20¢ ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE _On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month_ W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher HARRY BATES, Editor DR. DOUGLAS M. DOLD, Consulting Editor * * * * * [Illustration] The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees _That_ the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid, by leading writers of the day and purchased under conditions approved by the Authors' League of America; _That_ such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by American workmen; _That_ each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit; _That_ an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages. _The other Clayton magazines are_: ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELS MONTHLY, ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELAND LOVE STORY MAGAZINE, WESTERN ADVENTURES, and FOREST AND STREAM. _More than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand for Clayton Magazines. _ * * * * * VOL. III, No. 1 CONTENTS JULY, 1930 COVER DESIGN _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "Earth, the Marauder. "_ BEYOND THE HEAVISIDE LAYER CAPT. S. P. MEEK 5 _For Eighty Vertical Miles Carpenter and Bond Blasted Their Way--Only to Be Trapped by the Extraordinary Monsters of the Heaviside Layer. _ EARTH, THE MARAUDER ARTHUR J. BURKS 18 _Out of Her Orbit Sped the Teeming Earth--A Marauding Planet Bent on Starry Conquest. _ (Beginning a Three-part Novel. ) FROM AN AMBER BLOCK TOM CURRY 50 _A Giant Amber Block at Last Gives Up Its Living, Ravenous Prey. _ THE TERROR OF AIR-LEVEL SIX HARL VINCENT 62 _From Some Far Reach of Leagueless Space Came a Great Pillar of Flame to Lay Waste and Terrorize the Earth. _ (A Novelet. ) THE FORGOTTEN PLANET SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT 88 _The Authentic Account of Why Cosmic Man Damned an Outlaw World to Be, Forever, a Leper of Space. _ THE POWER AND THE GLORY CHARLES W. DIFFIN 104 _Sadly, Sternly, the Old Professor Reveals to His Brilliant Pupil the Greater Path to Glory. _ MURDER MADNESS MURRAY LEINSTER 109 _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. _ (Part Three of a Four-part Novel. ) THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 134 _A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories. _ * * * * * Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription, $2. 00 Issued monthly by Publishers' Fiscal Corporation, 80 Lafayette St. , New York, N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President: Nathan Goldmann, Secretary. Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at New York, N. Y. , under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade Mark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's List. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co. , Inc. , 25 Vanderbilt Ave. , New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave. , Chicago. * * * * * [Illustration: _They were moving sluggishly along the red light, seemingto flow rather than crawl. _] Beyond the Heaviside Layer _By Capt S. P. Meek_ McQuarrie, the City Editor, looked up as I entered his office. "Bond, " he asked, "do you know Jim Carpenter?" [Sidenote: For eighty vertical miles Carpenter andBond blasted their way--only to betrapped by the extraordinary monstersof the heaviside layer. ] "I know him slightly, " I replied cautiously. "I have met him severaltimes and I interviewed him some years ago when he improved the Hadleyrocket motor. I can't claim a very extensive acquaintance with him. " "I thought you knew him well. It is a surprise to me to find that thereis any prominent man who is not an especial friend of yours. At any rateyou know him as well as anyone of the staff, so I'll give you theassignment. " "What's he up to now?" I asked. "He's going to try to punch a hole in the heaviside layer. " "But that's impossible, " I cried. "How can anyone. .. . " My voice died away in silence. True enough, the idea of trying to make apermanent hole in a field of magnetic force was absurd, but even as Ispoke I remembered that Jim Carpenter had never agreed to the opinionalmost unanimously held by our scientists as to the true nature of theheaviside layer. "It may be impossible, " replied McQuarrie dryly, "but you are not hiredby this paper as a scientific consultant. For some reason, God aloneknows why, the owner thinks that you are a reporter. Get down there andtry to prove he is right by digging up a few facts about Carpenter'sattempt. Wire your stuff in and Peavey will write it up. On this oneoccasion, please try to conceal your erudition and send in your story insimple words of one syllable which uneducated men like Peavey and me cancomprehend. That's all. " * * * * * He turned again to his desk and I left the room. At one time I wouldhave come from such an interview with my face burning, but McQuarrie'svitriol slid off me like water off a duck's back. He didn't really meanhalf of what he said, and he knew as well as I did that his crack aboutmy holding my job with the Clarion as a matter of pull was grosslyunjust. It is true that I knew Trimble, the owner of the Clarion, fairlywell, but I got my job without any aid from him. McQuarrie himself hiredme and I held my job because he hadn't fired me, despite the causticremarks which he addressed to me. I had made the mistake when I firstgot on the paper of letting McQuarrie know that I was a graduateelectrical engineer from Leland University, and he had held it againstme from that day on. I don't know whether he really held it seriouslyagainst me or not, but what I have written above is a fair sample of hisusual manner toward me. In point of fact I had greatly minimized the extent of my acquaintancewith Jim Carpenter. I had been in Leland at the same time that he wasand had known him quite well. When I graduated, which was two yearsafter he did, I worked for about a year in his laboratory, and myknowledge of the improvement which had made the Hadley rocket motor apracticability came from first hand knowledge and not from an interview. That was several years before but I knew that he never forgot anacquaintance, let alone a friend, and while I had left him to take upother work our parting had been pleasant, and I looked forward with realpleasure to seeing him again. * * * * * Jim Carpenter, the stormy petrel of modern science! The eternaliconoclast: the perpetual opponent! He was probably as deeply versed inthe theory of electricity and physical chemistry as any man alive, butit pleased him to pose as a "practical" man who knew next to nothing oftheory and who despised the little he did know. His great delight was toexperimentally smash the most beautifully constructed theories whichwere advanced and taught in the colleges and universities of the world, and when he couldn't smash them by experimental evidence, to attack themfrom the standpoint of philosophical reasoning and to twist around thedata on which they were built and make it prove, or seem to prove, theexact opposite of what was generally accepted. No one questioned his ability. When the ill-fated Hadley had firstconstructed the rocket motor which bears his name it was Jim Carpenterwho made it practical. Hadley had tried to disintegrate lead in order toget his back thrust from the atomic energy which it contained and provedby apparently unimpeachable mathematics that lead was the only substancewhich could be used. Jim Carpenter had snorted through the pages of theelectrical journals and had turned out a modification of Hadley'sinvention which disintegrated aluminum. The main difference inperformance was that, while Hadley's original motor would not developenough power to lift itself from the ground, Carpenter's modificationproduced twenty times the horsepower per pound of weight of anypreviously known generator of power and changed the rocket ship from awild dream to an everyday commonplace. * * * * * When Hadley later constructed his space flyer and proposed to visit themoon, it was Jim Carpenter who ridiculed the idea of the attempt beingsuccessful. He proposed the novel and weird idea that the path to spacewas not open, but that the earth and the atmosphere were enclosed in ahollow sphere of impenetrable substance through which Hadley's spaceflyer could not pass. How accurate were his prognostications was soonknown to everyone. Hadley built and equipped his flyer and started offon what he hoped would be an epoch making flight. It was one, but not inthe way which he had hoped. His ship took off readily enough, beingpowered with four rocket motors working on Carpenter's principle, androse to a height of about fifty miles, gaining velocity rapidly. At thatpoint his velocity suddenly began to drop. He was in constant radio communication with the earth and he reportedhis difficulty. Carpenter advised him to turn back while he could, butHadley kept on. Slower and slower became his progress, and after he hadpenetrated ten miles into the substance which hindered him, his shipstuck fast. Instead of using his bow motors and trying to back out, hehad moved them to the rear, and with the combined force of his fourmotors he had penetrated for another two miles. There he insanely triedto force his motors to drive him on until his fuel was exhausted. He had lived for over a year in his space flyer, but all of his effortsdid not serve to materially change his position. He had tried, ofcourse, to go out through his air locks and explore space, but hisstrength, even although aided by powerful levers, could not open theouter doors of the locks against the force which was holding them shut. Careful observations were continuously made of the position of hisflyer and it was found that it was gradually returning toward the earth. Its motion was very slight, not enough to give any hope for theoccupant. Starting from a motion so slow that it could hardly bedetected, the velocity of return gradually accelerated; and three yearsafter Hadley's death, the flyer was suddenly released from the forcewhich held it, and it plunged to the earth, to be reduced by the forceof its fall to a twisted, pitiful mass of unrecognizable junk. * * * * * The remains were examined, and the iron steel parts were found to behighly magnetized. This fact was seized upon by the scientists of theworld and a theory was built up of a magnetic field of force surroundingthe earth through which nothing of a magnetic nature could pass. Thistheory received almost universal acceptance, Jim Carpenter alone of themore prominent men of learning refusing to admit the validity of it. Hegravely stated it as his belief that no magnetic field existed, but thatthe heaviside layer was composed of some liquid of high viscosity whosedensity and consequent resistance to the passage of a body through itincreased in the ratio of the square of the distance to which onepenetrated into it. There was a moment of stunned surprise when he announced his radicalidea, and then a burst of Jovian laughter shook the scientific press. Carpenter was in his glory. For months he waged a bitter controversy inthe scientific journals and when he failed to win converts by thismethod, he announced that he would prove it by blasting a way into spacethrough the heaviside layer, a thing which would be patently impossiblewere it a field of force. He had lapsed into silence for two years andhis curt note to the Associated Press to the effect that he was nowready to demonstrate his experiment was the first intimation the worldhad received of his progress. * * * * * I drew expense money from the cashier and boarded the Lark for LosAngeles. When I arrived I went to a hotel and at once called Carpenteron the telephone. "Jim Carpenter speaking, " came his voice presently. "Good evening, Mr. Carpenter, " I replied, "this is Bond of the SanFrancisco Clarion. " I would be ashamed to repeat the language which came over thattelephone. I was informed that all reporters were pests and that I was adoubly obnoxious specimen and that were I within reach I would bepromptly assaulted and that reporters would be received at nine the nextmorning and no earlier or later. "Just a minute, Mr. Carpenter, " I cried as he neared the end of hisperoration and was, I fancied, about to slam up the receiver. "Don't youremember me? I was at Leland with you and used to work in yourlaboratory in the atomic disintegration section. " "What's your name?" he demanded. "Bond, Mr. Carpenter. " "Oh, First Mortgage! Certainly I remember you. Mighty glad to hear yourvoice. How are you?" "Fine, thank you, Mr. Carpenter. I would not have ventured to call youhad I not known you. I didn't mean to impose and I'll be glad to see youin the morning at nine. " "Not by a long shot, " he cried. "You'll come up right away. Where areyou staying?" "At the El Rey. " "Well, check out and come right up here. There's lots of room for youhere at the plant and I'll be glad to have you. I want at least oneintelligent report of this experiment and you should be able to writeit. I'll look for you in an hour. " "I don't want to impose--" I began; but he interrupted. "Nonsense, glad to have you. I needed someone like you badly and youhave come just in the nick of time. I'll expect you in an hour. " * * * * * The receiver clicked and I hastened to follow his instructions. Aringside seat was just what I was looking for. It took my taxi a littleover an hour to get to the Carpenter laboratory and I chuckled when Ithought of how McQuarrie's face would look when he saw my expenseaccount. Presently we reached the edge of the grounds which surroundedthe Carpenter laboratory and were stopped at the high gate I rememberedso well. "Are you sure you'll get in, buddy?" asked my driver. "Certainly, " I replied. "What made you ask?" "I've brought three chaps out here to-day and none of them got in, " heanswered with a grin. "I'm glad you're so sure, but I'll just waitaround until you are inside before I drive away. " I laughed and advanced to the gate. Tim, the old guard, was still there, and he remembered and welcomed me. "Me ordhers wuz t' let yez roight in, sor, " he said as he greeted me. "Jist lave ye'er bag here and Oi'll have ut sint roight up. " I dropped my bag and trudged up the well remembered path to thelaboratory. It had been enlarged somewhat since I saw it last and, latethough the hour was, there was a bustle in the air and I could see anumber of men working in the building. From an area in the rear, whichwas lighted by huge flood lights, came the staccato tattoo of a riveter. I walked up to the front of the laboratory and entered. I knew the wayto Carpenter's office and I went directly there and knocked. "Hello, First Mortgage!" cried Jim Carpenter as I entered in response tohis call. "I'm glad to see you. Excuse the bruskness of my firstgreeting to you over the telephone, but the press have been deviling meall day, every man jack of them trying to steal a march on the rest. Iam going to open the whole shebang at nine to-morrow and give them allan equal chance to look things over before I turn the current on atnoon. As soon as we have a little chat, I'll show you over the works. " * * * * * After half an hour's chat he rose. "Come along, First Mortgage, " hesaid, "we'll go out and look the place over and I'll explain everything. If my ideas work out, you'll have no chance to go over it to-morrow, soI want you to see it now. " I had no chance to ask him what he meant by this remark, for he walkedrapidly from the laboratory and I perforce followed him. He led the wayto the patch of lighted ground behind the building where the rivetingmachine was still beating out its monotonous cacaphony and paused by thefirst of a series of huge reflectors, which were arranged in a circle. "Here is the start of the thing, " he said. "There are two hundred andfifty of these reflectors arranged in a circle four hundred yards indiameter. Each of them is an opened parabola of such spread that theirbeams will cover an area ten yards in diameter at fifty miles above theearth. If my calculations are correct they should penetrate through thelayer at an average speed of fifteen miles per hour per unit, and by twoo'clock to-morrow afternoon, the road to space should be open. " "What is your power?" I asked. "Nothing but a concentration of infra-red rays. The heaviside layer, asyou doubtless know, is a liquid and, I think, an organic liquid. If I amright in that thought, the infra-red will cut through it like a knifethrough cheese. " "If it is a liquid, how will you prevent it from flowing back into thehole you have opened?" I asked. "When the current is first turned on, each reflector will bear on thesame point. Notice that they are moveable. They are arranged so thatthey move together. As soon as the first hole is bored through, theywill move by clockwork, extending the opening until each pointsvertically upward and the hole is four hundred yards in diameter. I ampositive that there will be no rapid flow even after the current isturned off, for I believe that the liquid is about as mobile aspetroleum jelley. Should it close, however, it would take only a coupleof hours to open it again to allow the space flyer to return. " "What space flyer?" I demanded quickly. "The one we are going to be on, First Mortgage, " he replied with aslight chuckle. * * * * * "We?" I cried, aghast. "Certainly. We. You and I. You didn't think I was going to send youalone, did you?" "I didn't know that anyone was going. " "Of course. Someone has to go; otherwise, how could I prove my point? Imight cut through a hundred holes and yet these stiff-necked oldfossils, seeing nothing, would not believe. No, First Mortgage, whenthose arcs start working to-morrow, you and I will be in a Hadley spaceship up at the bottom of the layer, and as soon as the road has beenopened, two of the lamps will cut off to allow us through. Then thebattery will hold the road open while we pass out into space andreturn. " "Suppose we meet with Hadley's fate?" I demanded. "We won't. Even if I am wrong--which is very unlikely--we won't meetwith any such fate. We have two stern motors and four bow motors. Assoon as we meet with the slightest resistance to our forward progress wewill stop and have twice the power plus gravity to send us earthwards. There is no danger connected with the trip. " "All the same--" I began. "All the same, you're going, " he replied. "Man alive, think of thechance to make a world scoop for your paper! No other press man has theslightest inkling of my plan and even if they had, there isn't anotherspace flyer in the world that I know of. If you don't want to go, I'llgive some one else the chance, but I prefer you, for you know somethingof my work. " * * * * * I thought rapidly for a moment. The chance was a unique one and one thathalf the press men in San Francisco would have given their shirts toget. I had had my doubts of the accuracy of Jim Carpenter's reasoningwhile I was away from him, but there was no resisting the dynamicpersonality of the man when in his presence. "You win, " I said with a laugh. "Your threat of offering some of myhated rivals a chance settled it. " "Good boy!" he exclaimed, pounding me on the back. "I knew you'd come. Ihad intended to take one of my assistants with me, but as soon as I knewyou were here I decided that you were the man. There really ought to bea press representative along. Come with me and I'll show you our flyer. " The flyer proved to be of the same general type as had been used byHadley. It was equipped with six rocket motors, four discharging to thebow and two to the stern. Any one of them, Carpenter said, was ample formotive power. Equilibrium was maintained by means of a heavy gyroscopewhich would prevent any turning of the axis of its rotation. The entireflyer shell could be revolved about the axis so that oblique motion withour bow and stern motors was readily possible. Direct lateral movementwas provided for by valves which would divert a portion of the dischargeof either a bow or stern motor out through side vents in any direction. The motive power, of course, was furnished by the atomic disintegrationof powdered aluminum. The whole interior, except for the portion of thewalls, roof and floor, which was taken up by vitriolene windows, washeavily padded. * * * * * At nine the next morning the gates to the enclosure were thrown open andthe representatives of the press admitted. Jim Carpenter mounted aplatform and explained briefly what he proposed to do and then broke thecrowd up into small groups and sent them over the works with guides. When all had been taken around they were reassembled and Carpenterannounced to them his intention of going up in a space flyer and prove, by going through the heaviside layer, that he had actually destroyed aportion of it. There was an immediate clamor of applications to go withhim. He laughingly announced that one reporter was all that he couldstand on the ship and that he was taking one of his former associateswith him. I could tell by the envious looks with which I was favoredthat any popularity I had ever had among my associates was gone forever. There was little time to think of such things, however, for the hour forour departure was approaching, and the photographers were clamoring forpictures of us and the flyer. We satisfied them at last, and I entered the flyer after Carpenter. Wesealed the car up, started the air conditioner, and were ready fordeparture. "Scared, Pete?" asked Carpenter, his hand on the starting lever. I gulped a little as I looked at him. He was perfectly calm to a casualinspection, but I knew him well enough to interpret the small spots ofred which appeared on his high cheekbones and the glitter in his eye. Hemay not have been as frightened as I was but he was laboring under anenormous nervous strain. The mere fact that he called me "Pete" insteadof his usual "First Mortgage" showed that he was feeling pretty serious. "Not exactly scared, " I replied, "but rather uneasy, so to speak. " * * * * * He laughed nervously. "Cheer up, old man! If anything goes wrong, we won't know it. Sit downand get comfortable; this thing will start with a jerk. " He pulled the starting lever forward suddenly and I felt as though anintolerable weight were pressed against me, glueing me to my seat. Thefeeling lasted only for a moment, for he quickly eased up on the motor, and in a few moments I felt quite normal. "How fast are we going?" I asked. "Only two hundred miles an hour, " he replied. "We will reach the layerin plenty of time at this rate and I don't want to jam into it. You canget up now. " I rose, moved over to the observation glass in the floor, and lookeddown. We were already five or ten miles above the earth and wereascending rapidly. I could still detect the great circle of reflectorswith which our way was to be opened. "How can you tell where these heat beams are when they are turned on?" Iasked. "Infra-red rays are not visible, and we will soon be out of sightof the reflectors. " "I forgot to mention that I am having a small portion of visible redrays mixed with the infra-red so that we can spot them. I have a radiotelephone here, working on my private wavelength, so that I can directoperations from here as well as from the ground--in fact, better. Ifyou're cold, turn on the heater. " * * * * * The friction of the flyer against the air had so far made up for thedecreasing temperature of the air surrounding us, but a glance at theoutside thermometer warned me that his suggestion was a wise one. Iturned a valve which diverted a small portion of our exhaust through aheating coil in the flyer. It was hard to realize that I was actually ina rocket space ship, the second one to be flown and that, with theexception of the ill-fated Hadley, farther from the earth than any manhad been before. There was no sensation of movement in that hermeticallysealed flyer, and, after the first few moments, the steady drone of therocket motor failed to register on my senses. I was surprised to seethat there was no trail of detritus behind us. "You can see our trail at night, " replied Carpenter when I asked himabout it, "but in daylight, there is nothing to see. The slightluminosity of the gasses is hidden by the sun's rays. We may be able tosee it when we get out in space beyond the layer, but I don't know. Wehave arrived at the bottom of the layer now, I believe. At any rate, weare losing velocity. " * * * * * I moved over to the instrument board and looked. Our speed had droppedto one hundred and ten miles an hour and was steadily falling off. Carpenter pulled the control lever and reduced our power. Gradually theflyer came to a stop and hung poised in space. He shut off the power aninstant and at once our indicator showed that we were falling, althoughvery slowly. He promptly reapplied the power, and by careful adjustmentbrought us again to a dead stop. "Ready to go, " he remarked looking at his watch, "and just on time, too. Take a glass and watch the ground. I am going to have the heat turnedon. " I took the binoculars he indicated and turned them toward the groundwhile he gave a few crisp orders into his telephone. Presently from theground beneath us burst out a circle of red dots from which long beamsstabbed up into the heavens. The beams converged as they mounted untilat a point slightly below us, and a half-mile away they became one solidbeam of red. One peculiarity I noticed was that, while they were plainlyvisible near the ground, they faded out, and it was not until they werea few miles below us that they again became apparent. I followed theirpath upward into the heavens. "Look here, Jim!" I cried as I did so. "Something's happening!" He sprang to my side and glanced at the beam. "Hurrah!" he shouted, pounding me on the back. "I was right! Look! Andthe fools called it a magnetic field!" Upward the beam was boring its way, but it was almost concealed by arain of fine particles of black which were falling around it. "It's even more spectacular than I had hoped, " he chortled. "I hadexpected to reduce the layer to such fluidity that we could penetrateit or even to vaporize it, but we are actually destroying it! That stuffis soot and is proof, if proof be needed, that the layer is an organicliquid. " * * * * * He turned to his telephone and communicated the momentous news to theearth and then rejoined me at the window. For ten minutes we watched anda slight diminution of the black cloud became apparent. "They're through the layer, " exclaimed Carpenter. "Now watch, and you'llsee something. I'm going to start spreading the beam. " He turned again to his telephone, and presently the beam began to widenand spread out. As it did so the dark cloud became more dense than ithad been before. The earth below us was hidden and we could see the redonly as a dim murky glow through the falling soot. Carpenter inquired ofthe laboratory and found that we were completely invisible to theground, half the heavens being hidden by the black pall. For an hour thebeam worked its way toward us. "The hole is about four hundred yards in diameter right now, " saidCarpenter as he turned from the telephone. "I have told them to stop themovement of the reflectors, and as soon as the air clears a little, we'll start through. " It took another hour for the soot to clear enough that we could plainlydetect the ring of red light before us. Carpenter gave some orders tothe ground, and a gap thirty yards wide opened in the wall before us. Toward this gap the flyer moved slowly under the side thrust of thediverted motor discharge. The temperature rose rapidly as we neared thewall of red light before us. Nearer we drew until the light was on bothsides of us. Another few feet and the flyer shot forward with a jerkthat threw me sprawling on the floor. Carpenter fell too, but hemaintained his hold on the controls and tore at them desperately tocheck us. * * * * * I scrambled to my feet and watched. The red wall was alarmingly close. Nearer we drove and then came another jerk which threw me sprawlingagain. The wall retreated. In another moment we were standing still, with the red all around us at a distance of about two hundred yards. "We had a narrow escape from being cremated, " said Carpenter with ashaky laugh. "I knew that our speed would increase as soon as we gotclear of the layer but it caught me by surprise just the same. I had noidea how great the holding effect of the stuff was. Well, FirstMortgage, the road to space is open for us. May I invite you to be myguest on a little week-end jaunt to the Moon?" "No thanks, Jim, " I said with a wry smile. "I think a little trip to theedge of the layer will quite satisfy me. " "Quitter, " he laughed. "Well, say good-by to familiar things. Here wego!" He turned to the controls of the flyer, and presently we were movingagain, this time directly away from the earth. There was no jerk atstarting this time, merely a feeling as though the floor were pressingagainst my feet, a great deal like the feeling a person gets when theyrise rapidly in an express elevator. The indicator showed that we weretraveling only sixty miles an hour. For half an hour we continuedmonotonously on our way with nothing to divert us. Carpenter yawned. "Now that it's all over, I feel let down and sleepy, " he announced. "Weare well beyond the point to which Hadley penetrated and so far we havemet with no resistance. We are probably nearly at the outer edge of thelayer. I think I'll shoot up a few miles more and then call it a day andgo home. We are about eighty miles from the earth now. " * * * * * I looked down, but could see nothing below us but the dense cloud ofblack soot resulting from the destruction of the heaviside layer. LikeCarpenter, I felt sleepy, and I suppressed a yawn as I turned again tothe window. "Look here, Jim!" I cried suddenly. "What's that?" He moved in a leisurely manner to my side and looked out. As he did so Ifelt his hand tighten on my shoulder with a desperate grip. Down thewall of red which surrounded us was coming an object of some kind. Thething was fully seventy-five yards long and half as wide at its mainportion, while long irregular streams extended for a hundred yards oneach side of it. There seemed to be dozens of them. "What is it, Jim?" I asked in a voice which sounded high and unnaturalto me. "I don't know, " he muttered, half to me and half to himself. "Good Lord, there's another of them!" He pointed. Not far from the first of the things came another, evenlarger than the first. They were moving sluggishly along the red light, seeming to flow rather than to crawl. I had a horrible feeling that theywere alive and malignant. Carpenter stepped back to the controls of theflyer and stopped our movement; we hung in space, watching them. Thethings were almost level with us, but their sluggish movement wasdownward toward the earth. In color, they were a brilliant crimson, deepening into purple near the center. Just as the first of them cameopposite us it paused, and slowly a portion of the mass extended itselffrom the main bulk; and then, like doors opening, four huge eyes, eachof them twenty feet in diameter, opened and stared at us. "It's alive, Jim, " I quavered. I hardly knew my own voice as I spoke. * * * * * Jim stepped back to the controls with a white face, and slowly we movedcloser to the mass. As we approached I thought that I could detect afleeting passage of expression in those huge eyes. Then they disappearedand only a huge crimson and purple blob lay before us. Jim moved thecontrols again and the flyer came to a stop. Two long streamers moved out from the mass. Suddenly there was a jerk tothe ship which threw us both to the floor. It started upward at expresstrain speed. Jim staggered to his feet, grasped the controls and startedall four bow motors at full capacity, but even this enormous force hadnot the slightest effect in diminishing our speed. "Well, the thing's got us, whatever it is, " said Jim as he pulled hiscontrols to neutral, shutting off all power. Now that the danger hadassumed a tangible form, he appeared as cool and collected as ever, tomy surprise, I found that I had recovered control of my muscle and of myvoice. I became aware that the shoulder which Jim had gripped was achingbadly, and I rubbed it absently. "What is it, Jim?" I asked for the third time. "I don't know, " he replied. "It is some horrible inhabitant of space, something unknown to us on earth. From its appearance and actions, Ithink it must be a huge single-celled animal of the type of the earthlyamoeba. If an amoeba is that large here, what must an elephant looklike? However, I expect that we'll learn more about the matter laterbecause it's taking us with it, wherever it's going. " * * * * * Suddenly the flyer became dark inside. I looked at the nearest window, but I could not even detect its outline. I reached for the light switch, but a sudden change in direction threw me against the wall. There was aninstant of intense heat in the flyer. "We have passed the heaviside layer, " said Jim. "The brute has changeddirection, and we felt that heat when he took us through the infra-redwall. " I reached again for the light switch, but before I could find it ourmotion ceased and an instant later the flyer was filled with glaringsunlight. We both turned to the window. We lay on a glistening plain of bluish hue which stretched without abreak as far as we could see. Not a thing broke the monotony of ourvision. We turned to the opposite window. How can I describe the sightwhich met our horrified gaze? On the plain before us lay a huge purplemonstrosity of gargantuan dimensions. The thing was a shapeless mass, only the four huge eyes standing out regarding us balefully. The masswas continually changing its outline and, as we watched, a long streamerextended itself from the body toward us. Over and around the flyer thefeeler went, while green and red colors played over first one and thenanother of the huge eyes before us. The feeler wrapped itself around theflyer and we were lifted into the air toward those horrible eyes. We hadalmost reached them when the thing dropped us. We fell to the plain witha crash. We staggered to our feet again and looked out. Our captor wasbattling for its life. * * * * * Its attacker was a smaller thing of a brilliant green hue, striped andmottled with blue and yellow. While our captor was almost formless, thenewcomer had a very definite shape. It resembled a cross between a birdand a lizard, its shape resembling a bird, as did tiny rudimentary wingsand a long beak, while the scaly covering and the fact that it had fourlegs instead of two bore out the idea that it might be a lizard. Itshuge birdlike beak was armed with three rows of long sharp teeth withwhich it was tearing at our captor. The purple amoeba was holding itsassailant with a dozen of its thrown out feelers which were wrappedabout the body and legs of the green horror. The whole battle wasconducted in absolute silence. "Now's our chance, Jim!" I cried. "Get away from here while that dragonhas the amoeba busy!" He jumped to the control levers of the flyer and pulled the startingswitch well forward. The shock of the sudden start hurled me to thefloor, but from where I fell I was able to watch the battle on theplain below us. It raged with uninterrupted fury and I felt certain ofour escape when, with a shock which hurled both Jim and me to theceiling, the flyer stopped. We fell back to the floor and I reflectedthat it was well for us that the interior of the flyer was so wellpadded. Had it not been, our bones would have been broken a dozen timesby the shocks to which we had been subjected. "What now?" I asked as I painfully struggled to my feet. "Another of those purple amoebas, " replied Jim from the vantage point ofa window. "He's looking us over as if he were trying to decide whetherwe are edible or not. " * * * * * I joined him at the window. The thing which had us was a replica of themonster we had left below us engaged in battle with the green dragonwhich had attacked it. The same indefinite and ever changing outline wasevident, as well as the four huge eyes. The thing regarded us for amoment and slowly moved us up against its bulk until we touched it. Deeper and deeper into the mass of the body we penetrated until we werein a deep cavern with the light coming to us only from the entrance. Iwatched the entrance and horror possessed my soul. "The hole's closing. Jim!" I gasped. "The thing is swallowing us!" "I expected that, " he replied grimly. "The amoeba has no mouth, youknow. Nourishment is passed into the body through the skin, which closesbehind it. We are a modern version of Jonah and the whale, FirstMortgage. " "Well, Jonah got out, " I ventured. "We'll try to, " he replied. "When that critter swallowed us, he gotsomething that will prove pretty indigestible. Let's try to give him astomach ache. I don't suppose that a machine-gun will affect him, butwe'll try it. " "I didn't know that you had any guns on board. " "Oh yes, I've got two machine-guns. We'll turn one of them loose, but Idon't expect much effect from it. " * * * * * He moved over to one of the guns and threw off the cover which hadhidden it from my gaze. He fed in a belt of ammunition and pulled histrigger. For half a minute he held it down, and two hundred and fiftycaliber thirty bullets tore their way into space. There was no evidenceof movement on the part of our host. "Just as I thought, " remarked Jim as he threw aside the empty belt andcovered the gun again. "The thing has no nervous organization to speakof and probably never felt that. We'll have to rig up a disintegratingray for him. " "What?" I gasped. "A disintegrating ray, " he replied. "Oh yes, I know how to make thefabulous 'death ray' that you journalists are always raving about. Ihave never announced my discovery, for war is horrible enough withoutit, but I have generated it and used it in my work a number of times. Did it never occur to you that the rocket motor is built on adisintegrating ray principle?" "Of course it is, Jim. I never thought of it in that light before, butit must be. How can you use it? The discharge from the motors is aharmless stream of energy particles. " "Instead of turning the ray into powdered aluminum and breaking it down, what is to prevent me from turning it against the body of our captor andblasting my way out?" "I don't know. " "Well, nothing is. I'll have to modify one of the motors a little, butit's not a hard job. Get some wrenches from the tool box and we'llstart. " * * * * * An hour of hard work enabled us to disconnect one of the reserve bowmotors and, after the modifications Jim had mentioned, turn the ray outthrough the port through which the products of disintegration were meantto go. When we had bolted it in place with an improvised coupling, Jimopened the vitriolene screen which held in our air and turned to hiscontrol board. "Here goes, " he said. He pulled the lever to full power and with a roar which almost deafenedus in the small flyer, the ray leaped out to do its deadly work. Iwatched through a port beside the motor. There was a flash of intenselight for an instant and then the motor died away in silence. A path tofreedom lay open before us. Jim started one of the stern motors andslowly we forced our way through the hole torn in the living mass. Whenwe were almost at the surface, he threw in full power and we shot freefrom the amoeba and into the open. Again we were stopped in midair anddrawn back toward the huge bulk. The eyes looked at us and we wereturned around. As the ray swung into a position to point directly towardone of the eyes, Jim pulled the controlling lever. With the flash oflight which ensued, the eye and a portion of the surrounding tissuedisappeared. The amoeba writhed and changed shape rapidly, while flashesof brilliant crimson played over the remaining eyes. Again the ray wasbrought into play and another of the eyes disappeared. This wasevidently enough for our captor, for it suddenly released us andinstantly we started to fall. Jim caught the control levers and turnedon our power in time to halt us only a few feet above the plain towardwhich we were falling. We were close to the point whence we had startedup and we could see that the battle below us was still raging. * * * * * The green dragon was partially engulfed by the amoeba, but it stillrelentlessly tore off huge chunks and devoured them. The amoeba wasgreatly reduced in bulk but it still fought gamely. Even as weapproached the dragon was evidently satiated, for it slowly withdrewfrom the purple bulk and back away. Long feelers shot out from theamoeba's bulk toward the dragon but they were bitten off before theycould grasp their prey. "Let's get away from here, Jim, " I cried, but I spoke too late. Even asthe words left my mouth the green dragon saw us and raised itself in theair, and with gaping jaws launched itself at us. It took Jim only amoment to shoot the flyer up into space, and the charge passedharmlessly beneath us. The dragon checked its headway and turned againtoward us. "Use the machine-gun, Pete!" cried Jim. "I've got to run the ship. " I threw the cover off the gun and fed in a fresh belt of ammunition. Asthe green monster dashed toward us I hastily aligned the gun and pulledthe trigger. My aim was good and at least fifty of the bullets plowedthrough the approaching bulk before Jim dropped the ship and allowed itto pass above us. Again the dragon turned and charged, and again I metit with a hail of bullets. They had no apparent effect and Jim droppedthe ship again and let the huge bulk shoot by above us. Twice more thedragon rushed but the last rush was less violent than had been the firstthree. "The bullets are affecting him, Pete!" cried Jim as he shot the flyerupward. "Give him another dose!" I hastily fed in another belt, but it was not needed. The dragon rushedthe fifth time, but before it reached us its velocity fell off and itpassed harmlessly below us and fell on a long curve to the plain below. It fell near the purple amoeba which it had battled and a long feelershot out and grasped it. Straight into the purple mass it was drawn, andvanished into the huge bulk. Jim started one of the stern motors. In a few seconds we were far fromthe scene. "Have you any idea of which direction to go?" he asked. I shook my head. "Have you a radio beacon?" I asked. He withered me with a glance. "We're beyond the heaviside layer, " he reminded me. * * * * * For a moment I was stunned. "We can't be very far from the hole, " he said consolingly as he fumbledwith the controls. "But before we try to find it, we had betterdisconnect one of the stern motors and rig it as a disintegrating ray sothat we will have one bearing in each direction. We may meet moredenizens of space who like our looks, and we haven't much ammunitionleft. " We landed on the plain and in an hour had a second disintegrating rayready for action. Thus armed, we rose from the blue plain and started atrandom on our way. For ten minutes we went forward. Then Jim stopped theflyer and turned back. We had gone only a short distance when I calledto him to stop. "What is it?" he demanded as he brought the flyer to a standstill. "There's another creature ahead of us, " I replied. "A red one. " "Red?" he asked excitedly as he joined me. About a mile ahead of us ahuge mass hung in the air. It resembled the amoeba which had attackedus, except that the newcomer was red. As we watched, it moved toward us. As it did so its color changed to purple. "Hurrah!" cried Jim. "Don't you remember, Pete, that the one whichcaptured us and took us out of the hole was red while in the hole andthen turned purple? That thing just came out of the hole!" "Then why can't we see the red beam?" I demanded. "Because there's no air or anything to reflect it, " he replied. "Wecan't see it until we are right in it. " I devoutly hoped that he was right as he headed the ship toward thewaiting monster. As we approached the amoeba came rapidly to meet us anda long feeler shot out. As it did so there was a flash of intense lightahead of us as Jim turned loose the ray, and the feeler disappeared. Another and another met the same fate. Then Jim rotated the shipslightly and let out the full force of the ray toward the monster. Ahuge hole was torn in it, and as we approached with our ray blazing, theamoeba slowly retreated and our path was open before us. Again there wasan instant of intense heat as we passed through the red wall, and wewere again in the hole which Jim's lamps had blasted through the layer. Below us still lay the fog which had obscured the earth when we hadstarted on our upward trip. * * * * * Down toward the distant earth we dropped. We had gone about thirty milesbefore we saw on the side of the hole one of the huge amoeba which wereso thick above. "We might stop and pick that fellow off, " said Jim, "but, on the whole, I think we'll experiment with him. " He drove the ship nearer and turned it on its axis, holding it inposition by one of the auxiliary discharges. A flash came from ourforward ray and a portion of the amoeba disappeared. A long arm movedout toward us, but it moved slowly and sluggishly instead of with thelightninglike swiftness which had characterized the movements of theothers. Jimmy easily eluded it and dropped the ship a few yards. Thecreature pursued it, but it moved slowly. For a mile we kept ourdistance ahead of it, but we had to constantly decrease our speed tokeep from leaving it behind. Soon we were almost at a standstill, andJim reversed our direction and drew nearer. A feeler came slowly andfeebly out a few feet toward us and then stopped. We dropped the ship afew feet but the amoeba did not follow. Jim glanced at the altimeter. "Just as I thought, " he exclaimed. "We are about forty-five miles abovethe earth and already the air is so dense that the thing cannot movelower. They are fashioned for existence in the regions of space and ineven the most rarified air they are helpless. There is no chance of oneever reaching the surface of the earth without years of gradualacclimation, and even if it did, it would be practically immobile. In afew years the layer will flow enough to plug the hole I have made, buteven so, I'll build a couple of space flyers equipped withdisintegrating rays as soon as we get down and station them alongsidethe hole to wipe out any of that space vermin which tries to comethrough. Let's go home. We've put in a good day's work. " Hundreds of the purple amoeba have been destroyed by the guarding shipsduring the past five years. The hole is filling in as Jim predicted, andin another ten years the earth will be as securely walled in as it everwas. But in the mean time, no one knows what unrevealed horrors spaceholds, and the world will never rest entirely easy until the slowprocess of time again heals the broken protective layer. * * * * * Everyone Is Invited _To_ "_Come Over in_ 'THE READERS' CORNER'"! * * * * * [Illustration: _The men of Cleric were surrounding Jaska. _] Earth, the Marauder BEGINNING A THREE-PART NOVEL _By Arthur J. Burks_ FOREWORD _Despite the fact that for centuries the Secret of Life had been thepossession of children of men, the Earth was dying. She was dyingbecause the warmth of the sun was fading; because, with the obliterationof the oceans in order to find new land upon which men might live, herseasons had become stormy, unbearably cold and dreary: and the very factof her knowledge of the Secret of Life, in which men numbered their agesby centuries instead of by years, was her undoing. _ [Sidenote: Out of her orbit spedthe teeming Earth--amarauding planet bent on starryconquest. ] [Illustration] _For when men did not die, they multiplied beyond all counting, beyondall possibility of securing permanent abiding places. One man, in thedays when the earth was young, and man lived at best to the age of threescore years and ten, could have, given time and opportunity, populated anation. Now, when men lived for centuries, eternally youthful, theirliving descendants ran into incalculable numbers. _ _The earth--strange paradox--was dying because it had learned the Secretof Life. Twenty centuries before, the last war of aggression had beenfought, in order that an over-populated nation might find room in whichto live. Now all the earth was one nation, speaking one tongue--andthere were no more lands to conquer. _ CHAPTER I _Sarka_ In his laboratory atop the highest peak in the venerable Himalayas, lived Sarka, conceded by the world to be its greatest scientist, despitehis youth. His grandfather, who had watched the passing of eighteencenturies, had discovered the Secret of Life and thoughtlessly, in thelight of later developments, broadcast his discovery to the world. Thegenius of this man, who was also called Sarka, had been passed on to hisson, Sarka the Second, and by him in even greater degree to Sarka theThird . .. Called merely Sarka for the purposes of this history. Had Sarka lived in the days before the discovery of the Secret of Life, people of that day would have judged him a young man of twenty. His realage was four centuries. Behind him as he sat moodily staring at the gigantic Revolving Berylstood a woman of most striking appearance. Her name was Jaska, andaccording to ideas of the Days Before the Discovery, she seemed a trifleyounger than Sarka. Her hand, unadorned by jewelry of any kind, restedon Sarka's shoulder as he studied the Revolving Beryl, while her eyes, whose lashes, matching her raven hair, were like the wings of tinyblackbirds, noted afresh the wonder of this man. "What is to be done?" she asked him at last, and her voice was likemusic there in the room where science performed its miracles for Sarka. * * * * * Wearily Sarka turned to face her, and she was struck anew, as she hadbeen down the years since she had known this man, every time theirglances met, at the mighty curve of his brow, which renderedinsignificant his mouth, his delicate nose of the twitching nostrils, the well-deep eyes of him. "Something must be done, " he said gloomily, "and that soon! For, unlessthe children of men are provided with some manner of territorialexpansion, they will destroy one another, only the strongest willsurvive, and we shall return to the days when the waters covered theearth, and monstrous creatures bellowed from the primeval slime!" "You are working on something?" she asked softly. For a moment he did not answer. While she waited, Jaska peered into thedepths of the Revolving Beryl, which represented the earth. It was fiftyfeet in diameter, and in its curved surface and entrancing depths wasmirrored, in this latest development of teleview, all the earth and thedoings of its people. But Jaska scarcely saw the fleeting images, themen locked in conflict for the right to live, the screaming, terror-stricken women. This was now a century-old story, and thecivilization of Earth had almost reached the breaking point. No, she scarcely saw the things in the Beryl, for she had read the hintof a vast, awesome secret in the eyes of Sarka--and wondered if he daredeven tell her. * * * * * "If the people knew, " he whispered, "they would do one of two things!They would tear me limb from limb, and hurl the parts of me outward intospace forever--or they would demand that I move before I am ready--andcause a catastrophe which could never be rectified; and this grand oldEarth of ours would be dead, indeed!" "And this secret of yours?" Jaska now spoke in the sign language whichonly these two knew, for there were billions of other Revolving Berylsin the world, and words could be heard by universal radio by any whocared to listen. And always, they knew, the legions of enemies of Sarkakept their ears open for words of Sarka which could be twisted around tohis undoing. "I should not tell even you, " he answered, his fingers working swiftlyin their secret, silent language, which all the world could see, butwhich only these two understood. "For if my enemies knew that youpossessed the information, there is nothing they would stop at to makeyou tell. " "But I would not tell, Sarka, " she said softly. "You know that!" He patted her hands, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. "No, " he said, "you would not tell. Some day soon--and it must be soonif the children of men are not to destroy themselves, I will tell you!It is a secret that lies heavily on my heart. If I should make amistake. .. . Chaos! Catastrophe! Eternal, perpetual dark, the childrenof men reduced to nothingness!" * * * * * A little gasp from Jaska, for it was plain that this thing Sarka hintedat was far and away beyond anything he had hitherto done--and Sarka hadalready performed miracles beyond any that had ever been done by hispredecessors. "When my grandfather, " went on Sarka moodily, "perfected, in thisself-same laboratory, the machinery by which the waters of the oceanscould be disintegrated, our enemies called him mad, and fought their wayup these mountain slopes to destroy him! With the pack at his doors, hedid as he had told them he would do. Though they hurried swiftly intothe great valleys to colonize them--where oceans had been--they werelike ravening beasts, and gave my grandfather no thanks. Our people havealways fought against progress, have always been disparaging of itsadvocates! When the first Sarka discovered the Secret they would havedestroyed him, though he made them immortal. .. . " "If only the Secret, " interrupted Jaska, "could be returned to him whodiscovered it! That would solve our problem, for men then would die andbe buried, leaving their places for others. " Again that weary smile on the face of