The Space Opera Megapack

by John W. Campbell

  “I’m not worried, really…but in case…you see… I…we…”

  The gray eyes softened and misted over as he pressed his cheek to hers.

  “I understand, sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is not good-bye, but if we don’t pull through we’ll go together, and that is what we both want.”

  As Crane and DuQuesne finished their tasks, Seaton fitted his sweetheart’s helmet, placed her tenderly upon the seat, buckled the heavy restraining straps about her slender body, and donned his own helmet. He took his place at the main instrument board, DuQuesne stationing himself at the other.

  “What did you read on it, Blackie?” asked Seaton.

  “Two degrees, one minute, twelve seconds diameter,” replied DuQuesne. “Altogether too close for comfort. How shall we apply the power? One of us must stay awake, or we’ll go on as long as the bars last.”

  “You put on one notch, then I’ll put on one. We can feel the bus jump with each notch. We’ll keep it up until one of us is so far gone that he can’t raise the bar—the one that raises last will have to let the ship run for thirty minutes or an hour, then cut down his power. Then the other fellow will revive and cut his off, for an observation. How’s that?”

  “All right.”

  * * * *

  They took their places, and Seaton felt the vessel slow down in its horrible fall as DuQuesne threw his lever into the first notch. He responded instantly by advancing his own, and notch after notch the power applied to the ship by the now doubled motor was rapidly increased. The passengers felt their suits envelope them and began to labor for breath. Seaton slowly turned the mixing valve, a little with each advance of his lever, until pure oxygen flowed through the pipes. The power levers had moved scarcely half of their range, yet minutes now intervened between each advance instead of seconds, as at the start.

  As each of the two men was determined that he would make the last advance, the duel continued longer than either would have thought possible. Seaton made what he thought his final effort and waited—only to feel, after a few minutes, the upward surge telling him that DuQuesne was still able to move his lever. His brain reeled. His arm seemed paralyzed by its own enormous weight, and felt as though it, the rolling table upon which it rested, and the supporting framework were so immovably welded together that it was impossible to move it even the quarter-inch necessary to operate the ratchet-lever. He could not move his body, which was oppressed by a sickening weight. His utmost efforts to breathe forced only a little of the life-giving oxygen into his lungs, which smarted painfully at the touch of the undiluted gas, and he felt that he could not long retain consciousness under such conditions. Nevertheless, he summoned all his strength and advanced the lever one more notch. He stared at the clock-face above his head, knowing that if DuQuesne could advance his lever again he would lose consciousness and be beaten. Minute after minute went by, however, and the acceleration of the ship remained constant. Seaton, knowing that he was in sole control of the power-plant, fought to retain possession of his faculties, while the hands of the clock told off the interminable minutes.

  After an eternity of time an hour had passed, and Seaton attempted to cut down his power, only to find with horror that the long strain had so weakened him that he could not reverse the ratchet. He was still able, however, to give the lever the backward jerk which disconnected the wires completely—and the safety straps creaked with the sudden stress as, half the power instantly shut off, the suddenly released springs tried to hurl five bodies against the ceiling. After a few minutes DuQuesne revived and slowly cut off his power. To the dismay of both men they were again falling!

  DuQuesne hurried to the lower window to make the observation, remarking:

  “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”

  “Only because you’re so badly bunged up. One more notch would’ve got my goat,” replied Seaton frankly as he made his way to Dorothy’s side. He noticed as he reached her, that Crane had removed his helmet and was approaching the other girl. By the time DuQuesne had finished the observation, the other passengers had completely recovered, apparently none the worse for their experience.

  * * * *

  “Did we gain anything?” asked Seaton eagerly.

  “I make it two, four, thirteen. We’ve lost about two minutes of arc. How much power did we have on?”

  “A little over half—thirty-two points out of sixty possible.”

  “We were still falling pretty fast. We’ll have to put on everything we’ve got. Since neither of us can put it on we’ll have to rig up an automatic feed. It’ll take time, but it’s the only way.”

