The Collected Stories

by Earl

  “Let us go then,” growled Bullo. “If I once get within reach of that fiend who marooned us so heartlessly in another world, I will break him in half with my own hands!”

  “No, no, Bullo!” remonstrated Dos-Tev quickly. “It can be nothing as direct as that. The Wrongness of Space is impregnable from personal harm in his own natural dimensions. It would do little good even to blast Copernicus and seal its vent, for Krzza could emerge via the fourth dimension. On two things our success must depend—secrecy, and some powerful weapon that can reach him in his own dimensional habitat.”

  “The ship—our own ship!” cried Mea-Quin suddenly. “Given a little time, I can convert the force-plane projector at its nose into a dimension opener—similar to our hand projector! What that—”

  Fired with hope, they talked over the idea, and not long after began a swift trek over the pumice crater floor, in the direction that should bring them to their space ship and the conference building beside it. From above the dim starlight barely pierced the absolute gloom of a Lunar night. Hours later a giant black object loomed suddenly before them—the conference building.

  Dos-Tev gasped. “The space ship! It’s gone!”

  Mea-Quin accepted the fact resignedly. “The Wrongness of Space either destroyed it or hid it, probably the latter, fearing our allies might come here and find it.”

  “Sires!” burst in Bullo, “we go down to the lair of the fiend?”

  “Right, Bullo!”

  Descending the long shaft that led to the heart of their mortal enemy’s domain, cushioned by the force-plane projector, the three Lemnisians felt a suspense that grew as they neared their mark. What if the alien green being were watching them, chortling in glee, waiting for their arrival to again foil them? Did he have some instrument warning him of their approach? The saurian-like creatures who lived in the attenuated air that here obtained became numerous as they approached the bottom, and they kept a wary eye peeled for one that might prove formidable. In the ghost-light of phosphorescence they descended as rapidly as they dared, and finally came to where the shaft opened into its bulbous terminal, unchallenged and unhindered. Dos-Tev allowed the force-beam to push them against one wall, and they traversed the last hundred feet clinging to hanging vegetation. Bullo was the first to see the space ship, reposing to one side of the strangely-shimmering, other dimensional Hemisphere palace of the Wrongness of Space.

  “Tor be praised!” exclaimed Mea-Quin softly. “He did not take our ship into his own dimensions. It is there for the taking, if we are not detected.”

  Skirting the roof of the cavern so as to avoid the disc shapes which were their enemy’s sentinels, the adventurers, heart in mouth, neared their ship. It was the crucial moment. If they were spied now, it would be their doom. Visually they were not discernible in the pale shimmer of the cavern, but what if the green demon from Lxyza noted their presence by the effect of their force beam on delicate instruments?

  Then they were there, on the floor of the cavern. Dos-Tev snapped off the projector with a sigh of relief, and silently, swiftly, they ran toward the ship. Bullo, last to enter, took a last look toward the Hemisphere. A sudden chill struck his heart as he noticed several of the disc shadows coming with increasing speed toward the ship. What irony—in the last moment they had detected the Lemnisians!

  “We are seen!” he shouted, dashing in full tilt, causing his companions to turn startled. “The discs, the sentinels, they are hovering about above us!”

  “What can we do?” panted Dos-Tev, paralyzed by the unwelcome news. “We have no time to convert the force-plane projector at the ship’s nose!”

  “A gamma bomb!” suggested Bullo.

  “Too late,” returned Mea-Quin. “Our enemy is by this time prepared against it.” His tones were bitter. Success had been snatched away at the last moment. A margin of a half hour would have seen them prepared to blast the Wrongness of Space to eternity in his dimensional world. Now—

  “Wait.”

  The word came sharply from the scientist. “Bullo, turn on the air-valves full.”

  In a few seconds the interior of the ship was habitable and at a sign from Mea-Quin, they removed the space suits, to revel in the feeling of physical freedom.

  “Now we can talk without detection,” continued the scientist, “whereas with the suits on, our radios kept Krzza in contact with us. There is yet one hope.”

  “And what is that?” cried Dos-Tev and Bullo together.