Sarka. "Take back the Secret which is known to-day to every son and daughter ofwoman? Impossible! More nearly impossible than the attainment of my mostambitious dream!" "And that dream?" spoke Jaska with speeding fingers. "I have wondered about you, " said Sarka softly, while those eyes of hisbored deeply into hers. "We have been the best of friends, the best ofcomrades; but there are times when it comes to me that I do not know youentirely! And I have many enemies!" "You mean, " gasped the woman, for the moment forgetting the secret signmanual, "you think it possible that I--I--might be one of your enemies, in secret?" "Jaska, I do not know; but in this matter in my mind I trust no one. Iam afraid even that people will read my very thoughts, though I havelearned to so concentrate upon them that not the slightest hint of themshall go forth telepathically to my enemies! I do not mind death formyself; but our people must be saved! It is hideous to think that wehave been given the Secret of Life, only to perish in the end because ofit! I am sorry, Jaska, but I can tell no one!" But Jaska, one of the most beautiful and intelligent of Earth'sbeautiful and intelligent women, seemed not to be listening to Sarka atall, and when he had finished, she shrugged her shoulders slightly andprepared to leave. * * * * * He followed her to the nearest Exit Dome, built solidly into the side ofhis laboratory, and watched her as she slipped swiftly into the white, skin-tight clothing--marked on breast and back with the Red Lily of theHouse of Cleric. His eyes still were deeply moody. He helped her don the gleaming metal helmet in whose skull-pan was setthe Anti-Gravitational Ovoid--invented by Sarka the Second, used now ofnecessity by every human creature--and strode with her to the OuterExit, a door of ponderous metal sufficiently strong to prevent the innerwarmth of the laboratory getting out, or the biting cold of the heightsto enter, and studied her still as she buckled about her hips her ownpersonal Sarka-Belt, which automatically encased her, through contactwith her tight clothing, with the warmth and balanced pressure of thelaboratory, which would remain constant as long as she wore it. With a nod and a brief smile, she stepped to the metal door and vanishedthrough it. Sarka turned gloomily back to his laboratory. Looking intothe depths of the Revolving Beryl and adjusting the enlarging devicewhich brought back, life size, the infinitesmal individuals mirrored inthe Beryl, he watched her go--a trim white figure which flashed acrossthe void, from mountain-top to her valley home, like a very whiteprojectile from another world. Very white, and very precious, but. .. . When she was home, and had waved to him that she had arrived safely, heforgot her for a time, and allowed his eyes to study the inner workingsof this vast, crowded world whose on-rushing fate was so filling hisbrain with doubt, with fear--and something of horror! CHAPTER II _The People of the Hives_ Moodily Sarka stared into the depths of the Beryl, which represented theEarth, and in which he could see everything that earthlings did, aftervisually enlarging them, through use of a microscope that could beadjusted, with relation to the Beryl, to bring out in detail any sectionof the world he wished to study. His face was utterly sad. The people atlast truly possessed the Earth--all of it that was, even with the aid ofevery miracle known to science, habitable. The surface of the Earth was one vast building, like a hive, and to eachhuman being was allotted by law a certain abiding place. But men nolonger died, unless they desired to do so, and then only when theSpokesmen of the Gens saw fit to grant permission; and there soon wouldbe no place for the newborn to live. Even now that point had practicallybeen reached throughout the world, and in the greater portion it _had_been reached, and passed, and men knew that while men did not die, theycould be killed! The vast building, towering above what had once been the surface of theearth, to heights undreamed of before the discovery, was irregular onits top, to fit the contour of the earth, and its roof, constructed ofmaterials raped from the earth's core, was so designed as to catch andconcentrate the yearly more feeble rays of the sun, so that itslife-giving warmth might continue to be the boon of living people. * * * * * It had been found as Earth cooled that life was possible to a depth ofeight miles below the one-time surface, so that the one huge buildingextended below the surface to this great depth, and was divided andre-divided to make homes for men, their wives, and their progeny. Buteven so, space was limited. Neighboring families outgrew theirsurroundings, overflowed into the habitations of their neighbors--andevery family was at constant war against its neighbors. Men did not die, but they could be slain, and there was scarcely a home, above or below, in all the vast building, which had not planned andexecuted murder, times and times--or which had not left its own blood inthe dwelling places of neighbors. No law could cope with this intolerable situation, for men, down theages, had changed in their essential characteristics but little--andrecognized one law only in their extremity, that of self-preservation. So there was murder rampant, and mothers who wept for children, husbands, fathers or mothers, who would never return to their homes. "My grandfather, " whispered Sarka, his eyes peering deeply into acertain area beyond that assigned by law to the House of Cleric, wheremen of two neighboring families were locked in mortal, silent conflict, "should not have frustrated the mad scheme of Dalis! It was slaughter, wholesale and terrible, but it would have cleansed the souls of thesurvivors!" * * * * * Mentally Sarka was looking back now to that red day when Dalis, theclosest scientific rival of Sarka the First, had come to Sarka theFirst with his proposal which at the time had seemed so hideous. Sarkaremembered that interval in all its details, for he had heard it manytimes. "Sarka, " Dalis had said in his high-pitched voice, staring at Sarka theFirst out of red-rimmed, fiery eyes, "unless something is done the worldwill rush on to self-destruction! Men will slay one another! Fatherswill kill their sons, and sons their fathers, if something is not done!For always there is marrying and giving in marriage, and each family isreaching out in all directions, seeking merely space in which to live. Formerly there were wars which automatically took thought of theoverplus of men; but to-day the world is at peace, as men regard theterm--and every man's hand is against his neighbor! There will be nomore wars, when there should be! There is but one alternative!" "And that?" Sarka the First had queried suspiciously. "The segregation of the fittest! The destruction, swiftly, painlessly, of all the others! And when the survivors have again re-populated theearth to overflowing--a repetition of the same corrective! Men will die, yes, by millions; but those who are left will be a stronger, sturdierrace, and by this process of elimination, century by century, men willevolve and become super-men!" "And this plan of yours?" * * * * * For a moment Dalis had paused, breathing heavily, as though almostafraid to continue. Then, while Sarka the First had listened in frozenterror, Dalis had explained his ghastly scheme. "If it were not for the mountains and the valleys, " said Dalis, "and theworld were perfectly round and smooth of surface, that surface would becovered by water to the depth of one mile! Is that not correct! TheEarth, rotating on its axis, travels about the sun at the rate ofsomething like nineteen miles per second, so perfectly balanced thatthe oceans remain almost quiescent in their beds! But, Sarka, mark mewell! If we could, together, devise a way to halt this rotation for asmuch as a few seconds, what would happen?" "What would happen?" repeated Sarka the First, dropping his own voice toa husky, frightened whisper. "Why, the oceans would be hurled out oftheir beds, and a wall of water a mile high or more--it is allguesswork!--would rush eastward around the world, bearing everythingbefore it! It would uproot and destroy buildings, sweep the rockycovering of the earth free of soil; and humanity, caught on the earthbelow the highest level of the world's greatest tidal wave, would beengulfed!" "Exactly!" Dalis had said with a grin. "Exactly! Only--the people wewish to survive could be warned, and these could either be aloft whenthe tidal wave swept the face of the earth, or could be safely out ofreach of the waters on the sides of the highest mountains!" * * * * * Sarka the First, wanly smiling, catching his breath at last, now that herealized the utter impossibility of this mad scheme, had been minded tohumor the fancies of a man whom he had believed not quite sane. "Why not, " he began, "take away from men the Secret of Life, so thatthey will die, as formerly, when the world was young?" "When all the world knows the Secret, when even children learn it beforethey are capable of walking?" demanded Dalis sarcastically. "You couldonly remove knowledge of the Secret from the brains of men by removingthose brains themselves! Your thought is more terrible even than mine, because it leads to this inescapable conclusion!" "But supposing for a moment your mad scheme were possible, who shouldsay whom, of all the earth's people, should be saved, whom sacrificed?" "What better test could be given than that which I am proposing?" Dalishad snarled. "Those worthy of being saved would save themselves! Thosewho would perish would not be worth saving! As natural, as inescapableas the law of the survival of the fittest, which has been an axiom oflife since men first crawled out of the slime and asked each otherquestions as they caught their first glimpses of the stars and ponderedthe reasons for them!" "But where, then, was there any point in my giving to people the Secretof Life?" "Had you paused to think, " snapped Dalis, "you would never have done so!Your lust for power, and for fame, destroyed your foresight!" * * * * * "And is it not, Dalis, " replied Sarka the First, softly, "for this, really, that you have come to me? To berate me? To throw at my head madschemes impossible of accomplishment? I have always known you for anenemy, Dalis, because you are envious of what I have accomplished, whatyou sense that I will accomplish as time passes!" "I do not love you, Sarka!" retorted Dalis frankly. "I despise you! Hateyou! But I need the aid of that keen brain of yours! You see, hate youthough I may, I do you honor still. I have something up here, " tappingthe dome of his brow, only less lofty than that of Sarka, "which youlack. You have something I have not, never can attain! But together weare complements, each of the other, and to the two of us this scheme ispossible!" "I am very busy, Dalis, " Sarka the First had replied coldly. "I must askyou to leave me! What you propose is impossible, unthinkable!" "So, " retorted Dalis, "you think me mad? You think me incapable ofperfecting this plan about whose details you have not even yet beeninformed! You would show me the door as though you were a king and I aslave--when kings and slaves vanished from the earth millenniums ago!Then listen to me, Sarka! I know how to do this thing about which I havetold you. I can halt, for a brief moment only, the whirl of the earthabout its axis. And by so doing I can flood the earth with the waters ofthe oceans! If you will not listen to me, I shall do it myself! Youshall have two days in which to give me an answer, for I admit that Ineed you, who would balance me, make sure I made no fatal mistakes! Butif you do not, I will act . .. Along the lines I have hinted!" * * * * * Apparently as unconcerned as though he had not just listened to a schemefor almost total depopulation of the world, the destruction of millionsupon millions of lives, Sarka the First had dismissed Dalis--who hadstraightway used all his offices to arouse the world of science againstthe first Sarka. But, when the two days of grace given by Dalis had passed, there were nooceans--for Sarka the First had been planning for a century against thetime when the earth must of necessity be over-populated, and had workedand slaved in his laboratory against the contingency which haddeveloped. He had smiled, though there was a trace of fear on his face after Dalishad left, for _his_ scheme had been worked out--not to destroy, but tosave! And from this same laboratory in which Sarka now sat and pondered on thenext step in man's expansion, Sarka the First had, in fear and tremblingat first, but with his confidence growing by leaps and bounds, workedhis own miracle. Untold millions and billions of rays, whose any portionof which, coming in contact with water, immediately separated itshydrogen and oxygen, thus disintegrating its molecules, were hurledforth from their store-houses beneath the laboratory, across the facesof the mighty oceans of Earth. .. . And when men saw the miracle, they rushed into the mighty valleys wherethe oceans had been, and began to build new homes! * * * * * That had been centuries ago--scores of centuries. Now all the earth, all the livable part of the earth, above itssurface--and below it to the depths of miles--was filled with people, like bees in a monster hive, like ants of antiquity in their warrenedhills. And there was no place now that they could go. So they fought among themselves for the right to live. "But my grandfather was right!" Sarka almost screamed it, speaking aloudin the silence of his laboratory. "My grandfather was right! Dalis waswrong! Science should be the science of Life, not of Death! Yet whithershall we go! Where now shall we find places for our people who are dailybeing born in myriads, to live, and love and flourish?" But there was no answer. Only the humming of the perpetually revolvingBeryl, which showed to the sad eyes of Sarka that the people of hisbeloved earth were rushing onward to Chaos, unless. .. . "If only I could be sure about Jaska!" he moaned. "If only my couragewere as great as that of which I stand in need! For if I fail, evenDalis, had he succeeded with that scheme of his in grandfather's time, would be less a monster, less a criminal!" CHAPTER III _The Spokesmen of the Gens_ For a long moment Sarka looked broodingly out across the world beyondthe metalized glass which formed the curving dome of his laboratoryroof. There was little that could be seen, for always the mighty, coldwinds, ruffed with flurries of snow and particles of ice, swept overthis artificial roof of the world. Here and there huge portions of thearea within the range of his normal vision were swept clear and clean ofsnow and ice--and looked bluely, bitterly cold and hostile. Without the Sarka-Belts, people who ventured forth from their hiveswould instantly freeze to the consistency of marble in those winds andstorms. For the people of Earth had built their monster habitationtoward the stars until they reached up into the altitude of perpetualcold. Only under that gleaming roof was there warmth. Many of the men, andwomen, and children who had lost in the now century-old fight forsurvival had merely been tossed out of the hives. A painless, swiftdeath--but each death, in a world so highly specialized that each grownperson fitted into his niche naturally and easily, was a distinct loss, not much, perhaps, but enough for the loss to be felt. * * * * * Sarka, closing his eyes for a moment as though to shut out a horrorwhich in his mind he could visualize, turned back to the RevolvingBeryl, in which he kept in constant touch with all parts of the world atwill. "It _must_ be done!" he muttered. "I must take action. It means the lossof thousands, perhaps millions of lives, in such a war as the mind ofman has not hitherto conceived; but for a Cause greater than any whichhas ever hitherto been an excuse for armed conflict. But I must discussit with the Spokesmen of the Gens!" On the table before Sarka was a row of vari-colored lights, whose sourcewas beneath the floor of the laboratory, out of the heart of themaster-mountain, part of the intricate machinery of this laboratorywhich had been almost twenty centuries in the perfecting. In thedwelling place of each of the Spokesmen was a single light, colored likeone of the lights on Sarka's table. To speak with any one of theSpokesmen Sarka had but to dim the properly colored light by covering itwith the palm of his hand. The light in the home of the thus signalledSpokesman was dimmed, and the Spokesman would know that Sarka desiredto converse with him. Sarka noted the blue light, and shuddered. For if he covered it with hispalm it would summon Dalis, a great scientist, but an erratic one, asSarka the First had so clearly shown. Sarka turned again to the Beryl. The area of which Dalis was Spokesmanwas, roughly speaking, that part of what had once been the PacificOcean, north of a line drawn east and west through the southernmost ofthe Hawaiian Islands, northward to the Pole. The home of Dalis was inthe heart of what had once been an island historians claimed had beencalled Oahu, now a mountain peak still retaining a hint of thepre-Discovery name: Ohi. * * * * * The total number of the Spokesmen, the oldest of earth's inhabitants, was twelve, and the remainder of the Earth not under the tutelary ruleof Dalis was divided up among the other eleven Spokesmen. Cleric, forexample, father of Jaska, was Spokesman of that area which men had oncecalled Asia, the vast valleys of the once Indian Ocean and theMediterranean; while the youngest of the Spokesmen, in a manner servinghis apprenticeship, was tutelary head of the vast plateau once calledAfrica. The name of this man was Gerd. "He, at least, " thought Sarka, thinking of each Spokesman in turn andcataloguing each in his mind, "will be with me. I wonder about theothers, and especially Dalis. He has always hated us!" Then, with the air of a man who has made up his mind and crosses hisparticular Rubicon in a single step, Sarka rose to his feet and passedalong the row of vari-colored lights, covering each one with his hand inrapid succession. Then he sat down again, almost holding his breath, and waited. As hestared at the row of lights his eyes lingered longest on two which werealmost golden in color--and his face was very gentle, almost reverent. For those two lights were signals to Sarka the First and Sarka theSecond, his grandfather and his father! * * * * * It was Dalis, the irascible, the fiery tempered, the erratic, who firstmade answer. "Yes! What is it now?" Sarka smiled a trifle grimly as he spoke a single word. "Wait!" The voice of Dalis, which Sarka had good cause to remember, had soundedas loudly in the laboratory as though Dalis had been present there inperson, for men had learned to communicate by voice almost without theaid of radio and its appurtenances though the principle upon which thefirst crude beginnings of radio were fashioned still applied. Each man'sdwelling place was both a "sender" and a "receiver, " and men could talkand be talked to no matter where they lived--individuals telepathicallysummoned at desire of anyone wishing verbal contact. "Gerd is here!" came the voice of that Spokesman. To him also Sarka spoke one word. "Wait!" "I am here, Sarka!" came a musical voice. "And Jaska is with me, listening!" That would be Cleric, loyal friend, master scientist, but always shy ofcontact with people, though swift to anger and self-forgetfulness whenhe knew himself right and was opposed. Sarka darted a look back at theRevolving Beryl, adjusted swiftly the Beryl-microscope, and smiled intothe faces of Jaska and Cleric, who looked enough alike that they mighthave been brother and sister, though Cleric had been born ten centuriesbefore his daughter Jaska. They smiled back at him. * * * * * He shifted the Beryl-microscope and stared for a second at Dalis, therein the Beryl, and marked the antagonism Dalis was at no pains to hide. One by one the Spokesmen reported. Klaser, from the Americas; Durce from the valleys of the vanishedAtlantic; Boler from that part of the Artic Circle not included in thewedge which the Gens of Dalis thrust northward to the Pole: Vardee;Prull; Yuta; Aal; Vance and Hime. Each from his appointed area, eachfrom the official headquarters of his Gens, the name given to thosepeople who acknowledged the tutelage of a Spokesman. Each Spokesman, therefore, was the mouthpiece of millions of men, women and children. And over the Spokesmen, and not themselves Spokesmen, were threescientists: The Sarkas, First, Second and Third. When all twelve of the Spokesmen had reported and been bidden by Sarkato wait, a smile touched the face of Sarka for an instant as two othervoices, so nearly alike they might have been the voice of a singleperson, reported themselves. "I am here, son! What is it?" Oddly enough, Sarka's father and grandfather reported with exactly thesame words. Sarka smiled at a whimsical thought of his own. It had beensome time since the three scientist Sarkas had been together, anddespite the vast differences in their ages they might have beentriplets! * * * * * The reports were in and the Spokesmen were waiting; but for almost aminute Sarka waited still. Then he spoke swiftly those words for whichthere could be no recall: "Gentlemen, the time is come when we must go to war!" For a long moment after he had spoken there was no answer. Then it came, in the jeering laughter of the antagonistic Dalis. "War? Against whom? The Sarkas are always dreaming!" "And Dalis, " continued Sarka, "shall be one of the leaders of Earthlingsin this war which I am about to propose! You doubtless recall a proposalyou once made to Sarka the First? Your proposal to halt for a fewmoments the headlong whirl of the earth about its axis, thus toflood--" "Stop!" interrupted Dalis. "Stop! Immediately!" And Sarka stopped. He had forgotten, in the excitement of his urge toexplain his plans, that the millions of people who gave officialallegiance to Dalis had never been informed of the hideous proposal hehad made, back there centuries ago, as a corrective for a world rapidlyapproaching over-population. Had his people known, never again would thevoice of Dalis be heard in life. The Spokesmen knew, and the Sarkas; butno others. Sarka understood the protest of Dalis; honored it. "Dalis, " he went on, more softly, "after I have explained what I wish todo, you will come to me here, prepared to explain to me exactly how youplanned doing what you proposed to my grandfather--for your knowledgewill be necessary to me. .. . " "Isn't it enough that your grandfather stole from me, and amplified, anidea that would have made me forever famous, without his grandson alsostealing the fruit of my brains?" "Your brains, " said Sarka sharply, "belong to your people. What I planis for their betterment. But it means war, war which may last a century, two centuries, in which lives of countless thousands may be lost. " * * * * * Sarka's last words were almost drowned out by the humming sound thatcame out of the Revolving Beryl, that perfected device which was theultimate in the evolution of television and vibration-transference. Sarka's heart sank, for he knew the meaning of that sound. So did theSpokesmen. "You see?" came the rasping voice of Dalis. "You hear? Look into yourBeryl! See the clenched fists of the earth's myriads being shaken atyou! Listen to the protests of the millions who hear your every word!See what Earthlings think of the prospect of war!" For a moment Sarka spoke directly to the people. "Be silent and listen! It will be war, yes; but not such a skulking, hideous war as ye wage among yourselves for a place to live! You, fathers, are guilty of slaying your sons! You, sons, of slaying yourfathers! Merely by thrusting them forth from the hives, into the OuterCold! This war I propose shall be a war that shall match your manhood, if ye indeed be men! Listen to me, and I will find for you new lands toconquer, new homes for your holding, if ye can take them!" "But where, " interrupted the sarcastic voice of Dalis, "are these newlands of which you speak? Inside the Earth? Already our hives reach intothe Earth a distance of eight miles. Where else, then?" "For shame, Dalis!" snapped Sarka, "and you a scientist! Every bit ofhabitable land on this globe is some man's dwelling place! Spokesmen ofthe Gens of Earth, look out your windows! Look out and upward--and readDalis' answer in the stars!" * * * * * For a full minute there was silence throughout the earth, and Sarka sawthat the Spokesmen were doing his bidding. He himself looked out, outthrough the swirling storm which tore at the crest of the Himalayas, adark and forbidding Outside, in the starred dome of which rode the paleorbed moon! "It is obvious, son, " came the voice of Sarka the First, "what you mean. But how accomplish it?" "Fifteen centuries ago, my father's father, " cried Sarka, "Dalis toldyou that he possessed the power to halt for a moment the headlong whirlof the world on its axis about the sun! He could do it then--and no man, whatever he may think of Dalis as a man, has ever known him to lie! If, fifteen centuries ago, he could bring the whirling world to pause, whycan we not, now. .. . " And, even though he had thought of this for years upon end, had spokenover and over to himself the words he was now using, rehearsing hisproposed argument to the Spokesmen of the Gens, Sarka found himself fora moment almost afraid to continue and speak them. "I understand, Sarka!" came the excited voice of Gerd, youngest of theSpokesmen. "And I follow wherever you think it best to lead! You mean. .. You mean. .. . " "Exactly!" Sarka managed at last. "If the Earth can be stayed on itsaxis, it can be diverted from its orbit entirely! I know, for I havefound the manner of its doing, though I need the genius of Dalis tocheck my work and my calculations! We have no new land on this Earth toconquer; but the Universe is filled with countless other worlds! Whatsay ye, Spokesmen of the Gens? What say ye, Gens of Earth?" But for the time of a thousand heartbeats neither the Spokesmen or theGens made answer to Sarka, and all the world fell utterly silent, absorbing this unbelievable thing of which Sarka had hinted. * * * * * Over the metalized roof of the world the snows and storms, the winds andthe wraiths of the long dead moaned and screamed as with an icy voice ofabysmal warning. And for the time of those thousand heartbeats, the world was pausing tolisten. When realization came, the answer would come from the Spokesmen and fromthe Gens; and here in the Sarka laboratory, his Rubicon crossed at last, sat Sarka, staring through the Beryl-microscope into the depths of theRevolving Beryl. His face was dead white, his eyes narrowed. The first voice which came startled him. "It is mad, Sarka! Mad! Mad! But I am with you, always!" It was the voice of Jaska, daughter of Cleric! CHAPTER IV _The Earthlings Make Ready_ "I too, am with you!" came the voice of Gerd. "Spoken like a child!" snapped Dalis. "For you are as much a child asthis third of the dreaming Sarkas! The scheme is mad, madder even thanJaska intimates! The scheme I once proposed, in which I was cheated bythe grandfather of this madman, was times and times more feasible andpracticable!" "Suppose, " came the soft voice of Sarka the First, interrupting Dalis, "that you put the matter up to your Gens, O wise and noble Dalis, andsee which scheme they would endorse if given the choice in thematter--and were your scheme still possible!" This quickly silenced the vituperation of Dalis, but in no wiseprevented his continuance as a rather loud antagonist of the plan. "How, " he demanded, "can you return the Earth to its orbit, evengranting you are able to take this initial step? How keep life on theEarth during its flight on this rainbow-chasing voyage you propose?" "All these things have been taken into consideration, O Dalis!" retortedSarka. "All of my scheme is practicable, as I think you will agree whenI have told you its details. What think you of the plan, Klaser? Andyou, Durce? Boler? Vardee? Prull? Yuta? Aal? Vance? Hime?" When the Spokesmen had answered, some of them hesitantly, for the peopleall this time had remained silent--and none of the Spokesmen could besure how his own Gens would feel in the matter--it developed that sevenof the Spokesmen were for the scheme, if it should prove to be possible. "If this is the voice of the majority of the Gens, " snapped Dalis, "given thus by their Spokesmen, then I vote with the majority! I shallcall upon you immediately, Sarka, for a conference!" * * * * * "I am glad, " said Sarka softly, "that the majority of the Spokesmen arewith me. Especially am I glad that Dalis and Cleric vote with me. Forthe others I have only this to say: I have thought this matter over foralmost a century, and I know that the time has come when we must act, tosave ourselves from self-destruction. Had you not decided with me, Ishould have acted alone!" "Yes?" snapped Dalis. "How?" "I have, here in my laboratory, " replied Sarka, "the power whereby toaccomplish the scheme of which I have told you! Had all the Gens defiedme, I would have nevertheless sent the Earth outward on its voyage, bringing it within reach of the denizens, first of the Moon, second ofMars--and you people of little courage would have been compelled tofight to save yourselves!" "You would have forced us into war?" came the quavering voice of Prull, the first Spokesman aside from Dalis to take active part in thediscussion. "Then why, if you had the means in the beginning to enforceyour will upon us, confer with us at all?" Sarka thrilled with satisfaction, for this question gave him the excusehe sought. He had been wondering and scheming how to compel theSpokesmen of the Gens to obey his will. "I wanted your opinions, " he said shortly. "But I also wish you to knowthat I have the power to go on, whether you wish it or not--_and youmust obey me!_" * * * * * How would the twelve Gens take this ultimatum of Sarka? For breathlessmoments after he had spoken he waited, and the Spokesmen with him. Thencame the voice of Cleric, addressing his people, yet leaving thecontacts open so that Sarka and the other Spokesmen might hear. "What say you, O Gens of Cleric?" he cried, his voice an exultant, clarioning paean of rejoicing. "Do we follow this man who promises uslife again? Do we follow this man who promises us that once again weshall dwell in plenty, without the blood of relatives and neighbors onour hands? Answer this man, O Gens--for I say unto you that wheresoeverhe leads I would follow him!" Silence for a heartbeat. Then a murmuring like the sound of the waves ofthe long-vanished seas sounded in the laboratory, wherein all thingswere seen, all sounds were heard. A monster voice, loud and savage, fromthe Gens of Cleric. "We follow Cleric wherever he leads!" Finally the words becameintelligible. "It matters not to us whom Cleric follows, so long as wemay follow Cleric!" "Well spoken, O Gens of Cleric!" snapped Sarka when the murmuring dieddown to a whisper, then faded out entirely. "Deck yourselves in thewhite garments of Cleric! Emblazon upon your backs and breast the RedLily of his House! Prepare for war! These are your orders; the details Ileave to Cleric!" There came the voice Dalis. "Give your orders to my Gens direct, O Sarka!" rasped Dalis. "For Ileave this very moment to come to you!" "Thank you, " said Sarka, a great wave of exaltation sweeping over him. He had expected Dalis to be the last and most difficult to manage. Thento the Gens of Dalis, as the blue light on the table in the laboratoryshowed Sarka that Dalis was already winging toward him: "Deck yourselvesin the green garments of Dalis! Wear as your insignia the yellow star ofhis House, and prepare for war! Make new and modern Ray Directors!Refurbish your rotting machines of destruction! Make ready, and makehaste! For the Gens of Dalis will be the first of all the Gens to movein attack against the Dwellers Outside! When the time comes I shall tellyou where you shall dwell--if you win the land I shall show you!" * * * * * The humming of myriad voices inside the laboratory was now almostcontinuous, but ever the words of Sarka went out to the Spokesmen and tothe Gens, though, save in the case of Cleric and of Dalis, he did notspeak to the Gens direct, because he did not wish in one iota to usurpthe authority of the Spokesmen themselves. But when less than an hour had passed, he realized that the first stephad been successfully taken, and that from now on the success or failureof the scheme rested in his own hands. Perspiration bedewed hisforehead, and for a second he prayed. "God of our fathers! Grant that we be not mistaken! Grant that we beright in what we plan! Grant that success attend our arms! Grant thatthis scheme of mine lead us not to catastrophe--for if this shoulddevelop, only I am guilty, and only I should be punished!" "Amen!" As one voice, the Spokesmen of the Gens spoke the word, and Sarka heardit. He had forgotten for the moment that the Spokesmen still could hearhim. "That is all, " he said huskily. "Prepare your Gens, each of you, forsuch battle as even our histories never have recorded! For we go againstfoemen whose strength we do not know, whose manner of life we do notknow, and we must not fail! Make haste with your preparations! Your timeis short! And Spokesmen, counsel your Gens that they put aside at onceall personal differences, all family quarrels, all quarrels with theirneighbors! That each adult individual, each unmarried woman, and suchmarried woman as have all their children grown, and who no longer needthem, prepare to go forth to battle! From this laboratory, within abrief space, Dalis and the Sarkas will give you further word!" * * * * * Then he dimmed the lights, and severed contact with the Spokesmen of theGens. Only two lights he did not dim, at the moment, and to two men hespoke softly. "My father and my father's father! Come to me at once! For there shallbe need of the combined genius of the Sarkas if my scheme is tosucceed!" From both Sarkas, as though they had rehearsed the words against thisneed of them, came answer: "Aye, son, we come!" From that moment on until Dalis and the Sarkas were ready to take themost momentous step ever taken in the history of the world, the hummingwithin the laboratory did not cease. For the people, the millions andbillions of people of the hives, were busy, eagerly and feverishly busy, preparing new armament, new engines of destruction, against the timewhen there should be need of them. And for perhaps the first time incenturies, the people were happy. For not even the passage of a thousand centuries, or a thousand thousandcenturies, could flush from the warm hearts of men the love of conflict! Sarka smiled wanly, his face very pale. He had spoken, his people werebusy with preparations, and now there could be no turning back. Theworld, when he spoke the word, would rush outward to gloriousconflict--or to destruction! A buzzer sounded near the Exit Dome. Sarka raced to give the "Enter"Signal--and Dalis, he of the hawk-eyes, the sharp nose and sharpertongue, entered the presence of the man who, in a twinkling, had madehimself master of the world. "Well, " he said harshly, "I am here! What do you wish of me?" "We Sarkas, " said Sarka easily, "wish to assure ourselves that you willdo nothing to obstruct our plans! Dalis, of the Gens of Dalis, you areprisoner of the Sarkas until you have passed your word!" "That I will never do!" said Dalis calmly. "I have passed my word to goforward with you; but I meant, and you knew I meant, to go forward onlyas far as to me seemed right and reasonable!" CHAPTER V _The Betrayal of Dalis_ And until the arrival of the other two Sarkas, Dalis said nothing. Hisface flushed an angry red as Sarka the First received the "Enter" Signaland stepped into the laboratory which had once been his--which he haddelivered into the capable hands of Sarka the Second, in order to findnew channels for his genius, as a worker for the betterment of theworld's people. This he had found in organization, so that the peopleworked and labored, despite their personal quarrels, in closer harmonythan they ever had before. But now Sarka the Third had called, and thetwo Sarkas responded. Dalis snarled at his ancient enemy, who looked tobe the image of Sarka the Third and not one whit older, though one hadpreceded the other into the world by many centuries. "Still the pleasant, congenial Dalis, I see!" smiled Sarka the First. * * * * * For the moment it seemed that Dalis would die there of his seethinganger; but he answered no word for all of a minute. Then: "This mad grandson of yours has made me a prisoner, until such time as Iconcur in all his plans!" "If he says you are a prisoner, that you are!" snapped the elder Sarkaangrily. "Son, what is this thing you plan?" "For almost a century, " replied Sarka, "I have been planning this. Iknew, when father told me that Dalis had sworn he was able to halt for amoment the headlong flight of the Earth in its orbit, that Dalis did notlie or bluff! In your day, even, that was possible, and I continued withthe knotty problem until I deduced the manner of its doing. I, too, canhalt the Earth's rotation, or throw it out of its orbit! I took youridea, Dalis, _independently_ of you, knowing you would never revealyour secret to a Sarka, and amplified it until I can not only halt theEarth in its orbit, but throw it out of its orbit entirely!" For a moment Sarka studied the angry face of Dalis, and his own was verythoughtful. "Dalis, " he said at last, "I wish you were not our enemy! For you are agenius, and the world has need of all the knowledge of such genius as itpossesses. Why do you oppose us?" "Because, " snarled Dalis, "I guessed something of your plan that I donot like! I do not like the Sarkas, never have; but neither have theSarkas any love for me! When you spoke to us all, I knew that somehowyou had discovered the secret! You spoke, when you delivered yourultimatum, of attacking the Moon, and after it Mars! You also granted tomy Gens what would have seemed a great honor--to anyone who did notfathom the tricky scheming of the Sarkas!--that of being the first intothe fray! If we are to be first, and the Moon is to be the firstattacked, then you plan to relieve the world forever of me, yourarch-enemy, by exiling me and all my Gens upon the Moon! A dead world, covered with ashes, whose people dwell in dank caverns, like gnomes ofthe underworld. .. . " * * * * * "Stay!" snapped Sarka. "But I granted you a greater honor even thanthat, Dalis! I planned on your Gens, led by you, making a successfulconquest of the Moon--because only such a genius as Dalis could forcefrom this dead world a living for his Gens! Because you are the wisestof the Spokesmen, I planned for you the greatest task! Because I needyou . .. I do not slay you!" "I thank you, " bowing low, with the deepest sarcasm, "but you honor metoo much! And tell me, pray, if it is not true that you plan for theSarkas their choice of the best and newest worlds of the Universe?" Sarka did not answer for a second, while his sensitive nostrils quiveredwith fury. The Sarkas had not noticed, but Jaska, daughter of Cleric, had admitted herself through the Exit Dome, in a way known only to Sarkaand to herself, as she had entered many times before so as not todisturb Sarka at his labors. She now stood silently there, divestingherself of her Belt and outer clothing, beneath which was the goldentoga worn by all the women of the earth. Dalis, however, had seen her, and his eyes narrowed craftily as he awaited the answer of Sarka. "Dalis, " said Sarka softly, "it is not for you to question me, but toobey me! I have not undertaken this step without mastering all itsdetails, and I refuse to allow you to swerve me in a single one of themfrom my plan. " * * * * * Dalis straightened, standing stiffly at savage attention, and met theangry eyes of Sarka without flinching. There was no fear in Dalis, asall the world knew. But he was a schemer, and selfish. "After all, " he said, "I have known Sarkas to make promises they couldnot keep! How do I know, how does the world know, that you can do whatyou say you can do?" "If, " said Sarka, "I close all contact of this laboratory with the worldoutside, so that none may hear what I say save we four, and I thenwhisper here the secret you never told, Dalis, when my father's fatherrefused to help you--will you then believe?" The face of Dalis went suddenly white, but he nodded, his eyes burningredly. Jaska moved closer to the men, who stood near the table of thevari-colored lights. "You needed my father's father, " said Sarka softly, "because the secretof your scheme rested here in this laboratory, which is the highestpoint in the world! You pretended to need him in your scheme; but youdid not need my father's father, though you _did_ need his laboratory, and some of the facts of science that _he_ discovered. So you came tohim with your scheme, discovered that he believed, though he denied it, your scheme was possible--because he refused to aid you in it! Then, asan excuse to re-enter this laboratory, you told him you would returnwithin two days! Now, shall I tell you your secret?" * * * * * The lips of Dalis were moving soundlessly. His right hand started torise, as though he would make it signal the negative he was unable for amoment to speak. But even as he stood there, swaying slightly on hisfeet, Sarka dashed to the lights on the table, disconnecting them one byone; to the Revolving Beryl, which then ceased to revolve for the firsttime in centuries--whirled when he had finished, and stepped to the verycenter of the room. "Now, " he whispered, "your secret, Dalis!" Still the hand upraised, still Dalis tried to speak, and could not. Sarka spoke, in a hoarse, almost terrified whisper, four words: "The Beryl! The Ovoids!" Gasps of surprise from the other two Sarkas, whose eyes for a secondflashed to the huge Beryl, which now was still, silent--and blind. Dawning comprehension was evident in their faces. "The success of the Revolving Beryl, " whispered Sarka, "which sees allthat transpires in this world, depends on one fact: that its revolvingis proportionately timed to infinite exactness with the revolution ofthe Earth about its axis! This Beryl is the Master Beryl of the Earth, which was why Dalis needed this Beryl, and could use no other!" * * * * * "Suppose that for a period of two days, uniformly progressive, thisBeryl were forced to revolve in sharp jerks at an increasing rate ofspeed! With all connections in place, and all the world's Beryls attunedto the speed of this one--what would happen? What would happen if asingle Gens were marshalled in warlike array atop the area of the Gens, and kept up a steady, rhythmic march for a period of hours?" "In a few hours, " whispered Sarka the First, "the roof of the Gens areawould begin to vibrate, to vibrate throughout all the area, and eveninto all surrounding Gens areas--and in time the roof would collapse!" "Exactly!" said Sarka, breathing heavily. "This Beryl, when attuned toall other Beryls in the world, would have this vibratory effect, notonly on a certain area of the world--but upon the entire world!--Forcethe speed of the Beryls to the uttermost limit, and you sway the worldto your will! As a marching horde would sway the roof of a vast sectionof the world if the horde's commander willed! "But that is not enough! The world would tremble, but nothing more! TheEarth's store of Ovidum, which is Anti-Gravitational, and used in minutequantities in our Anti-Gravitational Ovoids, is evenly distributedthroughout the world. By vibration of the Beryls I can control it, scatter it or gather it all together wherever I will! By shiftingthrough vibration this Anti-Gravitational material, I can disrupt, makeuneven, or nullify the pull of gravity on the Earth!" "That would do it, " said Dalis, finding his voice at last; "but howwould you control the course the Earth would take, thus thrown out ofits orbit?" "That, my dear Dalis, is for the moment my secret!" "But is it?" Dalis suddenly shouted. * * * * * Before the three Sarkas could recover from their surprise at the man'ssudden vehemence, he made a swift, terrifying move. He leaped away fromthem to stand beside Jaska, daughter of Cleric. "Sarka, " he shrieked, "I know you love this woman! Note this little tubeI hold against her side. With it I can cause her to vanish for all time, merely by a slight pressure of the fingers! And that will I do, unlessyou immediately open all contacts with the world and remain silent whileI tell the people of Earth how you would betray them!" The three Sarkas were petrified with amazement and horror, for theyrecognized the slender tube in the hand of Dalis as a Ray Director, theworld's greatest engine of destruction, and knew that it would doexactly as Dalis had said it would. Automatically, because they were brave men, they had stepped a triflecloser to Jaska and Dalis. Perspiration poured from their cheeks as theystared at this rebel. But their fears were for Jaska, who now spoke forthe first time. "Let him do as he wills, " she said smilingly, "since for the good of theworld I do not fear to die! Refuse him, Sarka, and know that I go intoDeath's Darkness loving you always, and knowing that you will succeed inthe end, in spite of the opposition of men like Dalis!" * * * * * A man of unexpected actions, this Dalis, for while the attentions of theSarkas were on the little tableau he had staged, his eyes had darted tothe Beryl, to the control which Sarka had touched to still itsrevolving. Now he sprang away from Jaska, was free of her and the Sarkasbefore any could move to intercept him. He dashed to the Beryl. Instantly it swept into motion, while Daliswhirled to face the Sarkas, and from his lips came a burst of triumphantlaughter. One hand was on the Beryl Control, the other still held theRay Director. "Fools!" he cried. "Fools! Duped like children! And now it is Dalis whois master of the world! Move closer to me, and I will turn my RayDirector upon this Beryl, which you have so kindly informed me is masterof all the Beryls and of all Ovidum deposits! Be glad that I do not turnit upon you; but for you I have a kinder, more honorable fate! I now ammaster, and will direct the destiny of the world! But I will neverleave it, because I suspect that it is the most pleasant of all theworlds! I will, however, choose for the Sarkas a world that shall be thedreariest in all the Universe!" The Sarkas whirled as soft laughter came from Jaska, daughter of Cleric. Strange, lilting laughter. They turned in time to see her vanish throughthe Exit Dome; but for a long moment her jeering laughter seemed tosound in the laboratory she had left-and, to judge by her laughter, hadbetrayed! For Dalis, arch-traitor, echoed her laughter! CHAPTER VI _The Beryls in Tune_ "Remember, " said Dalis, as the Beryl began to revolve and its hummingmounted moment by moment to normal, "that you must concur in whatever Isay to the people of the Earth--for if you do not, I swear that I willdestroy this Master Beryl! Then what happens to your scheme, Sarka theThird? You see, there is no change in the plans, save one: I am themaster, not you!" Dalis was not a madman, for the world conceded him place in its list ofgeniuses next below the three Sarkas, which was high honor indeed; butDalis possessed in abundance that most universal of all humanemotions--jealousy. For centuries he had been nursing it, watching theSarkas always in the niches just above him, yet never being able toattain to their eminence. Now. .. . He had outwitted them. It might be for a moment only, but while hismastery lasted he would drink deeply of personal satisfaction. Now, however, there was no gloating in his face, for he realized, as Sarkahad realized, the infinite gravity of the whole situation. If a mistakewere made, the world would plunge to destruction--or go cooling foreverin a headlong race through space. "I keep the Ray Director hidden, " he whispered, while the murmuring ofthe Master Beryl mounted as it gained speed again, "but know you, Sarkas, that its muzzle points at the Master Beryl, always!" * * * * * Now the forms of Earth were appearing on the Beryl. Men in countlesshordes were maneuvering in myriads, legions and armies, across the faceof the globe. There was no marching, but an effortless, swift as lightalmost, aerial maneuvering. For each human being possessed thetight-fitting metalized cloth, with the gleaming helmet in whoseskull-pan was the Anti-Gravitational Ovoid, which was the "outside"garment of earthlings. With the Ovoid sitting exactly against the skull, man had but to will himself in any direction, at any livable height, andthe action took place. In the same way, one man, to whom others in anorganization gave allegiance by appointment, could will all hisunderlings into whatever formation he desired. As beautiful and effortless at the flight of those birds which hadvanished from the earth centuries before. "Remember, Dalis, " said Sarka, "that while the speed of the Earth in itsorbit is between eighteen and nineteen miles per second, once thrown outof its orbit, and forced to follow a straight or nearly straight line, the speed may be many times that-or much less!" "The simplest facts of science, " snarled Dalis, "were known to me athousand years before you were born! Now I shall tell the Spokesmen ofthe Gens, and be sure that you second what I say!" He paused. Then, raising his voice impressively, he spoke. "O Spokesmen of the Gens, O Gens of Earth, hark ye to the words of Dalisand of Sarka! The time has come to try the experiment of which Sarkatold you, and which I, Dalis, of the Gens of Dalis, have found good, andhereby certify! See that all your Beryls are mathematically tuned tocatch every sound, every vibration, every picture, from this Beryl ofSarka, henceforth to be known as the Master Beryl! * * * * * "No matter what happens, no matter what changes take place in thetemperature of your homes, no matter what storms may come, touch notyour Beryls until instructed from this laboratory! Tune your Beryls, then leave them, and hasten faster with your preparations for war! EachSpokesman of a Gens will at once instruct the members of his Gens thatall partitions between families shall immediately be removed, outwardfrom a common center in each case, until one hundred families occupy asingle dwelling place. Materials from destroyed partitions shall becarefully hoarded, and the newer and bigger areas shall becomemaneuvering places for the hundred families which will occupy each givenarea! "Facing a crisis as we are, no thought can be given to privacy, andneighborly quarrels must be forgotten! This move is necessary because nosingle dwelling place is large enough to be used as a place ofmaneuver--and from now on until the command is given, maneuvers must notbe held Outside! For hark ye, O Spokesmen, O Gens of Earth, we are aboutto start upon our voyage into outer space! Spokesmen, call in yourmaneuvering myriads! You have five minutes!" In five minutes not a flying man could be seen in all the cold, stormyoutside. Dalis spoke again. "Tune your Beryls and remove partitions, taking care that in reducingpartitions you so estimate your stresses and strains that the roof ofthe world be not endangered by weight that is unsupported, or improperlysupported! "Food Conservers, redouble your production and rush your transportationof Food Capsules! "Mothers of men, take over the labors of your sons and your husbands!Sisters and sweethearts of men, join the myriads in maneuvers, for you, too, may require knowledge of fighting!" * * * * * In spite of himself, an ejaculation of admiration escaped the lips ofSarka. Hearing it, Dalis turned to him, and a flush of pleasure tingedhis cheeks as Sarka shaped one word with his lips: "Excellent!" Then, after a pause, Sarka spoke directly to the Gens of Earth. "Take heed of the words of Dalis, for they are also the words of theSarkas!" Then an expression of surprise flashed across the face of Sarka asDalis' fingers began to move in a swift sort of pantomime--for the signmanual he used was the secret manual of Jaska and Sarka! His heart coldwithin him at this new proof of her betrayal, Sarka nevertheless notedthe words which dropped silently off the fingers of this enemy of theSarkas. "You are wise to resist no further! Together we can do much, and if yougive your word not to oppose me, we can work together; but I will be themaster!" "But, if we grant you the mastery, will you heed our advice if it isgood?" "I will, but I alone will be the judge of its worth!" "Then we work together henceforth. Let us begin! In the time required tomove from here to the Moon, our people will have ample opportunity toperfect themselves in maneuvers! Are you ready, O my father, andfather's father?" "Ready!" they said together. * * * * * But for a moment Dalis hesitated. "Your word!" he snapped, looking ateach Sarka in turn, and each in his turn nodded. They had given theirword, but not their love, to Dalis. Dalis bowed low to Sarka theYoungest, who darted to the onyx base in which revolved the MasterBeryl, and pressed a small lever of metalized jade, set in a slot on thesouthern side of the base of onyx. The humming sound within the Berylbecame perceptibly louder, and as the minutes passed, and Sarka stood, arms folded, watching the Revolving Beryl, it continued to increase. Here was the crisis, and as they watched its sure, certain