  “The automatic control is already there,” put in Crane, forestalling Seaton’s explanation. “The only question is whether we will live through it—and that is not really a question, since certain death is the only alternative. We must do it.”

  “We sure must,” answered Seaton soberly.

  Dorothy gravely nodded assent.

  “What do you fellows think of a little plus pressure on the oxygen?” asked Seaton. “I think it would help a lot.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” said DuQuesne, and Crane added:

  “Four or five inches of water will be about all the pressure we can stand. Any more might burn our lungs too badly.”

  The pressure apparatus was quickly arranged and the motors filled to capacity with reserve bars—enough to last seventy-two hours—the scientists having decided that they must risk everything on one trial and put in enough, if possible, to pull them clear out of the influence of this center of attraction, as the time lost in slowing up to change bars might well mean the difference between success and failure. Where they might lie at the end of the wild dash for safety, how they were to retrace their way with their depleted supply of copper, what other dangers of dead star, planet, or sun lay in their path—all these were terrifying questions that had to be ignored.

  * * * *

  DuQuesne was the only member of the party who actually felt any calmness, the quiet of the others expressing their courage in facing fear. Life seemed very sweet and desirable to them, the distant earth a very Paradise! Through Dorothy’s mind flashed the visions she had built up during long sweet hours, visions of a long life with Seaton. As she breathed an inaudible prayer, she glanced up and saw Seaton standing beside her, gazing down upon her with his very soul in his eyes. Never would she forget the expression upon his face. Even in that crucial hour, his great love for her overshadowed every other feeling, and no thought of self was in his mind—his care was all for her. There was a long farewell caress. Both knew that it might be goodbye, but both were silent as the violet eyes and the gray looked into each other’s depths and conveyed messages far beyond the power of words. Once more he adjusted her helmet and strapped her into place.

  As Crane had in the meantime cared for the other girl, the men again took their places and Seaton started the motor which would automatically advance the speed levers, one notch every five seconds, until the full power of both motors was exerted. As the power was increased, he turned the valve as before, until the helmets were filled with pure oxygen under a pressure of five inches of water.

  Margaret Spencer, weakened by her imprisonment, was the first to lose consciousness, and soon afterward Dorothy felt her senses leave her. A half-minute, in the course of which six mighty surges were felt, as more of the power of the doubled motor was released, and Crane had gone, calmly analyzing his sensations to the last. After a time DuQuesne also lapsed into unconsciousness, making no particular effort to avoid it, as he knew that the involuntary muscles would function quite as well without the direction of the will. Seaton, although he knew it was useless, fought to keep his senses as long as possible, counting the impulses he felt as the levers were advanced.

  “Thirty-two.” He felt exactly as he had before, when he had advanced the lever for the last time.

  “Thirty-three.” A giant hand shut off his breath completely, though he was fighting to hi
s utmost for air. An intolerable weight rested upon his eyeballs, forcing them backward into his head. The universe whirled about him in dizzy circles—orange and black and green stars flashed before his bursting eyes.

  “Thirty-four.” The stars became more brilliant and of more variegated colors, and a giant pen dipped in fire was writing equations and mathematico-chemical symbols upon his quivering brain. He joined the circling universe, which he had hitherto kept away from him by main strength, and whirled about his own body, tracing a logarithmic spiral with infinite velocity—leaving his body an infinite distance behind.

  “Thirty-five.” The stars and the fiery pen exploded in a wild coruscation of searing, blinding light and he plunged from his spiral into a black abyss.

  * * * *

  In spite of the terrific stress put upon the machine, every part functioned perfectly, and soon after Seaton had lost consciousness the vessel began to draw away from the sinister globe; slowly at first, faster and faster as more and more of the almost unlimited power of the mighty motor was released. Soon the levers were out to the last notch and the machine was exerting its maximum effort. One hour and an observer upon the Skylark would have seen that the apparent size of the massive unknown world was rapidly decreasing; twenty hours and it was so far away as to be invisible, though its effect was still great; forty hours and the effect was slight; sixty hours and the Skylark was out of range of the slightest measurable force of the monster it had left.

