The Space Opera Megapack

by John W. Campbell

  The Skylark landed easily beside the wrecked machine, and the wanderers saw that their vessel was completely surrounded by a crowd of people—men and women identical in form and feature with themselves. They were a superbly molded race, the men fully as large as Seaton and DuQuesne; the women, while smaller than the men, were noticeably taller than the two women in the car. The men wore broad collars of metal, numerous metallic ornaments, and heavily-jeweled leather belts and shoulder-straps which were hung with weapons of peculiar patterns. The women carried no weapons, but were even more highly decorated than were the men—each slender, perfectly-formed body scintillated with the brilliance of hundreds of strange gems, flashing points of fire. Jeweled bands of metal and leather restrained their carefully-groomed hair; jeweled collars encircled their throats; jeweled belts, jeweled bracelets, jeweled anklets, each added its quota of brilliance to the glittering whole. The strangers wore no clothing, and their smooth skins shone a dark, livid, utterly indescribable color in the peculiar, unearthly, yellowish-bluish-green glare of the light. Green their skins undoubtedly were, but not any shade of green visible in the Earthly spectrum. The “whites” of their eyes were a light yellowish-green. The heavy hair of the women and the close-cropped locks of the men were green as well—a green so dark as to be almost black, as were also their eyes.

  “Well, what d’you know about that?” pondered Seaton, dazedly. “They’re human, right enough, but ye gods, what a color!”

  “It is hard to tell how much of that color is real, and how much of it is due to this light,” answered Crane. “Wait until you get outside, away from our daylight lamps, and you will probably look like a Chinese puzzle. As to the form, it is logical to suppose that wherever conditions are similar to those upon the Earth, and the age is anywhere nearly the same, development would be along the same lines as with us.”

  “That’s right, too. Dottie, your hair will sure look gorgeous in this light. Let’s go out and give the natives a treat!”

  “I wouldn’t look like that for a million dollars!” retorted Dorothy, “and if I’m going to look like that I won’t get out of the ship, so there!”

  “Cheer up, Dottie, you won’t look like that. Your hair will be black in this light.”

  “Then what color will mine be?” asked Margaret.

  Seaton glanced at her black hair.

  “Probably a very dark and beautiful green,” he grinned, his gray eyes sparkling, “but we’ll have to wait and see. Friends and fellow-countrymen, I’ve got a hunch that this is going to be SOME visit. How about it, shall we go ahead with it?”

  Dorothy went up to him, her face bright with eagerness.

  “Oh, what a lark! Let’s go!”

  * * * *

  Even in DuQuesne’s cold presence, Margaret’s eyes sought those of her lover, and his sleeve, barely touching her arm, was enough to send a dancing thrill along it.

  “Onward, men of Earth!” she cried, and Seaton, stepping up to the window, rapped sharply upon the glass with the butt of his pistol and raised both hands high above his head in the universal sign of peace. In response, a man of Herculean mold, so splendidly decorated that his harness was one blazing mass of jewels, waved his arm and shouted a command. The crowd promptly fell back, leaving a clear space of several hundred yards. The man, evidently one in high command, unbuckled his harness, dropping every weapon, and advanced toward the Skylark, both arms upraised in Seaton’s gesture.

  Seaton went to the door and started to open it.

  “Better talk to him from inside,” cautioned Crane.

  “I don’t think so, Mart. He’s peaceable, and I’ve got my gun in my pocket. Since he doesn’t know what clothes are he’ll think I’m unarmed, which is as it should be; and if he shows fight, it won’t take more than a week for me to get into action.”

  “All right, go on. DuQuesne and I will come along.”

  “Absolutely not. He’s alone, so I’ve got to be. I notice that some of his men are covering us, though. You might do the same for them, with a couple of the machine guns.”

  Seaton stepped out of the car and went to meet the stranger. When they had approached to within a few feet of each other the stranger stopped. He flexed his left arm smartly, so that the finger-tips touched his left ear, and smiled broadly, exposing a row of splendid, shining, green teeth. Then he spoke, a meaningless jumble of sounds. His voice, though light and thin, nevertheless seemed to be of powerful timbre.

  Seaton smiled in return and saluted.

  “Hello, Chief. I get your idea all right, and we’re glad you’re peaceable, but your language doesn’t mean a thing in my young life.”

  The Chief tapped himself upon the chest, saying distinctly and impressively:

  “Nalboon.”

  “Nalboon,” repeated Seaton, and added, pointing to himself:

  “Seaton.”

  “See Tin,” answered the stranger, and again indicating himself, “Domak gok Mardonale.”

  “That must be his title,” thought Seaton rapidly. “Have to give myself one, I guess.”

  “Boss of the Road,” he replied, drawing himself up with pride.

  The introduction made, Nalboon pointed to the wrecked plane, inclined his head in thanks, and turned to his people with one arm upraised, shouting an order in which Seaton could distinguish something that sounded like “See Tin, Bass uvvy Rood.” Instantly every right arm in the assemblage was aloft, that of each man bearing a weapon, while the left arms snapped into the peculiar salute and a mighty cry arose as all repeated the name and title of the distinguished visitor.

