By Sewell Peaslee Wright
Commander John Hanson relates an interplanetary adventure
illustrating the splendid Service spirit of the men of the
Special Patrol.
An officer of the Special Patrol Service dropped in to see me the
other day. He was a young fellow, very sure of himself, and very
kindly towards an old man.
He was doing a monograph, he said, for his own amusement, upon the
early forms of our present offensive and defensive weapons. Could I
tell him about the first Deuber spheres and the earlier disintegrator
rays and the crude atomic bombs we tried back when I first entered the
Service?
I could, of course. And I did. But a man's memory does not improve in
the course of a century of Earth years. Our scientists have not been
able to keep a man's brain as fresh as his body, despite all their
vaunted progress. There is a lot these deep thinkers, in their great
laboratories, don't know. The whole universe gives them the credit for
what's been done, yet the men of action who carried out the ideas--but
I'm getting away from my pert young officer.
He listened to me with interest and toleration. Now and then he helped
me out, when my memory failed me on some little detail. He seemed to
have a very fair theoretical knowledge of the subject.
"It seems impossible," he commented, when we had gone over the ground
he had outlined, "that the Service could have done its work with such
crude and undeveloped weapons, does it not?" He smiled in a superior
sort of way, as though to imply we had probably done the best we
could, under the circumstances.
* * * * *
I suppose I should not have permitted his attitude to irritate me, but
I am an old man, and my life has not been an easy one.
"Youngster," I said--like many old people, I prefer spoken
conversation--"back in those days the Service was handicapped in every
way. We lacked weapons, we lacked instruments, we lacked popular
support, and backing. But we had men, in those days, who did their
work with the tools that were at hand. And we did it well."
"Yes, sir!" the youngster said hastily--after all, a retired commander
in the Special Patrol Service does rate a certain amount of respect,
even from these perky youngsters--"I know that, sir. It was the
efforts of men like yourself who gave us the proud traditions we have
to-day."
"Well, that's hardly true," I corrected him. "I'm not quite so old as
that. We had a fine set of traditions when I entered the Service, son.
But we did our share to carry them on, I'll grant you that."
"'Nothing Less than Complete Success,'" quoted the lad almost
reverently, giving the ancient motto of our service. "That is a fine
tradition for a body of men to aspire to, sir."
"True. True." The ring in the boy's voice brought memories flocking.
It was a proud motto; as old as I am, the words bring a thrill even
now, a thrill comparable only with that which comes from seeing old
Earth swell up out of the darkness of space after days of outer
emptiness. Old Earth, with her wispy white clouds and her broad seas--
Oh, I know I'm provincial, but that is another thing that must be
forgiven an old man.
"I imagine, sir," said the young officer, "that you could tell many a
strange story of the Service, and the sacrifices men have made to keep
that motto the proud boast it is to-day."
"Yes," I told him. "I could do that. I have done so. That is my
occupation, now that I have been retired from active service. I--"
"You are a historian?" he broke in eagerly.
* * * * *
I forgave him the interruption. I can still remember my own rather
impetuous youth.
"Do I look like a historian?" I think I smiled as I asked him the
question, and held out my hands to him. Big brown hands they are,
hardened with work, stained and drawn from old acid burns, and the
bite of blue electric fire. In my day we worked with crude tools
indeed; tools that left their mark upon the workman.
"No. But--"
I waved the explanation aside.
"Historians deal with facts, with accomplishments, with dates and
places and the names of great men. I write--what little I do write--of
men and high adventures, so that in this time of softness and easy
living some few who may read my scribblings may live with me those
days when the worlds of the universe were strange to each other, and
there were many new things to be found and marveled at."
"And I'll venture, sir, that you find much enjoyment in the work,"
commented the youngster with a degree of perception with which I had
not credited him.
"True. As I write, forgotten faces peer at me through the mists of the
years, and strong, friendly voices call to me from out of the
past...."
"It must be wonderful to live the old adventures through again," said
the young officer hastily. Youth is always afraid of sentiment in old
people. Why this should be, I do not know. But it is so.
The lad--I wish I had made a note of his name; I predict a future for
him in the Service--left me alone, then, with the thoughts he had
stirred up in my mind.
* * * * *
Old faces ... old voices. Old scenes, too.
Strange worlds, strange peoples. A hundred, a thousand different
tongues. Men that came only to my knee, and men that towered ten feet
above my head. Creatures--possessed of all the attributes of men
except physical form--that belonged only in the nightmare realms of
sleep.
An old man's most treasured possessions: his memories. A face drew
close out of the flocking recollections; the face of a man I had known
and loved more than a brother so many years--dear God, how many
years--ago.
Anderson Croy. Search all the voluminous records of the bearded
historians, and you will not find his name. No great figure of history
was this friend of mine; just an obscure officer on an obscure ship of
the Special Patrol Service.
And yet there is a people who owe to him their very existence.
I wonder if they have forgotten him? It would not surprise me.
The memory of the universe is not a reliable thing.
* * * * *
Anderson Croy was, like most of the officer personnel of the Special
Patrol Service, a native of Earth.
They had tried to make a stoop-shouldered dabbler in formulas out of
him, but he was not the stuff from which good scientists are moulded.
He was young, when I first knew him, and strong; he had mild blue eyes
and a quick smile. And he had a fine, steely courage that a man could
love.