  Hurtled onward by the inconceivable power of the unleashed copper demon in its center, the Skylark flew through the infinite reaches of interstellar space with an unthinkable, almost incalculable velocity—beside which the velocity of light was as that of a snail to that of a rifle bullet; a velocity augmented every second by a quantity almost double that of light itself.

  THE SKYLARK OF SPACE, by E.E. “Doc” Smith [Part 2]

  CHAPTER XI

  Through Space Into the Carboniferous

  Seaton opened his eyes and gazed about him wonderingly. Only half conscious, bruised and sore in every part of his body, he could not at first realize what had happened. Instinctively drawing a deep breath, he coughed and choked as the undiluted oxygen filled his lungs, bringing with it a complete understanding of the situation. Knowing from the lack of any apparent motion that the power had been sufficient to pull the car away from that fatal globe, his first thought was for Dorothy, and he tore off his helmet and turned toward her. The force of even that slight movement, wafted him gently into the air where he hung suspended several minutes before his struggles enabled him to clutch a post and draw himself down to the floor. A quick glance around informed him that Dorothy, as well as the others, was still unconscious. Making his way rapidly to her, he placed her face downward upon the floor and began artificial respiration. Very soon he was rewarded by the coughing he had longed to hear. He tore off her helmet and clasped her to his breast in an agony of relief, while she sobbed convulsively upon his shoulder. The first ecstasy of their greeting over, Dorothy started guiltily.

  “Oh, Dick!” she exclaimed. “How about Peggy? You must see how she is!”

  “Never mind,” answered Crane’s voice cheerily. “She is coming to nicely.”

  Glancing around quickly, they saw that Crane had already revived the stranger, and that DuQuesne was not in sight. Dorothy blushed, the vivid wave of color rising to her glorious hair, and hastily disengaged her arms from around her lover’s neck, drawing away from him. Seaton, also blushing, dropped his arms, and Dorothy floated away from him, frantically clutching at a brace just beyond reach.

  “Pull me down, Dick!” she called, laughing gaily.

  Seaton, seizing her instinctively, neglected his own anchorage and they hung in the air together, while Crane and Margaret, each holding a strap, laughed with unrestrained merriment.

  “Tweet, tweet—I’m a canary!” chuckled Seaton. “Throw us a rope!”

  “A Dicky-bird, you mean,” interposed Dorothy.

  “I knew that you were a sleight-of-hand expert, Dick, but I did not know that levitation was one of your specialties,” remarked Crane with mock gravity. “That is a peculiar pose you are holding now. What are you doing—sitting on an imaginary pedestal?”

  “I’ll be sitting on your neck if you don’t get a wiggle on with that rope!” retorted Seaton, but before Crane had time to obey the command the floating couple had approached close enough to the ceiling so that Seaton, with a slight pressure of his hand against the leather, sent them floating back to the floor, within reach of one of the handrails.

  Seaton made his way to the power-plant, lifted in one of the remaining bars, and applied a little power. The Skylark seemed to jump under them, then it seemed as though they were back on Earth—everything had its normal weight once more, as the amount of power applied was just enough to equal the acceleration of gravity. After this fact had been explained, Dorothy turned to Margaret.

  “Now that we are able to act intelligently, the party should be introduced to each other. Peggy, this is Dr. Dick Seaton, and this is Mr. Martin Crane. Boys, this is Miss Margaret Spencer, a dear friend of mine. These are the boys I have told you so much about, Peggy. Dick knows all about atoms and things; he found out how to make the Skylark go. Martin, who is quite a wonderful inventor, made the engines and things for it.”

  “I may have heard of Mr. Crane,” replied Margaret eagerly. “My father was an inventor, and I have heard him speak of a man named Crane who invented a lot of instruments for airplanes. He used to say that the Crane instruments revolutionized flying. I wonder if you are that Mr. Crane?”

