The Collected Stories

by Earl

  But Ellory had stepped away from her now.

  “I see,” he said dully. “No, Ermaine. I’m sorry. Lordship in Antarka? Never, for me!”

  The girl made no answer to the unshakable resolve in his voice. “You choose imprisonment still,” she said. “And you are the sort who would never change, through years—”

  Defeatedly, she turned to the elevator. Ellory hesitated.

  “There is no escape from here,” she said, noticing. “There is no exit through these stone walls. If you broke through the skylight, guards would capture you outside. They have been told to watch, from the nearest open-air station.”

  Ellory followed and the cage shot him down to what would be his lifelong prison, from that moment on. Ermaine parted from him silently.

  In his room, sleep came to a troubled mind suffocated by a black future.

  THE next evening, Ellory’s pacing was interrupted by the locked door of his room opening. Ermaine entered. She leaned back against the closed door, as if needing its support. Her eyes were shadowed, her lips quivering. It was the first time Ellory had seen her composure so completely shattered.

  “Humrelly!” Her voice was low. “The death sentence!”

  “What!”

  “The Outland Council—they demand your death!” she went on. “The episode at the ball, and your wild attempt at escape convinced them you must go. They voted nine to one against me, this morning.”

  Ellory fought the impact of despair. After all, he had come to Antarka, a prisoner, expecting nothing less. He smiled wanly.

  “Thanks, Ermaine,” he murmured, “for the one vote.”

  She was still leaning against the door, as if against intrusion.

  “There’s once chance yet, Humrelly. And you must take it. Marry me now! As First Lord you’ll find the Council’s sentence becomes void.”

  She saw the slow, determined shake of his head.

  “Humrelly, you must! I can’t let you die—” She trembled.

  Ellory’s lips were white and set.

  Ermaine, Lady of Lillamra, suddenly drew herself up. “I won’t humiliate myself further, even in the face of death. I’ll laugh when you die. I swear it! Once more I ask you, Humrelly, for your own sake—” She turned from his stony silence. “Follow me,” she said quietly.

  He followed wonderingly. She led him down the hall to the privacy of her chambers, and again in the lift to the chamber under the canopy of polar stars.

  She faced him, in starlight glow.

  “There is a door,” she said in low, even tones. “Outside, there is a small ship waiting. I knew you would refuse arid arranged this. The pilot can be trusted. He will take you back to Norak!”

  Ellory stood stunned for a moment, realizing what she hid done for him.

  “But you, Ermaine—”

  “I can take care of myself. My private lift, after I’ve descended, will slip its cable and crash below. There will be a smashed, unrecognizable body in it—that of a young Out lander who just died of disease. Humrelly, the man condemned to die, tried to escape again, I will say.”

  “You’re letting me go!” Ellory clutched her hand. “Ermaine, it must mean you believe in the things I say. Come with me: Life in Antarka is stifled, meaningless. Come with me to the open world. Together we can do much for the Stone Age people.”

  Ellory saw the sparkle in her eyes, the slightly parted lips. He gave a glad cry.

  “Ermaine! You will come! I can see it in your face. You know I’m right!”

  The girl started. The spell was broken. Sadly she shook her head.

  “Still the dreamer, Humrelly!” she murmured. “But it can’t be. It’s like faraway music, sweet, but gone in the wind of reality. Antarka is my life, the only life I know, or believe in. Kiss me once, beloved, then go!”

  They clung to each other for a timeless moment.

  Then the girl, with a little sob, stepped to the wall and moved a lever. A flushfitting door opened outward, letting in a flurry of snow.

  Their eyes met. Then Ellory turned swiftly away; he carried the picture of her tear-wet face with him as he strode to the hissing rocket craft that waited. A taciturn Antarkan inside merely nodded and motioned to a seat beside him.

  The little ship glided into the polar night. Ellory looked back, till the tiny white figure and Antarka faded into gloom.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  HUMRELLY’S RETURN

  TEN hours later the swift little rocket ship drummed down from the stratosphere in northern latitudes. It was night. Silvery moonlight gleamed from the waters of the broad Hudson. Ellory looked down and missed immediately the twinkling candlelights of the Norak capital.

