December 1930 Read online

  Through the quiet rage of the perfectly spoken English ran a thread of sorrow. "Aimu, whom we considered too holy to name!"

  Choking, he hobbled away to the door, which he unbolted. As he passed out into the open, Sir Basil went over to the machine and began sighting the projector which cast forth the ray of destruction.

  "No!" cried Hale. "You've done enough murder for to-day."

  The scientist paused. "I was trying to be merciful. And then, I wonder if it is safe to let him go, hating me? Oh, well!" He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I seldom leave the laboratory, and certainly nothing can harm me here." He touched the death-projector significantly.

  Hale made a mental decision. "I must find out how the damned thing works and put it out of commission."

  * * * * *

  With this determination uppermost in his mind, he assumed a more intense interest in the strange laboratory. For the next two days, he assisted Sir Basil so assiduously that he learned much about the operation of the life-machine. And gradually he stopped being horrified as the fascination of producing life in the laboratory grew upon him.

  After he had assisted the scientist in building living organisms from basic elements, he ceased to cringe when he remembered that perhaps it was true that Aña was created in the mysterious life-machine.

  Once the scientist declared, "She is untainted with inheritance. She is the perfect mate that I called into life so that before I pass from the flesh I may taste that one human emotion I've never experienced--love."

  That very night Hale kept a secret tryst with Aña after the village slept. Sweet, virginal Aña, who knew less of the world than a civilized child of twelve--what a sensation she would create in New York with her beauty, her culture, her natural fascination! With her in his arms and an orange tropical moon hanging low in the hot, black sky, he ceased to care that she had no ancestors, for now his one passionate desire was to save her from Sir Basil and to hold her forever for himself.

  He might have been content to go on like this for months, tampering with creation in the day time, courting Aña in secret at night, had not Unani Assu come back for revenge.

  * * * * *

  On the fourth night after Unani Assu had disappeared into the jungle, Hale went to the igarapé to meet Aña. He had gone only half the distance when he encountered her, running frantically up the path toward him.

  "Hale!" she gasped, falling into his opened arms, where she lay panting and exhausted.

  Hale gently patted the long braids, shimmering in silver tangles under the moonlight, and, crushing the soft little trembling body close, he murmured:

  "What's the matter, darling?"

  She dug her face deeper into the bend of his arm. "Oh, Hale! I saw Unani Assu a few minutes ago." For several moments she was unable to go on, for sudden sobs cut off her breath. "It's terrible, Hale, what Aimu did to his hands and feet, but what Unani's going to do to Aimu is still more terrible."

  Hale placed his hand gently under her chin and tilted up her small, pale, tear-drenched face.

  "Be calm, Aña, and tell me plainly."

  Still clinging to him, she went on. "He told me that Aimu is a devil, Hale. He showed me his hands and asked me if I could ever get used to them and be--his squaw." The round gold breastplates and the necklace of painted seeds clinked together over her panting bosom. "I told him about you, Hale. And then he seemed to go mad. He said he'd kill Aimu to-night."

  "But, Aña! Why did he let you go, knowing that you would give the alarm?"

  "He didn't let me go." Her petaled lips parted in a faint smile. "I escaped. Unani Assu tied me to a tree by the igarapé. Because he doesn't ... hate me, he could not bear to tie me too tightly."

  "Then he must be close to the laboratory now. If he breaks in upon Aimu--oh, my God!"

  Hale remembered the death-projector. If Sir Basil were in danger of attack, he would not hesitate to touch the waiting button that would broadcast death throughout the world.

  He seized Aña's little hand and cried out: "Run, Aña! The only safe place now is Aimu's laboratory. Run!"

  * * * * *

  As they dashed on madly, Hale opened wide his nostrils to scent the heavy, flower-laden air of the jungle. Any moment all this sweet, rich life might vanish instantly. He had a horrible vision of a world devoid of life, a world of bare rocks, dry sand, odorless, dead waters. For it was life that greened the landscape, roughened the stones with moss and lichen, thickened the ocean with ooze, and turned the dry sand into loam--life that swarmed underfoot, overhead, all around!