  “We must outwit the Wrongness of Space,” returned Mea-Quin rapidly. “We cannot attack him, true. But at the same time to capture or destroy us, our enemy must either come into our dimension, or draw us into his, as he did before. I have a subtle intuition that—”

  Mea-Quin spoke a while longer, and a look of understanding came into the eyes of his companions. Without delay they dashed from the central living quarters, and crawled to the gunner’s nest at the very nose of the ship. Here Dos-Tev crouched before the force-plane projector—a giant compared to their hand ones—and Bullo lovingly caressed the trigger of the projectile gun which was loaded and ready for the use. Mea-Quin operated the lever that swung the nose-cap of the ship free of the muzzles—and they froze to alert waiting.

  On one slim chance rested their scheme—that the Wrongness of Space would use his fourth-dimensional opener as a spy beam to locate the Lemnisians, preparatory to yanking them helpless into his own palace and dimension. For long minutes they crouched, mute and slick with apprehension. If Krzza should decide to come into their dimension, or if he should suspect a trick and take precautions, their doom was sealed.

  Suddenly Bullo nudged the prince and scientist and jerked his head to the back of the cubicle, where one section of the wall seemed to melt suddenly and become a misted shadow. It was the Wrongness of Space, searching for them thru his fourth dimensional eye!

  “Get ready!” breathed Mea-Quin.

  Dos-Tev beaded his eyes at the spout of the projector, which lined with the center of the palace, and tensed his hand at the lever. Let but the slightest flicker of transparentness come over the muzzle and he would fire—straight at the Wrongness of Space thru the fourth dimension. Out of the corner of his eye, Dos-Tev saw Bullo’s shoulder suddenly become light and shadowy. The next instant, as tho the Wrongness of Space knew he had found his prey and wanted to transpose them into his presence, the whole cubicle and all in it flickered fantastically and Dos-Tev felt the wrench of the alien dimension.

  But the instant before this sensation, the prince of Lemnis jerked over his lever. There was a soundless concussion, a dazzling flare of green—and then merciful darkness.

  Dos-Tev came to his senses to find Bullo kneeling beside him, chafing his hands frantically, with a look of great anguish. The prince of Lemnis framed an immediate question. “The Wrongness of Space—?”

  “—is no more!” finished Bullo, his face changing to a look of exultance. “That shot was timed just right. It blew the Wrongness of Space and half his castle to Kruaz in Hell! I saw it in one brief glimpse as we were looking thru the fourth dimension. It was like a corridor. At its far end sat the mad Krzza, gloating and confident on his ebony throne. I saw him manipulate his dimension-opener, felt the first pull of the warping of our surroundings—then a look of fear came to his face. He saw in that instant the muzzles of both your and my gun pointing at him. I don’t know which of us two fired first. But of a sudden there were green and black vapors and torn flesh flying at the other end of the corridor, and then the scene flicked out and I saw no more. The concussion that knocked you out I escaped by instinctively gripping the bars of my gun.”

  “Thank Tor!” said Dos-Tev, “that our scheme worked. But can we be sure the Wrongness of Space is really destroyed?”

  “Yes,” nodded Bullo. “Because the Hemisphere—as we saw Krzza’s palace thru our eyes from our dimension—has utterly disappeared, and no disc shadows hover about that spot.”

  “Mea-Quin!” cried the prince suddenly remembe
ring. “Where is he? Did he perhaps get hurt or—”

  Bullo’s face fell as he pointed to the scientist lying unconscious on a wall bunk. “When I picked him up in the gun-room, he was moaning deliriously. Now he has fallen into a coma. I fear—”

  As tho at a signal, Mea-Quin’s voice, low and pained, came to them. “Dos-Tev! Bullo! Must leave! Must reach earth fleet and warn then—Ay-Artz probably in striking distance. Must carry on!”

  The scientist’s voice mumbled a few more indistinguishable words and then died to complete silence.

  “It is true,” cried Dos-Tev. “Now that we are done with the insane Krzza, we must carry on against Ay-Artz! The radio, or the Thi-Ranley Radiator—”

  Bullo shook his head. “Both completely demolished by the Wrongness of Space while we were gone.”

