A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  The framework was light, but it supported the weight of the man safely. It was the first time Ernest had seen the man’s features clearly, and now he marveled at the intelligence in his eyes.

  Although representing a race of unknown people, from an unknown existence, he was certainly as far up the scale of knowledge as a human being of the civilized world.

  The pink, oval face was refined and showed his suffering quite plainly. The professor felt that he had snatched a man from his native environment, without cause, to come into a strange existence under terrible circumstances.

  There was no means of communication between the two men, yet a slight bond of understanding existed. The face of the alien man was enough like any human being’s to eliminate any feeling of difference between their mentalities.

  The professor warmed to a feeling of friendship when the stranger didn’t appear to resent his situation. Instead, he seemed to understand that it was an experimental accident that had placed, him in the predicament.

  The scaffold enabled him to lie in a fairly comfortable position, and he tried to assure the professor that there was no need to worry about the imprisonment of his limbs. When he smiled and shrugged his shoulders, as if the odd situation were of no importance, Ernest felt a little easier. He had been afraid it might result in permanent injury.

  The ladder that he leaned against the post was uncomfortable to stand on, but it was the only means of getting close to the hairy man.

  The stranger showed interest in everything about Ernest. His watch drew attention for many minutes, as the hands slowly crept around the dial.

  Clothes appeared to be the greatest marvel. As he couldn’t see any use for them, he shook his head in perplexion. To him they were a useless encumbrance which restricted movement.

  The professor handed over one article after another from his pockets to be examined. At first he gave them to him one at a time, waiting for them to be returned before stretching forth another. Finally the man picked up the jackknife, fountain pen, and some coins which were lying on the boards beside him.

  He was able to turn several things in his hand at the same time because of his twelve digits. They were used independently of each other, so that he could accomplish the same action with one hand, as if he had more than two hands to use. There was no thumb, but the fingers were of varying length. The longest toward the center of the row with the end digits was about the size of the professor’s little fingers. The biggest was larger around than a man’s thumb, and probably nine inches long.

  The professor had been trying constantly to think of some plan whereby the hairy man could be freed from the imprisoning metal, yet he knew it was useless. Too much time would be required to cut through the huge girder with tools that would guarantee no injury to the embedded limbs.

  SUPPORTS had to be put in place to keep the building from settling while the cutting was being done; even then there would be danger of accident. He had to give up all hope of a solution. The man would be returned to his native existence without his visit becoming known to the world.

  The professor gave his watch to the man as a present. It had drawn his greatest admiration, and it meant a real gift to him. Then he turned away, to head for the vibratory.

  The sooner he was able to strike the vibration of the steel beam, the quicker the man would be back in his normal life.

  The machine was not terribly heavy, and Robert Ernest wheeled it out to within thirty feet of where the hairy man was suspended. It seemed that the least he could do would be to keep the man company while he searched for the proper vibrational key.

  Hour after hour the keys were pressed and changed without result. The same combinations that had caused the action before didn’t show the slightest effect on the beam encasing the stranger.

  Darkness came, and still the professor tried the combinations. The hairy man watched with interest. Several times, as he looked at the professor, he nodded. It appeared that he understood the operation of the vibratory. His eyes never left the keys for a moment, but followed the slightest movement of Ernest’s fingers.

  When he was so tired his eyes wouldn’t stay open, the professor turned away. He found his strange friend sound asleep, and it relieved his mind.

  Leaving the building silently, he returned a short time later with a meal for both of them. No one beyond the walls must know what had taken place within, and he dared not leave for long.

  Going back to the car once more, he returned with two narrow mattresses, and roused his friend to place one beneath him.

  The man smiled at Ernest’s interest in his comfort, and gripped his hand impulsively. From that time their friendship was more than just a chance meeting, and the time passed faster while the professor searched for the right vibration.

  The night passed, and still the hairy man was bound to the post without chance of moving. Ernest’s admiration knew no bounds. Whenever he approached with food, or simply for a few minutes of companionship, the man always had a smile of greeting and friendship. There was no sign of the hardship he was passing through.

  Finally, after three fruitless days of searching the vibrations in the range that had brought the result before, the professor did away with every setting of the machine. He was starting at the beginning again, to search out the proper combination.

  As he played the keys carefully, understanding of the change in vibration became clear. The beam was no longer intact! The fact that the man was partly contained within the surface might change the tone to almost the opposite end of the scale. If he had started at the beginning and searched for the combination on the full scale, the result might have been accomplished the first day.

  WHEN many hours passed without result, another fear assailed the worn man. Perhaps the beam could no longer respond. Perhaps the flesh and blood of the man affected vibration so that it could no longer cause the same chain of results.

  It was dusk, with over twelve hours of work behind, when the first sign of response appeared in the beam. Several times he tried keys one way and then the other, but there was only one note that had any effect. Even that key required almost two minutes to cause reaction.

  Once again, as he had in the first experiment, the tone was divided and the key with the greatest reaction singled out. Again it was divided, and again searched carefully.

  Six times the scale was minimized, until there was no detectable difference in the full range of the board. It sounded like the same note, produced by any key that was depressed.