  And now, just as they reached the laboratory door, panting and frantic, a hoarse shriek broke forth. Dragging Aña after him, Hale dashed forward, conscious of two masculine voices raised in passion.

  The door to the room where the life-machine performed its vile work was locked. Hale pounded against it and called out to Sir Basil, but only curses and the sound of tumbling bodies came from beyond the door. Although originally the door had been thick and strong, the destructive forces of the tropics had pitted and rotted the wood. A few blows of Hale's shoulder broke it down.

  Under the brilliant electric light, Sir Basil and Unani Assu were fighting upon the blood-spattered floor. The struggle was uneven: the scientist's emaciated body was no match for the splendid strength of the young Indian.

  "Help Aimu!" cried Aña, pushing Hale forward.

  Aimu was being choked to death.

  Hale acted fantastically but efficiently. Catching up a bottle of ammonia, he moistened a handkerchief and clapped it against Unani Assu's nose. Instantly the Indian choked, released Sir Basil, and fell back, gasping for breath.

  Hale thrust the handkerchief into his pocket.

  "Get out!" he ordered Unani Assu. "Quick!" He threatened him with the ammonia bottle.

  But Unani Assu was not looking at the bottle. "Aimu!" he screamed, pointing.

  * * * * *

  When Hale saw and understood, he leaped across the room to plant his body in front of Aña; for Sir Basil was behind the life-machine, reaching for the controls of the ray projector.

  Suddenly, from behind Hale, a silver streak shot across the room. Sir Basil groaned and sank to the floor of the laboratory.

  A keen-bladed dissecting knife, thrown by Aña, stuck out from his left breast.

  Aña ran forward, sobbing wildly. "Oh, Aimu! I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to strike you there. Only your hand, Aimu! I didn't want Hale to die, Aimu. I didn't--oh!"

  She was on her knees by the scientist's side, his head held in her slender arms.

  "He's breathing!" she rejoiced. "Some masata, Hale, quick!"

  Hale found a bottle of good brandy which he had contributed from his own supplies. Soon Sir Basil gasped and opened his eyes. He stared about him wildly, then gasped:

  "I'm dying, Hale Oakham! Quick, the life-machine, before my mind-electron escapes."

  He tried to pull his body up, but fell back, weak and panting.

  Hale hesitated, looking doubtfully at Aña.

  "For God's sake, quick!" screamed Sir Basil. "I'm dying, I say! I must have--rebirth. Lift me to the disintegrator. Hurry!..." His voice trailed off faintly.

  "He is dying," snapped Hale. "We might as well try it." He jerked open the door to the disintegrator. "Here, Unani Assu! Lend a hand!"

  * * * * *

  Instantly the Indian came forward, a peculiar, pleased expression on his handsome face. In a moment, Sir Basil's body was inside, and the machine began its weird humming, the humming that indicated the transformation of a human body into dust.

  "Now!" cried Unani Assu exultingly, going behind the machine. "I have helped him enough to understand that if one changes this--and this--and this"--he made some rapid adjustments on the machine--"something that is not pleasant will happen."

  "Stop!" cried Hale. "What did you change?"

  The Indian laughed mockingly. "Wouldn't you like to know? But, yet, you should not worry. You have no cause to love him, have you?"

>   "I can't be a traitor, Unani Assu! Arrange the machine as it was originally, and I give you my word of honor than when Sir Basil comes out, I'll wreck the damned thing beyond repair. See, Unani Assu? You and I together will smash it."

  The Indian folded his arms so that the repulsive things that should have been hands were hidden.

  "It's too late now," he admitted, shaking his head. "Yet I've done no more to him than he did to me."

  Hale went to the eye-piece in the machine and started to look inside. Unani Assu stepped forward, tapped him on the shoulder, and, fingering significantly the dissecting knife which he had picked up, said:

  "I am operating the machine. Will you sit over there by Aña and wait? It won't be long. And, white stranger, remember this: I am your friend. I am turned against none but our common enemy." He pointed significantly to the machine.