  “Then we must fly to earth as fast as possible. Must find the solar system’s fleets. And if they were destroyed, we will carry on the fight ourselves!” Dos-Tev set his jaw firmly, ordered Bullo to attend to the old scientist, and sprang to the controls of the ship.

  It took masterful piloting to guide the space ship up the narrow shaft and its flaming atomic jets seared the sparse lunar vegetation to cinder. Dos-Tev breathed easier when free of the shaft and shot the ship out into space at four gravities acceleration, a well-nigh killing pace in their present condition. He had plotted his course while ascending the shaft, figuring to reach earth’s vicinity on the sunward side, which would bring the ship in a line with the false course given to the earth fleet by Krzza. If fate had been kind and saved them, they would meet not far from Mercury’s orbit. Then—

  It was an agonizing trip with no chance to sleep or relax. More than once Dos-Tev felt he had reached the end of his endurance, only to be heartened by Bullo’s stolid strength and courage. Their four-gravities acceleration had to be transformed to almost five gravities of deceleration, due to an error in their original course. Sweeping closer and closer to the sun, atomic jets flaming valiantly, the Lemnisians swept over the false course of the earth fleet.

  Thru red-rimmed eyes Dos-Tev spied the earth fleet. “Bullo! Apply six gravities deceleration or we will swing past them! I—I’m done!”

  With a gasp, the prince of Lemnis slumped unconscious as the engine roared to higher power. Bullo himself, a monument of endurance, was barely able to cut the power a little later before the terrific strain of six gravities brought him exhausted oblivion. Mea-Quin, unconscious all thru the trip, lay as one dead.

  EIGHTY-FIVE AND EIGHTY-SEVEN

  The great chemical unity the atom, is taken as being composed of protons and electrons, positive and negative units of electricity, and the atoms are arranged in a series based on the phenomena developed in them by these two kinds of electric units. This series is not quite complete and may go much further than it has yet been carried, for it is believed that a new element has been discovered to go at the end of the long series of 92. The name of this story designates the serial numbers of two atoms.

  The Professor

  WHEN Professor Johann Haupt (President of the world-renowned Clique of Science with its headquarters at Vienna) in the year of 1946 secluded himself from the world and made his abode high up in the Tyrol mountains, he not only relinquished society and his honored position, but, it, seems, as the years passed, that his illustrious name, also, faded from the memories of his former colleagues. The mere mention of his name at one time brought hushed attention, and when he spoke, he never failed to astound those present with the products of his brilliant mind. Now, after years of absence from the scientific fireside, his name scarce aroused memory or recognition. So the world has ever been; absence can make living genius be forgotten.

  Perched upon the flat top of a crag that seemed separated from a range of peaks as if a huge wedge had been driven into the side of the mountain, and so thrusting it aside, was the isolated laboratory and home of Professor Haupt. It was a low, rambling affair, yet solidly built with thick stone walls. The distance lent it a grotesque appearance; it conformed with its foundation, and its gables were as the peak of the crag.

  If Professor Haupt’s one-time friends thought that he was enduring privations, or that his isolated habitation made solitude unbearable, they were sorely mistaken. Within this large and well-built structure of stone were every modem convenience and contrivance. There was a super-powerful radio (of Professor Haupt’s own design) which enabled him to tune into any station in the world. To this set was connected one of the remarkable Marco-Televisors, that had astounded the world by their perfection but a few years ago. So he never lacked for news or the rare entertainment of viewing scenes of actual occurrences transpiring throughout the world.

  Wealthy, he deprived himself of nothing in this retirement. For reasons of his own (which will be disclosed later) he had chosen this place, yet saw to it that nothing would be lacking which made for bodily comfort or mental advancement.

  At great cost he had a circuit of high voltage electricity connected by a cable, which led to his laboratory. This power was also used for heating, besides the hundred and one other uses for which it is indispensable in a thoroughly-equipped laboratory.

  Professor Haupt had contracted with a grocer of the village, whose houses nestled in the verdant valley far below, to send up to him food supplies once a month and other necessities used in his experiments. Liberally paid for this service, the grocer saw to it that promptly on the 30th of each month two husky youths from the village made their appearance before Professor Haupt’s door, generally heavily loaded.