  “That is rather unjustifiably high praise, Miss Spencer,” replied Crane, “but as I have been guilty of one or two things along that line, I may be the man he meant.”

  “Pardon me if I seem to change the subject,” put in Seaton, “but where’s DuQuesne?”

  “We came to at the same time, and he went into the galley to fix up something to eat.”

  “Good for him!” exclaimed Dorothy. “I’m simply starved to death. I would have been demanding food long ago, but I have so many aches and pains that I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you mentioned it. Come on, Peggy, I know where our room is. Let’s go powder our noses while these bewhiskered gentlemen reap their beards. Did you bring along any of my clothes, Dick, or did you forget them in the excitement?”

  “I didn’t think anything about clothes, but Martin did. You’ll find your whole wardrobe in your room. I’m with you, Dot, on that eating proposition—I’m hungry enough to eat the jamb off the door!”

  * * * *

  After the girls had gone, Seaton and Crane went to their rooms, where they exercised vigorously to restore the circulation to their numbed bodies, shaved, bathed, and returned to the saloon feeling like new men. They found the girls already there, seated at one of the windows.

  “Hail and greeting!” cried Dorothy at sight of them. “I hardly recognized you without your whiskers. Do hurry over here and look out this perfectly wonderful window. Did you ever in your born days see anything like this sight? Now that I’m not scared pea-green, I can enjoy it thoroughly!”

  The two men joined the girls and peered out into space through the window, which was completely invisible, so clear was the glass. As the four heads bent, so close together, an awed silence fell upon the little group. For the blackness of the interstellar void was not the dark of an earthly night, but the absolute black of the absence of all light, beside which the black of platinum dust is pale and gray; and laid upon this velvet were the jewel stars. They were not the twinkling, scintillating beauties of the earthly sky, but minute points, so small as to seem dimensionless, yet of dazzling brilliance. Without the interference of the air, their rays met the eye steadily and much of the effect of comparative distance was lost. All seemed nearer and there was no hint of familiarity in their arrangement. Like gems thrown upon darkness they shone in multi-colored beauty upon the daring wanderers, who stood in their car as easi
ly as though they were upon their parent Earth, and gazed upon a sight never before seen by eye of man nor pictured in his imaginings.

  Through the daze of their wonder, a thought smote Seaton like a blow from a fist. His eyes leaped to the instrument board and he exclaimed:

  “Look there, Mart! We’re heading almost directly away from the Earth, and we must be making billions of miles per second. After we lost consciousness, the attraction of that big dud back there would swing us around, of course, but the bar should have stayed pointed somewhere near the Earth, as I left it. Do you suppose it could have shifted the gyroscopes?”

  “It not only could have, it did,” replied Crane, turning the bar until it again pointed parallel with the object-compass which bore upon the Earth. “Look at the board. The angle has been changed through nearly half a circumference. We couldn’t carry gyroscopes heavy enough to counteract that force.”

  “But they were heavier there—Oh, sure, you’re right. It’s mass, not weight, that counts. But we sure are in one fine, large jam now. Instead of being half-way back to the Earth we’re—where are we, anyway?”

  They made a reading on an object-compass focused upon the Earth. Seaton’s face lengthened as seconds passed. When it had come to rest, both men calculated the distance.

  “What d’you make it, Mart? I’m afraid to tell you my result.”

  “Forty-six point twenty-seven light-centuries,” replied Crane, calmly. “Right?”

  “Right, and the time was 11:32 P. M. of Thursday, by the chronometer there. We’ll time it again after a while and see how fast we’re traveling. It’s a good thing you built the ship’s chronometers to stand any kind of stress. My watch is a total loss. Yours is, too?”

  “All of our watches must be broken. We will have to repair them as soon as we get time.”

  “Well, let’s eat next! No human being can stand my aching void much longer. How about you, Dot?”