approach, they forgot their enmities, Dalis and the Sarkas, and watched thewhirling Beryl. Minute by minute its humming increased. The figuresstill were plain to be seen within the Beryl, but were becoming blurredof outline. Partitions had been removed all over the earth, increasingthe size of rooms a hundredfold, reducing their number a hundredfold. The Gens of Earth, by hundred-families, were maneuvering under the Headsof Hundreds. The depths of the Master Beryl, therefore, was a maze offlying men, with their extremities slightly blurred, and becoming moreso as the Master Beryl increased its speed. * * * * * Here now was shown the value of the organization fostered by Sarka theFirst--for in all the world there was no single Beryl out of tune withthe Master Beryl; and as the Master Beryl increased the speed of itsrevolving, so increased at the same time the speed of all the otherBeryls. Minute by minute the humming of the Master, and with it theothers, increased in volume. "Father!" spoke Sarka. "To the Observatory, behind the Beryl, please, towatch the stars, and from them to note the direction we take when thecombined vibrations of the Beryls have affected the quiescence ofEarth's deposits of Ovidum and, through its shifting, disturbed theflight of the Earth in its orbit!" With a brief nod Sarka's father hurried around the Master Beryl to thetiny Observatory beyond, from which, through the Micro-Telescopes, thosewho knew could read the secrets of the planets, the stars--the Universe. Sarka watched him go, wondering if Dalis might not forbid him. But Dalismerely watched him go and said nothing. * * * * * Now that the time of Change was upon the world, Dalis realized hisresponsibility. It was little wonder that he began to be for the firsttime a little bit afraid. "Note, Dalis!" snapped Sarka, and Dalis started nervously as his namewas spoken. "Feel the trembling of the laboratory, just as the sametrembling affects all the other buildings in the world in which Berylsare located. As the minutes pass the trembling will go deeper anddeeper, and by to-morrow the first tremors will be reaching into theEarth to several miles below the last habitable Inner Level! Andthen. .. . "Then, " repeated Sarka tersely, "my father will know by his study of thestars in which new direction we are traveling! For within twenty-fourhours the Earth will have started on its voyage of conquest!" "Is there no way, Sarka, " queried Dalis, "by which we can control thedirection of our flight!" "There _is_ a way, O wise and gallant Dalis! But since you do not knowit, who now is master?" Dalis' face became as pale as chalk, and Sarka smiled a little as hewatched him. Then, wondering what new resolve stirred the depths of thismaster egotist of the earth, he watched emotions flash to and fro acrossthe face of Dalis, watched the color return to his cheeks. The cold ofdeath gripped at his heart when Dalis spoke. "I do not fear death, O wise and gallant Sarka!" he mocked. "For I havelived fully and well, and for many, many centuries! You know that I donot fear to slay people of the Earth, for did I not propose to yourfather's father that a flood would be beneficial to unfit earthlings?Hear, then! Keep your secret, and I shall allow the Earth to go outwardinto space, out of control, in whatever direction it will. If any otherworlds happen to lie in our pathway. .. . " * * * * * Dalis shrugged indifferently, turning his back on Sarka, to peer againinto the depths of the Master Beryl, whose voice had risen to a vastermurmur, whose pictures were becoming moment by moment more blurred astime fled irrevocably into eternity. Sarka the First took advantage of his opportunity, and leaped at theback of Dalis, hands extended to fasten them in the throat of hisancient enemy. Dalis whirled, with a burst of laughter, and the muzzleof his Ray Director covered the person of the First Sarka. In a flashthe spot where Sarka the First had been was vacant, and there was nosingle sign to show that he had ever stood there! Silence then in the laboratory, save for the mounting murmur of theMaster Beryl! CHAPTER VII _Outer Space_ "He only proved a belief I have entertained for centuries!" snarledDalis. "That all the male Sarkas are fools--and the females for bearingthem!" Sarka said nothing, but within his breast a deep hatred was forming forDalis. He had disliked him before, and had been amused by him; but inthe busy life of Sarka there had been no time for hatred of anyone. Busypeople had no time for hatreds. "You should be torn to pieces for that, Dalis!" was all he said. "Weneeded my father's father in our efforts! But the loss to the world ofone super-genius cannot be balanced by slaying another--so you are safe! "What he could do, I can do!" snapped Dalis. Sarka turned away from him, seating himself beside the table of thevari-colored lights, and his heart was heavy as lead in his breast. Heblamed Jaska for much of this, and his heart was burdened, despite hertreachery, by the fact that he loved her, always would love her. Lovewas the one possession which made centuries of life desirable to men ofthe Earth. For men could spend centuries in seeking a true mate, knowingthat there were other centuries still in which to enjoy her. Woman wasman's greatest boon, his excuse for living, as was man excuse for woman. Through the centuries, when humankind remained forever young, the joy ineach other of those truly mated grew as their knowledge grew. .. . * * * * * And now Jaska had failed Sarka, when for half a century they had lovedeach other! Why had she done it? He had given her no reason to do so. Had there been some other reason? Why had she laughed, and left them, after the betrayal of the Master Beryl into the hands of Dalis? "Before God, " whispered Sarka, "I believe that you, Jaska, were playinga game to dupe Dalis, as he played a game to dupe us!" Down in his heart he was not sure. But somehow, just to whisper tohimself his faith in Jaska, gave it back to him in some measure, and byso much lightened the weight upon his heart. For now hisresponsibilities were greater than they had ever been before, and he hadneed of all his faculties. "She'll come back, or somehow communicate with me, and explaineverything, " he told himself. But he refused to ponder on how Dalis thebetrayer had gained possession of the secret sign manual he had believedknown only to Jaska and himself. That, too, might be explainedsatisfactorily, for Dalis was cunning. From the side of the laboratory opposite the Revolving Beryl came a softtinkling sound, like the striking of a musical bell. Sarka rose wearily, strode to the wall, where a narrow aperture opened, in which rested FoodCapsules sufficient for one meal for three men. He smiled wryly. Theyknew then, the Food Conservers deep in the earth as they were, thatSarka the First was no more--and sent food for three men! All the worldknew, perhaps, yet no single person had raised voice in protest--or ifany had, the mounting murmur of the Beryls had drowned it out. * * * * * "Sarka!" spoke Dalis suddenly. "At what time do you estimate that theflight of the Earth in its orbit will be materially affected?" "It is being affected this moment, Dalis, shifting the Ovidum store!"said Sarka shortly. "Within twelve hours we will be in readiness tostart our journey!" Remaining absolutely motionless within the domed laboratory, it was nowpossible to feel the ever so slight motion, not only of the laboratory, but of the mountain crest upon which it rested. Not so much a to-and-fromotion as a round-about motion. Just as the slightest sound flies outward through space endlessly, andthe slightest vibration moves outward until the end of time and ofspace, Sarka knew that the vibration set up by the Beryl, slight thoughit was, was already being felt at the Poles of the Earth. Not enough tobe noticed there, but existant, just the same. "In twelve hours the world will be fighting against this combinedvibration and Anti-Gravitational Force we are starting, and second bysecond accelerating, " Sarka explained to Dalis: "fighting to remain onits pathway about the Sun! But we will win against it, and with each newvibration, each succeeding one being more strongly felt, we will forcethe Earth that much more against the _pull_ which holds it in itsorbit!" The laboratory was trembling. The mountain beneath it was trembling. Both in accordance with scientific design. There was no element ofchance in it, for the mountain moved, and the laboratory on its crestmoved, as science willed. It was now difficult for Sarka to remain stillwhere he sat, for the trembling was exciting his heart action, andcausing the blood to rush to his cheeks, making him feverish. He roseto his feet and began pacing the floor. He strode to the jade lever, moved it ahead a fraction of a fraction ofan inch, and perceptibly the murmuring of the Beryl increased, as didthe trembling of the laboratory and of the mountain. * * * * * Twelve hours later exactly, Sarka shouted a single word to Dalis. "Now!" The laboratory was swinging about in a sort of circle in a way that madeone dizzy if one remained still for the merest second. Sarka, glancingout into the Outside, across which blew the storms of the heights, andnoting that no cracks appeared in the surface of the world's vast roof, knew that this swaying motion had been transmitted evenly to all theEarth, and that, so far at least, his calculations had been correct. But Dalis was in a cold sweat of fear, and deathly sick. The motion ofthe laboratory, like the inside of a whirling top, made him ill, thoughSarka could tell that he fought against it with all his great will. Sarka strode to him, looked him in the eyes for a moment. Dalis lookedback, glaring defiance. "Are you afraid, Dalis?" he shouted, to be heard above the screaming ofthe Master Beryl. "I am not afraid, " croaked Dalis. "Has the time arrived?" Sarka paused, as though for dramatic effect, and raised his right handhigh, while his left hand dropped to the metalized jade lever. Therestill was room in the slot in the onyx base for the lever to moveforward ever so little. * * * * * "We have reached the exact place, " cried Sarka, "where the Earth can, bypressure upon this lever, be continued on in its orbit--or forced out ofit--out into space! Which shall it be, Dalis? If I move the leverforward we start our voyage, and may not be able to return!" For a moment the nostrils of Dalis quivered as though with fear. Hisface was white with his illness; but out of his eyes peered the fanaticself-confidence of the man. "Push it forward, O Sarka!" he managed. Sarka, smiling slightly, pushed the lever to its uttermost limit, stillwith his right arm upraised. For full five minutes he stood thus, andthen. .. . "Now!" he shouted, bringing down his arm. "We have begun our journeyinto space! Come, let us look Outside, and await the first reports frommy father!" The two men, forgetting again for a moment the fact of their enmity, strode to the southern wall of the laboratory and looked out across theroof of the world. "You will note, Dalis, " said Sarka conversationally, "that in a matterof hours, the roaring of the Etheric winds will possess everything! Wewill have passed into the infinite reaches of Outer Space, where, if Imay make so bold as to say so, it were better if Dalis, self-namedmaster of the world, knew whither he was going!" CHAPTER VIII _Moon Minions Prepare_ "It is time, " said Sarka softly, "that we who have urged the world toforget its quarrels should forget our own. What difference who ismaster, so long as success attend our efforts?" "Then tell me your secret of control of our flight!" snapped Dalis. Before Sarka could answer, however, Sarka the Second entered thelaboratory area before the Master Beryl. He looked a question at hisson, and Sarka knew that his father was asking what had become of Sarkathe First. He shrugged his shoulders, and nodded his head toward Dalis. Sarka the Second gave no more sign of perturbation than had his son, butdeep within his eyes were signal fires of fury which centuries ofpenance on the part of Dalis would not erase. But now, with Sarka theFirst gone, Dalis must live. "We are headed, " said Sarka's father softly, "in the general directionof the Moon! If we could travel toward it in a straight line, we wouldreach it, if we kept our pace of about eighteen miles per second, inapproximately four hours! But since we are out of control, I fear wewill pass it too far away for our fighters to fly across the interveningspace! Or we may be drawn against it, in planetary collision, which ofcourse means annihilation. We are traveling noticeably faster than whilein the earth's orbit. I am able to see something of the preparation ofMoon-men to receive us!" * * * * * Dalis turned to Sarka, and the perspiration bedewed his forehead. Inorder to make this mad mission successful, he must know Sarka's secretof control. Had he been in Sarka's place, _he_ would have kept hissecret, no matter what happened, and he believed in his heart that Sarkawould do the same. It never occurred to him that Sarka, no matter whothe master, would divulge his secret in order to save humanity fromdestruction. "We have approximately four hours, Dalis!" Sarka prompted the betrayer. "I need at least an hour for my experiments! Do you, knowing as you dothat I have planned all this out, know exactly what course our voyageshould take, still insist on holding the reins yourself?" "I agree, for this time, to listen to your advice, as I promised you!" "Then let me suggest that you do some of the work which I had plannedshould be done by my father's father! It is time that the world'sInduction Conduits be placed in operation, in order that our people besupplied with equable temperature from the Earth's Core, as ourtemperature changes due to our position with relation to the sun! Standback and give me the controls!" * * * * * For a moment Dalis stared at the two Sarkas. Would they seize power themoment he moved away from the Beryl Control? In their places he knew hewould have done it. In their places he knew he would never havesubmerged self in the good of the people. But, somewhat diffidently, hemoved away. Sarka the Second returned to the Observatory, behind theBeryl, while Sarka stopped before the table where the lights were. After a moment of thought-conversation with Sarka the Second in theObservatory, he dimmed the light which connected his laboratory with theheadquarters of Klaser, in the Americas. "Klaser, " he barked, "for the period of one second cut the speed ofevery Beryl within your Gens to half its present speed!" "I obey, O Sarka!" came the voice of Klaser. "Have we changed direction?" Sarka mentally questioned his father. "Slightly, but we are curving away, instead of toward the Moon! Tryagain!" Sarka dimmed the light of Cleric, who instantly made answer. "I am here, Sarka!" "Stop the Beryls of your Gens for two seconds, but be prepared to speedthem up immediately afterward, if ordered, to the speed at which theyare now revolving! Klaser, hold the speed of your Beryls as they are!" "I obey, O Sarka!" came the musical tones of Cleric. "I hear, O Sarka!" replied Klaser. "Now, my father, " queried Sarka again, telepathically, "what directiondo we travel?" "We are heading in a direction which will cause us to pass the Moon at adistance of approximately fifty thousand miles!" "From which point our fighters can reach the Moon in exactly two hours, after they have passed through our atmosphere!" cried Sarka exultantly, aloud. "True, son!" replied Sarka the Second, mentally. "I suggest you holdour course steady as it is!" * * * * * The motion of the earth now was as that of a steadily falling body, andthe shifting of the Ovidum store caused by vibrations set up by theBeryls had set the Earth on its course toward the Moon. Sarka now gaveinstructions to Klaser and to Cleric to return the speed of the Berylsto that which they had attained at the moment the journey of the Earthhad begun--thus bringing them once more into harmony with the MasterBeryl, and rendering the Ovidum static. Dalis re-entered the laboratory from the Wall Tube, near the Dome Exit, by which he had passed down to the lowest Inner Level, and staredsuspiciously at the two Sarkas. He found them half-smiling theirsatisfaction. "We pass the Moon within fifty thousand miles!" exulted Sarka. "A flightof two hours for the Gens which attacks the Moon! Do you refuse, ODalis, to send your Gens against the Moon?" "Why not send the Gens of Gerd!" demanded Dalis. "He is the youngest ofthe Spokesmen, and what better test is there for him than this?" "It is because he is so young that we do not wish to send him, " repliedSarka coldly. "The colonization of the Moon by Earthlings requires theguiding genius of a Spokesman who has the experience of a Dalis--or aSarka, else you would now be dead!" "Then let it be a Sarka!" barked Dalis. "Who, then, will control the further flight of the Earth?" "You! Let your father lead my Gens against the Moon!" "What will your Gens say, O Dalis? That their revered Spokesman fearedto lead them in person?" "Enough of this squabbling, " snapped Sarka the Second. "Do you notrealize that within a matter of hours, some Gens must be sent intobattle? Come with me to the Observatory, where you will be givensomething beside squabbling with which to occupy your minds!" * * * * * Leaving the earth on its lonely flight through space, the three menhurried to the Observatory, where they seated themselves before theeye-pieces of the Micro-Telescopes, whose outer circles had been aimedat the Moon. For a moment the three stared breathlessly at the surface of this deadsister of the Earth. They noted her valleys, her craters which seemedbottomless, and saw that even as they watched, valleys and cratersbecame sharper of outline, proving that they were approaching the Moonat a tremendous speed. It seemed, too, as though they were headingtoward sure collision, though Sarka the Second had said that they wouldpass the Moon at a distance of fifty thousand miles. "You will note activity at the very rims of the craters!" said the ElderSarka easily. "The craters are man-made, not volcanic, as somescientists believe, and are shaped to converge the rays of the sun, asour roof is created for the same purpose. But note the activity at therims of the craters!" * * * * * Closer the men peered, studying the rims as instructed by Sarka theSecond. All about them--and as they watched, activity became apparent onthe inner slopes of the craters--winged creatures seemed to be flying. They looked like tiny oblate spheroids, and they were in swift action, darting to and fro like bees which have been disturbed in their hives. "Those spheres are of metal, " said Sarka the Second, "and they are thefighting Aircars of the Moon-men!" Neither Dalis nor Sarka denied this statement, for they knew it to befact. It became apparent that the movement of the Aircars was not amovement of chance, but as skillfully ordered as any maneuvers whichhad, during the last few hours, been executed by any of the Gens ofEarth. That they were of metal became apparent when, through theMicro-Telescopes, the watchers caught the glint of the sun on thesurfaces of the cars. Sarka did a swift mental calculation, and announced the result. "Those Aircars average something like four hundred feet in length, andare doubtless filled with fighting Moon-men!" "That's right, " said Dalis, who also had been calculating this verything, "but our Ray Directors will disintegrate the Aircars as easily asmy Ray Director disintegrated Sarka the First!" * * * * * "The remaining Sarkas received this statement in silence, for Dalis'choice of a comparison had been an unhappy one, to say the least. "I am wondering, " said Sarka, "if you, my father, and you Dalis, havenoted the peculiar appendages of the Aircars?" "I saw them some minutes ago, " said his father moodily, "and I am almostafraid to guess their use! If they are what I fear they are, then theMoon-men have been expecting this attack of ours for years and years, and have been preparing for it! If they have known, and have beenpreparing, then we are facing a race of super-Beings indeed--for we haveknown but little of their activities!" "What, then, " said Dalis, "do you think is the purpose of thoseappendages?" "Those appendages, cilia, flagella, call them whatever you wish, areman-made tentacles, created for the purpose of seizing, crushing anddestroying--then discarding. .. . " For a full two minutes the three men sat there, and horrible doubtsflooded their brains. For the conclusion was obvious. The Gens of Earthwould go into action flying, not as organizations, inside an Aircar, butas individuals, in swarms, myriads, legions and hordes. In order to dothe utmost damage with their Ray Directors and Atom Disintegrators, they must approach within a reasonable distance--and the picture ofthose mighty tentacles, hurled like leashed lightning bolts into themidst of the attackers, folding in individuals by scores and hundreds, crushing them and dropping them contemptuously, was horrible in theextreme to contemplate! * * * * * It was difficult to estimate the possible speed of the Aircars of theMoon-men, at least at this distance. Besides, perhaps not a single oneof them was traveling at top speed, because of the fact of their crowdedtraffic. This thought passed through the minds of the three men. "But we'll know, " said Sarka dully, "when they get into action. For if Iam not mistaken, those Aircars are being mustered on the rims of thosecraters to await orders, not to resist our attack, but to launch theirown attack before we are ready! Dalis, are you going to allow your Gensto go into action against these Outsiders, without the inspiration ofyour personal leadership?" The nostrils of Dalis were quivering with the intensity of his emotion. His vast egotism told him that he, Dalis, could successfully combatthese Aircars of the Moon-men, and he wished with all his heart to issuethe orders to his Gens. But, vain as he was, he did not even wish tohave the appearance of acceding to the original plan of Sarka! Sarka hadplanned for Dalis to attack the dwellers of the Moon, and Dalis hadrefused. Now, when this challenge of the Aircars was a direct challengeto his genius as a potential warlord of earth and he wished to acceptthe challenge, he was torn two ways. Should he go ahead under the common leadership of the Sarkas? Or shouldhe still refuse battle--and perhaps see some lesser Spokesman go forthto win glory and imperishable renown to himself? * * * * * A thought message, a command almost, impinged on the brains of thethree. "I with to speak with you aloud!" The message was from Jaska! The three men rose and darted into the room of the Master Beryl. Theyhad no sooner entered than the clear voice of Jaska sounded in thelaboratory. "Sarka, I am no traitor! I am Jaska, who loves you! I am in theheadquarters of Dalis at Obi, and the Gens of Dalis has indicated itsallegiance to me, having been informed by me that it is the wish ofDalis, whose presence is needed at the place of the Master Beryl!Command us, O Sarka, for we are ready to attack!" There the voice ended, while the two Sarkas turned again to face Dalis. Sarka now was glad that Dalis knew the secret sign manual, and hisfingers worked swiftly as he spoke to the rebel. "Will you, then, Dalis, allow your Gens to be led to glory by a woman? Awoman, moreover, who has duped you?" "The woman is a fool!" said Dalis. "She will lead the Gens todestruction!" "Who, then, will be blamed if she does? Your Gens believe she is theirnew Spokesman at your wish! If they are told otherwise, they will thinkthat Dalis himself is afraid to lead them!" "We shall see, " said Dalis, "if I could win honor by leading my Gens ina successful attack against the Moon-men, how much greater will be myglory if Jaska attacks, is repulsed--and I go in to turn defeat intovictory!" Thus spake the colossal selfishness of Dalis, who took no thought of thepossible, nay, certain, loss of countless lives because of hisobstinancy. "I suggest, " he said, "that you instruct your beloved Jaska to makeready; for if I am not mistaken, when we return to the Observatory wewill discover that the Aircars of the Moon-men have left their cratersand are racing outward from the Moon to meet us! Or perhaps you wouldlead my Gens, to safeguard Jaska!" CHAPTER IX _The Attack of the Yellow Stars_ "Why should I safeguard Jaska?" asked Sarka quietly. "She is a truedaughter of Cleric! If Cleric does not fear for her to be Spokesman of aGens, why should I? He is her father. If she wins, the more glory willbe hers! If she loses, she will at least have tried!" "Meaning, " snarled Dalis, "that I have refused even to try!" Sarka shrugged expressively, and the three stepped once more into theObservatory, took their places before the Micro-Telescopes. For a momentthey could not see the outline of the Moon, for during their briefsojourn in the laboratory the Moon seemed to have disintegrated, flyinginto countless spheroidal pieces. "You see?" said Dalis. "The Moon-men do not wait for us! They attack!" It was all too true that the Aircars which had been mustered at the rimsof the Moon's craters had been hurled outward into space, outward towardthe on-rushing Earth, and the myriad numbers of them for a time shut outall view of the surface of the Moon. "God!" spoke Sarka, and it was like a prayer. His cheeks were pale asdeath, for in a moment he would speak the word which would send the Gensof Dalis, under the leadership of Jaska, out against these formidableAircars of the Moon-men, and the appearance of the on-rushing cars wasterrifying. That their flying radius, outward, was a great one, wasmanifest by the fact that the Earth would not for another hour reach itsclosest estimated point with the Moon. * * * * * Sarka, exchanging glances with his father, rose and stepped again intothe laboratory. Even as he entered the room of the Master Beryl, Jaska's broken signal came through. "I am ready, Sarka!" came her soft voice, vibrant with confidence. "TheGens is ready, and the Gens believes in me!" For a moment Sarka hesitated before taking the plunge. Then he spoke thefatal words. "Go, Jaska, and my love goes with you!" As the Earth approached closer to the Moon, the revolving of the Berylshad been decreased, so that the motion of the Master Beryl was almostnormal--normal being that speed with which it revolved when it wasnecessary to use it for visual contact with the people of the Earth. Out of the area of the Gens of Dalis darted the green specks which werethe flying people of Dalis! Sarka, staring in among them, focussing theBeryl-microscope, sought for some way of identifying Jaska, who ledthem. A thrill coursed through him when he made her out, unmistakably--dressed still in the tight white clothing of her own Gens, with the Red Lily of the house of Cleric on her breast and on her back!The daughter of Cleric was leading the Gens of Dalis into combat underher own colors and her father's insignia! * * * * * Sarka raced back to the Observatory, seated himself again to watch theattack, which must of necessity be joined within a matter almost ofminutes. Those myriads of Aircars flying outward from the Moon, hadseemed invincible; but up until now he had never seen an entire Gensmustered at one time. His whole being thrilled with the awesome grandeurof the spectacle; it seemed that not an able-bodied individual of theGens of Dalis had failed to answer the muster of the Gens. Millions upon millions of people, taking off the icy roof of that partof the Earth lying between Ohi and the North Pole, from the heart ofwhat had once been part of the Pacific Ocean. So many of them were there that when they were free of the Earth, flashing outward at two thousand miles an hour, it was impossible to seethe Moon or those formidable Aircars--and still, out of the heart of thearea of the Gens of Dalis, came other myriads, each flight waiting onlyfor the preceding flight to clear! The green, tight fitting clothing of the Gens of Dalis, each individualwearing the yellow star of the Spokesman of the Gens! A marvelous, awe-inspiring sight! And this was but a single area, and the earth was divided into twelvesuch areas, some smaller, none larger, which showed Sarka for the firsttime a hint of the mighty man-power, and fighting woman-power which hecontrolled. However, once free of the Earth, conduct of the fight wouldbe in the hands of the Spokesman--Jaska, acting for Dalis. * * * * * Sarka turned to Dalis, his eyes flashing. "Does it not thrill you, O Dalis?" he demanded. "Do you not wish nowthat you had gone out with your people as their leader?" "They follow Jaska like sheep, " he stated with a snort. "But wait! MyGens seem invincible, because it bulks between us and the Aircars of theMoon-Dwellers! Wait, see how the battle goes! The Gens may yet have needof Dalis!" Sarka studied those outgoing hosts, which were dwindling away to merespecks with vast speed, for through the cordons and cordons of them hecould now see the Aircars more plainly. It was still possible, when onelooked through the Micro-Telescopes, to see the slim figure of Jaskaleading the attack. She was in the vanguard of the Gens of Dalis leadingher people onward as though she had been born to command--utterlyfearless. "And I was small enough, " whispered Sarka, "to doubt you! I even toldyou that I doubted you! Forgive me, Jaska! Forgive me!" And still, as Level after Level gave up its myriads, the Gens of Dalisshot forth from the Gens area, and winged away, following the lead ofJaska. Millions of people, armed with Ray Directors and AtomDisintegrators. How tiny the individuals seemed, against the mighty bulkof those Aircars of the Moon! But Sarka did not fear, save for the safety of Jaska, as he wasrealizing anew that he had scarcely skimmed the surface of the man-mightof the Earth. * * * * * Now, seen through the myriads of the Dalis Gens, he could see again theon-rushing Aircars, and his heart misgave him for a moment as he couldtell, by estimation, that at least a hundred families were outlinedagainst each individual car, which moment by moment grew larger. Those tentacles were now much in evidence, rising and falling under andaround the racing Aircars like serpents, or dragging ropes; but seeminglike living things in the sentient manner of their moving--eager to comein contact with the first of the earthlings, and to wrap those tentaclesabout them, crush them, hurl them into space. Sarka went back into the laboratory only long enough to attune theBeryls of the Earth to a point where the Earth would remain almoststationary, comparatively speaking, taking a curving course about thesurface of the Moon, as it had for countless millions of years coursedabout the Sun. Then, back to the Observatory, to see how went the battle. Through theMicro-Telescopes the first meeting was plain to be seen. The Gens ofDalis rushed headlong to meet the Aircars and many of them rushedheadlong to their destruction. Sarka noted a group of perhaps a hundred people break forth from thevanguard of the attackers, and mount to a safe height above the Aircarsagainst which the Gens were hurling themselves. A sigh of relief escapedhim, and he wished there were some way in which he could learn theindividual identities of the ninety and nine who had taken Jaskaforcibly out of danger! For her white clothing, and her Red Lily ofCleric were plainly visible and recognizable! The men of the Gens ofDalis might permit the leadership of a woman, but they would not permither to be needlessly endangered. * * * * * Sarka turned to Dalis, and noted that the face of the master egotist waspale and drawn, his nostrils quivering with emotion, as he watched hisGens go into battle, and a feeling of satisfaction coursed through Sarkalike a little white flame. Dalis was proud of his Gens, and now waswishing that he, and not Jaska, were leading them onward. "I would wager something, " whispered Sarka to himself, "that Dalis willnot be able to stand it! That before battle has been joined for tenminutes, he will have gone out to take over the leadership of the Gens!Jaska must have guessed that, too! Wise, clever Jaska!" With a fearless massing of forces, the people of the yellow stars joinedbattle with the Aircars! The manner of men who flew the Aircars wasstill unknown to the people of Earth. But in a trice they would know. In a matter of minutes Earth would realize the horror of what faced theGens of Dalis, whom Jaska led! For with the sending out of their Aircars the Moon-men had given but themerest hint of their ponderous, devastating might! CHAPTER X _Tentacles of Terror_ Dalis had always been a stormy petrel, but as he sat before hisMicro-Telescope, watching his Gens go into battle against the Moon-men, not even Sarka the Second guessed the depth of infamy of which Daliswas capable. Dalis had given a hint, but Sarka had, in his sudden realization of thefact that Jaska really loved him, and was no traitor, forgotten thathint. How had Dalis learned the secret sign-manual of Jaska and Sarka?Therein lay the hint. Dalis, in common with all other Earth's scientists, possessed theability to think deeply, yet to so mask his thoughts that no one elsecould grasp them telepathically--and it was well for the peace of mindof the Sarkas that they could not read the black thought of the man, orlook into the future, even so far as a dozen years. The Gens of the yellow stars moved into contact with the Aircars of theMoon. Earth and Moon were gripped in the horror of war, the war betweenworlds, where no quarter might be asked or given, because fought betweenalien peoples who did not so much as comprehend each other's languages, or even their signals. The people of the Gens swarmed about the Aircars like myriad swarms ofangry bees, but it was only to Dalis that this simile came, for onlyDalis, of these three, had ever seen a swarm of bees. * * * * * Sweeping in closely, the Gens brought forth from their resting places intheir Sarka-Belts their Ray Directors and their Atom-Disintegrators, andturned the blighting rays of them against the gleaming, ice-coloredsides of the aerial monsters. But even as the Gens brought their instruments of destruction into play, the mighty tentacles of the first hundred Aircars had got into action. Down they whirled to catch at the flying bodies of the pigmylikeindividuals of the Gens, and hundreds of Earthlings were caught in thosetentacles in the first moment of conflict. Sarka studied the reaction of the people, thus captured. He could seethe expressions of unutterable agony on their faces, could see theircheeks turn black with--what? There was no way of knowing; but all sortsof guesses were possible. Those tentacles, from their action upon thehuman beings which they encompassed, might be charged with electricity. For the people they captured turned black, then shriveled slowly--andwere released by the tentacles. .. . They fell sluggishly away, through the great space which yet separatedthe Earth and the Moon. But the people who fell, fell aimlessly, goingneither toward the Earth or the Moon, like black feathers in a vagrantbreeze. "Great God, do you see father?" cried Sarka. "The--whatever it is--thatturns our people into cinders and drops them, has no effect on theAnti-Gravitational Ovoids in the skull-pans of the helmets, and withoutmental direction, the Ovoids neither rise nor fall but wander aimlessly! "See? As the fight continues, those who still live, as they dart hereand there through the battle area, will be confronted continually by theblackened faces and shriveled figures of their departed friends, relatives and neighbors, and will see at first hand what will happen tothemselves if they are caught by the tentacles!" * * * * * From the lips of Dalis came one single burst of laughter, filled withbitterness. No other word came from his lips, no other sign. He merelysat and stared, and masked his hell-black thoughts so that neither ofthe Sarkas might read them. But in the fertile mind of Dalis a plan wasbeing born--a plan that, he knew, had always been growing back in hismental depths, somewhere, down the centuries, since first he had becomean enemy of the Sarkas. The Sarkas ruled the Earth, and. .. . But he would spring his surprise when he believed the time right, forDalis possessed a faculty which neither of the Sarkas possessed--anexample of it being his incomprehensible knowledge of the secret codeof moving fingers used by Sarka and Jaska. The Gens of Dalis drew back in consternation at this wholesale takingoff of the first line of attack. Out of that first line, comprisingperhaps a thousand families, scarcely a hundred had escaped the gropingof those mighty tentacles of the Aircars--and the black, shriveledthings which had been men floated all about the Aircars which haddestroyed them, warnings to those who followed them into the fray. Thosewho had somehow escaped the wrath of the tentacles in the firstengagement fled back into the heart of the next line of sky-skirmishers, fear and horror in their faces. Here, answering to the will of Jaska, a mile or so above the heart ofthe conflict, they reformed with their people, and prepared again toattack. But how to attack these formidable Aircars successfully? * * * * * That was the question. Ray Directors had been turned against them, butsomething was decidedly wrong. The first car to feel the blast of evenone of those Ray Directors should have vanished, become as nothing, ashad the body of Sarka the First before the Ray Director of Dalis. But apparently nothing had happened. Why? Grimly Dalis and the two remaining Sarkas pondered the problem, wondering at the same time what Jaska would now do, how reform her Gens, how send it again to an attack that seemed hopeless. "There they go again!" whispered Sarka. The first two myriads of the Gens of Dalis had now crowded togetheruntil they formed a veritable cloud which masked, for a moment, theAircars of the Moon. Then, as one person, answering to the will ofJaska, they swept in to the attack again. But as they approached the Aircars, they divided four ways--up, down, to right and to left, and smashed into the Aircars from four directionsat once. Jaska, knowing that countless lives must be lost to destroythese monsters of the Moon, was trying to down them by mass attack, hoping that, while the inner groups gave their lives, those who followedafter them would get in close enough to use their Ray Directors and AtomDisintegrators. "She is wasting lives to no avail!" cried Dalis. "There is a way to beatthese people!" "It is really your responsibility, O Dalis!" snapped Sarka. "Why do younot go out and lead your Gens? If you know, why remain here and watchthe destruction of all the people of your Gens?" "You know why our Ray Directors and Atom Disintegrators do not work, orwork but poorly? Because our fighters are within the gravitational pullof the Moon, instead of the Earth, and machines which work perfectly onEarth are thrown out of balance when under the influence of the Moon!" "Then, " cried Sarka, "we must sweep in close enough to our people. .. . " * * * * * Without waiting to say another word, for thousands of men were dyingeach breath-space, Sarka raced into the laboratory and gave the signalto race up the speed of the Beryls, to attune them with the increasingspeed of the Master Beryl, whose jade lever now was set at the halfwaymark in the onyx slot. When he returned to the Observatory, Dalis was gone, and Sarka theSecond sat alone. "I knew he would go, " said Sarka, "for he cannot endure to see someoneelse take credit for winning this first victory--if it is even possibleto win it! I knew that, vain though he is, Dalis is yet a man!" "I am not so sure of that, son!" replied the Elder Sarka. "For I haveknown him longer than you have! There's something else in that brain ofhis which takes no thought of the death of people of his Gens--or forthe betterment of the other people of the Earth! I wonder. .. . " But even as he spoke, Dalis was away, flying free and fast toward thescene of battle. In a few minutes his will would be felt by his Gens, and Jaska could return again. Sarka sought for her. She was still safe, high above the battle. Thousands and thousands of those shriveled thingsnow floated in the space about the cars, above them, below them, everywhere. But the Gens of Dalis had at last caused some trouble to theAircars of the Moon. A hundred of them, like stricken birds, were falling downward toward theMoon, great holes torn in their sides. But as they fell, theirtentacles, which whipped here and there like snakes in theirdeath-throes, carried with them their full capacity in people of theGens of Dalis! * * * * * With the partial destruction of the Aircars which were falling, theforce that actuated the death-dealing of those tentacles seemed to havegone out of them. For the people now held in the grip of the mightytentacles were still alive! Their squirmings could be plainly seen, andtheir cries could have been heard, had it not been that the noise ofbattle drowned out all other sounds. A hundred Aircars falling, and the men and fighting women of the Gens ofDalis, with new courage in them now they realized that the Aircars werenot entirely invincible, renewed the attack with savage vigor. Taking no thought of the death which must surely come to them, theycircled and pressed the Aircars; and when the tentacles caught at someof them, others climbed to the very body of the Aircars, over theshriveling bodies of the dying, and turned their Ray Directors and AtomDisintegrators against the gray sides of the monsters. Even before Dalis had reached the vanguard of his Gens another hundredAircars were falling, each with its tentacles wrapped tightly about suchof the earthlings as they could grasp. Falling . .. Falling . .. Stillliving, plunging down. Now Dalis had reached the scene of the fray, and was assuming command. As he did so a single white-robed figure, life-size when seen throughthe Micro-Telescopes, darted out of the fray and headed at top speed forthe dwelling place of Sarka. Jaska, relieved, was returning home! But though Jaska flew at top speed, she did not seem to grow larger, ordraw nearer to the Earth! * * * * * Out of the ruck of the defenders of the Moon, a single Aircar, whosegleaming gray side was marked with queer crimson splashes, broke free topursue Jaska! She fled at top speed, yet the Aircar was gaining, proof that the Moonhad developed speed greater than Earth had attained. "But why, " queried Sarka, "does she draw no nearer?" "Great God!" ejaculated Sarka the Second, after a brief examination ofcertain chartographs beside his Micro-Telescope. "We are moving awayfrom the Moon! Something is forcing us away! The people of the Moon havesomething whose nature we do not know, capable of forcing them away fromus--while they pull our people toward them! You see? If they pulled ustoward them, we could overthrow them, for we outnumber them perhapsthousands to one; but if they force themselves away faster than the Gensof Dalis, if defeated, can follow us, they can destroy, or capture, theGens at their leisure!" * * * * * Suddenly, out of the Earth, past the all-seeing eyes of theMicro-Telescopes, swept a new myriad. Men in white, wearing the Red Lilyof the House of Cleric! Cleric was sending out men to rescue Jaska fromthe Aircar which pursued her! But would Jaska or these who went forthto fetch her ever be able again to attain landing place upon the Earth! It looked doubtful. Even as Sarka asked himself this question fresh Aircars shot from therims of Moon craters, rushing outward to add their weight in the battleagainst the Gens of Dalis. The Gens of Dalis was doomed! In the mind of Sarka the Second there still loomed a hellish doubt thatwould not down. The men of Cleric were surrounding Jaska now, protecting her with theirlives against the tentacles of that lone Aircar splashed withcrimson--and all were flying a losing race with the Earth, which wasstill being forced outward from the Moon! * * * * * _IN THE NEXT ISSUE_ ON THE PLANET OF DREAD _An Exciting Interplanetary Story_ By R. F. Starzl EARTH, THE MARAUDER _Part Two of the Thrilling Novel_ By Arthur J. Burks THE FLYING CITY _A Novelet Concerning an Amazing Aerial Metropolis_ By H. Thompson Rich MURDER MADNESS _The Conclusion of the Gripping Continued Novel_ By Murray Leinster ----And Others! * * * * * [Illustration: Marable, in a desperate frenzy, hacked at the reptile'sawful head. ] From An Amber Block _By Tom Curry_ "These should prove especially valuable and interesting without a doubt, Marable, " said the tall, slightly stooped man. He waved a long handtoward the masses of yellow brown which filled the floor of the spaciousworkrooms, towering almost to the skylights, high above their heads. [Sidenote: A giant amber block at last gives up its living, ravenousprey. ] "Is that coal in the biggest one with the dark center?" asked anattractive young woman who stood beside the elder of the men. "I am inclined to believe it will prove to be some sort of blackliquid, " said Marable, a big man of thirty-five. There were other people about the immense rooms, the laboratories of thefamous Museum of Natural History. Light streamed in from the skylightsand windows; fossils of all kinds, some immense in size, weredistributed about. Skilled specialists were chipping away at matricesother artists were reconstructing, doing a thousand things necessary tothe work. A hum of low talking, accompanied by the irregular tapping of chiselson stone, came to their ears, though they took no heed of this, sincethey worked here day after day, and it was but the usual sound of thepaleontologists' laboratory. Marable threw back his blond head. He glanced again toward the darkhaired, blue eyed young woman, but when he caught her eye, he lookedaway and spoke to her father, Professor Young. "I think that big one will turn out to be the largest single piece ofamber ever mined, " he said. "There were many difficulties in getting itout, for the workmen seemed afraid of it, did not want to handle it forsome silly reason or other. " * * * * * Professor Young, curator, was an expert in his line, but young Marablehad charge of these particular fossil blocks, the amber being purebecause it was mixed with lignite. The particular block which held theinterest of the three was a huge yellow brown mass of irregular shape. Vaguely, through the outer shell of impure amber, could be seen theheart of ink. The chunk weighed many tons, and its crate had just beenremoved by some workmen and was being taken away, piece by piece. The three gazed at the immense mass, which filled the greater part ofone end of the laboratory and towered almost to the skylights. It was asmall mountain, compared to the size of the room, and in this case themountain had come to man. "Miss Betty, I think we had better begin by drawing a rough sketch ofthe block, " said Marable. Betty Young, daughter of the curator, nodded. She was working asassistant and secretary to Marable. "Well--what do you think of them?" The voice behind them caused them to turn, and they looked into the faceof Andrew Leffler, the millionaire paleontologist, whose wealth andinterest in the museum had made it possible for the institution toacquire the amber. * * * * * Leffler, a keen, quick moving little man, whose chin was decorated witha white Van Dyke beard, was very proud of the new acquisition. "Everybody is talking about the big one, " he continued, putting his handon Marable's shoulder. "Orling is coming to see, and many others. As Itold you, the workmen who handled it feared the big one. There wererumors about some unknown devil which lay hidden in the inklikesubstance, caught there like the proverbial fly in the amber. Well, letus hope there is something good in there, something that will make worthwhile all our effort. " Leffler wandered away, to speak to others who inspected the amberblocks. "Superstition is curious, isn't it?" said Marable. "How can anyone thinkthat a fossil creature, penned in such a cell for thousands andthousands of years, could do any harm?" Professor Young shrugged. "It is just as you say. Superstition is notreasonable. These amber blocks were mined in the Manchurian lignitedeposits by Chinese coolies under Japanese masters. They believeanything, the coolies. I remember working once with a crew of them thatthought--" The professor stopped suddenly, for his daughter had uttered a littlecry of alarm. He felt her hand upon his arm, and turned toward her. "What is it, dear?" he asked. She was pointing toward the biggest amber block, and her eyes were wideopen and showed she had seen something, or imagined that she had seensomething, that frightened her. * * * * * Professor Young followed the direction of her finger. He saw that shewas staring at the black heart of the amber block; but when he looked hecould see nothing but the vague, irregular outline of the inkysubstance. "What is it, dear?" asked Young again. "I--I thought I saw it looking out, eyes that stared at us--" The girl broke off, laughed shortly, and added, "I suppose it was Mr. Leffler's talking. There's nothing there now. " "Probably the Manchurian devil shows itself only to you, " said herfather jokingly. "Well, be careful, dear. If it takes a notion to jumpout at you, call me and I'll exorcise it for you. " Betty blushed and laughed again. She looked at Marable, expecting to seea smile of derision on the young man's face, but his expression wasgrave. The light from above was diminishing; outside sounded the roar ofhome-going traffic. "Well, we must go home, " said Professor Young. "There's a hard andinteresting day ahead of us to-morrow, and I want to read Orling's newwork on matrices before we begin chipping at the amber. " Young turned on his heel and strode toward the locker at the end of theroom where he kept his coat and hat. Betty, about to follow him, wasaware of a hand on her arm, and she turned to find Marable staring ather. "I saw them, too, " he whispered. "Could it have been just imagination?Was it some refraction of the light?" * * * * * The girl paled. "I--I don't know, " she replied, in a low voice. "Ithought I saw two terrible eyes glaring at me from the inky heart. Butwhen father laughed at me, I was ashamed of myself and thought it wasjust my fancy. " "The center is liquid, I'm sure, " said Marable. "We will find that outsoon enough, when we get started. " "Anyway, you must be careful, and so must father, " declared the girl. She looked at the block again, as it towered there above them, as thoughshe expected it to open and the monster of the coolies' imagination leapout. "Come along, Betty, " called her father. She realized then that Marable was holding her hand. She pulled away andwent to join her father. It was slow work, chipping away the matrix. Only a bit at a time couldbe cut into, for they came upon many insects imbedded in the amber. These small creatures proved intensely interesting to thepaleontologists, for some were new to science and had to be carefullypreserved for study later on. Marable and her father labored all day. Betty, aiding them, wasobviously nervous. She kept begging her father to take care, andfinally, when he stopped work and asked her what ailed her, she couldnot tell him. "Be careful, " she said, again and again. * * * * * Her father realized that she was afraid of the amber block, and he pokedfun at her ceaselessly. Marable said nothing. "It's getting much softer, now the outside shell is pierced, " saidYoung, late in the day. "Yes, " said Marable, pausing in his work of chipping away a portion ofmatrix. "Soon we will strike the heart, and then we will find outwhether we are right about it being liquid. We must make somepreparations for catching it, if it proves to be so. " The light was fading. Outside, it was cold, but the laboratories werewell heated by steam. Close by where they worked was a radiator, so thatthey had been kept warm all day. Most of the workers in the room were making ready to leave. Young andMarable, loath to leave such interesting material, put down theirchisels last of all. Throughout the day various scientific visitors hadinterrupted them to inspect the immense amber block, and hear thehistory of it. All day, Betty Young had stared fascinatedly at the inky center. "I think it must have been imagination, " she whispered to Marable, whenYoung had gone to don his coat and hat. "I saw nothing to-day. " "Nor did I, " confessed Marable. "But I thought I heard dull scrapingsinside the block. My brain tells me I'm an imaginative fool, thatnothing could be alive inside there, but just the same, I keep thinkingabout those eyes we thought we saw. It shows how far the imaginationwill take one. " "It's getting dark, Betty, " said her father. "Better not stay here inthe shadows or the devil will get you. I wonder if it will be Chinese orup-to-date American!" * * * * * The girl laughed, said good night to Marable, and followed her fatherfrom the laboratory. As they crossed the threshold a stout, red-facedman in a gray uniform, a watchman's clock hanging at his side, raisedhis hat and smiled at the young woman and her father. "Hello, Rooney, " cried Betty. "How d'ye do, Miss Young! Stayin' late this evenin'?" "No, we're leaving now, Rooney. Good night. " "G' night, Miss Young. Sleep happy. " "Thanks, Rooney. " The old night watchman was a jolly fellow, and everybody liked him. Hewas very fond of Betty, and the young woman always passed a pleasantword with him. Rooney entered the room where the amber blocks were. The girl walkedwith her father down the long corridor. She heard Marable's step behindthem. "Wait for me a moment, father, " she said. She went back, smiling at Marable as she passed him, and entered thedoor, but remained in the portal and called to Rooney, who was down thelaboratory. He came hurrying to her side at her nervous hail. "What is it, ma'am?" asked Rooney. "You'll be careful, won't you, Rooney?" she asked in a low voice. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I'm always careful. Nobody can get in to harm anythingwhile Rooney's about. " "I don't mean that. I want you to be careful yourself, when you're inthis room to-night. " "Why, miss, what is there to be wary of? Nothin' but some funny lookin'stones, far as I can see. " * * * * * The young woman was embarrassed by her own impalpable fears, and shetook leave of Rooney and rejoined her father, determined to overcomethem and dismiss them from her mind. All the way home and during their evening meal and afterwards, ProfessorYoung poked fun at Betty. She took it good-naturedly, and laughed to seeher father in such fine humor. Professor Young was a widower, and Bettywas housekeeper in their flat; though a maid did the cooking for themand cleaned the rooms, the young woman planned the meals and saw to itthat everything was homelike for them. After a pleasant evening together, reading, and discussing the newadditions to the collection, they went to bed. Betty Young slept fitfully. She was harassed by dreams, dreams of hugeeyes that came closer and closer to her, that at last seemed to engulfher. She awakened finally from a nap, and started up in her bed. The sun wasup, but the clock on the bureau said it was only seven o'clock, tooearly to arise for the day's work. But then the sound of the telephonebell ringing in the hall caused her to get up and don her slippers anddressing gown and hurry out into the living room. * * * * * Before she reached the phone, however, she heard her father's voiceanswering. "Hello. .. . Yes, speaking. Good morning, Smythe. " Smythe was the janitor of the museum. Betty, standing behind her father, wondered what he could want that he should phone so early in themorning. Her father's next words sent a thrill of fright through herheart. "My God! I--I can't believe it!" cried Young. "Is he dead?" There was a pause; Betty caught the sound of the excited Smythe's tonesthrough the receiver. "Who--who is it?" she whispered, clasping her parent's arm. "I'll be right down, yes. " Young hung up, turned to his daughter. His face was sad, heavily linedwith shadows of sorrow. "Dear, there's been a tragedy at the museum during the night. PoorRooney has been murdered--at least so they believe--and Smythe, whofound him, wants me to come down and see if anything has been stolen. Imust go at once. The body is in our laboratory. " "Rooney? Ah, poor fellow. " The girl wept a little, but braced herself to assist her father. "I'm going with you, " she said. "No, no. You'd better remain here: you can come along later, " saidYoung. "I don't like to have you see such sights, dear. It wouldn't begood for you. " "I'll be all right. I promise you I will. " She insisted and he was forced to let her accompany him to the museum. They hailed a cab and were soon at the door. The elevator took them tothe top floor, and swiftly they passed along the corridors and came tothe portal which led into the rooms where the amber blocks were. * * * * * Smythe greeted them, a worried look on his seamed face. "I've sent foran ambulance, Professor, " he said. Young nodded, brushed past him, and entered the laboratory. In themorning light the amber blocks had taken on a reddish tinge. Now, theyseemed to oppress the young woman, who had bravely remained at herfather's side as he walked quickly to the base of the biggest block. A vague shape lay in the shadows between the wall and the largest ambermass. Professor Young bent over the body of Rooney, and felt the pulse. "He's been dead some time, " he said. She nodded, stricken to the heart by this terrible end of her old friendRooney. "There's nothing we can do for him, now, " went on her father soberly. "It looks as though he had been set upon and stabbed time after time byhis assailant or assailants, whoever they were. " "How--how pale he is, " said Betty. "Poor Rooney was so jolly andred-faced, but his skin is like chalk. " "And he's shrunken, too. It seems there's no blood left in his veins, "said her father. * * * * * Marable, who had been called also, came in then and aided in theexamination. He said good morning to Betty and her father, and then wentto bend over Rooney's body. "See the look of abject terror on his face, " Betty heard Marable say toher father as the two examined the corpse. "He must have been very muchafraid of whoever killed him. " "They beat him up frightfully, " said Young. "There must have beenseveral of the assassins; it would take more than one man to do suchdamage. " "Yes. His ribs are crushed in--see, this gash, Professor, would beenough to cause death without any of the other wounds. " Betty Young could not take her eyes from the ghastly sight. She steeledherself to bear it, and prayed for strength that she should not faintand cause her father trouble. She could see the two men examining alarge blistered area under the corpse's armpit, in the center of whichwas a sharp vertical slit which had without doubt punctured the arterynear the surface of the axilla. Perhaps it had pierced even to theheart. "Bloodless, " exclaimed Marable, noticing the same thing as her fatherhad spoken of. "It is as if the blood had been pumped out of his body!" "Yes, I think it has drained out. " "There is not much of a pool here where he lies, though, " said Marable, in a low voice. "See, there are only splotches about, from various cutshe received. " "Maybe he was dragged here from another room, " said Young. "When theothers come, we will soon know if anything is missing. It seems that mendesperate enough to commit such a murder would not leave without tryingto get what they came after. Unless, of course, the killing of Rooneyfrightened them away before they could get their booty. " * * * * * Smythe approached the group, with a physician in tow. The latterconfirmed the facts which Marable and Young had found: that Rooney hadbeen killed by the deep gash near the heart and that most of the bloodwas drained from the body. "They seem like the slashes from an extremely sharp and large razor, "said the medical man. Others were coming in to look at Rooney, and the museum was buzzing withactivity as various curators, alarmed about the safety of their valuablecollections, feverishly examined their charges. "He punched his clock in here at two A. M. , " said Smythe. "I seen that. It's the last time he'll ever do his duty, poor feller. " "Curious odor, " said the doctor, sniffing. "It smells like musk, but isfetid. I suppose it's some chemical you use. " "I noticed that, too, " said Professor Young. "I don't recognize it, myself. " Marable, who had been looking at the floor between the great block ofamber and the body, uttered an exclamation which caused the two men tolook up. "There are wavy lines leading around back of the block, " said Marable, in answer to their questions. The young man disappeared behind the block, and then he called to themexcitedly to join him. Betty Young pressed closer, and finally slippedpast the corpse and stood by her father. * * * * * Before her, she saw a large pool of black liquid. It had been hidden bythe corner of the block, so that they had not noticed it, so busy werethey looking at Rooney. And there was a great cavity in the heart of the amber block. Pieces ofthe yellow brown mass lay about, as though they had fallen off andallowed the inky substance to escape. "It's hardened or dried out in the air, " said Young. "It looks like black lacquer, " said Betty. The musky smell was stronger here. The great amber block seemed tostifle them with its size. "Our chipping and hammering and the heat of the radiator causing it toexpand must have forced out the sepia, or whatever it is, " said Young. There was a disappointed note in his voice "I had hoped that inside theliquid we would discover a fossil of value, " he went on. Marable looked at Betty Young. They stared at one another for someseconds, and both knew that the same thought had occurred to the other. The frightful eyes--had they then been but figments of the imagination? Marable began looking around carefully, here and there. Betty realizedwhat he was doing, and she was frightened. She went to his side. "Oh, becareful, " she whispered. "The giant block has been moved a little, " he replied, looking into herpretty face. "Have you noticed that?" Now that she was told to look, she could see the extremely heavy amberblock was no longer in the position it had been in. Marks on the floorshowed where it had been dragged or shifted from its original restingplace. * * * * * Betty Young gasped. What force could be so powerful that it could evenbudge so many tons? A derrick had been used, and rollers placed underthe block when men had moved it. Reason tried to assert itself. "It--it must have exploded. That wouldcause it to shift, " she said faintly. Marable shrugged. His examination was interrupted by the arrival of themuseum's chemist, sent for by Young. The chemist took a sample of theblack liquid for analysis. Reports were coming in from all over themuseum, different departments declaring, one after another, that nothinghad been disturbed or stolen from their sections. Betty Young went again to Marable's side. She followed the direction ofhis eyes, and saw long, clawlike marks on the floor, radiating from thesepia. "Doctor Marable, " she said, "please don't--don't look any longer. Leavethis terrible place for the day, anyway, until we see what happens inthe next twenty-four hours. " He smiled and shook his head. "I must make a search, " he replied. "Mybrain calls me a fool, but just the same, I'm worried. " "Do you really think . .. ?" He nodded, divining her thought. The girl shivered. She felt terrormounting to her heart, and the matter-of-fact attitudes of the others inthe great laboratory did not allay her fears. Rooney's body was removed. The place was cleaned up by workmen, andMarable's search--if that was what his constant roving about thelaboratory could be called--ceased for a time. The chemist's report camein. The black liquid was some sort of animal secretion, melonoticprobably. * * * * * In spite of the fact that they had learned so many facts about themurder, they as yet had not solved the mystery. Who had murdered Rooney, and why? And where had his blood gone to? In no other rooms could befound any traces of a struggle. "If you won't do anything else, please carry a gun, " begged Betty ofMarable. "I'm going to try to take father home, right after lunch, ifhe'll go. He's so stubborn. I can't make him take care. I've got towatch him and stay beside him. " "Very well, " replied Marable. "I'll get a revolver. Not that I think itwould be of much use, if I did find--" He broke off, and shrugged hisbroad shoulders. Leffler came storming into the room. "What's this I hear?" he cried, approaching Marable. "A watchman killed in the night? Carelessness, man, carelessness! The authorities here are absurd! They hold pricelesstreasures and allow thieves to enter and wreak their will. You, Marable, what's all this mean?" Leffler was angry. Marable looked into his red face coolly. "We do thebest we can, Mr. Leffler, " he said. "It is unlikely that anyone wouldwish to steal such a thing as that block of amber. " He waved toward the giant mass. Leffler made a gesture of impatience. "It cost me many thousands ofdollars, " he cried. "It is time for lunch, Professor, " said Betty. Marable bowed to Leffler and left the millionaire sputtering away, inspecting the various specimens he had contributed. The one o'clock gong had struck, and all the workers and investigatorswere leaving in paleontological laboratories for a bite to eat. * * * * * Marable, with Betty, went out last. Leffler was over in one corner ofthe room, hidden from their sight by a corner of an amber block. Theycould hear Leffler still uttering complaints about the carelessness ofthe men in charge of that section of the museum, and Marable smiled atBetty sadly. "Poor Rooney, " he said. "Betty, I feel more or less responsible, in away. " "No, no, " cried the girl. "How could you have foreseen such a thing?" Marable shook his head. "Those eyes, you know. I should have takenprecautions. But I had no idea it could burst from its prison so. " For the first time Marable had definitely mentioned his idea of whathad occurred. The girl had understood it all along, from their brokenconversation and from the look in the young scientist's eyes. She sighed deeply. "You will get a revolver before you search further?"she said. "I'm going to. Smythe has one, and I know he'll lend it tome. " "I will, " he promised. "You know, Leffler has the same idea we have, Ithink. That's why he keeps talking about it being our fault. I believehe has seen something, too. His talk about the devil inside the blockwas half in earnest. I suppose he put it down to imagination, or perhapshe did not think this fossil to be dangerous. " They went out together, and walked toward the restaurant theyfrequented. Her father was there, lunching with one of thesuperintendents of the museum. He smiled and waved to Betty. Everyone, of course, was discussing the killing of Rooney. * * * * * After an hour, during which the two young people spoken little, Marableand Betty Young left the restaurant and started back toward the museum. Her father was still at his table. They walked up the driveway entrance, and then Marable uttered anexclamation. "Something's wrong, " he said. There was a small crowd of people collected on the steps. The outerdoors, instead of being open as usual, were closed and guards stoodpeering out. Marable and Betty were admitted, after they had pushed their way to thedoors. "Museum's closed to the public, sir, " replied a guard to Marable'squestion. "Why?" asked Marable. "Somethin's happened up in the paleontological laboratories, " answeredthe guard. "Dunno just what, but orders come to clear the rooms and notlet anybody in but members of the staff, sir. " Marable hurried forward. Betty was at his heels. "Please get yourself agun, " she said, clutching his arm and holding him back. "All right. I'll borrow one from a guard. " He returned to the front doors, and came back, slipping a large pistolinto his side pocket. "I want you to wait here, " he said. "No. I'm going with you. " "Please, " he said. "As your superior, I order you to remain downstairs. " The girl shrugged. She allowed him to climb the stairs to the firstfloor, and then she hurried back in search of Smythe. * * * * * Smythe obtained a gun for her, and as she did not wish to wait for theslow elevator, she ran up the steps. Smythe could not tell herdefinitely what had occurred in the upper laboratory that had caused themuseum to be closed for the day. Her heart beating swiftly, Betty Young hurried up the second flight ofstairs to the third floor. A workman, whom the girl recognized as amanual laborer in the paleontological rooms, came running down, passingher in full flight, a look of abject terror on his face. "What is it?" she cried. He was so frightened he could not talk logically. "There was a blackfog--I saw a red snake with legs--" She waited for no more. A pang of fear for the safety of Marable shotthrough her heart, and she forced herself on to the top floor. Up there was a haze, faintly black, which filled the corridors. As BettyYoung drew closer to the door of the paleontological laboratories, themist grew more opaque. It was as though a sooty fog permeated the air, and the girl could see it was pouring from the door of the laboratory inheavy coils. And her nostrils caught the strange odor of fetid musk. She was greatly frightened; but she gripped the gun and pushed on. * * * * * Then to her ears came the sound of a scream, the terrible scream of amortally wounded man. Instinctively she knew it was not Marable, but shefeared for the young professor, and with an answering cry she rushedinto the smoky atmosphere of the outer laboratories. "Walter!" she called. But evidently he did not hear her, for no reply came. Or was it thatsomething had happened to him? She paused on the threshold of the big room where were the amber blocks. About the vast floor space stood the numerous masses of stone and amber, some covered with immense canvas shrouds which made them look like ghosthillocks in the dimness. Betty Young stood, gasping in fright, clutchingthe pistol in her hand, trying to catch the sounds of men in thatchamber of horror. She heard, then, a faint whimpering, and then noises which sheidentified in her mind as something being dragged along the marbleflooring. A muffled scream, weak, reached her ears, and as she took astep forward, silence came. She listened longer, but now the sunlight coming through the window tomake murky patches in the opaque black fog was her chief sensation. "Walter!" she called. "Go back, Betty, go back!" The mist seemed to muffle voices as well as obscure the vision. Sheadvanced farther into the laboratory, trying to locate Marable. Bravelythe girl pushed toward the biggest amber block. It was here that shefelt instinctively that she would find the source of danger. "Leffler!" she heard Marable say, almost at her elbow, and the young mangroaned. The girl came upon him, bending over something on the floor. * * * * * She knelt beside him, gripping his arm. Now she could see the outline ofLeffler's body at her feet. The wealthy collector was doubled up on theground, shrivelled as had been Rooney. His feet, moving as though byreflex action, patted the floor from time to time, making a curiousclicking sound as the buttons of his gray spats struck the marble. But it was obvious, even in the murky light, that Leffler was dead, thathe had been sucked dry of blood. Betty Young screamed. She could not help it. The black fog choked herand she gasped for breath. Leaving Marable, she ran toward the windowsto throw them open. The first one she tried was heavy, and she smashed the glass with thebutt of the gun. She broke several panes in two of the windows, and themist rolled out from the laboratory. She started to return to the side of Marable. He uttered a sudden shout, and she hurried back to where she had left him, stumbling over Leffler'sbody, recoiling at this touch of death. Marable was not there, but she could hear him nearby. Cool air was rushing in from the windows, and gradually the fog wasdisappearing. Betty Young saw Marable now, standing nearby, staring atthe bulk of an amber block which was still covered by its canvas shroud. Though not as large as the prize exhibit, this block of amber was largeand filled many yards of space. "Betty, please go outside and call some of the men, " begged Marable. But he did not look at her, and she caught his fascinated stare. Following the direction of his gaze, the girl saw that a whisp of smokymist was curling up from under the edge of the canvas cover. "It is there, " whispered Betty. * * * * * Marable had a knife which he had picked up from a bench, and with thishe began quietly to cut the canvas case of the block, keeping severalfeet to each side of the spot where the fog showed from beneath theshroud. Marable cut swiftly and efficiently, though the cloth was heavy and hewas forced to climb up several feet on the block to make his workeffective. The girl watched, fascinated with horror and curiosity. To their ears came a curious, sucking sound, and once a vague tentacleform showed from the bottom of the canvas. At last Marable seized the edge of the cut he had made and, with aviolent heave, sent the canvas flap flying over the big block. Betty Young screamed. At last she had a sight of the terrible creaturewhich her imagination had painted in loathing and horror. A flash ofbrilliant scarlet, dabbed with black patches, was her impression of thebeast. A head flat and reptilian, long, tubular, with movable nostrilsand antennae at the end, framed two eyes which were familiar enough toher, for they were the orbs which had stared from the inside of theamber block. She had dreamed of those eyes. But the reptile moved like a flash of red light, though she knew itsbulk was great; it sprayed forth black mist from the appendages at theend of its nose, and the crumpling of canvas reached her ears as thebeast endeavored to conceal itself on the opposite side of the block. * * * * * Marable had run to the other side of the mass. The air, rushing in fromthe windows, had cleared the mist, in spite of the new clouds thecreature had emitted, and Betty could see for some feet in eitherdirection now. She walked, with stiff, frozen muscles, around to join Marable. As shecame near to him, she saw him jerking off the entire canvas cover of theblock to expose the horrible reptile to the light of day. And now the two stood staring at the awful sight. The creature hadflattened itself into the crevices and irregular surfaces of the block, but it was too large to hide in anything but a huge space. They sawbefore them its great bulk, bright red skin blotched with black, whichrose and fell with the breathing of the reptile. Its long, powerfultail, tapering off from the fat, loathsome body, was curled around thebottom of the block. "That's where it's been hidden, under the shroud. We've been within afew feet of it every moment we've been at work, " said Marable, his voicedry. "There were many hiding places for it, but it chose the best. Itcame out only when there was comparative quiet, to get its food. .. . " "We--we must kill it, " stammered the girl. But she could not move. She was looking at the immense, cruel, lidlesseyes, which balefully held her as a serpent paralyzes a bird. Thetubular nostrils and antennae seemed to be sniffing at them, waving toand fro. "See the white expanse of cornea, how large it is, " whispered Marable. "The pupils are nothing but black slits now. " The interest excited bythis living fossil was almost enough to stifle the dread of the creaturein the man. But the girl saw the huge flat head and the crinkled tissue of thefrilled mouth with its sucker disks. * * * * * Suddenly, from the central portion of the sucker-cup mouth issued along, straight red fang. The two drew back as the living fossil raised a short clawed leg. "It has the thick body of an immense python and the clawed legs of adinosaur, " said Marable, speaking as though he were delivering alecture. The sight, without doubt, fascinated him as a scientist. Healmost forgot the danger. "Oh, it's horrible, " whispered the girl. She clung to his arm. He went on talking. "It is some sort ofterrestrial octopus. .. . " To the girl, it seemed that the living fossil was endless in length. Coil after coil showed as the ripples passed along its body and thestraight fang threatened them with destruction. "See, it is armored, " said Marable. "Betty, no one has ever had such an experience as this, seen such asight, and lived to tell of it. It must be ravenous with hunger, shut upin its amber cell inside the black fluid. I--" A sharp, whistling hiss interrupted his speech. The reptile was puffingand swelling, and as it grew in bulk with the intake of the air, itsenamel-like scales stood out like bosses on the great body. It spatforth a cloud of black, oily mist, and Marable came to himself at last. He raised his revolver and fired at the creature, sending shot aftershot from the heavy revolver into the head. * * * * * Betty Young screamed as the reptile reared up and made a movement towardthem. Marable and the girl retreated swiftly, as the beast thumped tothe floor with a thud and started at them, advancing with a queer, crawling movement. It was between them and the door. Betty thrust her gun into Marable'shands, for his own was empty and he had hurled it at the monster. "Hurry! Run for your life!" ordered Marable, placing himself betweenBetty and the reptile. She would not leave him till he swerved to one side, going dangerouslyclose to the beast and firing into its head. The rush of the flowingbody stopped; it turned and pursued him, leaving the girl safe for themoment, but separated from Marable. Luckily, on the smooth marble it could not get an efficient grip withits clawlike arms. It was clumsy in its gait, and for a time the maneluded it. Betty Young, looking about for a weapon, calling for help at the top ofher lungs, caught sight of a fireman's ax in a glass case on the wall. She ran over, smashed the glass with the small hammer, and took out theheavy ax. Shot after shot reverberated through the big laboratory as Marable triedto stop the monster. Betty, bravely closing in from the rear, sawMarable leaping from side to side as the brute struck viciously at himtime and again. The creature had been emitting cloud after cloud of black fog, and theatmosphere, in spite of the open windows, was dim in its vicinity. Vaguely Betty heard shouts from the far hall, but all she could do wasto call out in return and run toward the horror. * * * * * Marable, out of breath, had climbed to the top of an amber block. Betty, close by, saw the reptile rear its bulk up into the air, until it washigh enough to strike the man. Before it could send forth its death-dealing fang to pin Marable to theblock, however, Betty Young brought the ax down on its back with all herstrength. There was a sickening thud as the sharp weapon sunk deep into the fleshyback. She struck again, and the creature fell in folds, like acollapsing spring. It lashed back at her, but she leaped clear as itslashed in agony, thrashing about so that the whole room seemed to rock. Marable came scrambling down the side of the block to help her. He wasbreathing hard, and she turned toward him; as Betty looked away, aportion of the scarlet tail hit her in the body and she fell, strikingher head on the floor. Marable reached down, seized the ax, and in a desperate frenzy hacked atthe reptile's awful head. He leaped in and out like a terrier, sinkingthe ax deep into the neck and head of the beast. He gave the impressionof slashing at heavy rubber, and Betty Young, trying to drag herselfaway from that dangerous body, heard his whistling breath. They were almost hidden from one another now, in the mist which camefrom the thing's nostrils. "Help, help!" screamed the girl, mustering her last strength in thedespairing cry. She saw Marable go down, then, as the reptile hit him a glancing blowwith its body. When the powerful young fellow did not rise, the girlthought it was all over. The air really became black to her; she faintedand lay still. * * * * * When Betty Young opened her eyes, the air had cleared greatly, and shecould see the familiar outlines of the paleontological laboratory andthe bulks of the amber blocks. Her father was holding her head in hislap, and was bathing her temples with water. "Darling, " he said, "are you badly hurt?" "No, " she murmured faintly. "I'm--I'm all right. But--but Walter--didit--" "He's all right, " said her father. "The reptile was dying, and could dohim no damage. We finished it off. " Then, Marable, covered with blood, which he was trying to wipe from hishands and clothes, came and smiled down at her. "Well, " said Professor Young, "you two have mutilated a marvelous andunique specimen between you. " There were several men examining something nearby. Turning her eyes intheir direction, Betty saw they were viewing the remains of the reptile. * * * * * Marable helped her to her feet, and stood with one arm about her. Professor Orling, the famous specialist on fossil reptiles, was speakingnow, and the others listened. "I think we will find it to be some sort of missing link between thedinosaurs and mososaurs. It is surely unbelievable that such a creatureshould be found alive; but perhaps it can be explained. It is related tothe amphibians and was able to live in or out of the water. Now, we havemany instances of reptiles such as lizards and toads penned up in solidrock but surviving for hundreds of years. Evidently this great reptilewent through the same sort of experience. I would say that there hasbeen some great upheaval of nature, that the reptile was caught in itsprison of amber thousands and thousands of years ago. Throughhibernation and perhaps a preservative drug it emitted in the blackfluid, this creature has been able to survive its long imprisonment. Naturally, when it was released by the cutting away of part of the amberwhich penned it in, it burst its cell, ravenous with hunger. Thefanglike tooth we see was its main weapon of attack, and it set upon theunfortunate watchman. After knocking him unconscious, its sucker-likefringe glued the mouth near the heart while the fang shot into thearteries and drew forth the body fluids. There is a great deal to bedone with this valuable find, gentlemen. I would suggest that--" * * * * * Marable grunted. "Oh, hell, " he murmured in Betty Young's ear. "To thedevil with paleontology, Betty. You saved my life. Come out and let'sget married. I love you. " The girl smiled up into his eyes. The scientists close by were listeningfascinatedly to Orling's words, and had no time to watch the two youngpeople, for they stared at the reptile's body as the great man went fromsection to section, lecturing upon one point after another. "You've forgotten paleontology for a moment, thank goodness, " saidBetty. "I'm glad. " "Yes, Betty dear. This terrible experience has shaken me, and I realizedhow much I love you when I saw you in danger. What an awful few minutes!If I had to live them over again, I don't think I could face them. " "Never mind, " she murmured. "We are safe, Walter. After all, it's notevery woman who is helped by a living fossil to make the man she lovesrealize he loves her!" [Illustration: The SF-22 and her convoy were surrounded by theseunearthly rays. ] The Terror of Air-Level Six _By Harl Vincent_ It was a sweltering evening in mid-August, during that unprecedentedheat wave which broke Weather Bureau records in 2011. New York City hadsimmered under a blazing sun for more than three weeks, and all who wereable had deserted the city for spots of lesser torridity. But I was oneof those unfortunates who could not leave on account of the pressingurgency of business matters and, there being nothing else to do, keptdoggedly at my work until it seemed that nerves and body must soon giveway under the strain. To-night, as I boarded the pneumatic tube, Idropped into the nearest seat and could not even summon the energy toopen my newspaper. [Sidenote: From some far reach of leagueless Spacecame a great pillar of flame to lay wasteand terrorize the Earth. ] For some minutes I sat as in a daze, wishing merely that the journey wasover, and that I was on my own front porch out in Rutherford. Afterawhile I stirred and looked around. Seeing none of my acquaintances inthe car, I finally opened the newspaper and was considerably startled bythe screaming headlines that confronted me from its usually conservativefirst page: SECOND COAST TRANSPORT PLANE LOST! Disaster Like First in Air-Level Six! No wonder the newsboys had been crying an extra on Broadway! I had givenno heed to the import of their shoutings, but this was real news andwell worthy of an extra edition. Since the mysterious loss of the SP-61, only four days previously, the facilities of the several airtransportation systems were seriously handicapped on account of theshaken confidence of the general public. It was not surprising thatthere was widespread reluctance at trusting human lives and valuablemerchandise to the mercies of the inexplicable power which hadapparently wiped out of existence the SF-61, together with itstwenty-eight passengers and the consignment of one-half million dollarsin gold. And now the NY-18 had gone the way of the other! Details were meager. Both ships had failed to reply to the regularten-minute radio calls from headquarters and had not since been seen orheard from. In both cases the last call had been answered when the shipwas proceeding at full speed on its regular course in air-level six. TheSF-61 last reported from a position over Mora in New Mexico, and fourdays of intensive search by thousands of planes had failed to locateship or passengers. To-day, in the early hours of the morning, the NY-18reported over Colorado Springs, on the northern route, and then, likethe SF-61, dropped out of existence insofar as any attempts atcommunicating with or locating her were concerned. She, too, carried aheavy consignment of specie, though only eleven passengers had riskedthe westward journey. * * * * * Someone had dropped into a seat at my side, and I looked up from myreading to meet the solemn eyes of Hartley Jones, a young friend whom Ihad not seen for several months. "Why, hello, Hart, " I greeted him. "Glad to see you, old man. Where inSam Hill have you been keeping yourself?" "Glad to see you, too, Jack, " he returned warmly. "Been spending most ofmy time out at the hangar. " "Oh, that's right. You fellows built a new one at Newark Airport, didn'tyou?" "Yeah. Got a great outfit there now, too. Why don't you drop around andsee us one of these days?" "I will, Hart, and I want you to take me up some time. You know I havenever been in one of these new ships of yours. But what do you think ofthis mess?" I pointed to the black headlines. He grinned joyously and flipped back the lapel of his coat, displaying anickeled badge. "George and I are starting out to-night to look around alittle, " he gloated. "Just been appointed deputy air commissioners; andwe got a couple of guns on our newest plane. Air Traffic Bureau thinksthere's dirty work afoot. Twelve-motored planes don't disappear withoutleaving a trace. Anyhow, we've got a job, and we're going to try andfind out what's wrong. How'd you like to come along?" "What?" I replied. "You know darn well I'm too busy. Besides, I'd be nogood to you. Just extra load, and not pay load at that. And then, I'mbroke--as usual. " * * * * * Hartley Jones grinned in his engaging way. "You'd be good company, " heparried; "and, what's more, I think the trip would do you a lot of good. You look all shot to pieces. " "Forget it, " I laughed. "It's just the heat. And I'll have to leave youhere, Hart. Drop in and see us, will you? The wife was asking for youonly yesterday. " "Jack, dear, " my wife greeted me at the door of my modest suburban home, "Mr. Preston just called, and he wants you to call him right back. " "Oh, Lord, " I groaned, "can't I forget the office for one evening?"Preston was manager of the concern for which I worked. Nevertheless, though our two fine youngsters were clamoring for theirdinner, I made the telephone call at once. "Makely, " came the voice of the boss, when the connection was completed, "I want you to take the night plane for Frisco. Hate to ask you, but itmust be done. Townley is sick and someone has to take those Canadian Ex. Bonds out to Farnsworth. You're the only one to do it, and after you getthere, you can start on that vacation you need. Take a month if youwish. " The thought of Hartley Jones' offer flashed through my mind. "But haveyou read of the loss of the NY-18?" I asked Preston. "I have, Makely. There'll be another hundred a month in your check, too, to make up for the worry of your family. But the government is sendingthirty Secret Service men along on the SF-22, which leaves to-night. Inaddition, there will be a convoy of seven fighting planes, so there isnot likely to be a repetition of the previous disasters. " That hundred a month sounded mighty good, for expenses had been mountingrapidly of late. "All right, Mr. Preston, " I agreed. "I will be at theairport before midnight. But how about the bonds?" "I'll drive around after dinner and deliver them to you. And thanks foryour willingness, Makely. You'll not be sorry. " * * * * * My wife had listened intently and, from my words, she knew what toexpect. Her face was a tragic mask when I replaced the receiver on itshook, and my heart sank at her expression. Then there came the ring of the telephone and, for some reason, my pulseraced as I went to the hall to answer it. Hartley Jones' cheerful voicegreeted me and he was positively gleeful when I told him of myprojected trip. "Hooray!" he shouted. "But you'll not take the SF-22. You'll take thetrip with me as I wanted. I tell you what: You be out at Newark Airportat eleven-thirty, but come to my hangar instead of to that of thetransportation company. We'll leave at the same time as the regularliner, and we'll get your old bonds to Frisco, regardless of what mighthappen to the big ship. Also we might learn something mightyinteresting. " I argued with him, but to no avail. And the more I argued, the greaterappeal was presented by his proposition. Finally there was nothing to dobut agree. * * * * * Preston arrived with the bonds shortly after the children were tucked intheir beds. I did not tell him of my change in plans. He did not staylong, and I could see that he was uncomfortable under the accusing eyesof Marie, for all his own confidence in the safety of the trip in theclosely-guarded SF-22. At precisely eleven-thirty I reached the great steel and glass hangarwhere Hart Jones and George Boehm carried on their experiments withsuper-modern types of aircraft. Hart Jones had inherited more than twomillion dollars, and was in a fair way to spend it all on his favoritehobby, though those who knew him best vowed that he would make manytimes that amount through royalties on his ever-growing number ofvaluable inventions. The immense doors were open, and I gazed for the first time into thehangar whose spacious interior provided storage and manufacturingfacilities for a dozen or more planes of Hart Jones' design. A curiouslyconstructed example of his handiwork stood directly before me, andseveral mechanics were engaged in making it ready for flight. My friendadvanced from their midst to meet me, a broad smile on his greasesmeared countenance. "Greetings, Jack, " he said, taking my small bag from my hands. "Right ontime, I see. And I can't tell you how glad I am that you are coming withus. So is George. " "Well, I didn't expect to, " I admitted; "but there is no need of tellingyou that I had far rather be in your ship than in the big one. " * * * * * George Boehm, the same jolly chap I had several times met in Hart'scompany, but fatter than ever, crawled from beneath the shiny metal bodyof the plane and scrambled to his feet at my side. "Going in for a bit of adventuring, Mr. Makely?" he asked, wiping hishand with a piece of cotton waste before extending it. "Yes, " I replied, as I squeezed his chubby fingers. "Can't stick in themud all my life, George. And I wouldn't want to be in better company formy first attempt either. " "Nor we, " he returned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Rather have agreenhorn on the Pioneer than some government agent, who'd be butting inand trying to run everything. Think you'll be scared?" "Probably, " I admitted; "but I guess I can stand it. " "Hear the latest news broadcast?" interrupted Hart Jones. "No. What was it?" I asked. "There has been a report from out near Cripple Creek, " said Hartsolemnly, "that a pillar of fire was observed in the mountains shortlyafter the time the NY-18 last reported. The time and the locationcoincide with her probable position and the report was confirmed by noless than three of the natives of that locality. Of course thestatements are probably extravagant, but they claim this pillar of fireextended for miles into the heavens and was accompanied by a tremendousroaring sound that ceased abruptly as the light of the flamedisappeared, leaving nothing but blackness and awe-inspiring silencebehind. " * * * * * "Lot of bunk!" grunted George, who was vigorously scrubbing the back ofhis neck. "Sounds like a fairy tale, " I commented. "Nevertheless, there may be something in it. In fact, there must be. Three of these mountaineers observed practically the same phenomenonfrom quite widely separated points, though one of them said there werethree pillars of fire and that these looked more like the beams ofpowerful search-lights. All agreed on the terrific roar. And, after all, these two liners did disappear. There must be something quite out of theordinary about the way in which they were captured or destroyed, andthis occurrence may well be supposed to have a bearing on the matter. " "Possibly they were destroyed by some freak electrical storm, " Isuggested. "Where then are the wrecked vessels?" asked Hart. "No, Jack, electricalstorms do not destroy huge air liners and then suck them out into spacebeyond our vision. These two ships are no longer on the surface of theearth, else they would have been long since located. The magneticdirection finders of the transportation people have covered every inchof the United States, as well as Mexico and Canada. " "Of course they might have been carried halfway around the world by awind of unprecedented velocity. " I commenced a silly argument in favorof the theory that the elements had accounted for the two vessels, butwas interrupted by the mounting roar of great engines throbbingoverhead. "Hurry up there, George!" shouted Hart. "It's the SF-22 coming in. Wehave to be ready for the take-off in five minutes!" * * * * * He hastened to take George's place at the washbowl and all was activitywithin the confines of our hangar. George and I left the office and wentout to the landing field, which was now brilliant with the glare offloodlights. The _Pioneer_ had been trundled into the open and stoodready for the flight. Not a hundred feet above the field, the hugesilver moth that was the SF-22 swept by in a wide circle that wouldbring her into the wind. The roar of her engines died as she swung outof the circle of light into the surrounding darkness. The crowds which had gathered to witness her landing buzzed with excitedcomment and speculation. Her nose brought slightly up, she dropped to aperfect three-point landing, the brakes screeching as she was brought toa standstill at the hangar of the transportation company. "Come on now, you fellows, " came the voice of Hart Jones from the hangarentrance, "there's no time to lose. The _Pioneer_ takes off immediatelyafter the big fellow. " We hurried to the waiting ship, which seemed like a tiny toy whencompared with the giant SF-22. I had observed very little of theconstruction of the _Pioneer_, but I could now see that she was quitedifferent in design from the ordinary plane. A monoplane she was, butthe wing structure was abnormally short and of great thickness, andthere were a number of tubes projecting from the leading edge that gavethe appearance of a battery of small cannon. The body, like all planesdesigned for travel in air-level six, was cigar-shaped, and hadhermetically sealed ports and entrance manholes. A cluster of thecannon-shaped tubes enclosed the tail just back of the fins and rudderand, behind the wing structure atop the curved upper surface of thebody, there was a sphere of gleaming metal that was probably three feetin diameter. * * * * * Before I could formulate questions regarding the unusual features of thedesign, we were within the _Pioneer's_ cabin and Hart Jones was engagedin clamping the entrance manhole cover to its rubber seat. A throbbingroar that penetrated our double hull attracted my attention and, lookingthrough a nearby porthole, I saw that the convoy of army planes hadtaken off and was circling over the SF-22 in anticipation of her start. Trim, speedy fighting ships these were, with heavy caliber machine-gunsin turrets fore and aft and normally manned by crews of twelve each. Theunder surfaces of their bodies glistened smooth and sleek in the lightfrom the field, for the landing gears had been drawn within and theopenings sealed by the close-fitted armor plate that protected theseordinarily vulnerable portions when in flight. The SF-22 was ready to take off and the crowds were drawing back intothe obscurity beyond the huge circle of blinding light. One afteranother her twelve engines sputtered into life, and ponderously shemoved over the field, gathering speed as the staccato barking of theexhausts gradually blended into a smooth though deafening purr. The tailof the great vessel came up, then the wheels, and she was off into thenight. * * * * * Hart Jones sat at a bewildering array of instruments that covered almostthe entire forward partition of the cabin. He pressed a button and thestarting motor whined for a moment. Then the single engine of the_Pioneer_ coughed and roared. Slowly we taxied in the direction taken bythe SF-22, whose lights were now vanishing in the darkness. I saw Georgeopen a valve on the wall and Hart stretched the fingers of his left handto what appeared to be the keyboard of a typewriter set into theinstrument board. He pressed several of the keys and pulled back hisstick. There was a whistling scream from astern and I was thrown back inmy seat with painful force. With that, the motor roared into full speedand we had left the airport far behind. "What on earth?" I gasped. "Rocket propulsion, " laughed Hart. "I should have warned you. Thosetubes you saw outside at the tail and along the leading edge of thewings. Only used three of them, but that was sufficient for thetake-off. " "But I thought this rocket business was not feasible on account of thewastage of fuel due to its low efficiency, " I objected. "We should worry about fuel, " said Hart. I looked about me and saw that there was very little space for thestorage of this essential commodity. "Why?" I inquired. "What fuel doyou use?" "Make our own, " he replied shortly. He was busy at the moment, maneuvering the _Pioneer_ into a position above and behind the SF-22 andher convoy. "You make your own fuel enroute?" I asked in astonishment. "Yes. That sphere you saw on top. It is the collecting end of anelectrical system for extracting nitrogen and other elements, from theair. This extraction goes on constantly while we are in the atmosphereand my fuel is an extremely powerful explosive of which nitrates are thebase. The supply is replenished continuously, so we have no fear ofrunning short even in the upper levels. " * * * * * George had crawled through a small opening into some inaccessible regionin the stern of the vessel. I pondered over what Hart had just told me, still keeping my eyes glued to the port, through which could be seen thefleet we were following. The altimeter registered thirty-five thousandfeet. We were entering air-level six--the stratosphere! Below us thetroposphere, divided into five levels, each of seven thousand feet, teemed with the life of the air. The regular lanes were filled withtraffic, the lights of the speeding thousands of freight and pleasurecraft moving in orderly procession along their prescribed routes. Up here in the sixth level, which was entirely for high-speed traffic ofcommercial and government vessels making transcontinental ortransoceanic voyages, we were the only adventurers in sight--we and theconvoyed liner we were following. The speed indicator showed six hundredmiles an hour, and the tiny spot of light that traveled over the chartto indicate our position showed that we were nearing Buffalo. Glancing through one of the lower ports, I saw the lights of the cityshining dimly through a light mist that fringed the shore of Lake Erieand extended northward along the Niagara. Then we were out over thelake, and the luminous hue was slipping rapidly behind. I looked aheadand saw that the distance to the SF-22 and her convoy had somewhatincreased. We were a mile behind and some two thousand feet above them. Evidently Hart was figuring on keeping at a safe distance forobservation of anything that might happen. * * * * * Our motor was running smoothly and the angle of the propeller blades hadbeen altered to take care of the change in air density from the loweraltitudes. It flashed across my mind that this was an ideal location foran attack, if such was to be made on the SF-22. Then, far ahead, I saw a beam of light stab through the darkness andstrike the tossing surface of the lake. Another and another followed, and I could see that the SF-22 and her convoy were surrounded by theseunearthly rays. They converged from high above to outline a brilliantcircle where they met on the surface of the waters, and in the midst ofthe cone formed by the beams, the liner and its seven tiny followerscould be seen to falter, and huddle more closely together. It all happened in the twinkling of an eye--so quickly, in fact, thatHart and I had not the time to exchange remarks over the strangeoccurrence. For a moment the eight vessels hovered, halted suddenly bythis inexplicable force from out the heavens. Then there rose from theapex of the inverted cone of light a blinding column of blue-whiteradiance that poured skyward an instant and was gone. To our ears came aterrific roaring that could be likened to nothing we had heard on earth. The _Pioneer_ was tossed and buffeted as by a cyclone, and George cametumbling from the opening he had entered, his round face grown solemn. Then came eery silence, for the _Pioneer's_ motor had gone dead. Aheadthere was utter darkness. The liner and her convoy had completelyvanished and the _Pioneer_ was slipping into a spin! * * * * * "What's up?" asked George of Hart, who was tugging frantically at thecontrols. "The liner has gone the way of the first two, " he replied: "and the yarnabout the pillar of fire was not so far wrong after all. " "You saw the same thing?" asked George incredulously. "Yes, and so did Jack. There came some beams of light from the sky; thenthe pillar of fire and the roaring you heard, after which the vesselswere gone and our electrical system paralyzed. " "Holy smoke!" ejaculated George. "What to do now?" As he spoke, the _Pioneer_ came out of the spin, and we were able toresume our positions in the seats. None of us was strapped in, and wehad been clinging to whatever was handiest to keep from being tossedabout in the cabin. Hart wiped his forehead and growled out an oath. Theinstrument board was still illuminated, for its tiny lamps were suppliedwith current from the storage battery. But the main lights of the cabinand the ignition system refused to function. We were gliding now, butlosing altitude rapidly, having already dropped to the lower limits oflevel five. "Can't you use the rocket tubes?" I inquired hesitatingly. "They are fired in the same manner as the motor, " replied Hart; "but wemight try an emergency connection from the storage battery, which isordinarily used only in starting and for the panel lights. " * * * * * George was already fussing with the connections in a small junction boxfrom which he had removed the cover. Meanwhile, the black waters of LakeErie were rushing upward to meet us, and the needle of the altimeterregistered twelve thousand feet. "Here's the trouble!" shouted George, triumphantly holding up a smallobject he had removed from the junction box. "Ignition fuse is blown. " "Probably by some radiations from the cone of light and the column thatdestroyed the liner. Lucky we were no closer, " were Hart's mutteredcomments. George produced a spare fuse and inserted it in its proper place. Thecabin lights glowed instantly and the motor started at once. "Well, I'm going up after the generators of this mysterious force thatis destroying our cross-country ships and killing our people, " assertedHart. "The rays came from high above, but the _Pioneer_ can go as highas anything that ever flew--_higher_. " He snapped a switch and a beam of light that rivalled the so-calledpillar of fire bored far into the night, dimming the stars by itsbrilliance. Again his fingers strayed to the rows of white keys and therocket tubes shrieked in response to his pressure. This time I wasprepared for the shock of acceleration, but the action was maintainedfor several seconds and I found the pressure against my back growingpainful. Then it was relieved, and I glanced at the altimeter. Itsneedle had reached the end of the scale, which was graduated to eightythousand feet! "Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me that we are more thansixteen miles in the air?" "Nearly thirty, " replied Hart, pointing to another dial which I had notseen. This one was graduated in miles above sea-level, and its needlewavered between the twenty-nine and thirty mark! * * * * * Again Hart pressed the rocket buttons, and we shot still higher into theheavens. Thirty, forty, fifty miles registered the meter, and still weclimbed. "Great Scott!" blurted a voice I knew was my own, though I had noconsciousness of willing the speech. "At this rate we'll reach themoon!" "We could, if we wished, " was Hart's astounding reply; "I wish youwouldn't say too much about it when we return. We have oxygen to breatheand an air-tight vessel to retain it. With the fuel we are using, wecould easily do it, provided a sufficient supply were available. However, the _Pioneer_ does not have large enough storage tanks as yet, and, of course, we cannot now replenish our supply with sufficientrapidity, for the atmosphere has become very rare indeed--where we are. My ultimate object, though, in building the _Pioneer_, was to constructa vessel that is capable of a trip to the moon. " "You think you could reach a great enough velocity to escape thegravitational pull of the earth?" I asked, marveling more and more atthe