  Then he remembered—burned down!

  On impulse, Ellory had the pilot skim north. They landed at the crest of the valley that held the crypt. With only a silent nod at Ellory’s waved thanks, the Antarkan left again. Ellory watched the flame-clothed ship vanish to the south, and then the vast hush of the Gotland world settled down like a cloak.

  Already Antarka, with its hum and bustle, seemed like a dream from which he trad awakened.

  Ellory strode into tile valley, his footfalls loud in his own errs. He entered the crypt. Tomb-like, it allowed his thoughts to run their course.

  Antarka a dream? How could he ever forget it? Ermaine’s lovely, tear-wet face, as he had last seen it, hung before his mind’s eye. It would remain there, he knew, even if by some magic another three thousand years rolled by. He groaned a little. Destiny had decreed that they must remain apart, and Ellory found this the bitterest draught of all since his awakening, after an age.

  Hours passed, while these thoughts trampled his soul, bat gradually peace came. The crypt, dark and empty, curiously soothed him. The crowded events of the past days assumed a remoter perspective. He could look back now and rationalize.

  He summed up the situation briefly.

  His sojourn in Antarka had impressed Ellory with the power of their civilization, and the futility of any plan to break that power. They intended to be the oligarchy of Earth for ages to come, using the Outland people as servants and workmen to run their cities. So much for that.

  Now, what remained for Ellory. His thoughts went back to the half-preserved laboratory he and old Sem Onger had unearthed. The glowing-wax! It was still there, hiding its secret He began again to visualize the upspringing of science.

  “You are a dreamer, Humrelly!”

  He started as these words echoed in his mind. Ermaine seemed to stand before him again, half loving, half mocking him for his visionary ideas. Unconsciously he drew himself up.

  “It’s worth a try!” he answered her image.

  He strode from the crypt at dawn, in a February world that knew no winter. He was starting all over again, as though first emerging from the crypt, with all the promise of untried things lightening his heart.

  He walked through the farm-dotted valley, and exchanged his silken Antarkan clothing with a marveling farmer for old clothes and a scrawny horse.

  A few hours later he strode into the presence of Jon Darm. The tall, grayhaired chief stood watching workmen who were erecting the wooden scaffold for a new Royal House. All around, among the ashes of the city-site, the Noraks were busy rebuilding their city with mortar, stone and wood. Tents and crude shacks dotting the open spaces had served as temporary living quarters since the people had returned from the hills.

  Jon Darm turned and stared, as if seeing a ghost. The look of amazed joy that spread over his face brought a sting to Ellory’s eyes.

  “Humrelly!” he gasped. “Is it you? But I thought—Sharina said—” He raised his voice in a sudden, wild shout, forgetting his dignity as chief. “Sharina! Mai Radnor! Humrelly is back!”

  A WHITE figure came flying from the largest tent nearby. Sharina stood stock-still before him, disbelieving her eyes, then threw her arms around him and kissed him.

  A moment later Mai Radnor came limping up, on a wooden crutch, one leg bandaged and sti
ff He gripped Ellory’s hand with a silent fervor. Old Sem Onger’s cracked tones sounded from the side, as he hobbled up as fast as his years would allow.

  “Humrelly back? Then he can tell me why my iron plows break when they strike stone.” But behind his phlegmatic words.

  Ellory caught the quiver of eager welcome.

  Ellory choked.

  It was good to see them all, these simple, sincere people who loved him for himself, even though their city had been burned down because of him.

  Sharina looked around, and then at his Norak clothing, astonished. “You have come alone, Humrelly? Lady Ermaine—”

  Ellory shook his head and explained briefly. They all listened in dumfoundment.

  “You renounced Lordship in Antarka!” breathed Jon Darm. “Renounced a life and civilization closer to your own—”

  Ellory interrupted, shaking his head. “Closer in outward things. But farther removed, beneath its veneer, than the moon. I will never go back to Antarka.”

  “You renounced your heart, too!” Sharina said in a low voice of sympathy.