  * * * * *

  Two hours passed, long, silent hours for the watchers in the laboratory. Aña fell asleep, in a sweet, childish bundle upon the piled cushions, her golden hair, still decorated with the red flowers which she always wore, crushed and withered now. Several times Hale caught Unani Assu gazing at her sadly, and his own look saddened when it rested on the Indian's strong, outraged body.

  The humming of the machine changed to a whistle. Placing his fingers on his lips in a signal of quiet, Unani Assu whispered:

  "Let Aña sleep. She mustn't see this."

  Opening a door in the machine, his handsome face lighted with a grim smile, he whispered exultingly:

  "Watch!"

  A scuttling sound issued forth and then, half drunkenly, an enormous rat tumbled out--one of those horrible rats with the hairless, humanlike faces that had so frequently come from the life-machine.

  Hale could not crush back the cry that issued from his throat.

  "Where is Sir Basil?" he gasped.

  "There!" cried the Indian, pointing to the kicking rat, which was fast gaining strength.

  * * * * *

  Hale staggered back. "No! You don't mean it, do you?"

  Unani Assu turned the rat over with a contemptuous toe. "Yes, I mean it. Behold Aimu, the man who thought himself creator and destroyer--the man who said that a human being was no higher than a rat! Perhaps he was right, for see this thing that was once a man!"

  Hale buried his face in his hands. "Kill it, Unani Assu! Kill it!"

  Unani Assu's low laugh was metallic. "You kill it."

  Hale uncovered his face. "Open the disintegrator." Gingerly he reached for the rat's tail.

  But his hand never touched the animal. The hairless face turned for a second, and the little, beady eyes blinked up at Hale with an expression that his fevered imagination thought almost human. Then, like a dark shadow, the rat dashed away. Once around the room it scampered, hunting for an exit. Hale started in pursuit. He was almost upon the animal again, when, leaping up from his grasp, it landed on a low shelf where chemicals were stored. Several bottles fell, filling the room with fumes.

  Another bottle fell, and, suddenly, amid a thunderous roar, the ceiling and walls began falling. Some highly explosive chemical had been stored in one of the bottles.

  Hale was thrown violently against the couch. His hand touched Aña's body. One last shred of consciousness enabled him to pick her up and drag her out. In the open, he fell, aware, before blackness descended, that flames leaped high over the laboratory building and that Unani Assu lay dead within.

  * * * * *

  Hale and Aña, leaning over the deck-rail of a small steam launch, gazed into the dark waters of the Amazon.

  "We ought to reach Para by morning," said Hale, "and then, dearest, we're off for New York!"

  Aña, wearing one of the first civilized dresses she had ever donned, and looking as smart as any débutante, slipped her little hand into her husband's.

  "Isn't it a shame, Hale," she moaned, "that the fire burned all the animals and insects, the machinery, and even your notes?" Her beautiful face saddened. "Just one or two specimens might have been proof enough for your What-You-Call-It Club!"

  "The Nescience Club, darling. No, I can't expect to win the Woolman prize, but I've won a prize worth far more." He squeezed her little hand and looked devotedly into her blue eyes. "And, Aña, I've reasoned out something concerning mind-electrons which even Sir Basil overlooked."

  "What is it, Hale?"

  "He maintained that matter seeks always to enslave mind-electrons, but I am convinced that mind-electrons seek to enslave matter. Understand? It's creation, Aña! Had Sir Basil succeeded in broadcasting death throughout the world, the freed mind-electrons, as in the beginning, would have started again to vitalize inorganic atoms. And, in a few million years, which is no time to the Mind, the world would be humming with a new civilization. Large thought, eh, sweetheart?"

  A SIGNAL TO THE MOON

  The idea of a radio signal to the moon may sound fantastic, but is easily within the range of possibility, says Dr. A. Hoyt Taylor, Chief of the Radio Division of the United States Naval Research Laboratories at Washington, who plans such an attempt in the near future.

  "We have reason to expect a good chance of getting the signal back in a time interval of slightly less than three seconds," said Dr. Taylor.

  To be exact, a radio signal should be reflected back to earth in a time interval of 2.8 seconds, this being the necessary elapsed time for it to carry the 250,000 miles to the moon and return at its speed of 300,000 kilometers, or 186,000 miles per second.

