A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  Julon pointed abruptly at the view-plate. “There it is!” he said. “The Science Building.”

  We could hardly have missed it. The Science Building was located almost in the center of the city, its spire reaching hundreds of feet higher than the others all around it. As we drew closer, we made out more distinctly the metal statue surmounting it. The statue depicted the figure of a man in the act of leaping, one arm outstretched, a symbolization of Man’s eager quest for knowledge. From the descriptions given by the record-spool dealing with the Omni-mech, the building had been easy to find.

  Burdeen landed the ship upon a topmost terrace of the building, which the fierce winds at that height had kept relatively free of snow. We donned heavy hooded jackets, strapped the flying devices to our shoulders. Then, each grasping an atomic cylinder, we were ready to leave. Julon, who was to remain on guard at the ship, saw us off with a word of caution.

  “You will have to hurry. If the degenerate inhabitants of the city have seen us arrive, they will come to investigate.”

  With Julon’s warning an ominous echo in my ears, I followed Burdeen and Elvar from the ship. Instantly, as I stepped outside, a fierce cold wind smashed at me, hurling me almost to my knees. I braced myself with frantic haste against the ship’s hull, a vision flashing through my mind of being blown from the terrace to a horrible death on the ground over a thousand feet below. I gasped for breath, the wind roaring past my face in a constant gale. A terrible cold began to close around me, like the grip of a giant fist of ice.

  Burdeen shouted something. He had to repeat it before I understood him over the howl of the wind.

  “Down! How are we going to get down?”

  “Through the building,” I yelled. “It’s the only way.”

  IT HAD been our intention to descend on our flying apparatus along the side of the building, seeking an entrance on one of the lower floors. But the wind rendered this impossible. We would have been blown away helplessly in the attempt.

  A short distance from where we stood was a series of long narrow windows. They were not windows as we understood them, for they were flush and continuous with the wall, merely transparent portions of it. Inching over to one of the windows, we adjusted our atomic cylinders to the proper intensity and began to cut a circular opening large enough for us to squeeze through.

  Nor was the task before us any simpler once we reached the interior, since the building was a veritable maze of chambers and halls. We knew that the Omni-mech was located on a lower floor, near the ground level, but we could at first find no arrangement which would permit a descent. We wandered through numerous and seemingly endless halls before we came at last to one where, in the center, the opening of a circular shaft gaped.

  The bottom of the shaft, as we peered down, was lost in shadows. Spaced at intervals around its walls were vertical rails. Understanding of the purpose of the shaft came to me after a moment. It was similar to an elevator shaft of familiar memory, save that ascent and descent were accomplished by individual apparatus, like the flying devices, instead of by a car. When one reached the floor of his destination, he simply grasped a rail and swung himself out of the shaft.

  I gestured at the opening. “We can go down through here, on our flying belts,” I told Burdeen and Elvar. “But first we’d better leave direction markers to help us find the ship when we return.”

  Our wanderings had given us a rough idea of the plan of the chambers and halls. Without much difficulty, we found the window through which we had entered the building, and blazed a trail back to the shaft by searing guide marks at intervals along the walls and floors with our atomic cylinders. Then, switching on our flying devices, we began the descent.

  Slowly we floated down through increasing darkness, amid a silence so deep it was uncanny, the flying devices bearing us as easily as feathers. They functioned on a principle somewhat similar to that of the Starling, save that they warped gravity instead of space. And they were, of course, marvelously light and compact. By comparison Alward’s warp generators were crude and ponderous constructions.

  In our descent we discovered plaques fastened to the rails, numbering off the various floors. These guided us to the floor where, according to the record-spool, the Omni-mech was located. Our search even then was hardly simplified, since the building increased in width toward the base and this part of it contained several times as many chambers and halls as toward the top. Finally, however, we came to a chamber which by its size alone indicated its importance. And it was lighted. Huge globes in the ceiling shed a bright steady radiance over even the farthest walls.