  Seaton turned to the Skylark, motioning to Crane to open the door.

  “Bring out one of those big four-color signal rockets, Mart!” he called. “They’re giving us a royal reception—let’s acknowledge it right.”

  * * * *

  The party appeared, Crane carrying the huge rocket with an air of deference. As they approached, Seaton shrugged one shoulder and his cigarette-case appeared in his hand. Nalboon started, and in spite of his utmost efforts at self-control, he glanced at it in surprise. The case flew open and Seaton, taking a cigarette, extended the case.

  “Smoke?” he asked affably. The other took one, but showed plainly that he had no idea of the use to which it was to be put. This astonishment of the stranger at a simple sleight-of-hand feat and his apparent ignorance of tobacco emboldened Seaton. Reaching into his mouth, he pulled out a flaming match, at which Nalboon started violently. While all the natives watched in amazement, Seaton lighted the cigarette, and after half consuming it in two long inhalations, he apparently swallowed the remainder, only to bring it to light again. Having smoked it, he apparently swallowed the butt, with evident relish.

  “They don’t know anything about matches or smoking,” he said, turning to Crane. “This rocket will tie them up in a knot. Step back, everybody.”

  He bowed deeply to Nalboon, pulling a lighted match from his ear as he did so, and lighted the fuse. There was a roar, a shower of sparks, a blaze of colored fire as the great rocket flew upward; but to Seaton’s surprise, Nalboon took it quite as a matter of course, saluting as an acknowledgment of the courtesy.

  Seaton motioned to his party to approach, and turned to Crane.

  “Better not, Dick. Let him think that you are the king of everything in sight.”

  “Not on your life. If he is one king, we are two,” and he introduced Crane, with great ceremony, to the Domak as the “Boss of the Skylark,” at which the salute by his people was repeated.

  Nalboon then shouted an order and a company of soldiers led by an officer came toward them, surrounding a small group of people, apparently prisoners. These captives, seven men and seven women, were much lighter in color than the rest of the gathering, having skins of a ghastly, pale shade, practically the same color as the whites of their eyes. In other bodily aspects they were the same as their captors in appearance, save that they were entirely naked except for the jeweled metal collars worn by all
and a massive metal belt worn by one man. They walked with a proud and lofty carriage, scorn for their captors in every step.

  Nalboon barked an order to the prisoners. They stared in defiance, motionless, until the man wearing the belt who had studied Seaton closely, spoke a few words in a low tone, when they all prostrated themselves. Nalboon then waved his hand, giving the whole group to Seaton as slaves. Seaton, with no sign of his surprise, thanked the giver and motioned his slaves to rise. They obeyed and placed themselves behind the party—two men and two women behind Seaton and the same number behind Crane; one man and one woman behind each of the others.

  Seaton then tried to make Nalboon understand that they wanted copper, pointing to his anklet, the only copper in sight. The chief instantly removed the trinket and handed it to Seaton; who, knowing by the gasp of surprise of the guard that it was some powerful symbol, returned it with profuse apologies. After trying in vain to make the other understand what he wanted, he led him into the Skylark and showed him the remnant of the power-bar. He showed him its original size and indicated the desired number by counting to sixteen upon his fingers. Nalboon nodded his comprehension and going outside, pointed upward toward the largest of the eleven suns visible, motioning its rising and setting, four times.

  He then invited the visitors, in unmistakable sign language, to accompany him as guests of honor, but Seaton refused.

  “Lead on, MacDuff, we follow,” he replied, explaining his meaning by signs as they turned to enter the vessel. The slaves followed closely until Crane remonstrated.

  “We don’t want them aboard, do we, Dick? There are too many of them.”

  “All right,” Seaton replied, and waved them away. As they stepped back the guard seized the nearest, a woman, and forced her to her knees; while a man, adorned with a necklace of green human teeth and carrying a shining broadsword, prepared to decapitate her.

  “We must take them with us, I see,” said Crane, as he brushed the guards aside. Followed by the slaves, the party entered the Skylark, and the dark green people embarked in their airplanes and helicopters.

  Nalboon rode in a large and gaily-decorated plane, which led the fleet at its full speed of six hundred miles an hour, the Skylark taking a placing a few hundred yards above the flagship.

  “I don’t get these folks at all, Mart,” said Seaton, after a moment’s silence. “They have machines far ahead of anything we have on Earth and big guns that shoot as fast as machine-guns, and yet are scared to death at a little simple sleight-of-hand. They don’t seem to understand matches at all, and yet treat fire-works as an every-day occurrence.”

  “We will have to wait until we know them better,” replied Crane, and DuQuesne added:

  “From what I have seen, their power seems to be all electrical. Perhaps they aren’t up with us in chemistry, even though they are ahead of us in mechanics?”