  But Robert Ernest knew that the mechanical part of the vibratory was working perfectly and slicing the vibrations in almost atomic fineness.

  Now the beam was showing signs of greater agitation, and the hairy man was perspiring from the quivering section of steel. Agony showed in his face from the metal cutting into the flesh of his limbs. The vibration was almost beyond endurance—but he smiled at the professor, and tried to hide his feelings!

  When the proper cord was struck, the beam increased its quiver. The cement of the floor and ceiling joined it in shaking. The strange man was resting in untroubled sleep. He would not regain consciousness for many hours. It had been more than even his marvelous physique could stand.

  After fastening the key in place, there was nothing more he could do, so the professsor busied himself writing notes on the complete experiment. Every detail was set forth, including all settings of the machine, so an engineer could follow them throughout.

  He was tired, and could hardly keep his eyes open. The paper and ink blurred in his vision, leaving many mistakes. But he kept doggedly at the task until it was finished. At length he turned away, with a scribbled last word.

  “I’m going to try and enter the sphere of vibration now. It just occurred to me that I owe it to the strange man to return to his world. They will be interested in me as I am in him—and we are friends!

  “Perhaps, to you, it seems strange that we could become friends when we can’t even converse. But I admire him fo
r his uncomplaining nature, while he appreciates what little I have been able to do for his comfort.

  “I may be able to care for him. when he arrives back where he came from—if we reach the same place! In his physical condition, from the terrible wracking of vibration, he will need care to survive. It is my duty to accompany him through the strange wall of force, and do all in my power to reimburse him for the suffering I have caused.

  “Perhaps I may return to this world someday, hut from the effect of the vibratory, it is better to leave my discovery unknown to the world.

  “Some things are better left in an unknown stage. My theory of vibration has proven true beyond my fondest dreams, yet I would not have gone on if I had known the result.

  “Please! Whoever discovers my notes, will you destroy my machine? If it proves a good thing to carry on communication between the two vibrational stages, I will return. Otherwise, do not make public any of this information, until after the vibratory is destroyed.” I waited many years before writing the story contained in the penciled notes left by the professor, but I finally decided to destroy his machine. The only proof that I have of the strange story is contained in the steel beam that remained bulged as it was described.

  I must believe—I am the owner of the building!

  VIA DEATH

  Otto Binder

  Alone On a Satellite of Doom, a Brave Band of Men Participate in a Grim Cosmic Drama!

  HELLO Earth! Martian Expedition Number One resuming contact via etherline radio. Operator Gillway speaking.

  Eight hundred and forty-seventh day since leaving Earth at last opposition. Forty-first day since leaving Mars. Batteries only at half-charge, since the sunpower mirror needs polishing, but presume this is going through to you as we are now within a half million miles of Earth.

  Please give return call immediately, acknowledging contact. Standing by. . . .

  . . . Okay! Needless to say, we are glad to hear that a rescue ship is in readiness. We will undoubtedly have to land on the moon. Our fuel supply will be barely enough. Markers says, to brake against the moon’s small gravitation. Landing on Earth, we would not be able to reduce speed safely and would probably burn up in the atmosphere.

  But believe me, we are happy to be once again near the Earth-Moon system, which is like home after our sojourn out Mars-way for over two years. Too bad Cruishank, Proosett and Alado can’t be with us. But they lie buried under the golden sands of Mars—martyrs to this venture.

  We do not regret our adventure in the least. It has been a thrilling experience. We have viewed the hills and deserts of another world. We have seen alien creatures of another evolution. We have battled giant three-foot ant-creatures. We have discovered, pictures and records of a dead civilization, mysteriously linked with Earth’s past.

  Yet the grandest moment of all came just yesterday, when Earth changed from a star to a small disc. Home! That was the simple, humble word that made us all choke when Dordeaux said it aloud. A moment later he wept unashamedly, but no one blamed him. I don’t think any of us were dry-eyed.

  To recapitulate briefly: The asteroid Anteros, with its eccentric orbit, carried us faithfully from Mars’ orbit toward Earth’s in thirty-four days, as Markers calculated. We owe that tiny body a deep vote of thanks. Our limited fuel supply would not have been able to carry us across that forty-million-mile gulf in less than a year.

  Will resume tomorrow; batteries low. Music would be much appreciated, if you can supply us.

  EIGHT hundred and forty-eighth day.

  All went well during the trip, though once our gyroscope stopped and we wobbled dangerously close to Anteros’ flinty surface before the mechanism could be fixed. We then resumed our short orbit around the asteroid, as its satellite.

  We had a narrow escape yesterday when we prepared to tear away from Anteros’ gravity. Suddenly, our rockets went dead. It was imperative that we break immediately away from the asteroid’s gravitational grip—else it would carry us past Moon and Earth and sweep us outward again!

  We went over the engines like maniacs. Parletti finally noticed that the fuel line was clogged. We had a laugh over that, for Parletti is a geologist and doesn’t know much about engines. The line fixed, our rockets easily floated us away from Anteros. We gave that little planetoid nomad of the void a rousing cheer as it receded.

