
in scientific circles that for them to learn of the existence of a
race such as ours would be a crushing psychological blow to them; to
interfere, however well-meaningly, in their development would condemn
them to superstition, for they could arrive at no logical, scientific
explanation of such interference.
Planet P is not needed for the comfort or well-being of Earth. The
Patrol is there watching, ready to step in in cases of natural cosmic
emergency, but at other times gives the world a wide berth.
And Captain Wanderman will always remember the tableau in the
courtyard, and a beautiful woman running.