temerity and resourcefulness of my science-minded friend. "Absolutely, " he replied. "The speed required is less than seven miles asecond, and I have calculated that the _Pioneer_ can do no less thantwenty. " Mentally I multiplied by sixty. I could hardly credit the result. Twelvehundred miles a minute! "But, how about the acceleration?" I ventured. "Could the human bodystand up under the strain?" "That is the one problem remaining, " he replied; "and I am now workingon a method of neutralizing it. From the latest results of ourexperiments, George and I are certain of its feasibility. " * * * * * The _Pioneer_ was now losing altitude once more, and Hart played thebeam of the searchlight in all directions as we descended. He and Georgewatched through one of the floor ports and I followed suit. We werefalling, unhampered by air resistance, and our bodies were practicallyweightless with reference to the _Pioneer_. It was a strange sensation:there was the feeling of exhilaration one experiences when inhaling thefirst whiff of nitrous oxide in the dentist's chair--a feeling ofabsolute detachment and care-free confidence in the ultimate result ofour precipitous descent. I found considerable amusement in pushing myself from side to side ofthe cabin with a mere touch of a finger. There was no up nor down, andsometimes it seemed to me that we were drifting sideways, sometimes thatwe fell upward rather than downward. Hart and George were unconcerned. Evidently they were quite accustomed to the sensations. They bent theirevery energy toward discovering what had caused the disaster to theSF-22 and its convoy. For several hours we cruised about on the strangest search ever made inthe air. Alternately shooting skyward to unconscionable altitudes anddropping to levels five and six to replenish our fuel supply, we coveredthe greater portion of the United States before the night was over. Butthe powerful searchlight of the _Pioneer_ failed to disclose anythingthat might be remotely connected with the disappearance of the SF-22. For me it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience. Lightning dashes fromcoast to coast which required but a few minutes of time--circling manymiles above New York or Washington or Savannah in broad daylight withthe sun low on the up-curved horizon; then shooting westward into thedarkness and skirting the Pacific coast less than fifteen minutes later, but with four hours' actual time difference. Space and time were almostone. * * * * * Hart had not provided the _Pioneer_ with a radio or televisiontransmitter, but there was an excellent receiver, and, through itsagency we learned that the world was in a veritable uproar over thelatest visitation of the mysterious terror of the sixth air level. Allcommercial traffic in levels four, five and six was ordereddiscontinued, and the government air control stations were flashing longmessages in code, the import of which could but be guessed. Visionflashes showed immense gatherings at the large airports and in thepublic squares of the great cities, where the general populace becomemore and more excited and terrified by the awful possibilities picturedby various prominent speakers. The governments of all foreign powers made haste to disclaimresponsibility for the air attacks or for any attempt at making war onthe United States. News broadcasts failed to mention Hart Jones or the_Pioneer_, since the mission had been kept secret. The phenomenon of therays and the roaring column of light had been observed from many pointson this occasion and there was no longer any doubt as to the nature ofthe terror as visible to the eye, though theories as to the action andsource of the rays conflicted greatly and formed the basis of muchheated discussion. Eventually the advancing dawn reached San Francisco, and with its adventHart decided to make a landing in that city so that my bonds could bedelivered. * * * * * Jones was apparently a very much mystified and discouraged man. "Jack, "he said, "it seems to me that this thing is but the beginning of sometremendous campaign that is being waged against our country by a cleverand powerful enemy. And I feel that our work in connection with theunraveling of the mystery and overcoming the enemy or enemies is butbegun. It's a cinch that the thing is organized by human minds and isnot any sort of a freak of the elements. Our work is cut out for us, allright, and I wish you would stick to George and me through the mess. Will you?" "Sure, " I agreed, readily enough. "After these bonds are delivered I amfree for a month. " "Ha! Ha!" cackled George, without mirth. "A month! We're doggoned luckyif we get to the bottom of this in a year. " "Nonsense!" snapped Hart, who was considerably upset by the failure tolocate the source of the disastrous rays. "There is nothing supernaturalabout this, and anything that can be explained on a scientific basis canbe run to earth in short order. These rays are man-made and, as such, can be accounted for by man. Our greatest scientists must be put to workon the problem at once--in fact, they have quite probably been called inby the government already. " * * * * * He was maneuvering the _Pioneer_ to a landing on the broad field of theSan Francisco airport. Hundreds of idle planes of all sizes lined thefield, and, unmindful of the earliness the hour, a great crowd wascollected in expectation of sensational reports from the occupants ofarriving ships. The unusual construction of the _Pioneer_ attractedconsiderable attention and it was with difficulty that the police keptback the crowd when she rolled to a stop near the office of the localgovernment supervisor. We hustled inside and were greeted by thatofficial with open arms. "Glory be!" he exclaimed. "Hart Jones and the _Pioneer_. Every airportin the land has been on the lookout for you all night. It was feared youhad been lost with the SF-22 and the others. Code messages to thesupervisors of all districts advised of your mission, though it has beenkept out of the general news, as has the message from the enemy. " "Message from the enemy!" gasped Hart, George and I, echoing the wordslike parrots. "Yes. A demand that the United States surrender, and a threat to descendinto the lower levels if the demand is not complied with in twenty-fourhours!" "Who is this enemy?" asked Hart, "and where?" "Who they are is not known, " replied the official gravely; "and as tothe location, the War Department is puzzled. Direction findersthroughout the country took readings on the position of their radiotransmitter and these readings differed widely in result. But theconsensus of opinion is that the messages originate somewhere out inspace, probably between fifty and one hundred thousand miles from ourearth. " "Great guns!" Hart glanced at George and me, where we stood withstupidly hanging jaws. "And what does the government want of me now?" "You are considered to be the one man who might be able to cope with theproblem, and are ordered to report to the Secretary of War, in person, immediately. " * * * * * Hart was electrified into instant activity. "Here, " he said in a voiceof authority that commanded the official's attention and respect, "seethat this package of bonds is delivered at once to the addressee andthat the addressor is advised of its safe arrival. We're off at once. " Suiting action to the words, he thrust my packet into the hands of theastonished supervisor. Then, turning sharply on his heel, he flung back, "Advise the Secretary of War that I shall report to him in person inless than one hour. " As we stepped through the entrance of the _Pioneer_, he shot a finallook at the official and laughed heartily at his sudden accession ofenergy. We had not the slightest doubt that Hart's orders would beimmediately and efficiently carried out. * * * * * In precisely forty-five minutes, we stood before the desk of LawrenceSimler, then Secretary of War, in Washington. "You are Mr. Hartley Jones?" inquired the stern-visaged little man. "I am, Mr. Secretary, and these are my friends and co-workers, GeorgeBoehm and John Makely. " The Secretary acknowledged the introduction gravely, then plunged intothe heart of the matter at hand with the quick energy for which he wasfamed. "It may or may not be a serious situation, " he said, "but certainly ithas thus far been quite alarming. In any event, we have taken the matterout of the hands of the Air Traffic Bureau. We are prepared to defy theultimatum of the enemy, whoever he may be. But we want your help, Mr. Jones. Every ship of the Air Navy will be in the upper levels within theprescribed twenty-four hours, and we will endeavor to stave off theirattacks until such time as you can fit the _Pioneer_ for a journey totheir headquarters. " "How can your antiquated war vessels, capable of hurling a highexplosive shell no more than fifty miles, fight off an enemy that isthousands of miles distant?" asked Hart. "It is believed by the research engineers of the government that, thoughtheir headquarters may be located at a great distance, the raiders dropto a comparatively low altitude at the time of one of their attacks, returning immediately thereafter to their base. " Hart Jones shook his head. "The engineers may be correct, " he stated;"but how on earth can you expect a little vessel like the _Pioneer_ tobattle an enemy who is possessed of these terribly destructive weaponsand who has sufficient confidence in his own invulnerability to declarewar on the greatest country on earth?" * * * * * Secretary Simler dropped his voice to a confidential tone, and his keengray eyes flashed excitement as he unfolded the details of thediscoveries and plans of the War Department. We three listened inundisguised amazement to a tale of the unceasing labors of our SecretService agents in foreign countries, of elaborate experiments withdeadly weapons and the chemicals of warfare. We heard of marvelous new rays that could be projected for many milesand destroy whole armies at a single blast; rays that would, in lesstime than that required to tell of the feat, reduce to a mass of fusedmetal the greatest firstline battleships of the old days of oceanwarfare. We heard of preparations for defensive warfare throughout thecivilized world, preparedness that insured so terrible and final a warthat it was literally impossible for a great world conflagration toagain break out. We learned that the present mysterious signs of acoming war could not possibly have originated in any country on earth, else they would have been known of long in advance, due to the networkof the Secret Service system. This war, so unexpectedly thrust upon us, was undoubtedly a war of planets! "But, " objected Hart, "the messages were in English, were they not?" "They were, " continued Secretary Simler, "and that puzzled our expertsin the beginning. But, it may well be that our enemy from out the skieshas had spies among us for many years and could thus have learned ourlanguages and radio codes. In any event, we are to meet destructive rayswith others equally destructive, and you, Hartley Jones, are the man whocan make our effectiveness certain. " "I?" "Yes. How long a time will be required in fitting out the _Pioneer_ forreliable space flying?" * * * * * Hart Jones pondered the matter and I could see that he was overjoyed atthe prospect of getting into the thing in earnest. "About one week, " hereplied, "providing you can send a force of fifty expert mechanics to myhangar at once and supply all material as fast as I shall require it. " "Excellent, " said the Secretary. "We'll have the men there in a fewhours and will obtain whatever you need, regardless of cost, forimmediate delivery. Incidentally, there will be several scientists aswell, who will supervise the installation of two types of ray generatorsand their projecting mechanisms on the _Pioneer_. You will need themlater. " "I don't doubt we shall, " said Hart. "And now, with your permission, weshall leave for the hangar. I'm ready to start work. " "Capital!" Secretary Simler pressed every one of a row of buttons set inhis desk top. We were dismissed. "Well, " said I, when we reached the outside, "he has given you quite ajob, Hart!" "You said something, " he replied. "But, if this threat from the skiesproves as real and as calamitous as I think it will, we all have ourwork cut out for us. " "Do you really believe this enemy comes from another planet?" askedGeorge as we entered the _Pioneer_ for the trip home. "Where else can they be from?" countered Hart. "But, really it makes nodifference to us now. We have to go after them in earnest. Don't want toquit, do you, George?" "Wha-a-at?" shouted George, as he jerked savagely at the main switch ofthe _Pioneer_. "You know me better than that, Hart. Did I ever let youdown in anything?" "No, " admitted the smiling Hart, "you never did, bless your heart. ButJack here is another matter. He has a wife and two kids to look after. That lets him out automatically. " * * * * * My heart sank at the words, for I knew that he meant what he said. And, truth to tell, I saw the justice in his remarks. "But, Hart, " I faltered, "I'd like to be in on this thing. " "I know you would, old man. But I think it's out of the question, forthe present at least. You can help with the reconstruction of the_Pioneer_, however. " And meekly I accepted his dictum, though with secretly conflictingemotions. Little did I realize at the time that Hart knew far more thanhe pretended and that he had merely attempted to salve his ownconscience in this manner. I was very anxious to return to my family, and, as I sped homeward in ataxicab after the _Pioneer_ landed at her own hangar, my mind was filledwith doubts and fears. Secretary Simler had been very brief in his talk, but his every word carried home the gravity of the situation. What ifthese invaders carried the war to the surface? Suppose they seared thecountryside and the cities and suburbs with rays of horrible nature thatwould shrivel and blast all that lay in their path? My heart chilled atthe thought and it was a distinct relief when I gazed on my little homeand saw that it was safe--so far. I paid the driver with a much toolarge bank note and dashed up my own front steps two at a time. A few hours later I tore myself away and returned to the hangar, wherethe _Pioneer_ now reposed in a scaffolded cradle. The sight which met myeyes was astonishing in the extreme, for the hangar had been transformedinto a huge workshop with seemingly hundreds of men already at work. Itwas a scene of furious activity, and, to my utter amazement, I observedthat the _Pioneer_ was already in an advanced stage of disassembly. * * * * * I had no difficulty in locating Hart Jones, for he was striding fromlathe to workbench to boring mill, issuing his orders with the surenessand decision of a born leader of men. He welcomed me in his most briskmanner and immediately assigned me to a portion of the work in thechemical laboratory--something I was at least partly fitted for. We labored far into the night, when a siren called us to rest and food. This was to be a night and day job, and not a man of those on duty gavethought to the intense nervous and physical strain. Sixty-five of us Ilearned there were, though it had seemed there were several times thatnumber. During the rest period, Hart switched on the large television and soundmechanism of the public news broadcasts. Great excitement prevailedthroughout the United States, for there had been a leak and the news hadgone abroad regarding the message from the enemy. There was widespreadpanic and disorder and the government was besieged with demands forauthentic news. The twenty-four hours of grace had nearly expired. Finally the public was told of what actually was happening. Our entirefleet of one thousand air cruisers was in air-level six, waiting for theenemy. America was going to fight in earnest! * * * * * Flashes of our air cruisers in construction and in action came over thescreen; voice-vision records of the popular officers of the fleetfollowed in quick succession. Then came the blow--the first of thestrange war. Two vessels of the air fleet had been destroyed by the triple rays andpillar of fire! Fifty cruisers rushing to the scene had been unable tofind any traces of the source of the deadly rays. And, this time, therewas an alarming added element. The pillar of fire had risen from a pointnear Gadsden in Alabama and, in its wake, there spread a sulphurous, smoldering fire that crept along the ground and destroyed all in itspath. Farms, factories, and even the steel rails of the railroads wereconsumed and burned into the ground as if by the breath of sometremendous blast furnace. Hundreds of inhabitants of the sectionperished, and it was reported that the fumes from the strange fires weredrifting in the direction of Birmingham, terrifyingly visible inblue-green clouds of searing vapor. With the first news of the disaster came a wave of fear that spread overthe country with the rapidity of the ether waves that carried the news. Then came stern determination. This enemy must be swept from the skies!Gatherings in public places volunteered en masse for whatever servicethe government might ask of them. The entire world was in an uproar, andfrom Great Britain, France, Germany and Russia, came immediate offers oftheir air fleets to assist in fighting off the Terror. * * * * * In less than an hour there were nearly five thousand cruisers inair-level six, patroling its entire depth from thirty-five thousand toone hundred thousand feet altitude. We resumed work in the hangar, but the news service was kept inoperation as far as the amplifiers were concerned, though the televisionscreen was switched off on account of the likelihood of its distractingthe workers. Again came the report of a major disaster, this time over Butte inMontana. Four American vessels and one British were the victims in levelsix. And the city of Butte was in flames; blue, horrible flames thatliterally melted the city into the ground. Again there was no trace ofthe invaders. How puny were the efforts of the five thousand air cruisers! Marvels ofengineering and mechanical skill, these vessels were. Deadly as were theweapons they carried--weapons so terrible that war on earth wasconsidered impossible since their development--they were helplessagainst an enemy who could not be located. Though our vessels werecapable of boring high into the stratosphere, the enemy worked fromstill higher. "Holy smoke!" gasped Hart Jones, who had stopped at my side. "What acontract I have on my hands!" * * * * * He looked in the direction of the partly dismantled _Pioneer_, and Icould see by the fixedness of his stare that he was thinking of herinsignificant size in comparison with the job she was to undertake. Above the din of the machines in the hangar rang the startled voice of anews announcer. Panic-stricken he seemed, and we stopped to listen. Another blow of the terror of the skies--and now close by! OverWestchester County in New York State there was a repetition of theprevious attacks. Only two of the cruisers had vanished this time; butseveral towns, including Larchmont and Scarsdale, were pools of moltenfire! Sick at heart, I thought of my little home in Rutherford and of the dearones it contained. I thought of telephoning, but, what was the use?There was no warding off of this terrible thing that had so suddenlycome to our portion of the world. It was the blowing of the lasttrumpet, the way things looked. The announcer had calmed himself. His voice droned tonelessly now, aswas the custom. Another raid, on the Mexican Border now. We werestupefied by the rapidity of the enemy's attacks; then electrified oncemore by the most astounding news of all. Alexandria, in Egypt, was thebase of a pillar of fire! Fully half of the city was wiped out, and theremainder in a mortal funk, terrorized and riotous. The United Stateswas not alone in the war! The foreign fleets which reinforced our own were ordered homeimmediately. But to what avail? The world was doomed! * * * * * In the morning, after nine fearful attacks during the night, there cameanother message from the enemy and this was repeated in five languagesand addressed to the entire world: "People of Earth, " it read, "this is our final warning. One chance hasbeen given and you have proved stubborn. Consider well that yourcivilization be not entirely destroyed, and answer as the expiration offorty-eight hours, using our transmitting frequency. Our hand is to bewithheld for that period only, when, unless our demands are met, all ofyour large cities and towns will be destroyed. Our terms for peace arethat we be permitted to land without resistance on your part; that yousurrender farm and forest lands, cities and towns, able-bodied men oftwenty to forty, selected women of seventeen to thirty, and tribute inthe form of such supplies and precious metals as we may specify, all tothe extent of forty per cent of your resources. No compromise will beaccepted. " That was all. It was during a rest period at the Jones hangar and I hadbrought Hart and George to my home for breakfast. We sat at the tablewhen the news instrument brought the message. Marie was pouring thecoffee, and my two small boys, Jim and Jack, had gone to the playroom, from whence their joyous voices could be heard. We four were struck dumbat the announcement, and Marie looked at me with so awful an expressionof dread that my coffee turned bitter in my mouth. Marie was justtwenty-eight! "What beasts!" cried Hart. "Allow them to land without resistance? Ishould say not! Rather we should fight them off until all of us perish. " * * * * * He had risen from his chair in his anger. Now he sat down suddenly andshook a forefinger in my face. "Say!" he exploded. "You can't tell me that some master mind of our ownworld is not back of this!" "I'm not telling you, " I replied, startled at the fierce fire thatflashed from his eyes. "I know. I'm just trying to think aloud and I'm liable to say anything. But this sort of business is the work of humans as sure as you're born. Still I believe that what Simler says is true. I can't believe that anycountry on earth is back of the thing. It must be an attack from beingsof another planet, but I think they have as a leader a man who is ofour own earth. " Marie's eyes opened wide at this. "But how could that be?" she asked. "Surely no one from our earth has made the trip to one of the otherplanets?" "It may be that someone has, " replied Hart. "Do you remember ProfessorOradel? Remember, about ten years ago, I think it was, when he and ahalf dozen or more of extremely radical scientists built a rocket theyclaimed would reach the moon? They were ridiculed and hissed andrelegated to the position of half-baked, crazy inventors. But Oradel hada large private fortune, and he and his crowd built themselves aworkshop and laboratory in a secluded region in the Ozarks. Here theylabored and experimented and eventually the rocket ship was constructed. No person was in their confidence, but when the machine was completedthey issued a statement to the press to the effect that they were readyfor the voyage to the moon, and that, when they returned, a reckoningwith the world was to be made for its disbelief and total lack ofsympathy. Again the press subjected Oradel to a series of scathingdenunciations, and the scientific publications refused to takecognizance of his claims in any way, shape or form. " * * * * * "Then, one night, a great rocket roared into the heavens, leaving aterror-stricken countryside in the wake of its brilliantly visible tail. Several observatories whose telescopes picked up and followed the trailof the contraption reported that it described a huge parabola, mountinghigh into the stratosphere and falling back to earth, where it was lostin the depths of the Pacific Ocean. There the thing ended and it wassoon forgotten. But I believe that this rocket ship of Oradel's reachedMars or Venus and that the peoples of whichever planet they reached havebeen prevailed upon and prepared to war upon the world. " "That would explain their knowledge of our languages and codes. " Iventured, "and would likewise account for the fact that the first of ourships to be attacked were those carrying large shipments of currency. Though if these were destroyed by the fire columns, I can not see whatgood the money would do them. " "Don't believe the first three were destroyed, " grunted Hart. "You'llremember that in these cases the pillars of fire, or whatever you wantto call them, were of a cold light, whereas now they are viciously hotand leave behind them the terrible destructive fires that spread andspread and seemingly never are extinguished. No, I think that the forceused is something of the nature of an atom-disrupting triad of beams andthat these set up the column as a veritable tornado, a whirling columnof roaring wind rushing skyward with tremendous velocity. The firstships, I believe, were carried into the stratosphere and captured intactby the enemy. "Since the declaration of war the nature of the column has altered. Thethree beams, instead of meeting at or near the surface of the earth, nowjoin high in the heavens and the column strikes downward instead ofexpending its force upward. An added energy is used which produces theterribly destructive force below. And now we are able to locatefragments of the ships destroyed above, whereas previously there were notraces. " * * * * * "Sounds reasonable, " commented George. "But why have they not landed andwaged their war right here without warning, if that is what they nowintend to do?" "A natural question, George. But I have a hunch that the space flier orfliers of the enemy are conserving fuel by remaining beyond gravity. Youknow, in space flying, the greatest expenditures of energy are inleaving or landing on a body and, once landed, they might not havesufficient fuel for a getaway. They know we are not exactly helpless, once they are in our midst, and are taking this means of reducing us tothe point of complete subjection before risking their precious selvesamong us. " The telephone startled us by its insistent ring. It was a call from thehangar for Hart. The news broadcast announcer was in the midst of a longdissertation regarding the discovery only this morning that there werecertain apparent discrepancies in the movements of the tides andunwonted perturbations of the moon's orbit. There flashed on the screena view of the great observatory at Mount Wilson, and Professor Laughlinof that institution stepped into the foreground of the scene to take upthe discussion so mechanically repeated by the announcer. "Must leave for the hangar at once, " declared Hart, returning from thetelephone. "Simler and his staff are there and we are wantedimmediately. " "Oh, Jack!" Marie begged with her eyes. "Got to be done, Honey, " I responded, "and, believe me, I am going to dowhat little I can to help. Suppose we surrendered!" * * * * * I shuddered anew at the very thought and took hurried leave of myfamily, Hart and George awaiting me in the hall. Had I known what was totranspire before the end of the war, I am certain I would have been inmuch less of a hurry. We rushed to the hangar, where Secretary Simler and his party awaited usin the office. Rather, I should say, they waited for Hart Jones. "Mr. Jones, " said the Secretary of War, when the introductions wereover, "it is up to you to get the _Pioneer_ in shape to go out afterthese terrible creatures before the forty-eight hours have expired. Wehave replied to their ultimatum and have told them we will have ouranswer ready within the appointed time, but it is already agreed betweenthe nations of the World Alliance that our reply is to be negative. Better far that we submit to the utter destruction of our civilizationthan 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 astronomerat once with whom to consult. " "Astronomer?" "Yes--immediately. I have a theory, but am not enough of a student ofastronomy 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 mightneed, " he concluded. "There is nothing else, sir. " Hart turned from the great men whoregarded him solemnly, some with expressions of hope, others with plaindistrust 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 can who presented himself as Professor Linquistfrom the government observatory. He was immediately taken into theoffice by Hart and the two remained behind closed doors for the bestpart of four hours. Meanwhile the hangar hummed with activity as usual. We in the chemicallaboratory were engaged in compounding the high explosive used as fuelin the _Pioneer_. This was being compressed to its absolute limit andwas stored in long steel cylinders in the form of a liquid of extremelylow temperature. These cylinders were at once transferred to a specialsteel vault where the temperature was kept at a low enough point toprevent expansion and consequent loss of the explosive, not to speak ofthe danger of destroying the entire lot of us in its escape. The generating apparatus of the _Pioneer_ was to be dispensed with forthis trip, since it was of no value outside the atmosphere where therewas no air from which to extract the elements necessary for theproduction of the explosive. Instead, the entire supply of fuel for thetrip was to be carried aboard the vessel in the cylinders we wereengaged in filling. Hart had calculated that there was just sufficientroom to store fuel for a trip of about two hundred thousand miles fromthe earth and a safe return. We hoped this would be enough. * * * * * On the scaffolding around the _Pioneer_ there were now so many workersthat it seemed they must forever be in one another's way. But the workwas progressing with extreme rapidity. Already there projected from herblunt nose a slender rod of shining metal which was the projector of oneof the destructive rays whose generator and auxiliaries were beinginstalled under the supervision of the government experts. The force hadbeen trebled and was now working in shifts of two hours each, the pacebeing so exhausting that highest efficiency was obtained by using theseshort periods. Additional rocket rubes were being installed, and the steel framework ofa bulge now showed on the hull, this bulge being an additional fuelstorage compartment that would provide a slight additional resistanceand consequently lower speed in the lower levels, but would prove littlehindrance 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 atsome momentous conclusion regarding the enemy. "Jack, " he said, when he reached my bench during his first round of thehanger, "celestial mechanics is a wonderful thing. I had a hunch, andthis astronomer chap has proved it correct with his mathematics. Ourfriend the enemy is out there in space at a point where his own mass andvelocity are exactly counteracted by those of the earth and itssatellite, the moon. He is just floating around in space, doing no workwhatsoever to maintain his own position. He has temporarily assumed therôle of a second satellite to us and is revolving around us at adefinite period that was calculated by Lindquist. The gravitational pullof the moon keeps him from falling to the earth and that of the earthkeeps him from approaching the moon. The resultant of the set of forcesis what determines his orbit and the disturbance in the normal balanceis what has been observed by the astronomers who reported changes in thetides and in the moon's orbit. " * * * * * "But Lindquist's figures prove that the vessel or fleet of the enemymust be of tremendous size to produce such discrepancies, infinitesimally small though they might seem. We have a big fellow withwhom to deal, but we know where to find him now. " "How can he work from a fixed position to make his attacks on the earthat such widely separated points?" I asked. "It isn't a fixed position in the first place, and besides the earthrotates once in twenty-four hours, while the moon travels around theearth once in about twenty-eight days. But, even so, the widespreaddestruction could not be accounted for. He must send out scoutingparties or something of that sort. That is one of the things we are tolearn 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'mhaving some heavily-cushioned and elastic supports made that will, Ibelieve, save us from injury. And I guess we can stand the discomfortfor once. " "Yes, " I agreed, "in such a cause, I, for one, am willing to go throughanything to help keep this overwhelming disaster from our good oldworld. " "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 headlongfrom one task to another. He was a whirlwind of energy once more. * * * * * Forty-three hours and twenty minutes had passed since the receipt of theenemy's ultimatum. The last bolt was being tightened in the remodeled_Pioneer_, and Secretary Simler and his staff were on hand to witnessthe 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 thebroadcasts of the news service and thus be able to anticipate us. Asusual, there were many scoffers, but the concensus of opinion was infavor of the project. At any rate, what better expedient was there tooffer? The huge airport, now unused on account of the complete cessation of airtraffic, was closed to the public. But there was quite a crowd towitness the take-off, the visitors from Washington, the officials of thefield, and the two hundred workers who had enabled us to make ready forthe adventure in time. There were four to enter the _Pioneer_: Hart, George, Professor Lindquist, and myself. And when the entrance manholewas bolted home behind us, the watchers stood in silence, waiting forthe roar of the _Pioneer's_ motor. As the starter took hold, Hart wavedhis hand at one of the ports and every man of those two hundred and somewatchers stood at attention and saluted is if he were a born soldier andHart a born commander-in-chief. * * * * * We taxied heavily across the field, for the _Pioneer_ was muchoverloaded for a quick take-off. She bumped and bounced for aquarter-mile before taking to the air and then climbed very slowlyindeed, for several minutes. Our speed was a scant two hundred miles anhour when we swung out over New York and headed for the Atlantic. Andthen Hart made first use of the rocket tubes, not daring to dischargethe hot gases below while over populated land at so low an altitude. Hetouched one button, maintaining the pressure for but a fraction of asecond. The ocean slipped more rapidly away from beneath our feet and hetouched the button once more. Our speed was now nearly seven hundredmiles an hour and we made haste to buckle ourselves into the padded, hammocklike contrivances which had been substituted for the formerseats. In a very few minutes we entered level six and the motor was cutoff entirely. A blast from a number of the tail rockets drove me into my supportinghammock so heavily that I found difficulty in breathing, and couldscarcely move a muscle to change position. The rate of acceleration wasterrific, and I am still unable to understand how Hart was able tomanipulate the controls. For myself, I could not even turn my head fromits position in the padding and I felt as if I were being crushed bythousands of tons of pressure. Then, the pressure was somewhat relievedand I glanced to the instruments. We were more than a thousand milesfrom our starting point and the speed indicator read seven thousandmiles an hour. We were traveling at the rate of nearly two miles asecond! * * * * * Another blast from the rockets, this one of interminable length, and Imust have lost consciousness. For when I next took note of things Ifound that we had been out for nearly two hours and that the tremendouspressure of acceleration was relieved. I moved my head, experimentallyand found that my senses were normal, though there was a strange andalarming sensation of being wrong side up. Then I remembered that I hadexperienced the same thing when we first searched the upper levels ofthe atmosphere for the origin of the destructive rays of the enemy. But this was different! I gazed through a nearby port and saw that thesky was entirely black, the stars shining magnificently brilliantagainst their velvet background. Streamers of brilliant sunlight fromthe floor ports struck across the cabin and patterned the ceiling. Looking between my feet I saw the sun as a flaming orb with streamers ofincandescence that spread in every direction with such blindingluminosity 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 hugeglobe that I quickly made out as our own earth. Eerily green it shone, and, though a considerable portion of the surface was obscured bypatches of white that I recognized as clouds, I could clearly make outthe continents of the eastern hemisphere. It was a marvelous sight and Ilost several minutes in awed contemplation of the wonder. Then I heardHart laugh. "Just coming out of it, Jack?" he asked. * * * * * I stared at him foolishly. It had seemed to me that I was alone in thisvast universe, and the sound of his voice startled me. "Guess I'm notfully out of it yet, " I said. "Where are we?" "Oh, about sixty thousand miles out, " he replied carelessly; "and we aretraveling at our maximum speed--that is, the maximum we need for thislittle voyage. " "Little voyage!" I gasped. And then I looked at George and the professorand saw that they, too, were grinning at my discomfiture. I laughedcrazily, I suppose, for they all sobered at once. Traveling through space at more than forty thousand miles an hour, itseemed that we were stationary. Movement was now easy--too easy, infact, for we were practically weightless. The professor was having atime of it manipulating a pencil and a pad of paper on which he had amass of small figures that were absolutely meaningless to me. He wascalculating and plotting our course and, without him, we should neverhave reached the object we sought. Time passed rapidly, for the wonders of the naked universe were anever-ending source of fascination. Occasionally a series of rocketcharges was fired to keep our direction and velocity, but these werelight, and the acceleration so insignificant that we were put to nodiscomfort whatever. But it was necessary that we keep our strapsbuckled, for, in the weightless condition, even the slightest increaseor decrease in speed or change in direction was sufficient to throw usthe length of the cabin, from which painful bruises might be received. * * * * * The supports to which we were strapped and which saved us from beingcrushed by the acceleration and deceleration, were similar to hammocks, being hooked to the floor and ceiling of the cabin rather than suspendedhorizontally in the conventional manner. This was for the reason thatthe energy of the rockets was expended fore and aft, except forsteering, and the forces were therefore along the horizontal axis of thevessel. The supports were elastic and the padding deep and soft. Beingswiveled at top and bottom, they could swing around so that decelerationas well as acceleration was relieved. For this reason the controls hadbeen altered so that the flexible support in which Hart was suspendedcould rotate about their pedestal, thus allowing for their operation bythe pilot either when accelerating or decelerating. How he could controlthe muscles of his arms and hands under the extreme conditions is stilla mystery to me, however, and George agrees with me in this. We foundourselves to be utterly helpless. My next impression of the trip is that of swinging rapidly around andfinding myself facing the rear wall of the cabin. Then the tremendouspressure once more at a burst from the forward tubes. We had commenceddeceleration. For me there were alternate periods of full andsemi-consciousness and, to this day, I can remember no more than thehigh spots of that historical expedition. * * * * * Then we were free to move once more, and I turned to face the instrumentboard. Our relative velocity had become practically zero; that is, wewere traveling through space at about the same speed and in the samedirection as the earth. The professor and Hart were consulting a pencilchart and excitedly looking first through the forward ports and theninto 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 exceptingthe marvels of the universe we had been viewing. The moon now seemedvery close and its craters and so-called seas were as plainly visible asin 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 firstobserved it from the heavens. The sun's corona--the flaming streamerswhich the professor declared extended as much as five million miles intospace--was partly hidden behind the rim of the earth and the effect wasblinding. A thin crescent of brilliant light marked the rim of ourplanet and the rest was in shadow, but a shadow that was lightedawesomely in cold green by reflected light from her satellite. "I have it!" suddenly shouted the professor. "We are all in very nearlythe same line with reference to the sun, and the enemy is between theblazing body and ourselves. We must shift our position, move into theshadow of the earth. We have missed our calculation by a few hundredmiles, that is all. " All! I thought. These astronomers, so accustomed to dealing intremendous distances that must be measured in light-years, thoughtnothing of an error of several hundred miles. But I suppose it wasreally an inconsiderable amount, at that. At any rate, we shifted position and looked around a bit more. We sawnothing 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 pointnot a hundred miles from our position, a flash that was followed by astreaking pencil of the same light shooting earthward with terrificvelocity. Breathlessly we followed its length, saw it burst like a bomband hurl three green balls from itself which sped at equally spacedangles to form a perfect triangle. They hovered a moment at about twothousand miles above the surface of the earth, according to theprofessor, who was using the telescope at the time, and shot theirdeadly rays toward our world. We were too late to prevent the renewal ofhostilities! Another and another streak of green light followed and we knew thatgreat havoc was being wrought back home. But these served to locate theenemy's position definitely and we immediately set about to draw nearer. We were still somewhat on the dark side of the object, which hadprevented our seeing it. Now we swung about so that it was plainlyvisible. And, what a strange appearance it presented, out here in space! Fully fifteen miles in diameter, it was a huge doughnut, a great ring oftubing with a center-opening that was at least eighty per cent of itsmaximum diameter. There it hovered, sending out those deadly missiles ina continuous stream toward our poor world. As we approached the weirdspace flier, we saw that a number of objects floated about within thegreat circle of its inner circumference. The NY-18, the SF-61 and theSF-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 thestreaking light pencils were speeding earthward at the rate of one aminute now. There was no time to lose. Already there was moredestruction on its way than had been previously wrought--several timesover. Hart was sighting along a tiny tube that projected into the forwardpartition and he maneuvered the _Pioneer_ until she was nose on to thegreat ring. He pulled a switch and there came a purring that wasentirely new. A row of huge vacuum tubes along the wall lighted to vividbrilliancy and a throbbing vibration filled the artificial air of thecabin. He pulled a small lever at the side of the tube and the vessel rocked tothe energy that was released from those vacuum tubes. The thin rod whichhad been installed at the _Pioneer's_ nose burst into brilliantflame--orange tinted luminescence that grew to a sphere of probably tenfeet in diameter. Then there was a heavy shock and the ball of fire leftits position and, with inconceivable velocity, sprang straight for theside of the great ring. It was a fair hit and, when the weird missilefound its mark, it simply vanished--swallowed up in the metal walls ofthe monster vessel. For a moment we thought nothing was to result. Thenwe burst into shouts of joy, for a great section of the ring fused intonothingness and was gone! Fully a quarter of the circumference of thering had disappeared into the vacuum of space. Truly, the governments ofEarth had developed some terrible weapons of their own! We watched, breathless. * * * * * The green light pencils no longer streaked their paths of death in thedirection of our world, which now seemed so remote. The great ring withthe vacant space in its rim wabbled uncertainly for a moment as thoughsome terrific upheaval from within was tearing it asunder. Then itlurched directly for the _Pioneer_. We had been observed! But Hart was equal to the occasion and he shot the _Pioneer_ in thedirection of the earth with such acceleration that we all were flattenedinto our supports with the same old violence. Then, with equal violence, we decelerated. The ring was following so closely that it actuallyrushed many hundreds of miles past us before it was brought to rest. From it there sprang one of the light pencils, and the _Pioneer_ wasrocked as by a heavy gale when it rushed past on its harmless way intoinfinity. 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 wasno sound within, no ball of fire without, no visible ray. But, when hehad pressed the release of this second energy, the ring seemed toshrivel 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 dropearthward. His job finished and finished well, Hart Jones collapsed. * * * * * Following his more than three days and four nights of superhumanendeavor, it seemed strange to see Hart slumped white and still over thecontrol pedestal. He who had energy far in excess of that of any of therest of us had worn himself out. Having had no rest or sleep in nearly ahundred hours, the body that housed so wonderful a spirit simply refusedto carry on. Tenderly we stretched him on the cabin floor, the _Pioneer_drifting in space the while. The professor, who was likewise somethingof a physician, listened to his heart, drew back his eyelids, andpronounced him in no danger whatever. We slapped his wrists, sprinkled his face and neck with cold water fromthe drinking supply, and were soon rewarded by his return toconsciousness. He smiled weakly and fell sound asleep. No war in theuniverse could have wakened him then, so we lifted him to hisfeet--rather I should say, we guided his practically floating body--andstrapped him in George's hammock, preparing for the homeward journey. Though dangling from the straps in a position that would be verticalwere we on earth, he slept like a baby. George took the controls inHart's place and the professor and I returned to our accustomedsupports. The return trip was considerably slower, as George did not wish to pushthe _Pioneer_ to its limit as had been necessary when coming out to meetthe enemy, nor was he able to keep control of the ship against atoo-rapid acceleration. Consequently, the rate of acceleration was muchlower and we were not nearly as uncomfortable as on the outgoing trip. Thus, nearly ten hours were required for the return. And Hart sleptthrough it all. * * * * * In order to make best use of the small amount of fuel still in thecylinders, George circled the earth five times before we entered theupper limits of the atmosphere, the circles becoming of smaller diameterat each revolution and the speed of the ship proportionately reduced. Anoccasional discharge from one of the forward rocket tubes assistedmaterially in the deceleration, yet, when we slipped into level five, our speed was so great that the temperature of the cabin rosealarmingly, due to the friction of the air against the hull of thevessel. It was necessary to use the last remaining ounce of fuel toreduce the velocity to a safe value. A long glide to earth was then ouronly means of landing and, since we were over the Gulf of Mexico at thetime, we had no recourse other than landing in the State of Texas. Passing over Galveston in level three, we found that the Humble oilfields and a great section of the surrounding country had been thecenter of one of the enemy bombardments. All was blackness and ruin formany 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 thesouthern route transcontinental liners had just made its stop at thispoint. The arrival of the _Pioneer_ was thus witnessed by an unusuallylarge crowd, and, when the news was spread to the city, their numbersincreased with all the rapidity made possible by the various means oftransportation from the city. So it was that Hart Jones, after we finally succeeded in awakening himand getting him to his feet, was hailed by a veritable multitude as thegreatest hero of all time. The demonstrations become so enthusiasticthat police reserves, hastily summoned from the city, were helpless intheir attempts to keep the crowd in order. * * * * * It was with greatest difficulty that Hart was finally extricated fromthe 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 deservedplaudits 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. Myfirst thought was of my family and, when I had been assigned to a room, I immediately asked the switchboard operator for a long-distanceconnection to my home in Rutherford. There was complete silence for aminute and I jangled the hook impatiently, my head throbbing with athousand aches and pains. Then, to my surprise, the voice of the hotelmanager greeted me. "Mr. Makely, " he said softly, and I thought there was a peculiar ring inhis voice, "I think you had better not try to get Rutherford thisevening. We are sending the house physician to your room at onceand--there are orders from Washington, you know--you are to think ofnothing at the present but sleep and a long rest. " "Why--why--" I stammered, "can't you see? I must communicate with myfamily. They must know of my return. I must know if they're safe andwell. " "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. Anicy hand gripped my heart as I heard a knock at the door. With palsiedfingers I turned the key and admitted the professor and a kindly-facedelderly gentleman with a small black bag. One look at the professor toldme 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 watchingHart destroy the enemy vessel, Rutherford was destroyed!" * * * * * It must be that I frightened him by my answering stare, for he backedaway from me in apparent fear. I noticed that the doctor was rummagingin his bag. I know I did not speak, did not cry out, for my tongue cloveto the roof of my mouth. It seemed I must go mad. The professor stillbacked away from me; then, wiry little athlete that he was, he sprangdirectly for my knees in a beautiful football tackle. I remember thatpoint clearly and how I admired his agility at the time. I remember theglint of a small instrument in the doctor's hand. Then all wasblackness. Eight days later, they tell me it was, I returned to painfulconsciousness in a hospital bed. But let me skip the agony of mind Iexperienced then. Suffice it to say that, when I was able, I set forthfor Washington. Hart Jones was there and he had sent for me. But I tooklittle interest in the going; did not even bother to speculate as to thereason for his summons. I had devoured the news during my convalescenceand now, more than two weeks after the destruction of the Terror, I knewthe extent of the damage wrought upon our earth by those deadly greenlight pencils we had seen issuing from the huge ring up there in theskies. The horror of it all was fresh in my mind, but my own privatehorror overshadowed all. * * * * * I was glad that Hart had been so signally honored by the World PeaceBoard, that he was now the most famous and popular man in the entireworld. He deserved it all and more. But what cared I--I who had doneleast of all to help in his great work--that the Terror had been foundwhere 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 hugemetal ring were of inestimable value to science? It gave me passing satisfaction to note that all of Hart Jones' theorieswere borne out by the discoveries; that Oradel and his minions wereresponsible for this terrible war; that the planet they aligned againstus was Venus and that more than a hundred thousand of the Venerians hadbeen carried in that weird engine of destruction which had been broughtdown by Hart. It was interesting to read of the fall of that huge ring; how it washeated to incandescence when it entered our atmosphere at suchtremendous velocity; of the tidal waves of concentric billows in thesand that led to its discovery by Egyptian Government planes. Thebroadcast descriptions and the television views of the stunted andtwisted Venerians whose bodies were recovered from the partly consumedwreckage were interesting. But it all left me cold. I had no furtherinterest in life. That the world had escaped an overwhelming disasterwas clear, and it gave me a certain pleasure. But for me it might aswell have been completely destroyed. Nevertheless, I went to Washington. I felt somehow that I owed it toHart Jones, the greatest world hero since Lindbergh. I would at leastlisten to what he had to say. * * * * * A fast plane carried me, a plane chartered by the government. To me itseemed that it crawled, though it was a sixth-level ship, and made thetrip in record time. Why I was impatient to reach Washington I do notknow, for I was absolutely disinterested in anything that might occurthere. It was merely that my nerves were on edge, I suppose, andeverything annoyed me. Hart met me at the airport and greeted me like a long-lost brother. Hetalked incessantly and jumped from one subject to the other with theobvious intention of trying to get my mind off my troubles until wereached his office in the Air Traffic building. On his door there was the legend, "Director of Research, " and, when wehad entered, I observed that the office was furnished with all theluxury that suited his new position. I dropped into a deeply upholsteredchair at the side of his mahogany desk, and, for the space of severalminutes, Hart regarded me with concern, speaking not a word. "Jack, old man, " he finally ventured. "I can't talk to you of thisthing. But it makes me feel very badly to see you take it so hard. Thereare many things you have to live for, old top, and it is to talk aboutthese that I sent for you. " "You mean work?" I asked. "Yes. That is the best thing for us all, in any emergency or under anycircumstances whatever. Preston wants you back for one thing, and heauthorized me to tell you that the job of office manager is waiting foryou at double your former salary. " * * * * * My eyes misted at this. Preston was a good old scout! But I could neverbear 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 thecountry. Associations, you know. " "I understand, " he replied, "and that is just what I had hoped you woulddecide. 