  * * * *

  Flying above a broad, but rapid and turbulent stream, the fleet soon neared a large city, and the visitors from Earth gazed with interest at this metropolis of the unknown world. The buildings were all the same height, flat-roofed, and arranged in squares very much as our cities are arranged. There were no streets, the spaces between the buildings being park-like areas, evidently laid out for recreation, amusement, and sport. There was no need for streets; all traffic was in the air. The air seemed full of flying vehicles, darting in all directions, but it was soon evident that there was exact order in the apparent confusion, each class of vessel and each direction of traffic having its own level. Eagerly the three men studied the craft, which ranged in size from one-man helicopters, little more than single chairs flying about in the air, up to tremendous multiplane freighters, capable of carrying thousands of tons.

  Flying high over the city to avoid its congested air-lanes, the fleet descended toward an immense building just outside the city proper, and all landed upon its roof save the flagship, which led the Skylark to a landing-dock nearby—a massive pile of metal and stone, upon which Nalboon and his retinue stood to welcome the guests. After Seaton had anchored the vessel immovably by means of the attractor, the party disembarked, Seaton remarking with a grin:

  “Don’t be surprised at anything I do, folks. I’m a walking storehouse of junk of all kinds, so that if occasion arises I can put on a real exhibition.”

  As they turned toward their host, a soldier, in his eagerness to see the strangers, jostled another. Without a word two keen swords flew from their scabbards and a duel to the death ensued. The visitors stared in amazement, but no one else paid any attention to the combat, which was soon over; the victor turning away from the body of his opponent and resuming his place without creating a ripple of interest.

  Nalboon led the way into an elevator, which dropped rapidly to the ground-floor level. Massive gates were thrown open, and through ranks of people prostrate upon their faces the party went out into the palace grounds of the Domak, or Emperor, of the great nation of Mardonale.

  Never before had Earthly eyes rested upon such scenes of splendor. Every color and gradation of their peculiar spectrum was present, in solid, liquid, and gas. The carefully-tended trees were all colors of the rainbow, as were the grasses and flowers along the walks. The fountains played streams of many and constantly-changing hues, and even the air was tinted and perfumed, swirling through metal arches in billows of ever-varying colors and scents. Colors and combinations of colors impossible to describe were upon every hand, fantastically beautiful in that peculiar, livid light. Diamonds and rubies, their colors so distorted by the green radiance as to be almost unrecognizable; emeralds glowing with an intense green impossible in earthly light, together with strange gems peculiar to this strange world, sparkled and flashed from railings, statues, and pedestals throughout the ground.

  “Isn’t this gorgeous, Dick?” whispered Dorothy. “But what do I look like? I wish I had a mirror—you look simply awful. Do I look like you do?”

  “Not being able to see myself, I can’t say, but I imagine you do. You look as you would under a county-fair photographer’s mercury-vapor arc lamps, only worse. The colors can’t be described. You might as well try to describe cerise to a man born blind as to try to express these colors in English, but as near as I can come to it, your eyes are a dark sort of purplish green, with the whites of your eyes and your teeth a kind of plush green. Your skin is a pale yellowish green, except for the pink of your cheeks, which is a kind of black, with orange and green mixed up in it. Your lips are black, and your hair is a funny kind of color, halfway between black and old rose, with a little green and.…”

  “Heavens, Dick, stop! That’s enough!” choked Dorothy. “We all look like hobgoblins. We’re even worse than the natives.”

  “Sure we are. They were born here and are acclimated to it—we are strangers and aren’t. I would like to see what one of these people would look like in Washington.”

  * * * *

  Nalboon led them into the palace proper and into a great dining hall, where a table was already prepared for the entire party. This room was splendidly decorated with jewels, its many windows being simply masses of gems. The walls were hung with a cloth resembling silk, which fell to the floor in shimmering waves of color.

  Woodwork there was none. Doors, panels, tables, and chairs were cunningly wrought of various metals. Seaton and DuQuesne could recognize a few of them, but for the most part they were unknown upon the Earth; and were, like the jewels and vegetation of this strange world, of many and various peculiar colors. A closer inspection of one of the marvelous tapestries showed that it also was of metal, its threads numbering thousands to the inch. Woven of many different metals, of vivid but harmonious colors in a strange and intricate design, it seemed to writhe as its colors changed with every variation in the color of the light; which, pouring from concealed sources, was reflected by the highly-polished metal and innumerable jewels of the lofty, domed ceiling.

  “Oh…isn’t this too perfectly gorgeous?” breathed Dorothy
. “I’d give anything for a dress made out of that stuff, Dick. Cloth-of-gold is common by comparison!”

  “Would you dare wear it, Dottie?” asked Margaret.

  “Would I? I’d wear it in a minute if I could only get it. It would take Washington by storm!”

  “I’ll try to get a piece of it, then,” smiled Seaton. “I’ll see about it while we are getting the copper.”

  “We’d better be careful in choosing what we eat here, Seaton,” suggested DuQuesne, as the Domak himself led them to the table.

  “We sure had. With a copper ocean and green teeth, I shouldn’t be surprised if copper, arsenic, and other such trifles formed a regular part of their diet.”