I was in command, then, of the _Ertak_, my second ship. I Inherited
Anderson Croy with the ship, and I liked him from the first time I
laid eyes upon him.
As I recall it, we worked together on the _Ertak_ for nearly two
years, Earth time. We went through some tight places together. I
remember our experience, shortly after I took over the _Ertak_, on the
monstrous planet Callor, whose tiny, gentle people were attacked by
strange, vapid Things that come down upon them from the fastness of
the polar cap, and--
But I wander from the story I wish to tell here. An old man's mind is
a weak and weary thing that totters and weaves from side to side; like
a worn-out ship, it is hard to keep on a straight course.
We were out on one of those long, monotonous patrols, skirting the
outer boundaries of the known universe, that were, at that time,
before the building of all the many stations we have to-day a dreaded
part of the Special Patrol Service routine.
Not once had we landed to stretch our legs. Slowing up to atmospheric
speed took time, and we were on a schedule that allowed for no waste
of even minutes. We approached the various worlds only close enough to
report, and to receive an assurance that all was well. A dog's life,
but part of the game.
* * * * *
My log showed nearly a hundred "All's well" reports, as I remember it,
when we slid up to Antri, which was, so far as size is concerned, one
of our smallest ports o' call.
Antri, I might add, for the benefit of those who have forgotten their
maps of the universe, is a satellite of A-411, which, in turn, is one
of the largest bodies of the universe, and both uninhabited and
uninhabitable. Antri is somewhat larger than the moon, Earth's
satellite, and considerably farther from its controlling body.
"Report our presence, Mr. Croy," I ordered wearily. "And please ask
Mr. Correy to keep a sharp watch on the attraction meter." These huge
bodies such as A-411 are not pleasant companions at space speeds. A
few minute's trouble--space ships gave trouble, in those days--and you
melted like a drop of solder when you struck the atmospheric belt.
"Yes, sir!" There never was a crisper young officer than Croy.
I bent over my tables, working out our position and charting our
course for the next period. In a few seconds Croy was back, his blue
eyes gleaming.
"Sir, an emergency is reported on Antri. We are to make all possible
speed, to Oreo, their governing city. I gather that it is very
important."
"Very well, Mr. Croy." I can't say the news was unwelcome. Monotony
kills young men. "Have the disintegrator ray generators inspected and
tested. Turn out the watch below in such time that we may have all
hands on duty when we arrive. If there is an emergency, we shall be
prepared for it. I shall be with Mr. Correy in the navigating room; if
there are any further communications, relay them to me there."
* * * * *
I hurried up to the navigating room, and gave Correy his orders.
"Do not reduce speed until it is absolutely necessary," I concluded.
"We have an emergency call from Antri, and minutes may be important.
How long do you make it to Oreo?"
"About an hour to the atmosphere; say an hour more to set down in the
city. I believe that's about right, sir."
I nodded, frowning at the twin charts, with their softly glowing
lights, and turned to the television disc, picking up Antri without
difficulty.
Of course, back in those days we had the huge and cumbersome discs,
their faces shielded by a hood, that would be suitable only for museum
pieces now. But they did their work very well, and I searched Antri
carefully, at varying ranges, for any sign of disturbances. I found
none.
The dark portion, of course, I could not penetrate. Antri has one
portion of its face that is turned forever from its sun, and one half
that is bathed in perpetual light. The long twilight zone was
uninhabited, for the people of Antri are a sun-loving race, and their
cities and villages appeared only in the bright areas of perpetual
sunlight.
Just as we reduced to atmospheric speed, Croy sent up a message
"The Governing Council sends word that we are to set down on the
platform atop the Hall of Government, the large, square white building
in the center of the city. They say we will have no difficulty in
locating it."
I thanked him and ordered him to stand by for further messages, if
any, and picked up the far-flung city of Oreo in my television disc.
* * * * *
There was no mistaking the building Croy had mentioned. It stood out
from the city around it, cool and white, its mighty columns glistening
like crystal in the sun. I could even make out the landing platform,
slightly elevated above the roof on spidery arches of silvery metal.
We sped straight for the city at just a fraction of space speed, but
the hand of the surface temperature gauge crept slowly toward the red
line that marked the dangerous incandescent point. I saw that Correy,
like the good navigating officer he was, was watching the gauge as
closely as myself, and hence said nothing. We both knew that the
Antrians would not have sent a call for help to a ship of the Special
Patrol Service if there had not been a real emergency.
Correy had made a good guess in saying that it would take about an
hour, after entering the gaseous envelope of Antri, to reach our
destination. It was just a few minutes--Earth time, of course--less
than that when we settled gently onto the landing platform.
A group of six or seven Antrians, dignified old men, wearing the
short, loosely belted white robes that we found were their universal
costume, were waiting for us at the exit of the _Ertak_, whose sleek,
smooth sides were glowing dull red.
"You have hastened, and that is well, sirs," said the spokesman of the
committee. "You find Antri in dire need." He spoke in the universal
language, and spoke it softly and perfectly. "But you will pardon me
for greeting you with that which is, of necessity, uppermost in my
mind, and in the minds of these, my companions.