  So withal the professor was as comfortable and contented as few would have imagined. Here he was unmolested in his experiments by the visits due to curiosity of his former hosts of friends.

  His only servant (a trusty old man many years in his employ) disturbed him only to announce his meals. That worthy individual, when his pots and pans, his cooking and cleaning were done, would hie himself to his quarters to indulge in sleep, or to the study, to interest himself with the radio or televisor. He never ventured into the laboratory, except upon Professor Haupt’s request, when perhaps some little assistance was needed.

  It appeared that the time had arrived for the professor to be helped in his work by one he could trust.

  WINTER, in all its fury of snow and cold, descended upon the little village huddled in the deep valley of the Tyrol Mountains. Gust after gust of wintry blast blew down from the frozen peaks above, now obscured by the snow-filled sky.

  It was late in the afternoon, when into the deserted street of the village a solitary figure made its way. Plodding on, the heavily-clad stranger bent himself against the force of the descending blasts, shielding with heavy-mittened hands his face against the driving, swirling snow that stung it mercilessly.

  The inn, to which the stranger was making his way, with its madly-flapping sign, was barely discernible.

  His entrance was accompanied by a shivering blast and a deluge of snow that chilled the inn’s occupants. Quickly closing the door, the stranger made his way to a table near the glowing electric coils and ordered hot coffee. While waiting for this he took off his ice-encrusted outer garments and warmed himself thoroughly.

  To those who were present this stranger seemed a young man not over twenty-five. He was of medium height, physically well-proportioned and of a pleasing countenance. If they stared at him, it was because of two remarkable things about him. One, the eyes; they were exceedingly dark, almost black in the dimness of fading day, yet they sparkled like gems upon which sudden light is thrown in darkness. Second came his lips, lips that portrayed such sadness, that his entire features were overrun with that expression. His locks of black hair that hung forward, could not (try as they would in their unmanageable state) conceal the lofty forehead that towered behind.

  Some continued to stare even after the host had arrived, had served his coffee, and was taken into conversation by the stranger. However nothing could be heard above the shrieking of the storm without and th
e blare of the radio over which came a loud and stirring march.

  “Just how far from here is Professor Haupt’s laboratory?” asked the youthful stranger of the host as he sipped his steaming coffee.

  “In this kind of weather I would say about a five-hour climb,” answered the host.

  “Could I get a guide to-morrow?” asked the youth filling his cup the second time.

  “Not if this weather keeps up. There isn’t a man in the village would attempt it. It will be bad enough with this snow after the storm breaks up; and believe me, young man, it’s a weary bird you’ll be before you reach that eagle’s nest of his,” laughed the corpulent innkeeper.

  “I have it,” explained mine host suddenly as the youth was about to speak, “Herr Bruder, the grocer, is sending up his supplies day after to-morrow, like as not the storm will be over by then. You can go with Hans Staal and Eric Bower, who have been employed to do this once a month. Two dare devils and as sure as two mountain goats; you couldn’t wish for better guides,” and the inkeeper slapped his fat thighs, as his face beamed with satisfaction.

  Five days later we find Karl Marienfeldt (for that was the stranger’s name) well-established in Professor Haupt’s isolated but comfortable home. He acquainted himself with the laboratory preparatory to his duties as the assistant of the old professor.

  Professor Haupt had wired to Vienna for Karl upon learning of his father’s death and for two other reasons: one being that Professor Marienfeldt’s fortune had been in an unknown manner swept away, leaving his son destitute; and because Karl, during his three years at the university showed marked inclinations to follow in his illustrious father’s footsteps as a renowned chemist.

  And now the professor felt that Karl was well established in his position as assistant told him his secret.

  ONE night, a week after Karl’s arrival, Professor Haupt after supper took him into his study, to speak about his new duties, as he had remarked over the supper table. Karl could not help but feel that this statement was only made because of the servant’s presence, for there was about the white haired, ruddy-complexioned and intellectual-featured professor sitting opposite him an air of deep secrecy, something of vast importance, that his merry, twinkling eyes somehow announced.