  We had been using our atomic cylinders for illumination. Now we switched them off, peering in wondering silence about us.

  What we had seen of the Science Building so far had shown us that it was a sort of museum, containing specimens and exhibits of every scientific achievement known to the ancients. If such it actually was, then the machine which occupied most of the chamber must surely have been its chief attraction. At first glance it resembled nothing so much as a squat pyramid, narrowing in tiers toward the top. Then the eye took in separate details, the bewildering complexity of wheels, gears, wires, and tubes which made up the entire mass—all glinting and shining in the light.

  A sudden current of eagerness raced through me. The machine was the Omni-mech. Even if I hadn’t had the description of the record-spool to go on, I should have known from the size and intricacy of the machine that it couldn’t be anything else.

  GESTURING excitedly to Burdeen and Evar, I strode forward. The machine seemed to rise up before me as the basis of comparison shifted gradually from the vast chamber to myself. When I had approached close enough, I saw that a certain fear which I had entertained was groundless, for the Omni-mech had not been damaged. Thought of this brought abrupt recollection of the degenerates. We had lost a lot of time in locating the machine. Now we would have to hurry, since there was always the possibility that the degenerates had seen the Starling arrive. If they actually worshipped machines as Julon had said, then merely touching the Omni-mech would be considered the highest sacrilege.

  Burdeen strode up to my side. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “How are you going to get the information we want.”

  “There’s supposed to be a place where one can get into communication with the Omni-mech,” I said. “We’ll find it, and then—”

  “There!” Elvar said, pointing. “See the stairs?”

  Following the direction of his arm, I saw a flight of narrow, ladder-like steps leading up to the first tier of the machine. I nodded. “That seems to be the place. I’ll go up and see what I can accomplish. Burdeen, you and Elvar had better remain down here and keep a close watch for the degenerates. They may not have seen the ship, but we can’t take any chances.”

  While the two posted themselves on guard, I quickly mounted the steps, reaching a narrow space at the top which was enclosed on three sides by wall-like partitions. A section of the flooring beneath my feet gave a little, startling me. And then, as though to increase further my dismay, a sudden vast hum arose from somewhere deep within the machine, and simultaneously, tubes at various places glowed into life. I smiled wryly as I realized that my weight upon the floor had awakened the Omni-mech into activity.

  I studied the panel before me. Set in it at various places were enigmatic slots and openings. Before I could so much as guess the purposes of these, a voice spoke—a soft, metallic voice that seemed to issue from somewhere close beside me.

  “You have come for knowledge,” the voice skid. “Tell me how I may serve you.”

  I stared rather wildly about me, half expecting to see some strange being at my side. But I was still very much alone. In another moment I awoke to the fact that the voice had sounded from one of the openings in the panel before me. And it had spoken in English—oddly accented, perhaps, but still very much like the English to which Burdeen and I were accustomed.

  I decided quickly on a course of actio
n. The information desired by Julon was comparatively more simple than my own, and would show me what to expect by testing the ability of the Omni-mech.

  Accordingly, I voiced in English a wish to obtain complete plans, details, and specifications of the interstellar vessels possessed by the ancients.

  When I had finished, the machine spoke again. “The knowledge you wish will be given.”

  The humming of the machine seemed momentarily to deepen. Wheels turned and tubes brightened with an air of subdued, efficient activity. Suddenly there was a clicking sound from the panel before me. A soft rustle followed,! and an object moved into sight through one of the slots.

  “It is done,” the Omni-mech said.

  The object was a bound, thick sheaf of papers. There were diagrams and illustrations, and pages of mathematical and explanatory material. Even a short scrutiny showed that the information was so simply and clearly given that translating it into material form would hardly be a difficult task.

  The hopes of Julon and his people now seemed definitely on the road to fulfillment. But my own? Would the Omni-mech be able to help me?