"Permit me to welcome you to Antri, and to introduce those who extend
those greetings." Rapidly, he ran through a list of names, and each of
the men bowed gravely in acknowledgment of our greetings. I have never
observed a more courteous nor a more courtly people than the Antrians;
their manners are as beautiful as their faces.
Last of all, their spokesman introduced himself. Bori Tulber, he was
called, and he had the honor of being master of the Council--the chief
executive of Antri.
* * * * *
When the introductions had been completed, the committee led our
little party to a small, cylindrical elevator which dropped us,
swiftly and silently, on a cushion of air, to the street level of the
great building. Across a wide, gleaming corridor our conductors led
us, and stood aside before a massive portal through which ten men
might have walked abreast.
We found ourselves in a great chamber with a vaulted ceiling of
bright, gleaming metal. At the far end of the room was an elevated
rostrum, flanked on either side by huge, intricate masses of statuary,
of some creamy, translucent stone that glowed as with some inner
light. Semicircular rows of seats, each with its carved desk,
surmounted by numerous electrical controls, occupied all the floor
space. None of the seats was occupied.
"We have excused the Council from our preliminary deliberations,"
explained Bori Tulber, "because such a large body is unwieldy. My
companions and myself represent the executive heads of the various
departments of the Council, and we are empowered to act." He led us
through the great council chamber, and into an anteroom, beautifully
decorated, and furnished with exceedingly comfortable chairs.
"Be seated, sirs," the Master of the Council suggested. We obeyed
silently, and Bori Tulber stood before, gazing thoughtfully into
space.
* * * * *
"I do not know just where to begin," he said slowly. "You men in
uniform know, I presume, but little of this world of ours. I presume I
had best begin far back.
"Since you are navigators of space, undoubtedly, you are acquainted
with the fact that Antri is a world divided into two parts; one of
perpetual night, and the other of perpetual day, due to the fact that
Antri revolves but once upon its axis during the course of its circuit
of its sun, thus presenting always the same face to our luminary.
"We have no day and night, such as obtain on other spheres. There are
no set hours for working nor for sleeping nor for pleasure. The
measure of a man's work is the measure of his ambition, or his
strength, or his desire. It is so also with his sleep and with his
pleasures. It is--it has been--a very pleasant arrangement.
"Ours is a fertile country, and our people live very long and very
happily with little effort. We have believed that ours was the nearest
of all the worlds to the ideal; that nothing could disturb the peace
and happiness of our people. We were mistaken.
* * * * *
"There is a dark side to Antri. A side upon which the sun never has
shone. A dismal place of gloom, which is like the night upon other
worlds.
"No Antrian has, to our knowledge, ever penetrated this part of Antri,
and lived to tell of his experience. We do not even till the land
close to the twilight zone. Why should we, when we have so much fine
land upon which the sun shines bright and fair always, save for the
two brief seasons of rain?
"We have never given thought to what might be on the dark face of
Antri. Darkness and night are things unknown to us; we know of them
only from the knowledge which has come to us from other worlds. And
now--now we have been brought face to face with a terrible danger
which comes to us from that other side of this sphere.
"A people have grown there. A terrible people that I shall not try to
describe to you. They threaten us with slavery, with extinction. Four
ara ago (the Antrians have their own system of reckoning time, just as
we have on Earth, instead of using the universal system, based upon
the enaro. An ara corresponds to about fifty hours, Earth time.) we
did not know that such a people existed. Now their shadow is upon all
our beautifully sunny country, and unless you can aid us, before other
help can reach us, I am convinced that Antri is doomed!"
* * * * *
For a moment not one of us spoke. We sat there, staring at the old man
who had just ceased speaking.
Only a man ripened and seasoned with the passing of years could have
stood there before us and uttered, so quietly and solemnly, words such
as had just come from his lips. Only in his eyes could we catch a
glimpse of the torment which gripped his soul.
"Sir," I said, and have never felt younger than at that moment, when I
tried to frame some assurance to this splendid old man who had turned
to me and my youthful crew for succor, "we shall do what it lies
within our power to do. But tell us more of this danger which
threatens.
"I am no man of science, and yet I cannot see how men could live in a
land never reached by the sun. There would be no heat, no vegetation.
Is that not so?"
"Would that it were!" replied the Master of the Council, bitterly.
"What you say would be indeed the truth, were it not for the great
river and seas of our sunny Antri, which bear their heated waters to
this dark portion of our world, and make it habitable.
"And as for this danger, there is little to be said. At some time, men
of our country, men who fish, or venture upon the water in commerce,
have been borne, all unwillingly, across the shadowy twilight zone and
into the land of darkness. They did not come back, but they were found
there and despoiled of their menores.
"Somehow, these creatures who dwell in darkness determined the use of
the menore, and now that they have resolved that they shall rule all
this sphere, they have been able to make their threat clear to us.
Perhaps"--and Bori Tulber smiled faintly and terribly--"you would like
to have that message direct from its bearer?"
* * * * *
"Is that possible, sir?" I asked eagerly, glancing around the room.
"How--"
"Come with me," said the Master of the Council gently. "Alone--for too
many near him excites this terrible messenger. You have your menore?"
"No. I had not thought there would be need of it." The menores of
those days, it should be remembered, were heavy, cumbersome circlets
that were worn upon the head like a sort of crown, and one did not go
so equipped unless in real need of the device. To-day, of course, your
menores are but jeweled trinkets that convey thought a score of times
more effectively, and weigh but a tenth as much.