  The signal would be very weak, Dr. Taylor points out, but not impossible of detection with the present refinement of receiving instruments, provided no great absorption took place in interstellar space.

  A high frequency wave will be used, as such a wave penetrates readily the earth's atmosphere and probably goes far beyond. The frequency of the wave will range between 20,000 and 30,000 kilocycles. Twenty kilowats of power will be used, enough to furnish current for about forty flatirons.

  The value of a radio signal to the moon lies in the confirmation of whether there is or not heavy absorption of waves in the upper levels of our own atmosphere. If successful it would indicate a reasonably good reflection coefficient at the surface of the moon--the power of the moon's surface to act as a joint agent in the perfection of the signal.

  The signal might have some bearing also on whether the moon has an atmosphere--something pretty much settled already by astronomical observation. It would also lead to the possibility of fairly accurate determination of wave velocity in free space, all of interest to science, either confirming existing theories or establishing new ones.

  The Pirate Planet

  PART TWO OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL

  By Charles W. Diffin

  It is war. Interplanetary war. And on far distant Venus two fighting Earthlings stand up against a whole planet run amuck.

  WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE

  A flash of light on Venus!--and at Maricopa Flying Field Lieutenant McGuire and Captain Blake laugh at its possible meaning until the radio's weird call and the sight of a giant ship in the night sky prove their wildest thoughts are facts. "Big as an ocean liner," it hangs in midair, then turns and shoots upward at incredible speed until it disappears entirely, in space!

  McGuire goes to Mount Lawson observatory, and there he sees the flash on Venus repeated. Professor Sykes, who had observed the first flash, confirms it and sees still more. He sees the enveloping clouds of Venus torn asunder, and beneath them an identifying mark, a continent shaped like the letter "L."

  And then the great ship comes again. It hovers above the observatory and settles slowly down.

  Back at Maricopa Field, Captain Blake has tested a new plane for altitude, and is now prepared to interview the stranger in the higher levels. McGuire's frantic phone call sends him out into the night with the 91st Squadron of planes in support. It is their last flight, for all but Blake. The invader smothers them in a great sphere of gas, but Blake, with his oxygen flasks, flies through to crash beside the
observatory. Only Blake survives to see the enemy land, while strange man-shapes loot the buildings and carry off McGuire and Sykes.

  A bombardment with giant shells dispels the last doubt of the earth being under attack. The flashes from Venus at regular intervals spout death and destruction upon the earth; a mammoth gun, sunk into the planet itself, bears once upon the earth at every revolution, until the changing position of the globes take the target out of range.

  In less than a year and a half the planets must meet again. It is war to the death; a united world against an enemy unknown--an enemy who has conquered space. And there is less than a year and a half in which to prepare!

  Far out in the blackness of space McGuire and Sykes are captives in the giant ship. Their stupor leaves them; they find themselves immersed in clouds. The clouds part; their ship drops through; and below them is a strange continent shaped like the letter "L." Captives of inhuman but man-shaped things, they are landing upon a strange globe--upon the planet Venus itself!

  CHAPTER VIII

  Miles underneath the great ship, from which Lieutenant McGuire and Professor Sykes were now watching through a floor-window of thick glass, was a glittering expanse of water--a great ocean. The flickering gold expanse that reflected back the color of the sunlit clouds passed to one side as the ship took its station above the island, a continent in size, that had shown by its shape like a sharply formed "L" an identifying mark to the astronomer.

  They were high in the air; the thick clouds that surrounded this new world were miles from its surface, and the things of the world that awaited were tiny and blurred.

  Airships passed and repassed far below. Large, some of them--as bulky as the transport they were on; others were small flashing cylinders, but all went swiftly on their way.

  It must have come--some ethereal vibration to warn others from the path--for layer after layer of craft were cleared for the descent. A brilliant light flashed into view, a dazzling pin-point on the shore below, and the great ship fell suddenly beneath them. Swiftly it dropped down the pathway of light; on even keel it fell down and still down, till McGuire, despite his experience in the air, was sick and giddy.