  “There is something else that I wish to know,” I told the machine.

  “Tell me how I may serve you,” it requested again.

  I OUTLINED the story of how Burdeen and I had arrived in this era, then explained the theory of negative space by which I hoped to effect a return to our own time. “What I want to know,” I concluded, “is whether a condition such as negative space exists, and if so, how can access to it be accomplished?”

  The Omni-mech hummed thoughtfully for a while. Finally it said: “Mathematics shows the concept of negative space to be tenable. I base my conclusion upon an extension of the Hyperspace Equations, which have made possible interstellar travel. The Equations serve as the framework for all other orders of space-time, but the fact that such an extension is possible indicates an important link. It may very well be that hyperspace is a sort of dividing line between this and negative space.

  “The method of access to hyperspace shows that access to other orders of space-time is also possible. As the Hyperspace Equations serve as a framework, so does this method of access serve as a key. But my knowledge of other orders of space-time does not exceed these fundamentals. I have the foundation—but not the necessary structure above. Thus I lack the vital factors with which to formulate a method of access to negative space. I cannot help you.”

  Despair almost like sickness rushed over me. The Omni-mech was unable to help after all. There could be no return—exile was permanent. And Suzanne was doomed forever to remain just a memory.

  I turned in leaden bitterness to leave the platform. But in the next instant I halted as an idea flashed into my mind. I whirled back to the panel.

  “Perhaps I can supply the factors you need,” I told the machine.

  “New knowledge is always welcome. Proceed.”

  Slowly, carefully, so as to skip nothing, I detailed in mathematical terms the principle of Alward’s warp generators. The Omni-mech digested this information with a humming note of deep interest. Abruptly the humming rose in pitch. Wheels turned and tubes brightened. If a machine could possibly display excitement, this was the time.

  “You are correct. The factors you have given provide a solution. And they indicate an important relationship to the Hyperspace Equations, which leads me to believe that these are not fundamental after all, but a highly specialized development. They also bear out the existence of a link between hyperspace and negative space. Everything, in fact, seems connected with the warp principle which you have given.”

  “But the solution,” I prompted impatiently. “I’ve got to know.”

  “The warp generators themselves provide the method of access. Only a few simple changes are needed. These will be explained in permanent form for later reference.”

  The machine hummed and clicked busily. Then through the slot where the previous one had appeared, a second bound sheaf of papers rustled into view. Though thinner than the first had been, it was to me infinitely more valuable.

  I muttered a few hasty words of gratitude, and turned to hurry down the ladder. Burdeen and Elvar had forgotten their guard duties in their interest at what had been taking place. Their faces were stretched in broad grins of joy and relief.

  I waved the papers at them.

  “Here it is! Everything we want to know!”

  THEY examined the papers curiously, I grew aware once more of the deep, unnatural silence of the building. The Omni-mech had quieted when I stepped from the platform. There was no sound now, save for the faint rustling of the sheets in the hands of Burdeen and Elvar.

  And then, like a crash of lightning in the stillness, came a sudden clattering noise.

  As one, we whirled. I heard Burdeen gasp. Elvar dropped the sheaf of papers he had been holding. I was conscious of these things with a strange clarity, even as my own body jerked in alarm.

  Not thirty feet away stood a group of over a dozen men. They had evidently approached from the opposite side of the Omni-mech, moving so silently that we had not heard them. They were short, dark, squat, dressed barbarically in skins and furs. In their hands they held various crudely fashioned weapons, knives, spears, and fixed bows. They held these watchfully, as though prepared at any instant to use them. They stood there and looked at us out of hard little black eyes, set in faces that were brutish and cruel. They were, I knew instinctively, the degenerates of whom Julon had warned.

  Burdeen whispered, “Get your atomic cylinders ready. It looks like we’re going to have a fight on our hands to get out of here.”