"It is a lack easily remedied." Bori Tulber excused himself with a
little bow and hurried out into the great council chamber, to appear
again in a moment with a menore in either hand.
"Now, if your companions and mine will excuse us for a moment...." He
smiled around the seated group apologetically. There was a murmur of
assent, and the old man opened a door in the other side of the room.
"It is not far," he said. "I will go first, and show you the way."
* * * * *
He led me quickly down a long, narrow corridor to a pair of steep
stairs that circled far down into the very foundation of the building.
The walls of the corridor and the stairs were without windows, but
were as bright as noonday from the ethon tubes which were set into
both ceiling and walls.
Silently we circled our way down the spiral stairs, and silently the
Master of the Council paused before a door at the bottom--a door of
dull red metal.
"This is the keeping place of those who come before the Council
charged with wrong doing," explained Bori Tulber. His fingers rested
upon and pressed certain of a ring of small white buttons in the face
of the door, and it opened swiftly and noiselessly. We entered, and
the door closed behind us with a soft thud.
"Behold one of those who live in the darkness," said the Master of the
Council grimly. "Do not put on the menore until you have a grip upon
yourself: I would not have him know how greatly he disturbs us."
I nodded, dumbly, holding the heavy menore dangling in my hand.
I have said that I have beheld strange worlds and strange people in my
life, and it is true that I have. I have seen the headless people of
that red world Iralo, the ant people, the dragon-fly people, the
terrible carnivorous trees of L-472, and the pointed heads of a people
who live upon a world which may not be named. But I have still to see
a more terrible creature than that which lay before me now.
* * * * *
He--or it--was reclining upon the floor, for the reason that he could
not have stood. No room save one with a vaulted ceiling such as the
great council chamber, could offer room enough for this creature to
walk erect.
He was, roughly, a shade better than twice my height, yet I believe he
would have weighed but little more. You have seen rank weeds that have
grown up in the darkness to reach the sun; if you can imagine a man
who had done likewise, you can, perhaps, picture that which I saw
before me.
His legs at the thigh were no larger than my arm, and his arms were
but half the size of my wrist, and jointed twice instead of but once.
He wore a careless garment of some dirty yellow, shaggy hide, and his
skin, revealed on feet and arms and face, was a terrible, bloodless
white; the dead white of a fish's belly. Maggot white. The white of
something that had never known the sun.
The head was small and round, with features that were a caricature of
man's. His ears were huge, and had the power of movement, for they
cocked forward as we entered the room. The nose was not prominently
arched, but the nostrils were wide, and very thin, as was his mouth,
which was faintly tinged with dusky blue, instead of healthy red. At
one time his eyes had been nearly round, and, in proportion, very
large. Now they were but shadowy pockets, mercifully covered by
shrunken, wrinkled lids that twitched but did not lift.
* * * * *
He moved as we entered, and from a reclining position, propped up on
the double elbows of one spidery arm, he changed to a sitting position
that brought his head nearly to the ceiling. He smiled sickeningly,
and a queer, sibilant whispering came from the bluish lips.
"That is his way of talking," explained Bori Tulber. "His eyes, you
will note, have been gouged out. They cannot stand the light; they
prepared their messenger carefully for his work, you'll see."
He placed his menore upon his head, and motioned me to do likewise.
The creature searched the floor with one white, leathery hand, and
finally located his menore, which he adjusted clumsily.
"You will have to be very attentive," explained my companion. "He
expresses himself in terms of pictures only, of course, and his is not
a highly developed mind. I shall try to get him to go over the entire
story for us again, if I can make him understand. Emanate nothing
yourself; he is easily confused."
I nodded silently, my eyes fixed with a sort of fascination upon the
creature from the darkness, and waited.
* * * * *
Back on the _Ertak_ again. I called all my officers together for a
conference.
"Gentlemen," I said, "we are confronted with a problem of such gravity
that I doubt my ability to describe it clearly.
"Briefly, this civilized, beautiful portion of Antri is menaced by a
terrible fate. In the dark portion of this unhappy world there live a
people who have the lust of conquest in their hearts--and the means at
hand with which to wreck this world of perpetual sunlight.
"I have the ultimatum of this people direct from their messenger. They
want a terrible tribute in the form of slaves. These slaves would have
to live in perpetual darkness, and wait upon the whims of the most
monstrous beings these eyes of mine have ever seen. And the number of
slaves demanded would--as nearly as I could gather, mean about a third
of the entire population. Further tribute in the form of sufficient
food to support these slaves is also demanded."
"But, in God's name, sir," burst forth Croy, his eyes blazing, "by
what means do they, propose to inforce their infamous demands?"
"By the power of darkness--and a terrible cataclysm. Their wise
men--and it would seem that some of them are not unversed in
science--have discovered a way to unbalance this world, so that they
can cause darkness to creep over this land that has never known it.
And as darkness advances, these people of the sun will be utterly
helpless before a race that loves darkness, and can see in it like
cats. That, gentlemen, is that fate which confronts this world of
Antri!"
* * * * *
There was a ghastly silence for a moment, and then Croy, always
impetuous, spoke up again.
"How do they propose to do this thing sir?", he asked hoarsely.