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. Morethan forty cities and towns have been wiped out of existence and thesemust be rebuilt. That will occupy the minds and energies of thousandswho have been bereaved as you have. But, in the Air Service, we have aprogram 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 ofmanuscripts pertaining to plans of the Venerians. "These misshapen creatures were quite evidently educated by Oradel to ahatred of our world. We have reason to believe that other attacks mayfollow, for they were obviously intending to migrate here in millions. And, according to records found aboard the _Terror_, they are ofadvanced scientific accomplishment. We may expect them to constructother vessels similar to the _Terror_ and to come here again. We must beprepared to fight them off, to carry the war to their own planet ifnecessary. My work is to organize a world fleet of space ships for thispurpose, and I'd like you to help me in this. The work will take you allover 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 bottomof my heart. Yes, I would accept his generous offer. Though I was noengineer, I had a knowledge of scientific subjects a little above theaverage, and I could follow instructions. By George, it was the verything! Suddenly I grew enthusiastic. * * * * * There was the sound of voices in the outer office, and Hart's secretaryentered 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 shortarm and pounded me on the back with his other fist in his jovial, jokingmanner. It was good to have friends like these! The professor held forthhis hand timidly. He was thinking of that tackle and the half-Nelson hehad used on me while the doctor slipped that needle into my arm backthere in Houston. "Don't remove your glasses, Professor, " I laughed; "I'm not going to hityou. That was a swell tackle of yours, and you did me a big service downthere in the Rice Hotel. " He beamed with pleasure and gripped my hand--mightily, for such a littlefellow. George was whispering to Hart, and I could see that they weregreatly excited over something. "Jack, " said Hart, when the professor and I finished talking thingsover, "George here wants you to take a little trip over to Philly withhim. He has something there he wants to show you. " I looked from one to the other for signs of a hoax. These two, undernormal circumstances, were always up to something. But what I saw intheir expressions convinced me that I had better go, and somehow, thererose 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 littlefirst-level cabin plane of Hart's design, piloted by the irrepressibleGeorge. I was brimming with questions, but George kept up such arunning fire of small talk that I was unable to get in a single wordthroughout the short trip to the Quaker City. It was quite evident thatsomething was in the wind. Instead of landing at the airport, George swung across the city anddropped to the roof landing space of a large building which I recognizedas the Germantown Hospital. We had no sooner landed when I was rushedfrom the plane to the penthouse over the elevator shafts. We were soonon the main floor and George went immediately to the desk at thereceiving office, where he engaged in earnest conversation with thenurse 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 whatto expect. "No, " laughed Hart. "George learned of the existence of a patient herewho may turn out to be a very good friend of yours. " I turned this over in my mind, which did not yet function quitenormally. A friend? Why, I had very few that could really be termed goodfriends outside of those that accompanied me. It could mean but onething. Possibly one of my children--or even my dear wife--might haveescaped somehow. I followed in a daze as a white-capped and gowned nurseled us along the corridor and into a ward where there were dozens ofhigh, white beds. * * * * * Some of the patients were swathed in bandages; some sat up in theirbeds, reading or just staring; others lay inert and pale. The reek ofiodoform pervaded the large room. We stopped at the bedside of one of the staring patients, a young womanwho looked unseeingly at our party. Great heavens, it was Marie! A physician stood at the other side of her bed, finger on her pulse. Theothers drew back as I approached her side, raised her free hand to mylips and spoke to her. "Marie, dear, " I asked gently, forcing the lump from my throat as best Icould, "don't you know me? It's Jack, Honey. " The fixed stare of the great blue eyes shifted in my direction. Itseemed that they looked through and past me into some terrible realmwhere only horror held sway. She drew her hand from my grasp and passedit before those staring, unnatural eyes. There was an audible gulp fromGeorge. 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 pitifullythin. The stare focussed on me, seemed to concentrate. Then the film wasgone from the eyes and she saw--she knew me! "Oh, Jack!" she wailed, "I have been away. Don't you know where theyare?" My heart nearly stopped at this, but I sat on the edge of the bed andtook her in my arms, looking at the doctor for approval. He nodded hishead 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 hereyes now and great tears coursed down her waxen cheeks. Her body shookwith sobs. "She'll recover?" I asked the doctor. "You bet. Just an aggravated case of amnesia. Hasn't eaten. Didn't evenknow 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 graduallyceased and she looked into my eyes. Little Jim and Jack had come in andwere clamoring for recognition. "Oh, Jack, " Marie whispered, "I'm so happy. " She relinquished me and turned her attention to the children. I saw thatmy friends had left and that an orderly was placing screens about us. SoI'll close the screen on the remainder of this most happy reunion. * * * * * It was several days before I had the complete story. Being lonesomeduring my absence when we were preparing for the voyage into space, andnot knowing just when I would return, Marie had packed a grip and takenthe train for Philadelphia, deciding to spend a few days with her AuntMargaret, or at least to remain there with the children until Ireturned. She had boarded the train at Manhattan Transfer at about the time wereached the location of the _Terror_ and the train was just pulling outof the station when there came the first of the new attacks of theenemy. She thought that the pillar of fire rose from the approximatelocation of Rutherford, but was not sure until they reached Newark, whenthe news was spread throughout the train by passengers who boarded itthere. She worried and cried over the loss of our little home and hadworked herself into a state of extreme nervousness and near-hysteria bythe 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 trainwere blown from the track by the initial concussion, and the remainderof the train brought to a grinding, jerking stop that threw thepassengers into a panic. Already hysterical, Marie was in no condition to bear up under theshock, and the loss of memory followed. Jack and Jim clung to her, ofcourse, and were taken to the Germantown Hospital with her when thewreck victims were transferred to that point. She had no identificationon her person, and it was by sheerest luck that George, who was visitinga friend in the same hospital, chanced to see her and thought herecognized her. That was all of it, but to me it was more than enough. From the depthsof despondency, I rose to the peaks of elation. It was true that wewould have to establish a new home, but this would be a joy as neverbefore. Those I had given up as lost were restored to me and I wascontent. Hart would have to make some changes in the duties of that newjob--the world travel was out of the picture. I had had my fill ofadventure. 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 briefhistory of the Forgotten Planet. [Sidenote: The authentic account of why cosmic man damned an outlawworld to be, forever, a leper of Space. ] That this record, when completed, will be sealed in the archives of theInterplanetary Alliance and remain there, a secret and rather dreadfulbit of history, is no concern of mine. I am an old man, well past thecentury mark, and what disposal is made of my work is of littleimportance to me. I grow weary of life and living, which is good. Thefear of death was lost when our scientists showed us how to live untilwe 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 borehad been, as every child knows, stricken from the records, actual andmental, 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, myrecord should go back to beginnings. So far as the Universe is concerned, the history of the Forgotten Planetbegins with the visit of the first craft ever to span the space betweenthe worlds: the crude, adventuresome _Edorn_, whose name, as well asthe names of the nine Zenians who manned her, occupy the highest placesin the roll of honor of the Universe. Ame Baove, the commander and historian of the _Edorn_, made but briefcomment 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 tohesitate. There were so many friendly, eager worlds to visit, during theyears that relations between the planets were being established, that anunfriendly people were ignored. However, from time to time, as space-ships became perfected and morecommon, parties from many of the more progressive planets did call. Eachof them met with the same hostile reception, and at last, shortly afterthe second War of the Planets, the victorious Alliance sent a fleet ofthe small but terrible Deuber Spheres, convoyed by four of the largestof the disintegrator ray-ships, to subjugate the Forgotten Planet. Five great cities were destroyed, and the Control City, the seat of thegovernment, was menaced before the surly inhabitants conceded allegianceto the Alliance. Parties of scientists, fabricators, and workmen werethen landed, and a dictator was appointed. From all the worlds of the Alliance, instruments and equipment werebrought to the Forgotten Planet. A great educational system was plannedand executed, the benign and kindly influence of the Alliance made everyeffort to improve the conditions existing on the Forgotten Planet, andto 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 thereill feeling. The second awful War of the Planets had at last succeededin teaching the lesson of peace. Two centuries of effort--wasted effort. It was near the end of thesecond century that my own story begins. Commander at that time of the super-cruiser _Tamon_, a Special Patrolship of the Alliance, I was not at all surprised to receive orders fromthe Central Council to report at emergency speed. Special Patrol work inthose days, before the advent of the present de-centralized system, wasa succession of false starts, hurried recalls, and urgent, emergencyorders. * * * * * I obeyed at once. In the Special Patrol service, there is no questioningorders. The planet Earth, from which I sprang, is and always has beenproud of the fact that from the very beginning, her men have been pickedto command the ships of the Special Patrol. No matter how dangerous, howforlorn and hopeless the mission given to a commander of a SpecialPatrol ship, history has never recorded that any commander has everhesitated. That is why our uniform of blue and silver commands therespect that it does even in this day and age of softening anddecadence, when men--but again an old man digresses. And perhaps it isnot for me to judge. I pointed the blunt nose of the _Tamon_ at Zenia, seat of the CentralCouncil, and in four hours, Earth time, the great craft swept over thegleaming city of the Central Council and settled swiftly to the courtbefore the mighty, columned Hall of the Planets. Four pages of the Council, in their white and scarlet livery, met me andconducted me instantly to a little anteroom behind the great councilchamber. There were three men awaiting me there; three men whose faces, at thattime, were familiar to every person in the known Universe. Kellen, the oldest of the three, and the spokesman, rose as I enteredthe room. The others did likewise, as the pages closed the heavy doorsbehind 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 bulkyand clumsy instrument to enable us to convey and receive thought; adevice consisting of a heavy band of metal, in which were imbedded thenecessary instruments and a tiny atomic energy generator, the wholebeing worn as a circlet or crown upon the head. Wonderingly, I removed my menore, placed it upon the long, dark tablearound which the three men were standing, and bowed. Each of the three, in turn, lifted their gleaming circlets from their heads, and placedthem likewise upon the table before them. * * * * * "You wonder, " said Kellen, speaking of course, in the soft and liquiduniversal language, which is, I understand, still disseminated in ourschools, as it should be. "I shall explain as quickly and as briefly aspossible. "We have called you here on a dangerous mission. A mission that willrequire tact and quickness of mind as well as bravery. We have selectedyou, have called you, because we are agreed that you possess thequalities required. Is it not so?" He glanced at his two companions, andthey nodded gravely, solemnly, without speaking. "You are a young man, John Hanson, " continued Kellen, "but your recordin your service is one of which you can be proud. We trust you--withknowledge that is so secret, so precious, that we must revert to speechin order to convey it; we dare not trust it, even in this protected andguarded place, to the menore's quicker but less discreet communication. " He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully as though dreading tobegin. I waited silently, and at last he spoke again. "There is a world"--and he named a name which I shall not repeat, thename of the Forgotten Planet--"that is a festering sore upon the body ofthe Universe. As you know, for two centuries we have tried to pass on tothese people an understanding of peace and friendship. I believe thatnothing has been left undone. The Council and the forces behind it havedone everything within their power. And now--" He stopped again, and there was an expression of deepest pain writtenupon 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 beenundone. Two centuries of effort--undone. They have risen in revolt, theyhave killed all those sent by the Alliance of which this Council is thegoverning body and the mouthpiece, and they have sent us an ultimatum--athreat 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. "Whoare 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 maysting before he is crushed, and the sting may linger on for days, apainful and unpleasant thing. Is that not so?" "I see, sir, " I replied, somewhat abashed before the tolerant, kindlywisdom of this great man. "They cannot hope to wage successful war, butthey may bring much suffering to others. " "Much suffering, " nodded Kellen, still gently smiling. "And we aredetermined that this thing shall not be. Not"--and his face grew graywith a terrible and bitter resolve--"not if we have to bring to bearupon that dark and unwilling world the disintegrating rays of every shipof 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 anda ruthless thing to even contemplate. We must first try once again topoint out to them the folly of their ways. It is with this mission thatwe 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 unhappyworld. It barely made the journey to Jaron, the nearest planet, andcrashed 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 bebrought here. He was obeyed, and, in a dying condition, was brought tothis very chamber. " Kellen glanced swiftly, sadly, around the room, asthough he could still visualize that scene. "Every agent of the Alliance upon that hateful planet was set upon andkilled, following the working out of some gigantic and perfectlyexecuted plan--all save the crew of this one tiny scout ship, which wasspared 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, yourpeace. We have learned now that upon other worlds than ours there aregreat riches. These we shall take. If there is resistance, we have anew and a terrible death to deal. A death that your great scientistswill be helpless against; a horrible and irresistable death that willmake desolate and devoid of intelligent life any world where we areforced to sow the seeds of ultimate disaster. "'We are not yet ready. If we were, we would not move, for we preferthat your Council have time to think about what is surely to come. Ifyou 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 willprove to him that these are no empty words. '" * * * * * "That, as nearly as I can remember it, " concluded Kellen, "is themessage. The man who brought it died almost before he had finished. "That is the message. You are the man we have picked to accept theirchallenge. Remember, though, that there are but the four of us in thisroom. There are but four of us who know these things. If you for anyreason do not wish to accept this mission, there will be none to judgeyou, 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 mythroat, 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. Iam honored that I have been selected for this task, and I accept theresponsibility willingly, gladly. When is it your wish that we shouldstart?" The three presiding members of the Council glanced at each other, faintly smiling, as though they would say, as Kellen had said a shorttime before: "Youth! Youth!" Yet I believe they were glad and somewhatproud that I had replied as I did. "You may start, " said Kellen, "as soon as you can complete the necessarypreparations. Detailed instructions will be given you later. " He bowed to me, and the others did likewise. Then Kellen picked up hismenore and adjusted it. The interview was over. * * * * * "What do you make it?" I asked the observer. He glanced up from hisinstrument. "Jaron, sir. Three degrees to port; elevation between five and sixdegrees. Approximate only, of course, sir. " "Good enough. Please ask Mr. Barry to hold to his present course. Weshall not stop at Jaron. " The observer glanced at me curiously, but he was too well disciplined tohesitate 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. Ourinstruments were not nearly as perfect as those in use to-day, andverbal orders were clearer and carried more authority than mentalinstructions. The delicate and powerful electrical and atomic mechanismof our ship interfered with the functioning of the menores, and at thattime the old habit of speech was far more firmly entrenched, due tohereditary influence, than it is now. I nodded to the man, and made my way to my own quarters. I wished mostheartily that I could talk over my plans with someone, but this had beenexpressly forbidden. "I realize that you trust your men, and more particularly yourofficers, " Kellen had told me during the course of his partingconversation with me. "I trust them also--yet we must remember that thepeace of mind of the Universe is concerned. If news, even a rumor, ofthis threatened disaster should become known, it is impossible topredict the disturbance it might create. "Say nothing to anyone. It is your problem. You alone should leave theship when you land; you alone shall hear or see the evidence they haveto present, and you alone shall bring word of it to us. That is the wishof 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 forchanging watches, and the beginning of a sleep period. I glanced at theremote control dials that glowed behind their glass panel on one side ofmy room. From the registered attraction of Jaron, at our present speed, we should be passing her within, according to Earth time, about twohours. That meant that their outer patrols might be seeking ourbusiness, and I touched Barry's attention button, and spoke into themicrophone beside my bunk. "Mr. Barry? I am turning in for a little sleep. Before you turn over thewatch to Eitel, will you see that the nose rays are set for the SpecialPatrol 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 beothers in the future, it might be well to make clear, in a document suchis this, that at this period, all ships of the Special Patrol Serviceidentified themselves by means of invisible rays flashed in certainsequences, from the two nose, or forward, projectors. These code signalswere changed every enar, a period of time arbitrarily set by theCouncil; about eighteen days, as time is measured on the Earth, anddivided into ten periods, as at present, known as enarens. These werefurther divided into enaros, thus giving us a time-reckoning system foruse in space, corresponding roughly to the months, days and hours of theEarth. 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, theywould be able to detect our invisible ray code signal, and thus satisfythemselves that we were on the Council's business. There would be nodifficulty on that score. But what I should do after landing upon therebellious sphere, I had not the slightest idea. * * * * * "Be stern, indifferent to their threats, " Kellen, had counseled me, "butdo everything within your power to make them see the folly of theirattitude. Do not threaten them, for they are a surly people and youmight precipitate matters. Swallow your pride if you must; remember thatyours is a gigantic responsibility, and upon the information you bringus may depend the salvation of millions. I am convinced that they arenot--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 notbluffing. " I was sure of it also. They knew the power of the Alliance; they hadbeen made to feel it more than once. A bluff would have been a foolishthing, and these people were not fools. In some lines of research theywere extraordinarily brilliant. But what could their new, terrible weapon be? Rays we had; at least halfa dozen rays of destruction; the terrible dehydrating ray of the DeuberSpheres, the disintegrating ray that dated back before Ame Baove and hisfirst voyage into space, the concentrated ultra-violet ray that struckmen down in fiery torment. .. . No, it could hardly be a new ray that wastheir boasted weapon. What, then? Electricity had even then been exhausted of itspossibilities. Atomic energy had been released, harnessed, and directed. Yet it would take fabulous time and expense to make these machines ofdestruction do what they claimed they would do. Still pondering the problem, I did fall at last into a fitful travestyof sleep. * * * * * I was glad when the soft clamor of the bell aft announced the nextchange of watch. I rose, cleared the cobwebs from my brain with an icyshower, and made my way directly to the navigating room. "Everything tidy, sir, " said Eitel, my second officer, and a Zenian. Hewas thin and very dark, like all Zenians, and had the high, effeminatevoice of that people. But he was cool and fearless and had the uncannycerebration of his kind; I trusted him as completely as I trusted Barry, my first officer, who, like myself, was a native of Earth. "Will youtake over?" "Yes, " I nodded, glancing at the twin charts beneath the ground glasstop 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 andleft with only a brief, "Yes, sir!" I returned the salute and turned myattention again to the charts. The navigating room of an interplanetary ship is without doubtunfamiliar ground to most, so it might be well for me to say that suchships have, for the most part, twin charts, showing progress in twodimensions; to use land terms, lateral and vertical. These charts arereally no more than large sheets of ground glass, ruled in bothdirections with fine black lines, representing all relatively closeheavenly bodies by green lights of varying sizes. The ship itself isrepresented by a red spark and the whole is, of course, entirelyautomatic in action, the instruments comprising the chart being operatedby super-radio reflexes. * * * * * Jaron, the charts showed me at a glance, was now far behind. Almostdirectly above--it is necessary to resort to these unscientific terms tomake my meaning clear--was the tiny world Elon, home of the friendly butimpossibly dull winged people, the only ones in the known Universe. Iwas there but once, and found them almost laughably like our commondragon-flies on Earth; dragon-flies that grow some seven feet long, andwith gauzy wings of amazing strength. Directly ahead, on both charts, was a brilliantly glowing sphere ofgreen--our destination. I made some rapid mental calculations, studyingthe few fine black lines between the red spark that was our ship, andthe nearest edge of the great green sphere. I glanced at our speedindicator and the attraction meter. The little red slide that movedaround the rim of the attraction meter was squarely at the top, showingthat the attraction was from straight ahead; the great black hand wasnearly a third of the way around the face. We were very close; two hours would bring us into the atmosphericenvelope. In less than two hours and a half, we would be in the ControlCity of what is now called the Forgotten Planet! I glanced forward, through the thick glass partitions, into theoperating room. Three men stood there, watching intently; they too, werewondering why we visited the unfriendly world. The planet itself loomed up straight ahead, a great half-circle, itscurved rim sharp and bright against the empty blackness of space; thechord ragged and blurred. In two hours . .. I turned away and began arestless pacing. * * * * * An hour went by; an hour and a half. I pressed the attention button tothe operating room, and gave orders to reduce our speed by half. We werevery close to the outer fringe of the atmospheric envelope. Then, keeping my eye on the big surface-temperature gauge, with its stubby redhand, I resumed my nervous pacing. Slowly the thick red hand of the surface-temperature gauge began tomove; slowly, and then more rapidly, until the eyes could catch itscreeping. "Reduce to atmospheric speed, " I ordered curtly, and glanced downthrough 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 icecap. Here and there were the great flat lakes, almost seas, of theplanet. Our geographies of the Universe to-day do not show the topography ofthe Forgotten Planet: I might say, therefore, that the entire sphere wasland area, with numerous great lakes embedded in its surface, togetherwith many broad, very crooked rivers. As Ame Baove had reported, therewere no mountains, and no high land. "Altitude constant, " I ordered. "Port three degrees. Stand by forfurther orders. " The earth seemed to whirl slowly beneath us. Great cities driftedastern, and I compared the scene below me with the great maps I tookfrom our chart-case. The Control City should be just beyond the visiblerim; well in the daylight area. "Port five degrees, " I said, and pressed the attention button to Barry'squarters. "Mr. Barry, please call all men to quarters, including the off-dutywatch, and then report to the navigating room. Mr. Eitel will be undermy 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 theforward exit. Await me, with the men, at that place. I shall be with youas soon as I turn the command over to Mr. Barry. We are descendingimmediately. " "Right, sir!" said Eitel. * * * * * I turned from the microphone to find that Barry had just entered thenavigating 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 onlyinstructions I can leave you. "I do not know how long I shall be gone from the ship, but if I do notreturn within three hours, depart without me, and report directly toKellen of the Council. To him, and no other. Tell him, verbally, whattook place. Should there be any concerted action against the _Tamon_, use your own judgment as to the action to be taken, remembering that thesafety of the ship and its crew, and the report of the Council, areinfinitely 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 appointedtime. " "I hope so. But there's something wrong as hell here. I'm talking now asman to man; not to my commanding officer. I've been watching below, andI have seen at least two spots where large numbers of our ships havebeen destroyed. The remaining ships bear their own damned emblem wherethe 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 andofficer to forget himself and myself, and obey orders without hesitationand without flinching. The orders are not mine, but direct from theCouncil itself. " I held out my hand to him--an ancient Earth gesture ofgreeting, good-will and farewell--and he shook it vigorously. "God go with you, " he said softly, and with a little nod of thanks Iturned and quickly left the room. * * * * * Eitel, with his ten men, were waiting for me at the forward exit. Themen 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 toenter save myself. I shall be gone not longer than three hours; if I amnot back within that time, Mr. Barry has his orders. The exit will besealed, and the _Tamon_ will depart immediately, without me. " "Yes, sir. You will pardon me, but I gather that your mission is adangerous 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 themfrom the observation ports. And there is a vast crowd of them around theship. " "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 frownon his features as he unlocked and released the switch that opened theexit. The huge plug of metal, some ten feet in diameter, revolved swiftly andnoiselessly, backing slowly in its fine threads into the interior of theship, gripped by the ponderous gimbals which, as the last threadsdisengaged, swung the mighty disc to one side, like the door of somegreat safe. "Remember your orders, " I smiled, and with a little gesture to convey anassurance which I certainly did not feel, I strode through the circularopening out into the crowd. The heavy glass secondary door shot downbehind me, and I was in the hands of the enemy. * * * * * The first thing I observed was that my menore, which I had picked up onmy way to the exit, was not functioning. Not a person in all that vastmultitude wore a menore; the five black-robed dignitaries who marched tomeet me wore none. Nothing could have showed more clearly that I was in for trouble. Toinvite a visitor, as Kellen had done, to remove his menore first, was, of course, a polite and courteous thing to do if one wished tocommunicate by speech; to remove the menore before greeting a visitorwearing one, was a tacit admission of rank enmity; a confession thatone's thoughts were to be concealed. My first impulse was to snatch off my own instrument and fling it in thesolemn, ugly faces of the nearest of the five dignataries; I rememberedKellen's warning just in time. Quietly, I removed the metal circlet andtucked it under my arm, bowing slightly to the committee of five as Idid so. "I am Ja Ben, " said the first of the five, with an evil grin. "You arethe representative of the Council that we commanded to appear?" "I am John Hanson, commander of the ship _Tamon_ of the Special PatrolService. I am here to represent the Central Council, " I replied withdignity. "As we commanded, " grinned Ja Ben. "That is good. Follow us and youshall have the evidence you were promised. " Ja Ben led the way with two of his black-robed followers. The other twofell in behind me. A virtual prisoner, I marched between them, throughthe 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 likeus in many respects, were strangely repulsive. Their heads, as Ame Baove had recorded, were not round like ours, butpossessed a high bony crest that ran from between their lashless, browless eyes, down to the very nape of their necks. Their skin, eventhat covering their hairless heads, was a dull and papery white, likeparchment, and their eyes were abnormally small, and nearly round. Ahateful, ugly people, perpetually scowling, snarling; their very voicesresembled more the growl of wild beasts than the speech of intelligentbeings. Ja Ben led the way straight to the low but vast building of dun-coloredstone that I knew was the administration building of the Control City. We marched up the broad, crowded steps, through the muttering, jeeringmultitude into the building itself. The guards at the doors stood asideto let us through and the crowd at last was left behind. A swift, cylindrical elevator shot us upward, into a great glass-walledlaboratory, built like a sort of penthouse on the roof. Ja Ben walkedquickly across the room towards a long, glass-topped table; the otherfour closed in on me silently but suggestively. "That is unnecessary, " I said quietly. "See, I am unarmed and completelyin your power. I am here as an ambassador of the Central Council, not asa 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 shiningcylinder of dark red metal, and held it up before him, stroking itssleek 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, isdeath for every living thing upon any planet we choose to destroy. " Hereplaced the great cylinder in the cabinet, and picked up in its stead atiny vial of the same metal, no larger than my little finger, and not solong. "Here, " he said, turning again towards me, "is the means ofproving 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 itupon a smooth sheet of flat glass. Next he picked a few blossoms from abowl that stood, incongruously enough, on the table, and threw themunder the glass hemisphere. "Flora, " he grinned. Hurrying to the other end of the room, he reached into a large flatmetal cage and brought forth three small rodent like animals, natives ofthat 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, astrained, anxious look upon his face. My four guards watched himbreathlessly, fearfully. * * * * * The cap came loose at last, disclosing the end of the tube, sealed witha grayish substance that looked like wax. Very quickly Ja Ben rolled thelittle cylinder under the glass hemisphere, and picked up a beaker thathad been bubbling gently on an electric plate close by. Swiftly hepoured the thick contents of the beaker around the base of the glassbell. The stuff hardened almost instantly, forming an air-tight sealbetween the glass hemisphere and the flat plate of glass upon which itrested. Then, with an evil, triumphant smile, Ja Ben looked up. "_Flora_, " he repeated. "_Fauna. _ And _death_. Watch! The little metalcylinder is plugged still, but in a moment that plug willdisappear--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 metalvial disappear. The rodents ran around and over it, trying to find acrevice 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, aterrible thing happened. At the mouth of the tiny metal vial a greenishcloud 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 lashedabout and ran together into a solid mass while millions of littleneedles reached out swiftly. One of these little needles touched a scurrying animal. Instantly thetiny brute stiffened, and from his entire body the greenish needlesspread swiftly. One of the flowers turned suddenly thick and pulpy withthe soft green mass, then another, another of the rodents . .. _God!_ In the space of two heart beats, the entire hemisphere was filled withthe green mass, that still moved and writhed and seemed to press againstthe 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, histiny round eyes, with their lashless lids glinting. "Death, my friend. Go and tell your great Council of this death that we have created forevery planet that will not obey us. "We have gone back into the history of dealing death and have come backwith a death such as the Universe has never known before! "Here is a rapacious, deadly fungus we have been two centuries indeveloping. The spores contained in that tiny metal tube would beinvisible 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 smallcapsule would wipe out a world. And in the cabinet, "--he pointedgrinning triumphantly--"we have, ready for instant use, enough of thespores of this deadly fungas to wipe out all the worlds of your greatAlliance. "To wipe them out utterly!" he repeated, his voice shaking with a sortof frenzy now. "Every living thing upon their faces, wrapped in thatthin, hungry green stuff you see there under that glass. All life wipedout; made uninhabitable so long as the Universe shall endure. Andwe--_we_ shall be rulers, unquestioned, of that Universe. Tell yourdoddering Council _that_!" He leaned back against the table, pantingwith 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 welltheir plans had been laid; how quickly this hellish growth wouldstrangle all life, once its spores began to develop. The only possible chance was to get back to the Council and make myreport, with all possible speed, so that every available armed ship ofthe universe might concentrate here, and wipe out these people beforethey 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 theAlliance 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 onejust used for our little demonstration, will be dispersed in everydirection. We shall be in constant communication with those ships, andat the least sign of hostility, they will be ordered to depart andspread their death upon every world they can reach. Some of them you maybe able to locate and eliminate; a number of them are certain to eludecapture in infinite space--and if only one, one lone ship, shouldescape, the doom of the Alliance and millions upon millions of peoplewill be pronounced. "I warn you, it will be better, much better, to bow to our wishes, andpay us the tribute we shall demand. Any attempt at resistance willprecipitate certain disaster for your Council and all the worlds theCouncil governs. " "At least, we would wipe you out first, " I said hoarsely. "True, " nodded Ja Ben. "But the vengeance of our ships would be aterrible 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 sotrue; terribly, damnably true. If only-- * * * * * There was but one chance I could see, and desperate as it was, I tookit. Whirling the heavy metal ring of my menore in my hand, I sprangtowards the table. If I could break the sealed glass hemisphere, and loose the fungus uponits 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 aidesleaped between me and the table, their tiny round eyes blazing withanger. I struck one of the four viciously with the menore, and with agasp he fell back and slumped to the floor. Before I could break through the opening, however, Ja Ben struck me fullin the face with his mighty fist; a blow that sent me, dazed andreeling, into a corner of the room. I brought up with a crash againstthe cabinet there, groped wildly in an effort to steady myself, and fellto the floor. Almost before I struck, all four of them were upon me. They hammered me viciously, shouted at me, cursed me in the universaltongue, but I paid no heed. I pretended to be unconscious, but my heartwas 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, Icovered that hand with my body and hastily hid the tiny tube in a deeppocket 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 yourCouncil 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 sendaid for Ife Rance, here. " He glanced at the still unconscious figure ofthe victim of my menore, and then turned to me with a last warning. "Remember, one thing more, my friend: you have disintegrator rayequipment upon your ship. You have the little atomic bombs that won forthe Alliance the Second War of the Planets. I know that. But if you makethe slightest effort to use them, I shall dispatch a supply of the greendeath to our ships, and they will depart upon their missions at once. You would take upon yourself a terrible responsibility by making thesmallest hostile move. "Go, now--and when you return, bring with you members of your greatCouncil who will have the power to hear our demands, and see that theyare obeyed. And do not keep us waiting over long, for we are animpatient race. " He bowed, mockingly, and passed his left hand swiftlybefore his face, his people's sign of parting. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and, hemmed in by my threeblack-robed conductors, was hurried down the elevator and back throughthe jeering mob to my ship. * * * * * The glass secondary door shot up to permit me to enter, and Eitelgripped my shoulder anxiously, his eyes smoldering angrily. "You're hurt, sir!" he said in his odd, high-pitched voice, staring intomy bruised face. "What--" "It's nothing, " I assured him. "Close the exit immediately; we depart atonce. " "Yes, sir!" He closed the switch, and the great threaded plug swunggently on its gimbals and began to revolve, swiftly and silently. Alittle bell sounded sharply, and the great door ceased its motion. Eitellocked 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 rayoperators that they are to instantly, and without further orders, destroy any ship that may leave the surface of this planet. Have everyatomic bomb crew ready for an instant and concentrated offensivedirected at the Control City, but command them not to act under anycircumstances unless I give the order. Is that clear, Mr. Eitel?" "Yes, sir!" I nodded, and turned away, making my way immediately to the navigatingroom. "Mr. Barry, " I said quickly and gravely, "I believe that the fate of theknown Universe depends upon us at this moment. We will ascendvertically, at once--slowly--until we are just outside the envelope, maintaining only sufficient horizontal motion to keep us directly overthe Control City. Will you give the necessary orders?" "Immediately, sir!" He pressed the attention button to the operatingroom and spoke swiftly into the microphone; before he completed theorder I had left. * * * * * We were already ascending when I reached the port forward atomic bombstation. The man in charge, a Zenian, saluted with automatic precisionand 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 releasingtrap. It was withdrawn at last; a fish-shaped affair, very much like theancient airplane bombs save that it was no larger than my two fists, placed one upon the other, and that it had four silvery wires runningalong its sides, from rounded nose to pointed tail, held at a distancefrom 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 Zenianwith pride. "We won first honors in the Special Patrol Service contestsat 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 vialof gleaming red metal, while the bombing crew watched me curiously. "I shall unscrew the cap from this little vial, " I explained, "and dropit immediately into the releasing trap. Re-seal the trap and releasethis object as quickly as it is possible to do so. If you can better thetime you made to win the honors at the Examination--in God's name, doso!" "Yes, sir!" replied the Zenian. He gave brisk orders to his crew, andeach of the three men sprang alertly into position. * * * * * As quickly as I could, I turned off the cap of the little metal vial anddropped it into the trap. The heavy plug, a tiny duplicate of the exitdoor, 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 releaseplunger. "Done, sir!" he said proudly. I did not reply. My eye fixed upon the observation tube that wasfollowing the tiny missile to the ground. The Control City was directly below us. I lost sight of the vial almostinstantly, but the indicating cross-hairs showed me exactly where thevial would strike; at a point approximately half way between the edge ofthe city and the great squat pile of the administrating building, withits gleaming glass penthouse--the laboratory in which, only a fewminutes before, I had witnessed the demonstration of the death whichawaited the Universe. "Excellent!" I exclaimed. "Smartly done, men!" I turned and hurried tothe navigating room, where the most powerful of our television discs waslocated. The disc was not as perfect as those we have to-day; it was hooded tokeep out exterior light, which is not necessary with the laterinstruments, and it was more unwieldy. However, it did its work, and didit well, in the hands of an experienced operator. With only a nod to Barry, I turned the range band to maximum, andbrought it swiftly to bear upon that portion of the city in which thelittle vial had fallen. As I drew the focusing lever towards me, thescene leaped at me through the clear, glowing glass disc. * * * * * Froth! Green, billowing froth that grew and boiled and spreadunceasingly. In places it reached high into the air, and it moved withan eager, inner life that was somehow terrible and revolting. I movedthe 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 thespreading green stain that moved and flowed so swiftly. Thousands oftiny black figures were running in the streets, crowding away from theawful 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 werefairly racing, and the speed grew constantly. A ship, two of them, three of them came darting from somewhere, towardsthe administration building, with its glass cupola. I held my breath asthe deep, sudden humming from the _Tamon_ told me that our rays werebusy. 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 littlestreaks of dust, falling, falling. .. . A fourth ship, and a fifth came rushing up, their sides faintly glowingfrom the speed they had made. The green flood, thick and insistent, wasracing up and over the administration building now. It reached the roof, ran swiftly. .. . The fourth ship shattered into dust. The fifth settled swiftly--and thenthat ship also disappeared, together with a corner of the building. Thenthe thick green stuff flowed over the whole building and there wasnothing to be seen there but a mound of soft, flowing, gray-green stuffthat 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 ascendat emergency speed!" For once my first officer hesitated. He glanced at the attraction meterand then turned to me again, wondering. "At this height, sir, emergency speed will mean dangerous heating of thesurface; perhaps--" "I want it white hot, Mr. Barry. She is built to stand it. Emergencyspeed, please--immediately!" "Right, sir!" he said briskly, and gave the order. I felt my weight increase as the order was obeyed; gradually thefamiliar, uncomfortable feeling left me. Silently, Barry and I watchedthe big surface temperature gauge as it started to move. The heat insidebecame uncomfortable, grew intense. The sweat poured from us. In theoperating room forward, I could see the men casting quick, wonderingglances up at us through the heavy glass partition that lay between. The thick, stubby red hand of the surface temperature gauge moved slowlybut steadily towards the heavy red line that marked the temperature atwhich the outer shell of our hull would become incandescent. The handwas within three or four degrees of that mark when I gave Barry theorder to arrest our motion. When he had given the order, I turned to him and motioned towards thetelevision disc. "Look, " I said. * * * * * He looked, and when at last he tore his face away from the hood, heseemed ten years older. "What is it?" he asked in a choked whisper. "Why--they're being wipedout; the whole of that world--" "True. And some of the seeds of that terrible death might have driftedupward, and found a lodging place upon the surface of our ship. That iswhy I ordered the emergency speed while we were still within theatmospheric envelope, Barry. To burn away that contamination, if itexisted. Now we are safe, unless--" I pressed the attention button to the station of the chief of the rayoperators. "Your report, " I ordered. "Nine ships disintegrated, sir, " he replied instantly. "Five before thecity 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 isfeasible, resume emergency speed. There are some very anxious gentlementhere 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 theUniverse it appears as an unnamed world. No ship is permitted to passclose enough to it so that its attraction is greater than that of thenearest other mass. A permanent outpost of fixed-station ships, withheadquarters upon Jaron, the closest world, is maintained by theCouncil. There are millions of people who might be greatly disturbed if they knewof this potential menace that lurks in the midst of our Universe, butthey 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 thismatter, I have been asked to prepare this document for the sealedarchives 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 nextgeneration 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 thecareless writing of indifferent students, with the symbols of chemistryand long mathematical computations. The man at the desk pushed themaside 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 brilliantpupil the greater path to glory. ] Students of a great university had long since ceased to speculate aboutthe missing hand. The result of an experiment, they knew--a hand thatwas a miss of lifeless cells, amputated quickly that the living armmight be saved--but that was some several years ago, ancient history tothose who came and went through Professor Eddinger's class room. And now Professor Eddinger was weary--weary and old, he told himself--ashe closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the interminable papers andthe stubby wrist that had ended forever his experiments and the delicatemanipulations which only he could do. He reached slowly for a buzzing phone, but his eyes brightened at thevoice that came to him. "I've got it--I've got it!" The words were almost incoherent. "This isAvery, Professor--Avery! You must come at once. You will share in it; Iowe it all to you . .. You will be the first to see . .. I am sending ataxi for you--" Professor Eddinger's tired eyes crinkled to a smile. Enthusiasm likethis 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 longtime since he had seen him--had him in his own laboratory for twoyears. .. . "What's this all about?" he asked. "No--no!" said a voice; "I can't tell you--it is too big--greater thanthe induction motor--greater than the electric light--it is the greatestthing in the world. The taxi should be there now--you must come--" A knock at the office door where a voice said, "Car for ProfessorEddinger, " confirmed the excited words. "I'll come, " said the Professor, "right away. " * * * * * He pondered, as the car whirled him across the city, on what thisgreatest thing in the world might be. And he hoped with gentleskepticism that the enthusiasm was warranted. A young man opened the cardoor as they stopped. His face was flushed, Eddinger noted, hair pushedback in disarray, his shirt torn open at the throat. "Wait here, " he told the driver and took the Professor by the arm tohurry 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, asbecame the best student of Professor Eddinger. Rows of reagent bottlesstood on the shelves, but the tables were a litter of misplacedinstruments and broken glassware where trembling hands had fumbled inheedless excitement. "Glad to see you again, Avery. " The gentle voice of Professor Eddingerhad lost its tired tone. "It's been two years you've been working, Ijudge. Now what is this great discovery, boy? What have you found?" The younger man, in whose face the color came and went, and whose eyeswere shining from dark hollows that marked long days and sleeplessnights, still clung to the other's arm. "It's real, " he said; "it's great! It means fortune and fame, and you'rein on that, Professor. The old master, " he said and clapped a handaffectionately upon a thin shoulder; "I owe it all to you. And now Ihave--I have learned. .. . No, you shall see for yourself. Wait--" * * * * * He crossed quickly to a table. On it was an apparatus; the eyes of theolder 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 acrude sphere of heavy lead--a retort, it might be--and from this therepassed two massive, insulated cables. The understanding eyes of theProfessor followed them, one to a terminal on a great insulating blockupon the floor, the other to a similarly protected terminal of carbonsome feet above it in the air. The trembling fingers of the young man made some few adjustments, thenhe left the instrument to take his place by an electric switch. "Standback, " he warned, and closed the switch. There was a gentle hissing from within glass tubes, the faint glow of ablue-green light. And that was all, until--with a crash like the rippingcrackle of lightning, a white flame arced between the terminals of theheavy cables. It hissed ceaselessly through the air where now the tangof ozone was apparent. The carbon blocks glowed with a brilliantincandescence when the flame ceased with the motion of a hand whereAvery pulled a switch. The man's voice was quiet now. "You do not know, yet, what you haveseen, but there was a tremendous potential there--an amperage I can'tmeasure with my limited facilities. " He waved a deprecating hand aboutthe ill-furnished laboratory. "But you have seen--" His voice trembledand 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 youwould understand, " he said humbly. "And you know what it means"--againhis voice rose--"power without end to do the work of the world--greatvessels driven a lifetime on a mere ounce of matter--a revolution intransportation--in living. .. . " He paused. "The liberation of mankind, "he added, and his voice was reverent. "This will do the work of theworld: it will make a new heaven and a new earth! Oh, I have dreameddreams, " he exclaimed, "I have seen visions. And it has been given tome--me!