  But as we reached slowly and cautiously for the devices, there was a guttural shout of command, and the degenerates leaped forward. They were incredibly fast and strong. Before we could do even so much as aim the atomic cylinders, they had reached us.

  The struggle that followed was as short as it was futile. I was the first to go down, stunned by a blow to the temple. Burdeen and Elvar managed to hold out a while longer, but the odds were hopelessly against them. They were borne to the floor, stilled by blows and the sheer weight of numbers of our attackers.

  Through a fog of semi-consciousness, I grew aware of being bound with raw-hide thongs. Then I was carried outside. My senses cleared as the cold air hit me. On the snow before the building were a number of large sleds, drawn by huge shaggy dogs. Burdeen, Elvar, and I were tossed unceremoniously into one of the sleds. Orders were shouted, whips cracked. Whining, the dogs lunged in their traces. We were under way—bound for a destination that only our fierce captors knew.

  I squirmed to a more comfortable position and glanced at Burdeen. His rugged features were pinched and bleak. He shook his head a little at me, said nothing.

  Elvar was staring straight before him with a strange, fixed intensity, as though hypnotized. His expression frightened me. I called his name anxiously, but he didn’t so much as flick his eyelids. Had a blow on the head injured his mind?

  CHAPTER VII

  One Must Stay

  THE runners of the sled moved smoothly and effortlessly over the snow. I could hear the degenerates talking or calling to each other in their thick guttural voices. They seemed vastly pleased. And occasionally the dogs of the different teams would bark eagerly in their attempts to outrace each other.

  I had a nightmarish sense of unreality. The city was like a fantastic jungle around us. The buildings seemed the boles of immense trees rising endlessly into the sky, the network of criss-crossing aerial spans overhead a tangle of huge lianas and vines. The twilight through which we moved heightened the illusion. Only a little of the weak sunlight ever managed to reach this level of the city.

  The sleds drew up at last in a sort of courtyard formed by a group of buildings arranged in a circle. It didn’t seem that we had traveled very far, certainly not over a mile or two.

  The circular group of buildings seemed the quarters of the degenerates, for as the sleds entered the courtyard, people e
rupted from the doorways, gathering in a growing crowd around us. They fought to reach the sled in which Burdeen, Elvar, and I lay, shrilling excitedly. Those nearest pushed and plucked at us curiously. They were the same in dress and appearance as the band that had captured us. And I noticed that they smelled quite offensively.

  With shouts and gestures, our guards finally cleared a circle around the sled. We were pulled roughly erect on the hard-packed snow. The bonds at our ankles were untied. Then, while part of the guards formed a moving wedge, the others dug their spears into our backs and marched us into one of the buildings.

  The building seemed to be one of importance, for sentries were posted at numerous places within it. We were taken up a flight of stairs, down a short hall, and into a huge room. The floors were covered profusely with thick furs. Shields, spears, and swords hung upon the walls. Fires burned in two huge metal bowls set on each side of a massive carved chair. The smell of the burning wood did little to mask the strong, rank odor of the room.

  In the chair, warmed by the fires in the flanking bowls, sat an old man. He was immensely fat. His fur garments were decorated lavishly with metal and bone ornaments. He stared at us with a kind of piggish interest out of little black eyes set deep in folds of pale flabby tissue. From the deferential way our guards bowed to him, I decided he was a chief or king.

  In raspy, arrogant tones, the old man voiced a question. The leader of the guards launched into an explanation, gesticulating animatedly. When he had finished, he advanced to the chair, holding out the atomic cylinders and the two precious sheaves of instructions which had been taken from us. The chief examined these. They didn’t seem to mean anything to him. With a grunt of disdain, he handed them back to the guard and issued some decree concerning us that brought grins of animal delight to the faces of the others.

  Burdeen, Elvar, and I were taken to a small adjoining room. Two degenerates stood guard at the door. They watched us with a sort of anticipatory gloating. Something was going to be done with us that gave these people a savage pleasure. It couldn’t have been anything good.