"With devilish simplicity. They have a great canal dug nearly to the
great polar cap of ice. Should they complete it, the hot waters of
their seas will be liberated upon this vast ice field, and the warm
waters will melt it quickly. If you have not forgotten your lessons,
gentlemen, you will remember, since most of you are of Earth, that our
scientists tell us our own world turned over in much this same
fashion, from natural means, and established for itself new poles. Is
that not true?"
Grave, almost frightened nods travelled around the little semicircle
of white, thoughtful faces.
"And is there nothing, sir, that we can do?" asked Kincaide, my second
officer, in an awed whisper.
"That is the purpose of this conclave: to determine what may be done.
We have our bombs and our rays, it is true, but what is the power of
this one ship against the people of half a world? And such a people!"
I shuddered, despite myself, at the memory of that grinning creature
in the cell far below the floor of the council chamber. "This city,
and its thousands, we might save, it is true--but not the whole half
of this world. And that is the task the Council and its Master have
set before us."
* * * * *
"Would it be possible to frighten them?" asked Croy. "I gather that
they are not an advanced race. Perhaps a show of power--the rays--the
atomic pistol--bombs-- Call it strategy, sir, or just plain bluff. It
seems the only chance."
"You have heard the suggestion, gentlemen," I said. "Has anyone a
better?"
"How does Mr. Croy plan to frighten these people of the darkness?"
asked Kincaide, who was always practical.
"By going to their country, in this ship, and then letting events take
their course," replied Croy promptly. "Details will have to be settled
on the spot, as I see it."
"I believe Mr. Croy is right," I decided. "The messenger of these
people must be returned to his own kind; the sooner the better. He has
given me a mental map of his country; I believe that it will be
possible for me to locate the principal city, in which his ruler
lives. We will take him there, and then--may God aid us gentlemen."
"Amen," nodded Croy, and the echo of the word ran from lip to lip like
the prayer it was. "When do we start?"
I hesitated for just an instant.
"Now," I brought forth crisply. "Immediately. We are gambling with the
fate of a world, a fine and happy people. Let us throw the dice
quickly, for the strain of waiting will not help us. Is that as you
would wish it, gentlemen?"
"It is, sir!" came the grave chorus.
"Very well. Mr. Croy, please report with a detail of ten men, to Bori
Tulber, and tell him of our decision. Bring the messenger back with
you. The rest of you, gentlemen, to your stations. Make any
preparations you may think advisable. Be sure that every available
exterior light is in readiness. Let me be notified the moment the
messenger is on board and we are ready to take off. Thank you,
gentlemen!"
* * * * *
I hastened to my quarters and brought the _Ertak's_ log down to the
minute, explaining in detail the course of action we had decided upon,
and the reasons for it. I knew, as did all the _Ertak's_ officers who
had saluted so crisply, and so coolly gone about the business of
carrying out my orders, that we would return from our trip to the dark
tide of Antri triumphant or--not at all.
Even in these soft days, men still respect the stern, proud motto of
our service: "Nothing Less Than Complete Success." The Special Patrol
does what it is ordered to do, or no man returns to present excuses.
That is a tradition to bring tears of pride to the eyes of even an old
man, in whose hands there is strength only for the wielding of a pen.
And I was young, in those days.
It was perhaps a quarter of an hour when word came from the navigating
room that the messenger was aboard, and we were ready to depart. I
closed the log, wondering, I remember, if I would ever make another
entry therein, and, if not, whether the words I had just inscribed
would ever see the light of day. The love of life is strong in men so
young. Then I hurried to the navigating room and took charge.
Bori Tulber had furnished me with large scale maps of the daylight
portion of Antri. From the information conveyed to me by the messenger
of the people of darkness--the Chisee they called themselves, as
nearly as I could get the sound--I rapidly sketched in the map of the
other side of Antri, locating their principal city with a small black
circle.
Realising that the location of the city we sought was only
approximate, we did not bother to work out exact bearings. We set the
_Ertak_ on her course at a height of only a few thousand feet, and set
out at low atmospheric speed, anxiously watching for the dim line of
shadow that marked the twilight zone, and the beginning of what
promised to be the last mission of the _Ertak_ and every man she
carried within her smooth, gleaming body.
* * * * *
"Twilight zone in view, sir," reported Croy at length.
"Thank you, Mr. Croy. Have all the exterior lights and searchlights
turned on. Speed and course as at present, for the time being."
I picked up the twilight zone without difficulty in the television
disc, and at full power examined the terrain.
The rich crops that fairly burst from the earth of the sunlit portion
of Antri were not to be observed here. The Antrians made no effort to
till this ground, and I doubt that it would have been profitable to do
so, even had they wished to come so close to the darkness they hated.
The ground seemed dank, and great dark slugs moved heavily upon its
greasy surface. Here and there strange pale growths grew in
patches--twisted, spotted growths that seemed somehow unhealthy and
poisonous.
I searched the country ahead, pressing further and further into the
line of darkness that was swiftly approaching. As the light of the sun
faded, our monstrous searchlights cut into the gloom ahead, their
great beams slashing the shadows.
In the dark country I had expected to find little if any vegetable
growth. Instead, I found that it was a veritable jungle through which
even our searchlight rays could not pass.