  But here we are, approaching the moon’s orbit at five miles a second. The moon, in turn, is bearing down toward our position at nine miles a second. It will take some neat figuring to escape a crash. Markers and Captain Atwell have worked forty hours consecutively on the computations. Because our coffee supply is exhausted, they take a swig of pure oxygen now and then as a stimulant.

  We are now the same distance from Luna as Earth is, but on the other side. We have, been examining this mysterious Other Side, that Earth never sees, with our telescope. It looks no different from the Earth-side, with the usual craters, broad plains and sharp-edged mountain ranges. Naturally, one could not expect it to be different.

  Power fading; au revoir till tomorrow.

  * * * * *

  Eight hundred and forty-ninth day.

  Urgent!

  Send the rescue ship immediately and have its radio open for our call.

  A rather grave situation faces us. Originally, we had planned to land somewhere on the Earth-side, noting the approximate location according to the standard Lunar map. This would have simplified the rescue ship’s task of finding us.

  But now, checking and rechecking the figures without avail, Captain Atwell announces that we must make a forced landing on the Other Side!

  Our approach, of course, had been from Mars, toward the Other Side. Atwell had hoped to circle the moon halfway around with our momentum and land on Earth’s side. But due to adverse factors of orbits and speeds, this might result in a bad crash. Our only hope, it seems, is to bear down obliquely on the Other Side, take up the proper tangent, and brake with our last bit of fuel for a landing there.

  We are now about ten thousand miles from the moon. We will land within-the next twelve hours. Swinerton is rapidly sketching in a general map of the Other Side. We will try to land in some wide, open space, in direct sunlight, and note the nearby landmarks. This will make it simpler for that rescue ship to find us.

  Must stop now. If our luck holds out, and we make a successful landing, we will contact the rescue ship immediately afterward.

  EIGHT hundred and fiftieth day. Successful landing!

  Martian Expedition Number One contacting the rescue ship. Received your call a few minutes ago. Captain Atwell sends his grateful thanks to your Captain Macklyn, his old friend, for his encouraging words—“We’ll find you if it takes a year!”

  Our landing was fortunate. We scudded down in a large, smooth plain of cheeselike pumice stone. We missed a mountain peak by millimeters. The rear part of the hull sprung a small leak from the strain of the landing. Greaves agilely slapped a rubber patch over the slit before the air-pressure had dropped to half normal. All of us have bruises. Markers was knocked unconscious against the wall, and Dordeaux has a broken arm. Parletti already has it set and in splints.

  Now we come to your problem of finding us. Frankly, it will be a task. We realize our chances are pretty slight. We are in a vast territory unidentifiable to either of us by definite landmarks. Your party must somehow locate our tiny speck of a ship in hundreds of square miles of limitless, jumbled topography.

  We will try to guide you as best we can. Fortunately, the stars shine with the sun in this Lunar sky, making observations of positions possible. Markers has computed, as nearly as he can, that we are about thirty-one degrees from the western edge of the known Earth-side. And about seventeen degrees from the Lunar north pole.

  Going by Swinerton’s sketch, the plateau we’ve landed on seems to be bordered a few miles west by a long range of mountains which run north and south. We can see their ragged peaks outlined against the stars. Just to the south of us, about five miles
distant, is the rim of a crater that is probably fifty miles in diameter. This crater forms a triangle with two other large craters further east. From the glimpses we had while descending, the line of bisection of the base-line opposite the nearest crater, extended through the latter, points almost directly toward us.

  Captain Atwell has thought of a way of indicating our position. He has just sent Greaves out in an air-helmet with our one remaining seleno-cell. Greaves placed it about three hundred yards from our ship. As soon as its charge builds up from the strong sunlight, it should start shooting out fat sparks, similar to those that killed the ants on Mars. There is just enough vapor-pressure here on the moon’s surface to duplicate the interior of a vacuum-tube, to carry the charge and ground it into the rock.

  These sparks—there goes one now—are an intense bluish in color and will be outlined strongly against the white plateau floor. You should be able to recognize them easily.

  That is about all we can do. The rest is up to you.

  And now something very vital. Markers has also calculated that the slow but certain Lunar-nightline is descending upon us. We have something like thirty hours of daylight left and then we will be engulfed in the total blackness of the moon’s long night of two weeks. Searching activities would be impossible during that time.

  Since it is doubtful if our air supply would last that length of time, we can only hope that you will locate us in the next thirty hours.

  I will keep in direct touch with you beginning in an hour, after I have gone outside the ship in an air-helmet and polished the sunpower mirror.

  By the way, Greaves’ venture out has settled a long disputed question among scientists—as to whether a person would freeze quickly in the nearvacuum of space. Greaves was out for an hour, heavily bundled. He says he felt warmer than on Mars with its atmosphere. Evidently, the conduction-loss of body heat in a. cold atmosphere is greater than the radiation-loss in a vacuum.

  Our morale is high. We are sure you will find us soon. We are looking forward to our arrival on Earth.