--to liberate man from the curse of Adam . .. The sweat of hisbrow. .. . I can't realize it even yet. I--I am not worthy. .. . " * * * * * He raised his eyes slowly in the silence to gaze in wonderingastonishment at the older man. There was no answering light, noexaltation on the lined face. Only sadness in the tired eyes that lookedat him and through him as if focused upon something in a dim future--orpast. "Don't you see?" asked the wondering man. "The freedom of men--theliberation of a race. No more poverty, no endless, grinding labor. " Hisyoung eyes, too, were looking into the future, a future of blindinglight. "Culture, " he said, "instead of heart-breaking toil, a chance togrow mentally, spiritually; it is another world, a new life--" And againhe 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 inmy 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 helpme 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 thegreat work. .. . I shall announce it alone. .. . There will belaboratories--enormous!--and factories. My invention will be perfected, simplified, compressed. A generator will be made--thousands ofhorsepower to do the work of a city, free thousands of men--made sosmall you can hold it in one hand. " The sensitive face was proudly alight, proud and a trifle arrogant. Theexaltation of his coming power was strong upon him. "Yes, " said Professor Eddinger, "in one hand. " And he raised his rightarm that he might see where the end of a sleeve was empty. "I am sorry, " said the inventor abruptly; "I didn't mean . .. But youwill excuse me now; there is so much to be done--" But the thin figureof Professor Eddinger had crossed to the far table to examine theapparatus there. "Crude, " he said beneath his breath, "crude--but efficient!" * * * * * In the silence a rat had appeared in the distant corner. The Professornodded 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 Professorreflected--poor Avery! Yes, there was much to be done. He spoke as much to himself as to the man who was now beside him. "Itenters here, " he said and peered downward toward the lead bulb. Heplaced a finger on the side of the metal. "About here, I shouldthink. .. . Have you a drill? And a bit of quartz?" The inventor's eyes were puzzled, but the assurance of his oldinstructor claimed obedience. He produced a small drill and a fragmentlike broken glass. And he started visibly as the one hand workedawkwardly to make a small hole in the side of the lead. But he withdrewhis own restraining hand, and he watched in mystified silence while thequartz was fitted to make a tiny window and the thin figure stooped tosight as if aiming the opening toward a far corner where a brown rat satupright in earnest munching of a dry crust. The Professor drew Avery with him as he retreated noiselessly from theinstrument. "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 untilProfessor Eddinger opened the switch. "Well, " demanded Avery, "what's all the show? Do you think you areteaching me anything--about my own instrument?" There was hurt pride andjealous resentment in his voice. "See, " said Professor Eddinger quietly. And his one thin hand pointed toa far shelf, where, in the shadow, was a huddle of brown fur and a bitof crust. It fell as they watched, and the "plop" of the soft body uponthe floor sounded loud in the silent room. "The law of compensation, " said Professor Eddinger. "Two sides to themedal! 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 withit?" "A death ray, " the other agreed. "You have dreamed, Avery--one must inorder to create--but it is only a dream. You dreamed of life--a fullerlife--for the world, but you would have given them, as you have justseen, death. " The face of Avery was white as wax; his eyes glared savagely from darkhollows. "A rat!" he protested. "You have killed a rat . .. And you say--yousay--" He raised one trembling hand to his lips to hold them fromforming 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 nodefence. " "It will free the world--" "It will destroy it. " "No!"--and the white-faced man was shouting now--"you don'tunderstand--you can't see--" The lean figure of the scientist straightened to its full height. Hiseyes met those of the younger man, silent now before him, but Avery knewthe eyes never saw him; they were looking far off, following the wingsof thought. In the stillness the man's words came harsh and commanding-- "Do you see the cities, " he said, "crumbling to ruins under the coldstars? The fields? They are rank with wild growth, torn and gullied bythe waters; a desolate land where animals prowl. And the people--thepeople!--wandering bands, lower, as the years drag on, than the beaststhemselves; the children dying, forgotten, in the forgotten lands; apeople to whom the progress of our civilization is one with the agespast, for whom there is again the slow, toiling road toward the light. "And somewhere, perhaps, a conquering race, the most brutal and callousof mankind, rioting in their sense of power and dragging themselves downto oblivion. .. . " * * * * * His gaze came slowly back to the room and the figure of the man stillfighting 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 statingsimple facts. "I love my fellow men, " he said, "and I killed them inthousands in the last war--I, and my science, and my poison gas. " The figure of Avery slumped suddenly upon a chair; his face was buriedin his hands. "And I would have been, " he groaned, "the greatest man inthe world. " "You shall be greater, " said the Professor, "though only we shall knowit--you and I. .. . You will save the world--from itself. " The figure, bowed and sunken in the chair, made no move; the man washeedless 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'tunderstand, " he said dully; "you can't--" But Professor Eddinger, a cog in the wheels of a great educationalmachine, glanced at the watch on his wrist. Again his thin shoulderswere stooped, his voice tired. "My classes, " he said. "I must begoing. .. . " * * * * * In the gathering dusk Professor Eddinger locked carefully the door ofhis office. He crossed beyond his desk and fumbled with his one hand forhis keys. There was a cabinet to be opened, and he stared long in the dim light atthe object he withdrew. He looked approvingly at the exquisiteworkmanship of an instrument where a generator of the cathode ray and anintricate maze of tubing surmounted electro-magnets and a round leadbulb. There were terminals for attaching heavy cables; it was abeautiful thing. .. . His useless arm moved to bring an imaginary handbefore the window of quartz in the lead sphere. "Power, " he whispered and repeated Avery's words; "power, to build acity--or destroy a civilization . .. And I hold it in one hand. " He replaced the apparatus in the safety of its case. "The saviors ofmankind!" he said, and his tone was harsh and bitter. But a smile, whimsical, kindly, crinkled his tired eyes as he turned tohis desk and its usual litter of examination papers. "It is something, Avery, " he whispered to that distant man, "to belongin so distinguished a group. " A STAR THAT BREATHES Beta Cephei, the mysterious Milky Way star which expands and contractsas though it were breathing, at last has a biography. A summary of known facts concerning the star, interpreted in the lightof recent observations at the Lick Observatory at the University ofCalifornia was completed recently by H. S. Mendenhall, graduate student. Mendenhall's interpretations were said to lend weight to the theory thatBeta Cephei is contracting and expanding once in every four and one-halfhours. This is such a terrific rate of speed from a terrestrial point ofview that it appears to be moving toward and away from the earth at avelocity reaching a maximum of about nine and one-half miles per second. Beta Cephei is a variable star in the Constellation Cepheus. It is bestvisible in the northern sky during July or August. Its distance from theearth is estimated roughly at 2, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000 miles, andMendenhall estimates its diameter at almost 2, 000, 000 miles, more thantwice that of the sun. In addition to the apparent velocity caused by contraction and expansionof its surface five times a day, Beta Cephei seems to have anothermotion. This was said by Mendenhall to be a rotation around some otherstar in a period of 20 years. Velocity of this rotation is somethingover three miles a second. Variable stars are of particular interest to astronomers because thelight from them pulsates regularly, flaring and dying as though fuelwere replenished at regular intervals. The rate of this pulsation hasbeen found to be a measure to the candle power of the star. Its distancethen can be determined by contrasting its actual candle power with theapparent magnitude as seen from the earth. [Illustration: _"Oh my God!" gasped Bell. He'd known this man before. ASecret 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 SouthAmerica. Another is found--a screaming homicidal maniac. It is rumoredthat they are victims of a diabolical poison which produces "murdermadness. " [Sidenote: More and more South Americans are stricken with the horrible"murder madness" that lies in The Master's fearful poison. And Bell istheir one last hope as he fights to stem the swiftly rising tide of acontinent's utter enslavement. ] Charley Bell of the "Trade"--a secret service organization which doesnot officially exist--discovers that a sinister system of slavery isflourishing in South America, headed by a mysterious man known only asThe Master. This slavery is accomplished by means of a poison whichcauses 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 thepoison, which again in two weeks will take effect. And so it is that aperson who once receives the poison is forever enslaved. Ribiera kidnaps Paula Canalejas, daughter of a Brazilian cabinetminister who, on becoming a victim, has killed himself, preferringdeath to "murder madness. " Bell rescues Paula, and they flee fromRibiera in a plane. They find The Master's hidden jungle stronghold, andBell destroys it with a bomb attack from the air. As he is getting awayhis motor quits. Paula jumps for her life, and shortly afterwards Bellfollows, drifting straight down towards his enemies below. CHAPTER XI Bell was falling head-first when the 'chute opened, and the jerk wasterrific, the more so as he had counted not the customary ten, butfifteen before pulling out the ring. But very suddenly he seemed to befloating down with an amazing gentleness, with the ruddy blossom of aparachute swaying against a background of lustrous stars very far indeedover his head. Below him were masses of smoke and at least one hugedancing mass of flame, where the storage tank for airplane gas hadexploded. It was unlikely in the extreme, he saw now, that anyone underthat canopy of smoke could look up to see plane or parachute against thesky. Clumsily enough, dangling as he was, Bell twisted about to look forPaula. Sheer panic came to him before he saw her a little above him buta long distance off. She looked horribly alone with the glare of thefires upon her parachute, and smoke that trailed away into darknessbelow her. She was farther from the flames than Bell, too. The lightupon her was dimmer. And Bell cursed that he had stayed in the plane tomake sure it would dive clear of her before he stepped off himself. * * * * * The glow on the blossom of silk above her faded out. The sky stillglared behind, but a thick and acrid fog enveloped Bell as he descended. Still straining his eyes hopelessly, he crossed his feet and waited. Branches reached up and lashed at him. Vines scraped against his sides. He was hurled against a tree trunk with stunning force, and rebounded, and swung clear, and then dangled halfway between earth and the jungleroof. It was minutes before his head cleared, and then he felt at oncedespairing and a fool. Dangling in his parachute harness when Paulaneeded him. The light in the sky behind him penetrated even the jungle growth as afaint luminosity. Presently he writhed to a position in which he couldstrike a match. A thick, matted mass of climbing vines swung from theupper branches not a yard from his fingertips. Bell cursed again, frantically, and clutched at it wildly. Presently his absurd kickingsset him to swaying. He redoubled his efforts and increased the arc inwhich he swung. But it was a long time before his fingers closed uponleaves which came away in his grasp, and longer still before he caughthold of a wrist-thick liana which oozed sticky sap upon his hands. But he clung desperately, and presently got his whole weight on it. Heunsnapped the parachute and partly let himself down, partly slid, andpartly tumbled to the solid earth below. He had barely reached it when, muffled and many times reechoed among thetree trunks, he heard two shots. He cursed, and sprang toward the sound, plunging headlong into underbrush that strove to tear the flesh from hisbones. He fought madly, savagely, fiercely. * * * * * He heard two more shots. He fought the jungle in the darkness like amadman, ploughing insanely through masses of creepers that should havebeen parted by a machete, and which would have been much more easilyslipped through by separating them, but which he strove to penetrate bysheer strength. And then he heard two shots again. Bell stopped short and swore disgustedly. "What a fool I am!" he growled. "She's telling me where she is, andI--" He drew one of the weapons that seemed to bulge in every pocket of hisflying suit and fired two shots in the air in reply. A single oneanswered him. From that time Bell moved more sanely. The jungle is not designed, apparently, for men to travel in. It is assuredly not intended for themto travel in by night, and especially it is not planned, by whoeverplanned it, for a man to penetrate without either machete or lights. As nearly as he could estimate it afterward, it took Bell over an hourto cover one mile in the blackness under the jungle roof. Once heblundered into fire-ants. They were somnolent in the darkness, but onehand stung as if in white-hot metal as he went on. And thorns tore athim. The heavy flying suit protected him somewhat, but after the firsthundred yards he blundered on almost blindly, with his arms across hisface, stopping now and then to try to orient himself. Three times hefired in the air, and three times an answering shot came instantly, toguide him. * * * * * And then a voice called in the blackness, and he ploughed toward it, andit called again, and again, and at last he struck a match with tremblingfingers and saw her, dangling as he had dangled, some fifteen feet fromthe ground. She smiled waveringly, with a little gasp of relief, and heheard something go slithering away, very furtively. She clung to him desperately when he had gotten her down to solid earth. But he was savage. "Those shots--though I'm glad you fired them--may have been a tip-off tothe town. We've got to keep moving, Paula. " Her breath was coming quickly. "They could trail us, Charles. By daylight we might not leave signs, butforcing our way through the night. .. . " "Right, as usual, " admitted Bell. "How about shells? Did you use allyou had?" "Nearly. But I was afraid, Charles. " Bell felt in his pockets. Half a box. Perhaps twenty-five shells. Withthe town nearby and almost certainly having heard their signals to eachother. Black rage invaded Bell. They would be hunted for, of course. Dogs, perhaps, would trail them. And the thing would end when they wereat bay, ringed about by The Master's slaves, with twenty-five shellsonly to expend. The dim little glow in the sky between the jungle leaves kept up. It wasbright, and slowly growing brighter. There was a sudden flickering andeven the jungle grew light for an instant. A few seconds later there wasa heavy concussion. "Something else went up then, " growled Bell. "It's some satisfaction, anyway, to know I did a lot of damage. " * * * * * And then, quite abruptly, there was an obscure murmuring sound. It grewstronger, and stronger still. If Bell had been aloft, he would have seenthe planes from The Master's hangars being rushed out of their shelters. One of the long row of buildings had caught. And the plateau of Cuyabais very, very far from civilization. Tools, and even dynamos andengines, could be brought toilsomely to it, but the task would beterrific. Buildings would be made from materials on the spot, even theshelters for the planes. It would be much more practical to carry theparts for a saw mill and saw out the lumber on the spot than to attemptto freight roofing materials and the like to Cuyaba. So that thestructures Bell had seen in the wing lights' glow were of wood, andinflammable. The powerhouse that lighted the landing field was alreadyablaze. The smaller shacks of the laborers perhaps would not be burntdown, but the elaborate depot for communication by plane and wirelesswas rapidly being destroyed. The reserve of gasoline had gone up insmoke almost at the beginning, and in spreading out had extended thedisaster to nearly all the compact nerve-center of the whole conspiracy. Presently the droning noise was tumultuous. Every plane in a conditionto fly was out on the landing field, now brightly lighted by the burningbuildings all about. There was frantic, hectic activity everywhere. Thesecretaries of The Master were rescuing what records they could, andgrowing cold with terror. In the confusion of spreading flames and thenoise of roaring conflagrations the stopping of the motor up aloft hadpassed unnoticed. In the headquarters of The Master there was panic. Anattack had been made upon The Master. A person who could not be one ofhis slaves had found his stronghold and attacked it terribly. And if oneman knew that location and dared attack it, then. .. . * * * * * The hold of The Master upon all his slaves was based on one fact and itscorollary. The fact was, that those who had been given his poison wouldgo murder mad without its antidote. The corollary was that those whoobeyed him would be given that antidote and be safe. True, the antidotewas but a temporary one, and mixed with it for administration was afurther dosage of the poison itself. But the whole power of The Masterwas based on his slaves' belief that as long as they obeyed him abjectlythere would be no failure of the antidote's supply. And Bell had giventhat belief a sudden and horrible shock. Orders came from one frightened man, who cursed much more from terrorthan from rage. Ribiera had advised him. To do him justice, Ribiera feltless fear than most. Nephew to The Master, and destined successor to TheMaster's power, Ribiera dared not revolt, but at least he had littlefear of punishment for incompetence. It was his advice that set the manyaircraft motors warming up. It was his direction that assorted out thebrainwork staff. And Ribiera himself curtly took control, indifferentlyabandoned the enslaved workers to the madness that would come upon them, and took wing in the last of a stream of roaring things that sweptupward above the smoke and flame and vanished in the sky. * * * * * Bell and Paula were huddled in between the buttress roots of a junglegiant, protected on three sides by the monster uprearings of solid wood, and Bell was absorbedly feeding a tiny smudge fire. The smoke was thickand choking, but it did keep off the plague of insects which make jungletravel much less than the romantic adventure it is pictured. Bell heardthe heavy, thunderous buzzing from the town change timbre suddenly. Asingle note of it grew loud and soared overhead. He stared up instinctively, but saw nothing but leaves and branches andmany climbing things above him, dimly lighted by the smoky little blaze. The roaring overhead went on, and dimmed. A second roaring came from thetown and rose to a monstrous growling and diminished. A third didlikewise, and a fourth. At stated, even intervals the planes at headquarters of The Master tookoff from the landing field, ringed about with blazing buildings, andplunged through the darkness in a straight line. The steadier droningfrom the town grew lighter as the jungles echoed for many miles with thesounds of aircraft motors overhead. * * * * * At last a single plane rose upward and thundered over the jungle roof. It went away, and away. .. . The town was silent, then, and only a faintand dwindling murmur came from the line of aircraft headed south. "They've deserted the town, by God!" said Bell, his eyes gleaming. "Scared off!" "And--and we--" said Paula, gazing at him. "You can bet that every man who could crowd into a plane did so, " saidBell grimly. "Those that couldn't, if they have any brains, will betrying to make it some other way to where they can subject themselves toone of The Master's deputies and have a little longer time of sanity. The poor devils that are left--well--they'll be _camaradas_, _peons_, laborers, without the intelligence to know what they can do. They'llwait patiently for their masters to come back. And presently their handswill writhe. .. . And the town will be a hell. " "Then they won't be looking for us?" Bell considered. And suddenly he laughed. "If the fire has burned out before dawn, " he said coldly, "I'll golooking for them. It's going to be cold-blooded, and it's going to berather pitiful, I think, but there's nothing else to do. You try to getsome rest. You'll need it. " And for all the rest of the dark hours he crouched in the little angleformed by the roots of the forest giant, and kept a thickly smokinglittle fire going, and listened to the noises of the jungle all abouthim. * * * * * It was more than a mile back to the town. It was nearer two. But it wasvastly less difficult to force a way through the thick growths bydaylight, even though then it was not easy. With machetes, of course, Bell and Paula would have had no trouble, but theirs had been left inthe plane. Bell made a huge club and battered openings by sheer strengthwhere it was necessary. Sweat streamed down his face before he hadcovered five hundred yards, but then something occurred to him and hewent more easily. If there were any of the intelligent class of TheMaster's subjects left in the little settlement, he wanted to allow timeenough for them to start their flight. He wanted to find the place emptyof all but laborers, who would be accustomed to obey any man who spokearrogantly and in the manner of a deputy of The Master. Yet he did notwant to wait too long. Panic spreads among the _camarada_ class asswiftly as among more intelligent folk, and it even more blind andhysterical. It was nearly eleven o'clock before they emerged upon a cleared fieldwhere brightly blooming plants grew hugely. Bell regarded these grimly. "These, " he observed, "will be The Master's stock. " Paula touched his arm. "I have heard, " she said, and shuddered, "that the men who gather theplants that go to make the poisons of the _Indios_ do not--do not dareto sleep near the fresh-picked plants. They say that the odor isdangerous, even the perfume of the blossoms. " "Very probably, " said Bell. "I wish I could destroy the damned things. But since we can't, why, we'll go around the edge of the field. " * * * * * He went upwind, skirting the edge of the planted things. A path showed, winding over half-heartedly cleared ground. He followed it, with Paulaclose behind him. Smoke still curled heavily upward from the heaps ofashes which he reached first of all. He looked upon them with anunpleasant satisfaction. He had to pick his way between still smokingheaps of embers to reach the huts about which laborers stood listlessly, not working because not ordered to work, not yet frightened because notyet realizing fully the catastrophe that had come upon them. He was moving toward them, deliberately adopting an air of suppressedrage, when a voice called whiningly. "Senhor! Senhor!" And then pleadingly, in Portuguese, "I have news forThe Master! I have news for The Master!" Bell jerked his head about. Bars of thick wood, cemented into heavytimbers at top and bottom. A building that was solid wall on threesides, and the fourth was bars. A white man in it, unshaven, haggard, ragged, filthy. And on the floor of the cage. .. . There had been another such cage on a _fazenda_ back toward Rio. Bellhad looked into it, and had shot the gibbering Thing that had been itsoccupant, as an act of pure mercy. But this man had been through horrorsand yet was sane. "Don't look, " said Bell sharply to Paula. He went close. The figure pressed against the bars, whining. And suddenly it stoppedits fawning. "The devil!" said the white man in the cage. "What in hell are you doinghere, Bell? Has that fiend caught you too?" * * * * * "Oh, my God!" gasped Bell. He went white with a cold rage. He'd knownthis man before. A Secret Service man--one of the seven who hadvanished. "How's this place opened? I'll let you out. " "It may be dangerous, " said the white man with a ghastly grin. "I'm oneof The Master's little victims. I've been trying to work a little gamein hopes of getting within arm's reach of him. How'd you get here? Hashe got you too?" "I burned the damned town last night, " snarled Bell, "and crashed upafter it. Where's that door?" He found it, a solid mass of planks with a log bar fitted in such a waythat it could not possibly be opened from within. He dragged it wide. The white man came out, holding to his self-control with an obviouseffort. "I want to dance and sing because I'm out of there, " he told Bellqueerly, "but I know you've done me no good. I've been fed The Master'slittle medicine. I've been in that cage for weeks. " Bell, quivering with rage, handed him a revolver. "I'm going to get some supplies and stuff and try to make it tocivilization, " he said shortly. "If you want to help. .. . " "Hell, yes, " said the white man drearily. "I might as well. NumberOne-Fourteen was here. .. . He's The Master's little pet, now. Turnedtraitor. Report it, if you ever get out. " "No, " said Bell briefly. "He didn't turn. " He told in a very few wordsof the finding of the body of a man who had fallen or been thrown from aplane into the jungle. * * * * * They were moving toward the rows of still standing shacks, then, andfaces were beginning to turn toward them, and there was a little stir ofapathetic puzzlement at sight of the white man who had been set free. That white man looked suddenly at Paula, and then at Bell. "I've been turned into a beast, " he said wryly. "Look here, Bell. Therewere as many as ten and fifteen of us in that cage at one time--men thedeputies sent up for the purpose. We were allowed to go mad, one and twoat a time, for the edification of the populace, to keep the _camaradas_scared. And those of us who weren't going mad just then used to have toband together and kill them. That cage has been the most awful hell onearth that any devil ever contrived. They put three women in there once, with their hands already writhing. .. . Ugh!. .. " Bell's face was cold and hard is if carved from marble. "I haven't lived through it, " said the white man harshly, "by beingsoft. And I've got less than no time to live--sane, anyhow. I wasthinking of shooting you in the back, because the young lady--" He laughed as Bell's revolver muzzle stirred. "I'm telling you, " said the white man in ghastly merriment, "because Ithought--I thought One-Fourteen had set me the example of ditching theService for his own life. But now it's different. " * * * * * He pointed. "There's a launch in that house, with one of these outboard motors. Itwas used to keep up communication with the boat gangs that sweat theheavy supplies up the river. It'll float in three inches of water, andyou can pole it where the water's too shallow to let the propeller turn. This rabble will mob you if you try to take it, because it'll have takenthem just about this long to realize that they're deserted. They'llthink you are a deputy, at least, to have dared release me. I'm going toconvince them of it, and use this gun to give you a start. I give youtwo hours. It ought to be enough. And then. .. . " Bell nodded. "I'm not Service, " he said curtly, "but I'll see it's known. " The white man laughed again. "'Some sigh for the glories of this world, and some for a prophet'sparadise to come, '" he quoted derisively. "I thought I was hard, Bell, but I find I prefer to have my record clean in the Service--where nobodywill ever see it--than to take what pleasure I might snatch before Idie. Queer, isn't it? Old Omar was wrong. Now watch me bluff, flingingaway the cash for credit of doubtful value, and all for the rumble of adistant drum--which will be muted!" * * * * * They were surrounded by swarming, fawning, frightened _camaradas_ whoimplored the Senhor to tell them if he were a deputy of The Master, andif he were here to make sure nothing evil befell them. They worked forThe Master, and they desired nothing save to labor all their lives forThe Master, only--only--The Master would allow no evil to befall them? The white man waved his arms grandiloquently. "The Senhor you behold, " he proclaimed in the barbarous Portugese of thehinterland of Brazil, "has released me from the cage in which you sawme. He is the deputy of The Master himself, and is enraged because thelanding lights on the field were not burning, so that his airplane felldown into the jungle. He bears news of great value from me to TheMaster, which will make me finally a sub-deputy of The Master. And Ihave a revolver, as you see, with which I could kill him, but he daresnot permit me to die, since I have given him news for The Master. Ishall wait here and he will go and send back an airplane with the graceof The Master for me and for all of you. " Bell snarled an assent, in the arrogant fashion of the deputies of TheMaster. He waited furiously while the Service man argued eloquently andfluently. He fingered his revolver suggestively when a wave of panicswept over the swarming mob for no especial reason. And then he watchedgrimly while the light little metal-bottomed boat was carried to thewater's edge and loaded with food, and fuel, and arms, and ammunition, and even mosquito bars. The white man grinned queerly at Bell as he extended his hand in a lasthandshake. "'I, who am about to die, salute you!'" he said mockingly. "Isn't this ahell of a world, Bell? I'm sure we could design a better one in someways. " * * * * * Bell felt a horrible, a ghastly shock. The hand that gripped his waswrithing in his grasp. "Quite so, " said the white man. "It started about five minutes ago. Intheory, I've about forty-eight hours. Actually, I don't dare wait thatlong, if I'm to die like a white man. And a lingering vanity insists onthat. I hope you get out, Bell. .. . And if you want to do me afavor, "--he grinned again, mirthlessly--"you might see that The Masterand as many of his deputies as you can manage join me in hell at theearliest possible moment. I shan't mind so much if I can watch them. " He put his hands quickly in his pockets as the little outboard motorcaught and the launch went on down-river. He did not even look afterthem. The last Bell saw of him he was swaggering back up the littlehillside above the river edge, surrounded by scared inhabitants of theworkmen's shacks, and scoffing in a superior fashion at their fears. CHAPTER XII It took Bell just eight days to reach the Paraguay, and those eight dayswere like an age-long nightmare of toil and discomfort and more than alittle danger. The launch was headed downstream, of course, and with thecurrent behind it, it made good time. But the distances of Brazil areinfinite, and the jungles of Brazil are malevolent, and the route downthe Rio Laurenço was designed by the architect of hell. _Raudales_ layin wait to destroy the little boat. Insects swarmed about to destroy itsvoyagers. And the jungle loomed above them, passively malignant, andwaited for them to die. And as if physical sufferings were not enough, Bell saw Paula wilt andgrow pale. All the way down the river they passed little clearings atnearly equal distances. And men came trembling out of the little housesupon those _fazendas_ and fawned upon the Senhor who was in the launchthat had come from up-river and so must be in the service of The Masterhimself. The clearings and the tiny houses had been placed upon theriver for the service of the terribly laboring boat gangs who broughtthe heavier supplies up the river to The Master's central depot. Men atthese clearings had been enslaved and ordered to remain at their posts, serving all those upon the business of The Master. They fawned abjectlyupon Bell, because he was of _os gentes_ and so presumably wasempowered, as The Master had empowered his more intelligent subjects, toexact the most degraded of submission from all beneath him in thehorrible conspiracy. Once, indeed, Bell was humbly implored by a panicstricken man to administer "the grace of The Master" to a moody andirritable child of twelve or so. "She sees the red spots, Senhor. It is the first sign. And I have servedThe Master faithfully. .. . " * * * * * And Bell could do nothing. He went on savagely. And once he passed agang of _camaradas_ laboring to get heavily loaded dugouts up a fiendish_raudal_. They had ropes out and were hauling at them from the bank, while some of their number were breast-deep in the rushing water, pushing the dugouts against the stream. "They're headed for the plantation, " said Bell grimly, "and they'll needthe grace of The Master by the time they get there. And it's abandoned. But if I tell them. .. . " Men with no hope at all are not to be trusted. Not when they aremixtures of three or more races--white and black and red--and steeped inignorance and superstition and, moreover, long subject to such mastersas these men had had. Bell had to think of Paula. He could have landed and haughtily ordered them to float or even carrythe light boat to the calmer waters below. They would have obeyed andcringed before him. But he shot the rapids from above, with the littlemotor roaring past rocks and walls of jungle beside the foaming water, at a speed that chilled his blood. * * * * * Paula said nothing. She was white and listless. Bell, himself, was beingpreyed upon by a bitter blend of horror and a deep-seated rage thatconsumed him like a fever. He had fever itself, of course. He wastaking, and forcing Paula to take, five grains of quinine a day. It hadbeen included among his stores as a matter of course by those who hadloaded his boat. And with the fever working in his brain he foundhimself holding long, imaginary conversations, in which one part of hisbrain reproached the other part for having destroyed the plantation ofThe Master. The laborers upon that plantation had been abandoned to themurder madness because of his deed. The caretakers of the tiny _fazenda_on the river bank were now ignored. Bell felt himself a murderer becausehe had caused The Master's deputies to cast them off in a callousindifference to their inevitable fate. He suffered the tortures of the damned, and grew morose and bitter, andcould only escape that self torture by coddling his hatred of Ribieraand The Master. He imagined torments to be inflicted upon them whichwould adequately repay them for their crimes, and racked his feverishbrain for memories of the appalling atrocities which can be committedupon the human body without destroying its capacity to suffer. It was not normal. It was not sane. But it filled Bell's mind andsomehow kept him from suicide during the horrible passage of the river. He hardly dared speak to Paula. There was a time when he counted thedays since he had been a guest at Ribiera's estate outside of Rio, andfrenziedly persuaded himself that he saw red spots before his eyes andsoon would have the murder madness come upon him. And then he thought ofthe supplies in Ribiera's plane, in which they had escaped from Rio. They had eaten that food. * * * * * It was almost unconsciously, then, that he saw the narrow water on whichthe launch floated valiantly grow wider day by day. When at last itdebouched suddenly into a vast stream whereon a clumsy steamer pliedbeneath a self made cloud of smoke, he stared dully at it for minutesbefore he realized. "Paula, " he said suddenly, and listened in amazement to his voice. Itwas hoarse and harsh and croaking. "Paula, we've made it. This must bethe Paraguay. " She roused herself and looked about like a person waking from alethargic sleep. And then her lips quivered, and she tried to speak andcould not, and tears fell silently from her eyes, and all at once shewas sobbing bitterly. That sign of the terrific strain she had been under served more thananything else to jolt Bell out of his abnormal state of mind. He movedover to her and clumsily put his arm about her, and comforted her asbest he could. And she sat sobbing with her head on his shoulder, gasping in a form of hysterical relief, until the engine behind themsputtered, and coughed, and died. When Bell looked, the last drop of gasoline was gone. But the motor hadserved its purpose. It had run manfully on an almost infinitesimalconsumption of gasoline for eight days. It had not missed an explosionsave when its wiring was wetted by spray. And now. .. . * * * * * Bell hauled the engine inboard and got out the oars from under theseats. He got the little boat out to mid-stream, and they floated downuntil a village of squalid huts appeared on the eastern bank. He landed, there, and with much bargaining and a haughty demeanor disposed of theboat to the skipper of a _batelao_ in exchange for passage down-river asfar as Corumba. The rate was outrageously high. But he had littlecurrency with him and dared go no farther on a vessel which carried aboat of The Master's ownership conspicuously towed behind. At Corumba he purchased clothes less obviously of _os gentes_, both forhimself and for Paula, and that same afternoon was able to arrange fortheir passage to Asunción as deck passengers on a river steamer goingdownstream. It was as two peasants, then, that they rode in sweltering heat amid aswarming and odorous mass of fellow humanity downstream. But it was acurious relief, in some ways. The people about them were gross andunwashed and stupid, but they were human. There was none of thatdiabolical feeling of terror all about. There were no strained, fearhaunted faces upon the deck reserved for deck passengers and othercattle. The talk was ungrammatical and literal and of the earth. Thewomen were stolid-faced and reserved. But when the long rows of hammockswere slung out in the open air, in the casual fashion of sleepingarrangements in the back-country of all South America, it was blessedlypeaceful to realize that the folk who snored so lustily were merelyhuman; human animals, it might be, with no thought above their _farinha_and _feijos_ on the morrow, but human. * * * * * And the second day they passed the old fort at Coimbra, and went on. Thepassage into Paraguayan territory was signalized by an elaborate customsinspection, and three days later Asunción itself displayed its red-tiledroofs and adobe walls upon the shore. Bell had felt some confidence in his ability to pass muster with hisSpanish, though his Portuguese was limited, and it was a shock when thecaptain of the steamer summoned him to his cabin with a gesture, beforethe steamer docked. Bell left Paula among the other deck passengers andwent with the peasant's air of suspicious humility into the captain'squarters. But the captain's pose of grandeur vanished at once when thedoor closed. "Señor, " said the steamer captain humbly, "I have not spoken to youbefore. I knew you would not wish it. But tell me, senor! Have you anynews of what The Master plans?" Bell's eyes flickered, at the same time that a cold apprehension filledhim. "Why do you speak to me of The Master?" he demanded sharply. The steamer captain stammered. The man was plainly frightened at Bell'stone. Bell relaxed, his flash of panic for Paula gone. "I know, " said the captain imploringly, "that the great _fazenda_ hasbeen deserted. On my last trip, down, senor, I brought many of the highdeputies who had been there. They warned me not to speak, senor, but Isaw that you were not what you seemed, and I thought you might be goingabout to see who obeyed The Master's orders. .. . " * * * * * Bell nodded. "That is my mission, " he said curtly. "Do not speak of it further--noteven to the deputy in Asunción. " The captain stammered again. "But I must see the Señor Francia, " he said humbly. "I report to himafter every trip, and if he thought that I did not report all that Ilearn. .. . " "It is my order, " snapped Bell angrily. "If he reproaches you, say thatone who has orders from The Master himself gave them to you. And do notspeak of the destruction of the _fazenda_. I am searching especially forthe man who caused it. And--wait! I will take your name, and you shallgive me--say--a thousand pesos. I had need of money to bribe a fool Icould not waste time on, up-country. It will be returned to you. " And again the captain stammered, but Bell stared at him haughtily, andhe knelt abjectly before the ship's safe. * * * * * Asunción, as everybody knows, is a city of sixty thousand people, andthe capital of a republic which enjoyed the rule of a family ofhereditary dictators for sixty years; which rule ended in a war whereinfour-fifths of the population was wiped out. And since that beginning ithas averaged eight revolutions to Mexico's three, has had the joy ofknowing seven separate presidents in five years--none of themelected--and now boasts a population approximately two-thirdsillegitimate and full of pride in its intellectual and artistic tastes. Bell and Paula made their way along the cobbled streets away from theriver, surrounded by other similarly peasant-seeming folk. Bell told hercurtly what had happened with the steamer captain. "It's the devil, " he said coldly, "because this whole republic is underThe Master's thumb. Except among the peasants we can count on nearlyeverybody being on the lookout for us, if they so much as suspect we'realive. And they may because I burned their damned _fazenda_. So. .. . " Paula smiled at him, rather wanly. "What are you going to do, Charles?" "Get a boat, " said Bell curtly. "One with three or four men, if I can. If I can buy it with the skipper's money, I will. But I can't take youto go bargaining. It would look suspicious. " They had reached the central plaza of the town. The market swarmed withbrown skinned folk and seemed to overflow with fruits. A man wasunconcernedly shoveling oranges out of a cart with a shovel, as if theyhad been so much coal. A market woman as unconcernedly dropped some ofthe same golden fruit within a small pen where a piglet awaited apurchaser. To the left, there were rows of unshaded stalls where theinfinitely delicate handmade Paraguayan lace was exposed for sale. "I--think, " said Paula, "I think I will go in the cathedral. I will bevery devout, Charles, and you will find me there when you return. I willbe safe there, certainly. " * * * * * He walked with her across the crowded plaza. He should have known thatyour peasant does not stride with head up, but regarding the ground. That a man who works heavily droops his shoulders with weariness at theend of a day. And especially he should have realized that Paraguay isnot, strictly speaking, a Latin-American nation. It is Latin-Indian, inwhich the population graduates very definitely from a sub-stratum ofnearly or quite pure Indian race to an aristocracy of nearly or quitepure Spanish descent, and that the color of a man's skin fixes his placein society. Both Bell and Paula were too light of skin for the peasant'sclothes they wore. They aroused curiosity at once. If it was not anactive curiosity, it was nevertheless curiosity of a sort. But Bell left her in the shadowy, cool interior of the cathedral whichseems so pitifully small to be the center of religion for a nation. Hesaw her move toward one of the little candle-lit niches in the wall andfall quite simply on her knees there. And he moved off, to wander aimlessly down to the river shore and stareabout and presently begin a desultory conversation with sleepy boatmen. * * * * * It was three hours and more before he returned to the Cathedral, andPaula was talking to someone. More, talking to a woman in the mostdiscreet of mantilla'd church-going costumes. Paula saw him in thedoorway, and uttered a little cry of relief. She came hurrying to him. "Charles! I have found a friend! Isabella Ybarra. We were schoolmates inthe United States and she has just come back from Paris! So you see, shecannot--" "I see, " said Bell very quietly. Paula was speaking swiftly and very softly. "We went to school together, Charles. I trust her. You must trust heralso. There is no danger, this time. Isabella has never even heard ofThe Master. So you see. .. . " "I see that you need someone you can trust, " said Bell grimly. "_I_found that the captain of the steamer had gone to The Master's deputyhere. While I was talking to some boatmen a warning was given to lookout for a man and woman, together, who may try to buy a boat. We'redescribed, and only the fact that I was alone kept me from beingsuspected. Police, soldiers--everybody is looking out for us. Paraguay'sunder The Master's thumb more completely than any other nation on thecontinent. " The figure to which Paula had been talking was moving slowly towardthem. A smiling, brown-eyed face twinkled at them. "You must be Charles!" said a warm and cluckling voice. "Paula hasraved, Señor. Now I am going to take her off in my carriage. She is mymaid. And you will follow the carriage on foot and I will have themajor-domo let you in the servants' entrance, and the three of us willconspire. " * * * * * It was incongruous to hear the English of a girl's finishing school fromthe mantilla'd young woman who beamed mischievously at him. She had thedelighted air of one aiding a romance. It was doubly incongruous becauseof the dark and shadowy Cathedral in which they were, and the raucousnoises of the market in the plaza without. Bell had a sense of utterunreality as Isabella's good humored voice went on: "Do you remember, Paula, the time the French teacher caught us in thepantry? I shall feel just like that time. " "This is dangerous, " said Bell, steadily, "and it is very seriousindeed. " "Pooh!" said Isabella comfortably. "Paula, you didn't even know I wasmarried! A whole year and a half! And he's a darling, really. I'm theSeñora Isabella Ybarra de Zuloaga, if you please! Bow gracefully!" Shechuckled. "Jaime came all the way to Rio to meet me last month. I'm wildabout him, Paula. .. . But come on! Follow me humbly, like a nice little_mestizo_ girl who wants to be my maid, and I'll let you ride with the_cochero_ and Charles shall follow behind us. " She swept out of the Cathedral with the air of a grande dame suppressinga giggle, and Paula went humbly behind her. And Bell trudged through the dust and the blistering sun while thehighly polished carriage jolted over cobble stones and the youthfulSeñora Isabella Ybarra de Zuloaga beamed blissfully at the universewhich did not realize that she was a conspirator, and Paula sat modestlybeside the brown skinned _cochero_. * * * * * It was not a long ride nor a long walk, though the sun was insufferable. The capital of Paraguay is not large. It is a sleepy, somnolent littletown in which the most pretentious building was begun as thePresidential Palace and wound up as the home of a bank. But there arebullet marks on the façade of the _Museo Nacionál_, and there is stillan empty pedestal here and there throughout the city where the heroes oflast year's revolution, in bronze, have been pulled down and the heroesof this year's uprising of the people have not yet been set up. Redtiled roofs give the city color, and the varying shades of its populacegive it variety, and the fact that below the whiter class of inhabitants_Guarani_ is spoken instead of Spanish adds to the individuality of itseffect. But the house into which the carriage turned could have been built inRio or Buenos Aires without comment on its architecture. It had theouter bleakness of most private homes of South America, but if it washuge and its windows were barred, the patio into which Bell was usheredby a bewildered and suspicious major-domo made up in color and in charmfor all that the exterior lacked. A fountain played amid flowers, and macaws and parrots and myriad othercaged birds hung in their cages about the colonnade around the court, and Bell found Paula being introduced to a pale young man in the stiffcollar and unspeakably formal morning clothes of the South American whois of the upper class. "Jaime, " said Isabella, beaming. "And this is Charles, whom Paula is tomarry! It is romantic! It is fascinating! And I depend on you to givehim clothes so that all our servants won't stare goggle-eyed at him, andI am going to take Paula off at once and dress her! They are our guests!And, Jaime, you must threaten all the servants terribly so they willkeep it very secret--that we have two such terrible people with us. " * * * * * Paula smiled at Bell, and he saw that she felt utterly safe and whollyat peace. Something was hammering at Bell's brain, warning him, and hecould not understand what it was. But he exchanged the decorous limphandshake which is conventional south of Panama, and followed hisunsmiling host to rooms where a servant laid out a bewilderingassortment of garments. They were all rather formal, the sort ofclothing that is held to be fitting for a man of position where Spanishis the official if not the common tongue. His host retired, without words, and Bell came out later to find himsipping moodily at a drink, waiting for him. He wiped his forehead. "Be seated, Señor, " he said heavily, "until the ladies join us. " He wiped his forehead again and watched somberly while Bell poured out adrink. "Isabella. .. . " He seemed to find it difficult to speak. "She has told mea little, but there has been no time for more than a little: I do notwish to have her tell me too much. She does not understand. She waseducated in North America, where customs are different. She demands thatI assist you and the senorita--it is the senorita?" Bell stiffened. In all Spanish America the conventions are strict. For aman and woman to travel together, even perforce and for a shortdistance, automatically damns the woman. "Go on, " said Bell grimly. His host was very pale indeed. "She demands that I assist you and the senorita to escape the police andthe government. Provided that you do not tell me who you are, I willattempt it. But--" "I wonder, " said Bell quietly, "if you have ever seen red spots dancingbefore your eyes. " His host went utterly livid. * * * * * Zuloaga looked down at his hands, as if expecting unguessable things ofthem. And then he shrugged, and said harshly: "I have, Señor. So you see that Isabella, who does not know, is askingme to risk, not only my life, but her honor. " Bell said nothing for a moment. He was a little pale. "And your honor?" he asked quietly. The pallor on the face of the Señor Jaime Zuloaga was horrible. He triedto speak, and could not. He stood up, and managed to say: "So much I will risk, because you have been my guest. Until to-morrowmorning you are safe, unless the Señor Francia has his spies within myown house. I--I will attempt, even to procure a boat. But--" Something made Bell turn. The major-domo was moving quickly out ofsight. Like a flash Bell was upon him, and like a flash a knife cameout. Bell's host gasped. The fact that his servant had spied was more thanobvious, and he had spoke treason against The Master. He leaned againstthe table, sick and trembling and mumbling of despair, while there werecrashes in the room into which Bell had plunged, while bodies thrashedabout on the floor, and while stertorous breathing grew less, andstopped. .. . Bell came back, breathing hard. The front of his coat was slashed open. "He's dead, " he said harshly. "He'd have reported what you said, so Ikilled him. .. . And now we've got to do something with his body. " He helped in the horrible task, while his host grew more and moreshaken. No other servants came near. And Bell could almost read thethoughts that went through Zuloaga's brain. One servant had spied, toreport his treason. And that meant assassination for himself, as theleast of punishments, and for his wife. .. . But there would be no punishment if he went first to the deputy and saidthat Bell had killed the major-domo. Bell left the house before dusk, desperately determined to steal a craftof some sort, return for Paula, and get away from Asunción before dawn. He returned after an hour. In the