How tall the growths of this jungle might be, I could not tell, yet I
had the feeling that they were tall indeed. They were not trees, these
pale, weedy arms that reached towards the dark sky. They were soft and
pulpy, and without leaves; just long naked sickly arms that divided
and subdivided and ended in little smooth stumps like amputated limbs.
That there was some kind of activity within the shelter of this weird
jungle, was evident enough, for I could catch glimpses, now and then
of moving things. But what they might be, even the searching eye of
the television disc could not determine.
* * * * *
One of our searchlight beams, waving through the darkness like the
curious antenna of some monstrous insect, came to rest upon a spot far
ahead. I followed the beam with the disc, and bent closer, to make
sure my eyes did not deceive me.
I was looking at a vast cleared place in the pulpy jungle--a cleared
space in the center of which there was a city.
A city built of black, sweating stone, each house exactly like every
other house: tall, thin slices of stone, without windows, chimneys or
ornamentation of any kind. The only break in the walls was the
slit-like door of each house. Instead of being arranged along streets
crossing each other at right angles, these houses were built in
concentric circles broken only by four narrow streets then ran from
the open space in the center of the city to the four points of the
compass. Around the entire city was an exceedingly high wall built of
and buttressed with the black, sweating stone of which the houses were
constructed.
That it was a densely populated city there was ample evidence.
People--they were creatures like the messenger; that the Chisee are a
people, despite their terrible shape, is hardly debatable--were
running up and down the four radial streets, and around the curved
connecting streets, in the wildest confusion, their double-elbowed
arms flung across their eyes. But even as I watched, the crowd thinned
and melted swiftly away, until the streets of the queer, circular city
were utterly deserted.
* * * * *
"The city ahead is not the one we are seeking, sir?" asked Croy, who
had evidently been observing the scene through one of the smaller
television discs. "I take it that governing city will be farther in
the interior."
"According to my rather sketchy information, yes." I replied.
"However, keep all the searchlight operators busy, going over very bit
of the country within the reach of their beams. You have men on all
the auxiliary television discs?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Any findings of interest should be reported to me instantly.
And--Mr. Croy!"
"Yes, sir?"
"You might order, if you will, that rations be served all men at their
posts." Over such country as this, I felt it would be wise to have
every man ready for an emergency. It was, perhaps, as well that I
issued this order.
It was perhaps half an hour after we had passed the circular city
when, far ahead, I could see the pale, unhealthy forest thinning out.
A half dozen of our searchlight beams played upon the denuded area,
and as I brought the television disc to bear I saw that we were
approaching a vast swamp, in which little pools of black water
reflected the dazzling light of our searching beams.
Nor was this all. Out of the swamp a thousand strange, winged things
were rising: yellowish, bat-like things with forked tails and fierce
hooked beaks. And like some obscene miasma from that swamp, they rose
and came straight for the _Ertak_!
* * * * *
Instantly I pressed the attention signal that warned every man on the
ship.
"All disintegrator rays in action at once!" I barked into the
transmitter. "Broad beams, and full energy. Bird-like creatures, dead
ahead; do not cease action until ordered!"
I heard the disintegrator ray generators deepen their notes before I
finished speaking, and I smiled grimly, turning to Correy.
"Slow down as quickly and as much as possible, Mr. Correy," I ordered.
"We have work to do ahead."
He nodded, and gave the order to the operating room; I felt the
forward surge that told me my order was being obeyed, and turned my
attention again to the television disc.
The ray operators were doing their work well. The search lights showed
the air streaked with fine siftings of greasy dust, and these strange
winged creatures were disappearing by the scores as the disintegrator
rays beat and played upon them.
But they came on gamely, fiercely. Where there had been thousands,
there were but hundreds ... scores ... dozens....
There were only five left. Three of them disappeared at once, but the
two remaining came on unhesitatingly, their dirty yellow bat-like
wings flapping heavily, their naked heads outstretched, and hooked
beaks snapping.
One of them disappeared in a little sifting of greasy dust, and the
same ray dissolved one wing of the remaining creature. He turned over
suddenly, the one good wing flapping wildly, and tumbled towards the
waiting swamp that has spawned him. Then, as the ray eagerly followed
him, the last of that hellish brood disappeared.
"Circle slowly, Mr. Correy," I ordered. I wanted to make sure there
were none of these terrible creatures left. I felt that nothing so
terrible should be left alive--even in a world of darkness.
* * * * *
Through the television disc I searched the swamp. As I had half
suspected, the filthy ooze held the young of this race of things:
grub-like creatures that flipped their heavy bodies about in the
slime, alarmed by the light which searched them out.
"All disintegrator rays on the swamp," I ordered. "Sweep it from
margin to margin. Let nothing be left alive there."
I had a well trained crew. The disintegrator rays massed themselves
into a marching wall of death, and swept up and down the swamp as a
plough turns its furrows.
It was easy to trace their passage, for behind them the swamp
disappeared, leaving in its stead row after row of broad, dusty paths.
When we had finished there was no swamp: there was only a naked area
upon which nothing lived, and upon which, for many years, nothing
would grow.
"Good work," I commended the disintegrator ray men. "Cease action."
And then, to Correy, "Put her on her course again, please."
* * * * *
An hour went by. We passed several more of the strange, damp circular
cities, differing from the first we had seen only in the matter of
size. Another hour passed, and I became anxious. If we were on our
proper course, and I had understood the Chisee messenger correctly, we
should be very close to the governing city. We should--
The waving beam of one of the searchlights came suddenly to rest.