  Ellory heard but made no sign.

  “I prefer to live among you,” he continued. “If you will have me,” he added, looking around at the burned city. They were all reminded of the holocaust on the Hudson.

  “We do,” Jon Darm said quickly. “Things past are things past. You are not to blame. Your intentions shine clear. But, Humrelly,” he went on slowly, “the federation broke up completely. I think it must remain so, lest the all-powerful Antarkans scourge us more thoroughly next time, as they threatened.”

  His tone was slightly guarded, as though he feared Ellory had come back to lead another revolt.

  Ellory nodded, his shoulders sagging. “It must remain so,” he agreed. “More than any of you, I realize now the hold of Antarka. I brought you sorrow and death and pain.”

  Mai Radnor had gripped his arm, his young, strong face glowing.

  “It was still a grand thing, Humrelly!” he said earnestly. “I will never forget that great campaign. I would follow you again—” He broke off. “No, it can’t be. The Antarkans will watch closely now against federation. And it could not be achieved as easily again, barring even that. Our neighboring tribes mutter against us for bringing down on them Antarkan wrath. Already the Jendra and Quoise are preparing to war over their border.”

  Back to that, Ellory reflected. His flimsy empire had fallen apart like a house of cards. It had beer a strange, unnatural interlude in the broad sweep of fiftieth century history, no more permanent than a gust of wind.

  Ellory straightened up, brushing the past out of his thoughts.

  “But I have other plans,” he told them. “They may mean much more in the future, fate willing, than what I first tried. I will go again to the ruins, with your permission. Jon Darm, to experiment further.” A depressing thought struck him. “Were all the crypt records destroyed in the fire?”

  “No.” Old Sem Onger made a horrified gesture at the mere thought. “All those are saved. I saw to that. I had them taken in a wagon to the ruins. When are we going, Humrelly?”

  Ellory grasped the old scholar’s shoulder gratefully.

  “It may be years and years of work, old man. God knows how long, or what will come of it. But there is no one I would rather have than you.”

  “I have many years ahead of me,” asserted the old seer but at the same time he gave a gasp of pain. Two of his grandchildren, young boys, leaped from the surrounding crowd, supporting him as though it had become their regular duty.

  “Just a twinge of the heart,” Sem Onger said stoutly. “I’ll be ready tomorrow morning.”

  “We will send whatever supplies you need regularly,” promised Jon Darm.

  “I’ll come down to visit you,” said Mai Radnor. He slapped his bandaged leg. “It’ll be as good as new soon. And when it is, Sharina and I will be married!”

  Ellory smiled a! them. But their happiness inevitably brought him pain—the pain of remembering his own love. Perhaps down there in the ruins, striving for almost hopeless goals, he could forget.

  ELLORY found the buried laboratory in the ruins, much as he had left it. But against one wall reposed all the things of the crypt. Twentieth century things, in a laboratory of the thirtieth century. What would they combine to produce, for the scienceless fiftieth century? Ellory ached to know, in his present role of scientist. His previous roles as conquerer and champion against tyranny faded in his eager mind.

  Holding the lead-wrapped lump of wax in his hand, Ellory reviewed what he had learned of it. It represented radio activity, but a marvelous new kind that released more energy with more light thrown on it. That was really the sum total of what he had found out. Then Mai Radnor had come with his news of the border war, and events had shifted. Now he was back again, as though all the intervening adventure had been a night’s dream.

  “What science will we do first, Humrelly?” inquired old Sem Onger impatiently.

  “The science of cleaning up!” Ellory said, grinning.

  He set to with a will, in the general debris, unearthing coils, metal plates, glass prisms and a variety of articles that might be useful. He set these on the large wooden table he had brought along. Among them he placed the whitened, leering skull of Dr. Unknown, who had made the glowing wax. It seemed to stare at them mockingly, belittling their efforts to solve his great secret.

  In the evening, and for many evenings after they had a hot meal up above, under open sky. Sam Onger was cook, an art he boastfully acknowledged one of his best. Ellory drank in the beauty of sunset through the saw-edged ruins of vanished New York.