morning a man would be found bound andgagged, with five hundred pesos stuffed into his pockets. His boat wouldhave vanished. But there was a commotion before the house where Paula waited fearfully. A carriage stood there, with a company of mounted soldiers about it. Someone was being put into it. As Bell broke into a run toward the housethe carriage started up and the soldiers trotted after it. Paula was taken. CHAPTER XIII That night Bell turned burglar. To attempt a rescue of Paula was simplyout of the question. He was entirely aware that he would be expected todo just such a thing, and that it would be adequately guarded against. Therefore he prepared for a much more desperate enterprise byburglarizing a bookstore in the particularly neat method in whichmembers of The Trade are instructed. The method was invented by a memberof The Trade who was an ex-cabinet maker, and who perished disreputably. He killed a certain courier of a certain foreign government, therebypreventing a minor war and irritating two governments excessively, andwas hanged. The method, of course, is simplicity itself. One removes the small nailswhich hold the molding of a door panel in place. The molding comes out. So does the panel. One enters through the panel, commits one's burglary, and comes out, replacing the molding and the nails with reasonable care. Depending upon the care with which the replacing is done, the means ofentrance is more or less undiscoverable. But it is usually used when itis not intended that the burglary ever be discussed. Bell abstracted two books, wrapping paper and twine. He departed, usinggreat care. He walked three miles out of town and to the banks of theParaguay. There he carefully saturated the pages of both books inwater, carefully keeping the bindings from being wetted. Then he toreone book to pieces, saving the leaves and inserting them between theleaves of the other book. Then, with a brazil nut candle forillumination, he began to write. * * * * * You see, when two thoroughly wetted pieces of paper are placed one abovethe other with a hard surface such as the cover of another book underthem, you can write upon the top one with a stick. The writing will showdark against the gray of the saturated paper. You then remove the topsheet and end the writing reproduced on the bottom sheet. And then youcan dry the second sheet and find the marking vanished--until it iswetted again. It is, in fact, a method of water-marking paper. And it isthe simplest of all methods of invisible writing. Bell wrote grimly for hours. The book he had chosen was an old one, anancient copy of one of Lope de Vega's plays, and the pages were wrinkledand yellow from age alone. When, by dawn, the last page was dried out, there was no sign that anything other than antiquity had affected thepaper. And Bell wrapped it carefully, and addressed it to an elderlysenora of literary tastes in San Juan, Porto Rico, and enclosed anaffectionate letter to his very dear aunt, and signed it with anentirely improbable name. It was mailed before sunrise, the necessary stamps having been filchedfrom the burglarized bookstore and the price thereof being carefullyinserted in the till. Bell had made a complete and painstaking report ofevery fact he had himself come upon in the matter of The Master and hisslaves and appended to it a copy of the report of the dead SecretService operative Number One-Fourteen. He destroyed that after copyingit. And he concluded that since he had been given dismissal by Jamisonin Rio, he considered himself at liberty to take whatever steps he sawfit. And since the Senhorina Paula Canalejas had been kidnapped byagents of The Master, he intended to take steps which might possiblybring about her safety, but would almost certainly cause his death. The report should at least be of assistance if the Trade set to work tocombat The Master. Bell had no information whatever about that stillmysterious and still more horrible person himself. But what he knewabout The Master's agents he sent to a lady in Porto Rico who has anastonishingly large number of far ranging nephews. And then Bell gothimself adequately shaved, bought a hearty breakfast, and, after one ortwo heartening drinks, was driven grandly to the residence of the SeñorFrancia, deputy of The Master for the republic of Paraguay. * * * * * The servants who admitted him gazed blankly when he gave his name. Adoor was hastily closed behind him. He was ushered into an elaboratereception room and, after an agitated pause, no less than six separatefrock-coated persons appeared and pointed large revolvers at him while aseventh searched him exhaustively. Bell submitted amusedly. "And now, " he said dryly, "I suppose the Señor Francia will receive me?" There was more agitation. The six men remained; with their weaponspointed at him. The seventh departed, and Bell re-dressed himself in aleisurely fashion. Ten minutes later a slender, dark skinned man with impeccably waxedmoustaches entered, regarded Bell with an entirely impersonal interest, took one of the revolvers from one of the six frock-coated gentlemen, and seated himself comfortably. He waved his hand and they fileduneasily from the room. So far, not one word had been spoken. * * * * * Bell retrieved his cigarette case and lighted up with every appearanceof ease. "I have come, " he said casually, "to request that I be sent to TheMaster. I believe that he is anxious to meet me. " The dark eyes scrutinized him coldly. Then Francia smiled. "_Pero si_, " he said negligently, "he is very anxious to see you. Isuppose you know what fate awaits you?" His smile was amiable and apparently quite friendly, but Bell shrugged. "I suppose, " he said dryly, "he wants to converse with me. I have beenhis most successful opponent to date, I think. " Francia smiled again. It was curious how his smile, which at firstseemed so genuine and so friendly, became unspeakably unpleasant on itsrepetition. "Yes. " Francia seemed to debate some matter of no great importance. "Youhave been very annoying, Señor Bell. The Senhor Ribiera asked that yoube sent to him. It was his intention to execute you, privately. Hedescribed a rather amusing method to me. And I must confess that youhave annoyed me, likewise. Since the Cuyaba plantation was destroyed mysubjects have been much upset. They have been frightened, and evenstubborn. Only last week"--he smiled pleasantly, and the effect washorrible--"only last week I desired the society of a lady who is mysubject. And her husband considered that, since the _fazenda_ wasdestroyed, The Master would be powerless to extend his grace beforelong, in any event. So he shot his wife and himself. It annoyed meenough to make me feel that it would be a pleasure to kill you. " * * * * * He raised the revolver meditatively. "Well?" said Bell coldly. Francia lowered the weapon and laughed. "Oh, I shall not do it. I think The Master would be displeased. You seemto have the type of courage he most desires in his deputies. And it mayyet be that I shall greet you as my fellow deputy or perhaps my fellowviceroy. So I shall send you to him. I would say that you have about aneven chance of dying very unpleasantly or of being a deputy. Therefore Ioffer you such courtesies as I may. " Bell puffed a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "I'm about out of cigarettes, " he said mildly. "They shall be supplied. And--er--if you would desire feminine society, I will have some of my pretty subjects. .. . " "No, " said Bell bluntly. "I would like to speak to the SenhorinaCanalejas, though. " Francia chuckled. "She left for Buenos Aires last night. The Senhor Ribiera sent a mostimpatient message for her to be sent on at once. I regretted it, but hehad The Master's authority. I thought her charming, myself. " The skin about Bell's knuckles was white. His hands had clenchedsavagely. "In that event, " he said coldly, "the only other courtesy I would ask isthat of following her as soon as possible. " Francia rose languidly. The revolver dangled by his side, but his gripupon it was firm. He smiled at Bell with the same effect of a horrible, ghastly geniality. "Within the hour, Señor, " he said urbanely. "With the guard I shallplace over you it is no harm, I am sure, to observe that The Master isat his retreat in Punta Arenas. You will go there to-morrow, as I goto-night. " He moved toward the door, and smiled again, and added pleasantly: "The Senhorina was delivered to the Senhor Ribiera this morning. " * * * * * Matters moved swiftly after that. A servant brought cigarettes and atray of liquors--which Bell did not touch. There was the sound ofmovement, the scurrying, furtive haste which seems always to imply adesperate sort of fear. Bell waited in a terrible calmness, while ragehammered at his temples. Then the clattering of horses' hoofs outside. A carriage was beingbrought. Soldiers came in and a man beckoned curtly. Bell stuffed hispockets with smokes and followed languidly. He was realizing that therewas little pretense of secrecy about the power of The Master's deputyhere. Police and soldiers. .. . But Paraguay, of all the nations of thesouthern continent, has learned a certain calm realism aboutgovernmental matters. The man who has power is obeyed. The man who has not power is notobeyed. Titles are of little importance, though it is the custom for theman with the actual power eventually to assume the official rank ofauthority. Since the President in Asunción was no more than a figureheadwho called anxiously upon the Señor Francia every morning forinstructions concerning the management of the nation, Franciaindifferently ignored him whenever he chose and gave orders directly. There would be very little surprise and no disorder whatever when TheMaster proclaimed Paraguay a viceroyalty of his intended empire. * * * * * The carriage went smartly through the cobbled streets with a cavalryescort all about it. An officer sat opposite Bell with his hand on hisrevolver. "I am receiving at least the honors of royalty, " Bell commented coldlyto him, in Spanish. "Señor, " said the officer harshly, "this is the state in which thedeputies of The Master were escorted. " He watched Bell heavily, but with the desperate intentness of a man whoknows no excuses will be received if his prisoner escapes. Out of the town to a flying field, where a multi-engined plane waswarming up. It was one of the ships that had been at The Master's_fazenda_ of Cuyaba, one of the ships that had fled from the burningplantation. Bell was ushered into it with a ceremonious suspicion. Almost immediately he was handcuffed to his seat. Two men took theirplace behind him. The big ship rolled forward, lifted, steadied, andafter a single circling set out to the southeast for Buenos Aires. * * * * * The whole performance had had been run off with the smoothly oiledprecision of an iron discipline exercised upon men in the grip of deadlyfear. "One man, at least, " reflected Bell grimly, "has some qualities that fithim for his job. " And then, for hour after hour, the big ship went steadily southeast. Itflew over Paraguayan territory for two hours, soaring high over the LagoYpoa and on over the swampy country that extends to the Argentineborder. It ignored that border and all customs formalities. It went on, through long hours of flight, while mountains rose before it. It roseover those mountains and passed over the first railroad line--the firstreal sign of civilization since leaving Asunción--at Mercedes, andreached the Uruguay river where the Mirinjay joins it. It went roaringon down above the valley of the Rio Uruguay for long and tedious hoursmore. At about noon, lunch was produced. The two men who guarded Bellate. Then, with drawn revolvers, they unlocked his handcuffs and offeredhim food. * * * * * He ate, of exactly those foods he had seen them eat. He submittedindifferently to the re-application of his fetters. He had reached astate which was curiously emotionless. If Paula had been turned over toRibiera that morning, Paula was dead. And just as there is a state ofgrief which stuns the mind past the realization of its loss, so there isa condition of hatred which leads to an enormous calmness and anunnatural absence of any tremor. Bell had reached that state. Theinstinct of self-preservation had gone lax. Where a man normally thinksfirst, if unconsciously, of the protection of his body from injury orpain, Bell had come to think first, and with the same terrible clarity, of the accomplishment of revenge. He would accept The Master's terms, if The Master offered them. He wouldbecome The Master's subject, accepting the poison of madness without aqualm. He would act and speak and think as a subject of The Master, until his opportunity came. And then. .. . His absolute calmness would have deceived most men. It may have deceivedhis guards. Time passed. The Rio de la Plata spread out widely below theroaring multi-engined plane and the vast expanse of buildings which isBuenos Aires appeared far ahead in the gathering dusk. Little twinklinglights blinked into being upon the water and the earth far away. Thenone of the two guards touched Bell on the shoulder. "Señor, " he said sharply above the motors' muffled roar, "we shall land. A car will draw up beside the plane. There will be no customsinspection. That has been arranged for. You can have no hope of escape. I ask you if you will go quietly into the car?" "Why not?" asked Bell evenly. "I went to Señor Francia of my ownaccord. " * * * * * The guard leaned back. The city of Buenos Aires spread out below them. The tumbled, congested old business quarter glittered in all itsoffices, and the broad Avenida de Mayo cut its way as a straight slashof glittering light through the section of the city to eastward. Bycontrast, from above, the far-flung suburbs seemed dark and somber. The big plane roared above the city, settling slowly; banked steeply andcircled upon its farther side, and dipped down toward what seemed anabsurdly small area, which sprang into a pinkish glow on their descent. That area spread but as the descent continued, though, and was a wideand level field when the ship flattened out and checked and lumbered toa stop. A glistening black car came swiftly, humming into place alongside almostbefore the clumsy aircraft ceased to roll. Its door opened. Two men gotout and waited. The hangars were quite two hundred yards away, and Bellsaw the glitter of weapons held inconspicuously but quite ready. He stepped out of the cabin of the plane with a revolver muzzle pressinginto his spine. Other revolver muzzles pressed sharply into his sides ashe reached earth. Smiling faintly, he took four steps, clambered up into the glisteningblack car, and settled down comfortably into the seat. The two men whohad waited by the car followed him. The door closed, and Bell was in apadded silence that was acutely uncomfortable for a moment. A dome lightglowed brightly, however, and he lighted nearly the last of thecigarettes from Asunción with every appearance of composure as the carstarted off with a lurch. * * * * * The windows were blank. Thick, upholstered padding covered the spaceswhere openings should have been, and there was only the muffledvibration of the motor and the occasional curiously distinct noise of aflexing spring. "Just as a matter of curiosity, " said Bell mildly, "what is the excusegiven on the flying field for this performance? Or is the entire staffsubject to The Master?" Two revolvers were bearing steadily upon him and the two men watched himwith the unwavering attention of men whose lives depend upon theirvigilance. "You, Señor, " said one of them without expression or a smile, "are thecorpse of a prominent politician who died yesterday at his countryhome. " And then for half an hour or more the car drove swiftly, and stopped, and drove swiftly forward again as if in traffic. Then there were manyturns, and then a slow and cautious traverse of a relatively few feet. It stopped, and then the engine vibration ceased. "I advise you, Señor, " said the same man who had spoken before, and inthe same emotionless voice, "not to have hope of escape in the moment ofalighting. We are in an enclosed court and there are two gates lockedbehind us. " Bell shrugged as there was the clatter of a lock operating. The doorswung wide. * * * * * He stepped down into a courtyard surrounded by nearly bare walls. It hadonce been the _patio_ of a private home of some charm. Now, however, itwas bleak and empty. A few discouraged flowers grew weedily in onecorner. The glow of light in the sky overhead assured Bell that he wasin the very heart of Buenos Aires, but only the most subdued of rumblesspoke of the activity and the traffic of the city going on without. "This way, " said the man with the expressionless voice. The other man followed. The chauffeur of the car stood aside as if someformality required him neither to start the motor or return to his seatuntil Bell was clear of the courtyard. Through a heavy timber door. Along a passageway with the odor ofneglect. Up stairs which once had been impressive and ornamental. Into aroom without windows. "You will have an interview with the Señorita Canalejas in fiveminutes, " said the emotionless voice. The door closed, while Bell found every separate muscle in his body drawtaut. And while his brain at first was dazed with incredulous relief, then it went dark with a new and ghastly terror. "They know _yagué_, " he heard himself saying coldly, "which makes anyperson obey any command. They may know other and more hellish ones yet. " * * * * * He fought for self control, which meant the ability to concealabsolutely any form of shock that might await him. That one was in storehe was certain. He paced grimly the length of the room and backagain. .. . Something on the carpet caught his eye. A bit of string. He stared at itincredulously. The end was tied into a curious and an individual knot, which looked like it might be the pastime of a sailor, and which lookedlike it ought to be fairly easy to tie. But it was one of those knotswhich wandering men sometimes tie absent mindedly in the presence ofstirring events. It was the recognition-knot of the Trade, one of thosesigns by which men may know each other in strange and peculiarsituations. And there were many other knots tied along the trailinglength of the string. It seemed as if some nervous and distraughtprisoner in this room might have toyed abstractedly with a bit of cord. Only, Bell drew it through his fingers. Double knot, single knot, doubleknot. .. . They spelled out letters in the entirely simple Morse code ofthe telegrapher, if one noticed. "RBRA GN ON PLA HRE ST TGT J. " Your old-time telegrapher uses many abbreviations. Your short-wave fanuses more. Mostly they are made by a simple omission of vowels in normalEnglish words. And when the recognition sign at the beginning wasconsidered, the apparently cryptic letters leaped into meaning. "RiBeRA GoNe ON PauLA HeRe SiT TiGhT Jamison. " When the door opened again and a terribly pale Paula was ushered in, Bell gave no sign of surprise. He simply took her in his arms and kissedher, holding her very, very close. CHAPTER XIV Paula remained in the room with Bell for perhaps twenty minutes, andBell had the feeling of eyes upon them and of ears listening to theirevery word. In their first embrace, in fact, he murmured a warning inher ear and she gasped a little whispered word of comprehension. But itwas at least a relief to be sure that she was alive and yet unharmed. Francia had been in error when he told Bell of Paula's delivery to theBrazilian to be enslaved or killed as Ribiera found most amusing. Orperhaps, of course, Francia had merely wanted to cause Bell all possiblediscomfort. It was clear, however, blessedly clear and evident, that Paula's pallorwas due to nothing more than terror--a terror which was now redoubledbecause Bell was in The Master's toils with her. Forgetting his warning, she whispered to him desperately that he must try to escape, somehow, before The Master's poison was administered to him. Outside, he might dosomething to release her. Here, a prisoner, he was helpless. Bell soothed her, not daring either to confess the plan he had formed ofa feigned submission in order to wreak revenge, or to offerencouragement because of the message knotted in the piece of string byJamison. And because of that caution she came to look at him with aqueer doubt, and presently with a terrible quiet grief. "Charles--you--you have been poisoned like the rest?" * * * * * The feeling of watching eyes and listening ears was strong. Bell had apart to play, and the necessity for playing that part was the greaterbecause now he was forced to hope. He hesitated, torn between the needto play his rôle for the invisible eavesdroppers and the desire to sparePaula. Her hand closed convulsively upon his. "V-very well, Charles, " she said quietly, though her lips quivered. "If--if you are going to serve The Master, I--I will serve him too, ifhe will let me stay always near you. But if he--will not, then I canalways--die. .. . " Bell groaned. And the door opened silently, and there were men standingwithout. An emotionless voice said: "Señorita, the Señor Ortiz will interview the Señor Bell. " "I'm coming, " said Paula quietly. She went, walking steadily. Two men detached themselves from the groupabout the door and followed her. The others waited for Bell. And Bellclenched his hands and squared his shoulders and marched grimly withthem. * * * * * Again long passages, descending to what must have been a good deal belowthe surface of the earth. And then a massive door was opened, and lightshone through, and Bell found himself standing on a rug of the thickestpossible pile in a room of quite barbaric luxury, and facing a desk fromwhich a young man was rising to greet him. This young man was no olderthan Bell himself, and he greeted Bell in a manner in which mockery wasentirely absent, but in which defiance was peculiarly strong. A bulky, round shouldered figure wrote laboriously at a smaller desk to one side. "Señor Bell, " said the young man bitterly, "I do not ask you to shakehands with me. I am Julio Ortiz, the son of the man you befriended uponthe steamer _Almirante Gomez_. I am also, by the command of The Master, your jailer. Will you be seated?" Bell's eyes flickered. The older Ortiz had died by his own hand in thefirst stages of the murder madness The Master's poison produced. He haddied gladly and, in Bell's view, very gallantly. And yet his son. .. . Butof course The Master's deputies made a point of enslaving whole familieswhen it was at all possible. It gave a stronger hold upon each member. "I beg of you, " said young Ortiz bitterly, "to accept my invitation. Iwish to offer you a much qualified friendship, which I expect you torefuse. " Bell sat down and crossed his knees. He lit a cigarette thoughtfully, thinking swiftly. "I remember, and admired, your father, " he said slowly. "I think thatany man who died as bravely as he did is to be envied. " * * * * * The younger Ortiz had reseated himself as Bell sat down, and now hefingered nervously, wretchedly, the objects on his desk. A penholderbroke between his fingers and he flung it irritably into thewastebasket. "You understand, " he said harshly, "the obligations upon me. I am thesubject of The Master. You will realize that if you desire to escape, Icannot permit it. But you did my father a very great kindness. Much ofit I was able to discover from persons on the boat. More, from thewireless operator who is also the subject of The Master. You were notacting, Señor, as a secret service operative in your attempt to help myfather. You bore yourself as a very honorable gentleman. I wish to thankyou. " "I imagine, " said Bell dryly, "that anyone would have done what I did. " He seemed to be quite at ease, but he was very tense indeed. The bulky, round shouldered figure at the other desk was writing busily with a veryscratchy pen. It was an abominable pen. Its sputtering was loud enoughto be noticeable under any circumstances, but Bell was unusually alert, just now, and suddenly he added still more drily: "Helping a man in trouble is quite natural. One always gets it back. It's a sort of dealing with the future in which there is a profit onevery trade. " He put the slightest emphasis on the last word and waited, looking atyoung Ortiz, but listening with all his soul to the scratching of thepen. And that scratching sound ceased abruptly. The pen seemed to writesmoothly all of an instant. Bell drew a deep breath of satisfaction. Inthe Trade, when in doubt, one should use the word "Trade" in one's firstremark to the other man. Then the other man will ask your trade, and youreply impossibly. It is then up to the other man to speak frankly, first. But circumstances alter even recognition-signs. Ortiz had not noticed any by-play, of course. It would have been ratherextraordinary if he had. A pen that scratches so that the sound isMorse code for "Bell, play up. J. " is just unlikely enough to avoid allnotice. * * * * * Ortiz drummed upon the desk. "Now, Señor, what can I do that will serveyou? I cannot release you. You know that. I am not the deputy here. There has been a set-back to The Master's plans and all the deputies arecalled to his retreat to receive instructions and to discuss. I havemerely been ordered to carry out the deputy's routine labors until hereturns. However, I will be obeyed in any matter. I can, and will, doanything that will make you more comfortable or will amuse you, from achange in your accommodations to providing you with companions. Youobserve, " he added with exquisite bitterness, "that the limit of mycapacity to prove my friendship is to offer my services as a pander. " Bell gazed at the tip of his cigarette, letting his eyes wander aboutthe room for an instant, and permitting them to rest for the fraction ofa second upon the round shouldered, writing form by the side wall. "I am sufficiently amused, " he said mildly. "I asked to be sent to TheMaster. He intends to make me an offer, I understand. Or he did. He mayhave changed his mind. But I am curious. Your father told me a certainthing that seemed to indicate he did not enjoy the service of TheMaster. Your tone is quite loyal, but unhappy. Why do you serve him?Aside, of course, from the fact of having been poisoned by his deputy. " * * * * * Internally, Bell was damning Jamison feverishly. If he was to play up toOrtiz, why didn't Jamison give him some sign of how he was to do it?Some tip. .. . "Herr Wiedkind, " said Ortiz wearily, "perhaps you can explain. " The round shouldered figure swung about and bowed profoundly to Bell. "Der Señor Ortiz, " he said gutturally, and in a sepulchral profundity, "he does not understand himself. I haff nefer said it before. But heserfs Der Master because he despairs, andt he will cease to serf DerMaster when he hopes. And I--I serf Der Master because I hope, andt Iwill cease to serf him when I despair. " Ortiz looked curiously and almost suspiciously at the Germanic figurewhich regarded him soberly through thick spectacles. "It is not customary, Herr Wiedkind, " he said slowly, "to speak ofceasing to serve The Master. " "Idt is not customary to speak of many necessary things, " said the roundshouldered figure dryly. "Of our religions, for example. Of der women welofe. Of our gonsciences. Of various necessary biological functions. Butin der presence of der young man who is der enemy of Der Master we canspeak freely, you and I who serf him. We know that maybe der deputiesserf because they enjoy it. But der subjects? Dey serf because dey fear. Andt fear is intolerable. A man who is afraid is in an unstablegondition. Sooner or later he is going to stop fearing because he getsused to it--when Der Master will haff no more hold on him--or else he isgoing to stop fearing because he will kill himself. " * * * * * To an outsider the spectacle of the three men in their talk would havebeen very odd indeed. Two men who served The Master, and one who hadbeen his only annoying opponent, talking of the service of The Masterquite amicably and without marked disagreement. Ortiz stirred and drummed nervously on the desk. The round shoulderedfigure put the tips of its fingers together. "How did you know, " demanded Ortiz suddenly, "that I serve because Idespair?" Bell watched keenly. He began to see where the talk was trending, andwaited alertly for the moment for him to speak. This was a battlefield, this too luxurious room in which young Ortiz seemed an alien. Rhetoricwas the weapon which now would serve the best. "Let us talk frankly, " said the placid German voice. "You andt I, SeñorOrtiz, haff worked together. You are not a defil like most of thedeputies, and I do not regret hafing been sent here to help you. And Iam not a scoundtrel like most of those who help the deputies, so youhaff liked me a little. Let us talk frankly. I was trapped. I am acapable segretary. I speak seferal languages. I haff no particularambitions or any loyalties. I am useful. So I was trapped. But you, Señor Ortiz, you are different. " Ortiz suddenly smiled bitterly. "It is a saying in Brazil, if I recall the words, '_A cauda do demonio ede rendas. _' 'The devil's tail is made of lace. ' That is the story. " Bell said quietly: "No. " Ortiz stared at him. He was very pale. And suddenly he laughed withoutany amusement whatever. "True, " said Ortiz. He smiled in the same bitterness. "I had forgotten. I am a slave, and the Herr Wiedkind is a slave, and you, Señor Bell, arethe enemy of our master. But I had forgotten that we are gentlemen. Inthe service of The Master one does forget that there are gentlemen. " * * * * * He laughed again and lighted a cigarette with hands that shook a little. "I loved a girl, " he said in a cynical amusement. "It is peculiar thatone should love any woman, _señores_--or do you, Señor Bell, find itnatural? I loved this girl. It pleased my father. She was of a familyfully equal to my own: their wealth, their position, their traditionswere quite equal, and it was a most suitable match. Most remarkable ofall, I loved her as one commonly loves only when no such considerationsexist. It is amusing to me now, to think how deeply, and how truly, andhow terribly I loved her. .. . " Young Ortiz's pallor deepened as he smiled at them. His eyes, so dark asto be almost black, looked at them from a smiling mask of whiteness. "There was no flaw anywhere. A romance of the most romantic, my fathervery happy, her family most satisfied and pleased, and I--I walked uponair. And then my father suddenly departed for the United States, quitewithout warning. He left a memorandum for me, saying that it was amatter of government, a secret matter. He would explain upon his return. I did not worry. I haunted the house of my fiancée. The habits of herfamily are of the most liberal. I saw her daily, almost hourly, and myinfatuation grew. And suddenly I grew irritable and saw red spots beforemy eyes. .. . "Her father took me to task about my nervousness. He led me kindly to aman of high position, who poured out for me a little potion. .. . Andwithin an hour all my terrible unease had vanished. And then they toldme of The Master, of the poison I had been given in the house of myfiancée herself. They informed me that if I served The Master I would beprovided with the antidote which would keep me sane. I raged. .. . Andthen the father of my fiancée told me that he and all his family servedThe Master. That the girl I loved, herself, owed him allegiance. Andwhile I would possibly have defied them and death itself, the thought ofthat girl not daring to wed me because of the poison in her veins. .. . Isaw, then, that she was in terror. I imagined the two of us comfortingeach other beneath the shadow of the most horrible of fates. .. . " * * * * * Ortiz was silent for what seemed to be a long time, smiling mirthlesslyat nothing. When his lips parted, it was to laugh, a horribly discordantlaughter. "I agreed, " he said in ghastly amusement. "For the sake of my lovedone, I agreed to serve The Master that I might comfort her. And plansfor our wedding, which had been often and inexplicably delayed, were setin train at once. And the deputy of The Master entertained me often. Iplied him with drink, striving to learn all that I could, hoping againsthope that there would be some way of befooling him and securing theantidote without the poison. .. . And at last, when very drunken, helaughed at me for my intention of marriage. He advised me tipsily toserve The Master zealously and receive promotion in his service. Then, he told me amusedly, I would not care for marriage. My fiancée would beat my disposal without such formalities. In fact--while I stood rigidwith horror--he sent a command for her to attend him immediately. Hecommanded me to go to an apartment in his dwelling. And soon--withinminutes, it seemed--the girl I loved came there to me. .. . " Bell did not move. This was no moment to interrupt. Ortiz's fixed andcynical smile wavered and vanished. His voice was harsh. "She was at my disposal, as an act of drunken friendship by the deputyof The Master. She confessed to me, weeping, that she had been at thedisposal of the deputy himself. Of any other person he cared to divertor amuse. .. . Oh! _Dios!_" Ortiz stopped short and said, in forced calmness: "That also was the night that my father died. " * * * * * Silence fell. Bell sat very still. The Teutonic figure spoke quietlyafter the clock had ticked for what seemed an interminable period. "You didt know, then, that your father's death was arranged?" Ortiz turned stiffly to look at him. "Here, " said the placid voice, quaintly sympathetic. "Look at these. " A hand extended a thick envelope. Ortiz took it, staring with wide, distended eyes. The round shouldered figure stood up and seemed toshake itself. The stoop of its shoulders straightened out. One of theseemingly pudgy hands reached up and removed the thick spectacles. Abushy gray eyebrow peeled off. A straggly beard was removed. The othereyebrow. .. . Jamison nodded briefly to Bell, and turned to watch Ortiz. And Ortiz was reading the contents of the envelope. His hands began toshake violently. He rested them on the desk-top so that he couldcontinue to read. When he looked up his eyes were flaming. "The real Herr Wiedkind, " said Jamison dryly, "came up from Punta Arenaswith special instructions from The Master. You have talents, SeñorOrtiz, which The Master wished to use. Also you have considerable wealthand the prestige of an honorable family. But you were afflicted withideas of honor and decency, which are disadvantageous in deputies of TheMaster. The real Herr Wiedkind had remarkable gifts in eradicating thoseideas. " * * * * * Jamison sat down and crossed his knees carefully. "I looked you up because I knew The Master had killed your father, " headded mildly, "and I thought you'd either be hunting The Master or he'dbe hunting you. My name's Jamison. I killed the real Wiedkind and tookhis identification papers. He was a singularly unpleasant beast. Hisidea of pleasure made him seem a fatherly sort of person, very much likemy make-up. He was constantly petting children, and appeared verybenign. I am very, very glad that I killed him. " Ortiz tore at his collar, suddenly. He seemed to be choking. "This--this says. .. . It is The Master's handwriting! I know it! And itsays--" "It says, " Jamison observed calmly, "that since your father killed theprevious deputy in an attempt to save you from The Master's poison, thatyou are to be prepared for the work your father had been assigned. HerrWiedkind is given special orders about your--ah--moral education. Inpassing, I might say that your father was sent to the United Statesbecause it was known he'd killed the previous deputy. He told Bell he'ddone that killing. And he was allowed to grow horribly nervous on hisreturn. He was permitted to see the red spots, because he wasofficially--even as far as you were concerned--to commit suicide. "It was intended that his nervousness was to be noticed. And a planetried to deliver a message to him. Your father thought the parcelcontained the antidote to the poison that was driving him mad. Actually, it was very conventional prussic acid. Your father would have drunk itand dropped dead, a suicide, after a conspicuous period of nervousnessand worry. " * * * * * Bell felt his cigarette burning his fingers. He had sat rigid until thething burned short. He crushed out the coal, looking at Ortiz. And Ortiz seemed to gasp for breath. But with an almost superhumaneffort he calmed himself outwardly. "I--think, " he said with some difficulty, "that I should thank you. Ido. But I do not think that you told me all of this without some motive. I abandon the service of The Master. But what is it that you wish me todo? You know, of course, that I can order both of you killed. .. . " Bell put down the stub of his cigarette very carefully. "The only thing you can do, " he said quietly, "is to die. " "True, " said Ortiz with a ghastly smile. "But I would like my death toperform some service. The Master has no enemies save you two, and thoseof us who die on becoming his enemies. I would like, in dying, to do himsome harm. " "I will promise, " said Jamison grimly, "to see that The Master dieshimself if you will have Bell and myself put in a plane with fuel toPunta Arenas and a reasonable supply of weapons. I include the SeñoritaCanalejas as a matter of course. " * * * * * Ortiz looked from one to the other. And suddenly he smiled once more. Itwas queer, that smile. It was not quite mirthless. "You were right, just now, " he observed calmly, "when as the HerrWiedkind you said that I would quit the service of The Master when Iceased to despair. I begin to have hopes. You two men have done theimpossible. You have fought The Master, you have learned many of hissecrets, and you have corrupted a man to treason when treason meanssuicide. Perhaps, Señores, you will continue to achieve the impossible, and assassinate The Master. " He stood up, and though deathly pale continued to smile. "I suggest, Señor, that you resume your complexion. And you, Señor Bell, you will be returned to your confinement. I will make the necessarilyelaborate arrangements for my death. " Bell rose. He liked this young man. He said quietly: "You said just now you wouldn't ask me to shake hands. May I askyou?. .. " He added almost apologetically as Ortiz's fingers closed uponhis: "You see, when your father died I thought that I would be very gladif I felt that I would die as well. But I think"--he smiled wryly--"Ithink I'll have two examples to think of when my time comes. " * * * * * In the morning a bulky, round shouldered figure entered the room inwhich Bell was confined. "You will follow me, " said a harsh voice. Bell shrugged. He was marched down long passageways and many steps. Hecame out into the courtyard, where the glistening black car with theblank windows waited. At an imperious gesture, he got in and sat downwith every appearance of composure, as of a man resignedly submittingto force he cannot resist. The thick spectacles of the Herr Wiedkindregarded him with a gogglelike effect. There was a long pause. Then thesound of footsteps. Paula appeared, deathly pale. She was ushered intothe vehicle--and only Bell's swift gesture of a finger to his lipschecked her cry of relief. Voices outside. The guttural Spanish of the Herr Wiedkind. Other, emotionless voices replying. The Herr Wiedkind climbed heavily into thecar and sat down, producing a huge revolver which bore steadily uponBell. The door closed, and he made a swift gesture of caution. "Idt may be, " said the Germanic voice harshly, "that you and the youngladty haff much to say to each other. But idt can wait. And I warn you, _mein Herr_, that at the first movement I shall fire. " Bell relaxed. There was the purring of the motor. The car moved off. Obviously there was some microphonic attachment inside the tonneau whichcarried every word within the locked vehicle to the ears of the two menupon the chauffeur's seat. An excellent idea for protection againsttreachery. Bell smiled, and moved so that his lips were a bare half-inchfrom Paula's ears. "Try to weep, loudly, " he said in the faintest of whispers. "This man isa friend. " * * * * * But Paula could only stare at the bulky figure sitting opposite until hesuddenly removed the spectacles, and smiled dryly, and then reached inhis pockets and handed Bell two automatic pistols, and extended a tinybut very wicked weapon to Paula. He motioned to her to conceal it. Jamison--moving to make the minimum of noise--handed Bell a sheet ofstiff cardboard. It passed into Bell's fingers without a rustle. Heshowed it silently to Paula. We were overheard last night by someone. We don't know who or how much he heard. Dictaphone in the room we talked in. Can't find out who it was or what action he's taken. We may be riding into a trap now. Ortiz has disappeared. He may be dead. We can only wait and see. The car was moving as if in city traffic, a swift dash forward and asudden stop, and then another swift dash. But the walls within werepadded so that no sound came from without save the faint vibration ofthe motor and now and then the distinct flexing of a spring. Then thecar turned a corner. It went more rapidly. It turned another corner. Andanother. .. . In the light of the bright dome light, Bell saw beads of sweat comingout on Jamison's face. He did not dare to speak, but be formed wordswith his lips. "He's turning wrong! This isn't the way to the field!" Bell's jaws clenched. He took out his two automatics and looked at themcarefully. And then, much too short a time from the departure for theflying field to have been reached, the car checked. It went over roughcobblestones, and Bell himself knew well that there had been no cobbledroadway between the flying field and his prison. And then the car wentup a sort of ramp, a fairly steep incline which by the feel of the motorwas taken in low, and on for a short distance more. Then the car stoppedand the motor was cut off. Keys rattled in the lock outside. The door opened. The blunt barrel ofan automatic pistol peered in. (_To be concluded in the next issue. _) * * * * * [Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_ _A Meeting Place for Readers of_ Astounding Stories] _About Reprints_ From time to time the Editors of Astounding Stories receive letters, like the two that follow, in which Readers beg us to run reprints, andnow we feel it is time to call attention to the very good reasons why wemust refuse. We admit, right off, that some splendid Science Fiction stories havebeen published in the past--but are those now being printed in any wayinferior to them? Aren't even _better_ ones being written to-day?--sincea whole civilization now stirs with active interest in science?--sincethree or five times as many writers are now supplying us with stories tochoose from?--since science and scientific theory have reached soimmeasurably much farther into the Realm of the Unknown Possible? The answer is an emphatic _Yes_. We all know it. "A Trip to the Moon"--for instance--was a good story, but shall we keepreprinting it to-day, when recent revolutionary theories of space-timescream to modern authors for Science-Fiction treatment? In the last tenyears the whole aspect, the whole future of science has broadened; wehave sensed an infinity beyond infinity; and who would be so un-modernas to cling to the oft-told stories of the older science and neglect thethrilling reaches of the new! _The Saturday Evening Post_--again, for instance--has been publishinggood stories for years, but who would have them reprint the old onesinstead of keep giving us good new ones? Would it be fair to 99% of our Readers to force on them reprint novelsthey have already read, or had a chance to read, to favor the 1% whohave missed them? Of course it wouldn't, and all of our Readers in that1% will gladly admit it. And how about our authors? Contrary to the old-fashioned opinion, authors must eat--and how will they eat, and lead respectable lives, andkeep out of jail, if we keep reprinting their _old_ stories and turningdown their _new_ ones? After all, eating is very important; those whowouldn't simply refrain from eating would have to get jobs asmessengers, and errand boys, etc. --with the result that much of ourfascinating modern Science Fiction would never be written! It would be much cheaper for us to buy once-used material. It wouldgreatly reduce our task of carefully reading every story that comes toour office, in hopes to finding a fine, new story, or a potentially goodauthor. But it would be very unwise, and very unfair, as you have seen. Many more reasons could be given, but these few are the more importantones back of our policy of avoiding reprints. Enough said!--_TheEditor. _ _Wants Reprints_ Dear Editor: In you April issue, in answer to a correspondent, you stated that you were avoiding reprints. Now, that's too bad. Some of the best Science-Fiction tales are reprints. Witness: "The Blind Spot, " by Homer Eon Flint and Austin Hall; "The War In The Air, " by H. G. Wells; "The Purple Sapphire, " by John Taine; "The Conquest of Mars, " by Garrett P. Serviss; "Darkness and Dawn, " and "Into the Great Oblivion, " and "The After-Glow, " and "The Air-Trust"--all by George Allan England. You are proud--and rightfully so--of your great author, Ray Cummings. Why not give us several stories which helped to build his glory? Here are several: "Tarranto the Conqueror, " "The Man on the Meteor, " "The Girl in the Golden Atom, " "The Man Who Mastered Time, " "The Fire People. " Guess I'll sign off now and give the other fellows a chance. --Isidore Manyon, 544 Myrtle Ave. , Brooklyn, N. Y. _What Think You All?_ Dear Editor: There is one question I would like to ask. Perhaps some of the other readers of Astounding Stories can answer it. Could a person remember his own death in a former incarnation? Some say "no, " and some say "yes. " If it is true that you can't, the whole fabric of the wonderful story, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful I have ever read, "The Moon Maid, " by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is built on a fallacy. You see, I am a believer in reincarnation and I would surely like to correspond with others who are also! Would not that also disprove the whole theory of reincarnation if it is true? I think it is not true, but I may be wrong. Is reincarnation a proven theory, or unproven? You say you are going to avoid reprints. Now that is a mistake. Of course, some you might avoid, such as those of Wells, Verne, etc. , though I would like you to publish Wells' short stories. There are many that have not been published in any magazine for a long time, or at all. But please, oh please, do publish A. Merritt's "Through the Dragon Glass, " and give it a cover illustration. It is the only one, I think, that I want particularly, but I do want it! If you publish any of H. G. Wells' works, give them cover illustrations, too. And publish a lot by Merritt, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and authors like that; you haven't as yet printed a story of the type that A. Merritt writes, and that is one thing this magazine needs, and lots of them, as they are the cream of Science Fiction, and the more of them you have, the better! They are my favorites, and next come those that Edgar Rice Burroughs writes; also John Taine. --Worth K. Bryant, 406 No. Third St. , Yakima, Wash. _The S: Lynn Rhorer Society_ Dear Editor: This is to inform you that we have organized a society known as the S. Lynn Rhorer Society of Greater Atlanta, a branch of the Science Correspondence Club. This Society's purpose is to first assist the Science Correspondence Club and its affiliated branches in the promotion of science and Scientific Fiction. Second, to create a greater interest in science and Science Fiction among the laymen who are already interested, and to create an interest among those who are not at the present interested, and to hold their interest. At the present time we have in our library over three hundred scientific books; a large collection of ores and rocks from different states and countries, classified; a large collection of fossilized bones; a three-inch refracting telescope, and a ten-inch one in the course of construction; and a large club-house. Any information regarding this society can be obtained by addressing R. A. Marks, Jr. , 893 York Ave. , S. W. , Atlanta, Georgia, or the undersigned. --F. B. Eason, 400 Jefferson Avenue, E. Point, Ga. _Unused to the Smaller Size_ Dear Editor: I have but one comment on your magazine and that is: Having complete sets of other Science Fiction magazines I would also like to save Astounding Stories, but in its present size and condition it looks like trash. Why not have a ballot to what size the magazine shall be? By having the price raised to 25 cents it can cover the extra expense. I would surely like to add another magazine to my collection. Am hereby hoping you will do this for the sake of Science Fiction lovers all over the country. --Sidney Mack, 1676 59th Street, Brooklyn, New York. _"The Scienceers" Broadcasts_ Dear Editor: For the benefit of the readers of Astounding Stories who live in New York, a club known as The Scienceers has recently been formed. Its purpose is to promote informal fellowship among Science Fiction fans and to foster discussion of modern developments, theories and projects in the realm of science. The organization is open to all persons over sixteen years of age who are interested in Science Fiction and its relation to the various fields of present day science. Since regular weekly meetings are held, the membership is necessarily restricted to residents of New York City and vicinity. A cordial invitation to join the Scienceers is hereby extended to all interested. Further information may be obtained by writing to the undersigned. --Allen Glasser, 961 Forest Avenue, New York, N. Y. "_Congratulations for Both_" Dear Editor: Congratulations for us both. Your company for publishing this magazine, myself for being able to buy same. Have just finished reading the second issue. It is very good. I read every story in both issues. You bet I am going to be a steady reader from now on. I like this type of story very much--in fact, read two other magazines that publish stories of this type every month. I note with great pleasure that in the March issue you are starting to publish the first quarter of an interplanetary story by Ray Cummings. This is, indeed, good news. I have had the pleasure of reading five of his novels this past year and I greatly enjoyed all of them. Along with Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ray Cummings is an "ace high" author on these "unpredictable-future" stories. Some four or fives years ago I read in a magazine a portion of two interplanetary stories by Ray Cummings. Now to the point, I wonder if it is possible for you to obtain Mr. Cummings' permission to have your company publish these two stories? Their names I believe are "Tarranto the Conquerer" and "Into the Fourth Dimension. " I, for one, would greatly appreciate this favor. Please do your best to try and publish these novels this coming year. Thanks. --Wm. L. Ebelan, 3906 Springdale Avenue, Baltimore, Md. _Likes the Small Size_ Dear Editor: I received a pleasant surprise when I first bought your wonderful magazine. I started in with the second issue, but I wish I could get the first. All the stories are good. The best of them, I think, is Ray Cummings' story, "Brigands of the Moon. " I have read the first three parts and am eagerly waiting for the last. And now for something about the make-up of the magazine. I like the small size, and holding the magazine together with two staples is good. The cover designs are very good, but the pictures inside could be improved on. H. Wesso is a good artist. How about publishing the magazine twice a month?--Charles Barrett, 135 Spring St. , Woodbury, N. J. _Thanks, Anyhow!_ Dear Editor: I hope that you are not going to have a blue cover every month. I would like to see a different colored background every month. The cover on the March issue should have been black because space is black. I wish that you would have a full-page picture for each story. Wesso is the best artist you have. The others haven't enough imagination. I gave "Brigands of the Moon" by Ray Cummings first place in the March issue of Astounding Stories. It promises to be his best story since "Tarrano the Conqueror. " The places of other stories are as follows: 2. "Vandals of the Stars"; 3. "The Soul Master"; 4. "Cold Light"; 5. "From the Ocean's Depths. " If you would enlarge Astounding Stories to 11-3/4 by 8-1/2 it would be seen more easily on the newsstands and its circulation would increase. Please publish it on the first of the month instead of the first Thursday. --Jack Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Avenue, Chicago, Ill. "_The Readers' Corner_" All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "come overin 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion of stories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everything that's ofcommon interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, this isa department primarily for _Readers_, and we want you to make full useof it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses, brickbats, suggestions--everything's welcome here: so "come over in 'The Readers'Corner'" and discuss it with all of us! --_The Editor. _