Three or four other beams followed it--and then all the others.
"Large city to port, sir!" called Croy excitedly.
"Thank you. I believe it is our destination. Cut all searchlights
except the forward beam. Mr. Correy!"
"Yes, sir."
"You can take her over visually now, I believe. The forward
searchlight beam will keep our destination in view for you. Set her
down cautiously in the center of the city in any suitable place.
And--remain at the controls ready for any orders, and have the
operating room crew do likewise."
"Yes, sir," said Correy crisply.
With a tenseness I could not control, I bent over the hooded
television disc and studied the mighty governing city of the Chisee.
* * * * *
The governing city of the Chisee was not unlike the others we had
seen, save that it was very much larger, and had eight spoke-like
streets radiating from its center, instead of four. The protective
wall was both thicker and higher.
There was another difference. Instead of a great open space in the
center of the city, there was a central, park-like space, in the
middle of which was a massive pile, circular in shape, and built, like
all the rest of the city, of the black, sweating rock which seemed to
be the sole building material of the Chisee.
We set the _Ertak_ down close to the big circular building, which we
guessed--and correctly--to be the seat of government. I ordered the
searchlight ray to be extinguished the moment we landed, and the ethon
tubes that illuminated our ship inside to be turned off, so that we
might accustom our eyes as much as possible to darkness, finding our
way about with small ethon tube flashlights.
With a small guard, I stood at the forward exit of the _Ertak_ and
watched the huge circular door back out on its mighty threads, and
finally swing to one side on its massive gimbals. Croy--the only
officer with me--and I both wore our menores, and carried full
expeditionary equipment, as did the guard.
The Chisee messenger, grimacing and talking excitedly in his sibilant,
whispering voice, crouched on all fours (he could not stand in that
small space) and waited, three men of the guard on either side of him.
I placed his menore on his head and gave him simple, forceful orders,
picturing them for him as best I could:
"Go from this place and find others of your kind. Tell them that we
would speak to them with things such as you have upon your head. Run
swiftly!"
"I will run," he conveyed to me, "to those great ones who sent me." He
pictured them fleetingly. They were creatures like himself, save that
they were elaborately dressed in fine skins of several pale colors,
and wore upon their arms, between their two elbows, broad circlets of
carved metal which I took to be emblems of power or authority, since
the chief of them all wore a very broad band. Their faces were much
more intelligent than their messenger had led me to expect, and their
eyes, very large and round, and not at all human, were the eyes of
thoughtful, reasoning creatures.
* * * * *
Doubled on all fours, the Chisee crept through the circular exit, and
straightened up. As he did so, from out of the darkness a score or
more of his fellows rushed up, gathering around him, and blocking the
exit with their reedy legs. We could hear than talking excitedly in
high-pitched, squeaky whispers. Then, suddenly I received an
expression from the Chisee who wore the menore:
"Those who are with me have come from those in power. They say one of
you, and one only, is to come with us to our big men who will learn,
through a thing such as I wear upon my head, that which you wish to
say to them. You are to come quickly; at once."
"I will come," I replied. "Have those with you make way--"
A heavy hand fell upon my shoulder; a voice spoke eagerly in my ear:
"Sir, you must not go!" It was Croy, and his voice shook with feeling.
"You are in command of the _Ertak_; she, and those in her need you.
Let me go! I insist, sir!"
I turned in the darkness, quickly and angrily.
"Mr. Croy," I said swiftly, "do you realize that you are speaking to
your commanding officer?"
* * * * *
I felt his grip tighten on my arm as the reproof struck home.
"Yes, sir," he said doggedly. "I do. But I repeat that your duty
commands you to remain here."
"The duty of a commander in this Service leads him to the place of
greatest danger, Mr. Croy," I informed him.
"Then stay with your ship, sir!" he pleaded, craftily. "This may be
some trick to get you away, so that they may attack us. Please! Can't
you see that I am right, sir?"
I thought swiftly. The earnestness of the youngster had touched me.
Beneath the formality and the "sirs" there was a real affection
between us.
In the darkness I reached for his hand; I found it and shook it
solemnly--a gesture of Earth which it is hard to explain. It means
many things.
"Go, then, Andy," I said softly. "But do not stay long. An hour at the
longest. If you are not back in that length of time, we'll come after
you, and whatever else may happen, you can be sure that you will be
well avenged. The _Ertak_ has not lost her stinger."
"Thank you, John," he replied. "Remember that I shall wear my menore.
If I adjust it to full power, and you do likewise, and stand without
the shelter of the _Ertak's_ metal hull, I shall be able to
communicate with you, should there be any danger." He pressed my hand
again, and strode through the exit out into the darkness, which was
lit only by a few distant stars.
The long, slim legs closed in around him; like a pigmy guarded by the
skeletons of giants he was led quickly away.
* * * * *
The minutes dragged by. There was a nervous tension on the ship, the
like of which I have experienced not more than a dozen times in all my
years.
No one spoke aloud. Now and again one man would matter uneasily to
another; there would be a swift, muttered response, and silence again.
We were waiting--waiting.
Ten minutes went by. Twenty. Thirty.
Impatiently I paced up and down before the exit, the guards at their
posts, ready to obey any orders instantly.