  “You smile sadly, Humrelly,” mumbled the old seer. “You dream of things that might have been, if man had not lost science?”

  “Yes, I dream of things that might have been,” murmured Ellory, with the vision of Ermaine before him.

  He was a little startled, the next moment, to hear the powerful drone of an Antarkan rocket ship. It soared over the ruins in a wide circle three times, then headed west.

  “A patrol ship,” said Sem Onger. “After a revolt, they patrol the world somewhat watchfully, especially this region, the center of the last rebellion.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  MESSAGE OF DR. UNKNOWN

  IN THE following days, Ellory began to smelt down some of his metal supply, using one of the deserted clay pans and bellows left from the metal-weapon industry. He fashioned a tube. With prisms from the vault, he constructed a spectroscope. Its eyepiece was taken from binoculars among the crypt’s relics. It was laughably primitive, but would serve to identify the glowing wax.

  Ellory made the first test in the darkest corner of his laboratory. It was a flash-test, with the substance giving its own incandescence. Ellory had to guess at his angstrom scale in the prisms. Finally he had sketched a pattern of lines which he searched for in the physics handbook of the crypt’s scientific books.

  “Silicon!” he cried triumphantly, matching patterns. “A radioactive isotope of silicon! Sem Onger, step number one has been completed.”

  “Now you will make more of it?”

  “Not so fast!” laughed Ellory. “First I have to determine some of its properties. What type of radioactivity is it? I know it’s set off somehow by light-photons, but what radiation does it give off?”

  In the next few days, they were busy for long, exciting hours. Ellory beat a bit of gold to extreme thinness between smooth calfskins and suspended two leaves of it from a copper wire. He held this simple electroscope before a bit of the glowing wax. The leaves did not fly apart.

  “Hm—no beta rays. No electrons given off,” he mused.

  There was a watch among the crypt’s relics. Ellory held its radium-dial close to the wax. There was no slightest increase of its ghostly phosphorescence.

  “No alpha-rays!” he stated, astounded. “No electrons. No helium-ions. There’s only one thing left—gamma radiation.”

  He dropped a speck of the wax i
n a cup of water. It continued to glow at the bottom. Ellory stuck his finger in the liquid after a moment to find it already warm. When he tried again, only a few seconds later, he yelled in scalded pain. Thirty-seconds later the water boiled violently. Soon the cup was disgorging live steam like a boiler. The water was gone in a minute, completely boiled away. The speck of wax in the bottom continued to glow.

  Gamma-radiation, composed of vibrations shorter than those of the X-ray, should not do that. They were too penetrative to display such tremendous effects, which showed they were stopped.

  Sem Onger was mumbling to himself. “All that heat from such a little speck, and it isn’t even burning wood—”

  “Heat!” exclaimed Ellory. Understanding dawned. “It gives off pure infra-red radiation! This is the queerest bit-of radioactivity I’ve ever heard of. No beta-rays, no alpha-rays, no gamma-rays—just a stupendous amount of heat radiation.”

  “Humrelly, this is a wonderful thing!” Old Sem Onger warmed his hands over the glowing speck. The day had been chill, “Is it!” Ellory sat down to think. Disappointment welled in him. What good was it, except to smelt down ores, of which there weren’t any to speak of? A vicious circle again. But why had the unknown discoverer of this new type of radioactivity placed such stock in it? Called it a belated means of saving a metal-starved civilization? Preserved an account and sample? Why—why?

  “LOOK!” Sem Onger was fumbling with the lead-foil that had enwrapped the wax lump. He thrust a sheet forward. “Look, Humrelly, there are scratchings on this sheet. Perhaps this is the record—”

  Ellory snatched it eagerly. Some form of writing and various diagrams had been scratched in the soft metal.

  “Bless you, old man, it is!” Ellory cried. “Here, get to work—translate what it says.”

  “There are many strange symbols,” said the old seer dubiously.

  “Never mind those. Put them down as they are. They are mathematical symbols, and those, thank the gods, have survived intact through time!”