Forty-five minutes. I walked through the exit; stepped out onto the
cold, hard earth.
I could see, behind me, the shadowy bulk of the _Ertak_. Before me, a
black, shapeless blot against the star-sprinkled sky, was the great
administrative building of the Chisee. And in there, somewhere, was
Anderson Croy. I glanced down at the luminous dial of my watch. Fifty
minutes. In ten minutes more--
"John Hanson!" My name reached me, faintly but clearly, through the
medium of my menore. "This is Croy. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," I replied instantly. "Are you safe?"
"I am safe. All is well. Very well. Will you promise me now to receive
what I am about to send, without interruption?"
"Yes," I replied, thoughtlessly and eagerly. "What is it?"
* * * * *
"I have had a long conference with the chief or head of the Chisee,"
explained Croy rapidly. "He is very intelligent, and his people are
much further advanced than we thought.
"Through some form of communication, he has learned of the fight with
the weird birds; it seems that they are--or were--the most dreaded of
all the creatures of this dark world. Apparently we got the whole
brood of them, and this chief, whose name, I gather, is Wieschien, or
something like that, is naturally much impressed.
"I have given him a demonstration or two with my atomic pistol and the
flashlight--these people are fairly stricken by a ray of light
directly in the eyes--and we have reached very favorable terms.
"I am to remain here as chief bodyguard and adviser, of which he has
need, for all is not peaceful, I gather, in this kingdom of darkness.
In return, he is to give up his plans to subjugate the rest of Antri;
he has sworn to do this by what is evidently, to him, a very sacred
oath, witnessed solemnly by the rest of his council.
"Under the circumstances, I believe he will do what he says; in any
case, the great canal will be filled in, and the Antrians will have
plenty of time to erect a great series of disintegrator ray stations
along the entire twilight zone, using the broad fan rays to form a
solid wall against which the Chisee could not advance even did they,
at some future date, carry out their plans. The worst possible result
then would be that the people in the sunlit portion would have to
migrate from certain sections, and perhaps would have day and night,
alternately, as do other worlds.
"This is the agreement we have reached; it is the only one that will
save this world. Do you approve, sir?"
"No! Return immediately, and we will show the Chisee that they cannot
hold an officer of the Special Patrol as a hostage. Make haste!"
* * * * *
"It's no go, sir," came the reply instantly. "I threatened them first.
I explained what our disintegrator rays would do, and Wieschien
laughed at me.
"This city is built upon great subterranean passages that lead to many
hidden exits. If we show the least sign of hostility the work will be
resumed on the canal, and, before we can locate the spot, and stop the
work, the damage will be done.
"This is our only chance, sir, to make this expedition a complete
success. Permit me to judge this fact from the evidence I have before
me. Whatever sacrifice there is to make, I make gladly. Wieschien asks
that you depart at once, and in peace, and I know this is the only
course. Good-by, sir; convey my salutations to my other friends upon
the old _Ertak_, and elsewhere. And now, lest my last act as an
officer of the Special Patrol Service be to refuse to obey the
commands of my superior officer, I am removing the menore. Good-by!"
I tried to reach him again, but there was no response.
Gone! He was gone! Swallowed up in darkness and in silence!
* * * * *
Dazed, shaken to the very foundation of my being, I stood there
between the shadowy bulk of the _Ertak_ and the towering mass of the
great silent pile that was the seat of government in this strange land
of darkness, and gazed up at the dark sky above me. I am not ashamed,
now, to say that hot tears trickled down my cheeks, nor that as I
turned back to the _Ertak_, my throat was so gripped by emotion that I
could not speak.
I ordered the exit closed with a wave of my hand; in the navigating
room I said but four words: "We depart at once."
At the third meal of the day I gathered my officers about me and told
them, as quickly and as gently as I could, of the sacrifice one of
their number had made.
It was Kincaide who, when I had finished, rose slowly and made reply.
"Sir," he said quietly, "We had a friend. Some day, he might have
died. Now he will live forever in the records of the Service, in the
memory of a world, and in the hearts of those who had the honor to
serve with him. Could he--or we--wish more?"
Amid a strange silence he sat down again, and there was not an eye
among us that was dry.
* * * * *
I hope that the snappy young officer who visited me the other day
reads this little account of bygone times.
Perhaps it will make clear to him how we worked, in those nearly
forgotten days, with the tools we had at hand. They were not the
perfect tools of to-day, but what they lacked, we somehow made up.
That fine old motto of the Service, "Nothing Less Than Complete
Success," we passed on unsullied to those who came after us.
I hope these youngsters of to-day may do as well.
_IN THE NEXT ISSUE_
THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW
_A Complete Novelette of An American Submarine's Dramatic
Raid on Marauding "Machine-Fish" of the Ocean Floor_
By Anthony Gilmore
PHALANXES OF ATLANS
_Beginning a Thrilling Two-Part Novel of
a Strange Hidden Civilisation_
By F. V. W. Mason
THE BLACK LAMP
_Another of Dr. Bird's Amazing Exploits_
By Captain S. P. Meek
THE PIRATE PLANET
_The Conclusion of the Splendid Current Novel_
By Charles W. Diffin
_AND OTHERS!_
[Illustration: _They tilted her rudders and dove to the abysm below._]
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