by Earl
Parletti reporting. Lead ore not yet found.
Halloway reports the following. He walked completely around the base of the pyramid, examining its inscriptions. He is excited. He thinks he has the answer, but needs one final proof. This will lie at the top of the pyramid. He is going to climb it tomorrow!
Two-hundred-ninetieth day.
No lead ore.
Halloway went to the pyramid again today, to climb it. He hasn’t returned. He told us it would take him two days. He took along extra rations, and an extra oxygen tank. How in the name of the universe he’s going to climb two thousand feet, with that frightful load, we don’t know. Swinerton and I can barely push ourselves over flat land—and resting every five minutes at that.
I thought I had heard of courage before. This brand that Halloway has is without a name. It just doesn’t make sense.
Two-hundred-ninety-first day.
No lead ore. And Halloway has not returned!
He must have failed. His body must lie somewhere on a pyramid ledge, beyond our ability to reach. Perhaps he has been attacked by a monstrous bird-fish. Peace on the boy’s soul.
Swinerton and I will continue searching for lead ore, till our strength gives out. Two-three days we give ourselves. Two-hundred-ninety-second day. Halloway is back!
He staggered up this morning, more dead than alive. We dragged him into the ship, gave him a shot of adrenalin for his heart. Swinerton and I have been using the stuff for a week. His face was so thin and haggard that I thought he was dying.
But suddenly he bounced up. And his grin—I wish you could see it. All the triumph of the universe in it. We waited breathlessly for him to speak.
“Any lead?” he asked first.
I shook my head. “But damn the lead. Talk, man! Tell us about the pyramid.”
He spun it out painfully.
“Well, I climbed it,” he said. “Took sixteen hours the first day, twelve the next. Slept and ate in between. Wind nearly blew me off twice. Groped my way in the dark. Fell once. Thought I broke every bone. But only a finger. Got to the top at last.”
A jumbled account. Perhaps the true story will never come out of Halloway. I doubt if he wants to remember it. Climbing two thousand feet upward against the gravity of Jupiter is a feat they’ll be talking about for a century.
Halloway went on. “Found the apex chamber. Stone door had crumbled, through age. Jupiter’s winds and erosion had wiped out all the apparatus. But one clue was left—as an inscription. It was all I needed.”
“What was the clue?” Swinerton and I demanded together.
“Remember the ‘Marietta Stone’ found in the pyramid on Venus? Several lines of Martian letters, with Egyptian translations underneath. With that, my father on Earth managed to translate some of the inscriptions. Very vaguely, however, for the Martian language is totally alien to any on Earth. And ancient Egyptian, in the first place, is guesswork to our best archaeologists.
“But one clue was in each pyramid, on each planet. A set of figures. Mathematics is a universal language. These figures told how much power each apex-machine produced.”
“Power to do what?” we asked patiently.
“To move a planet.”
“What kind of power is that?” we gasped.
“Gravity-power,” Halloway said. “This Jupiter pyramid was rated at three hundred twenty-five units of gravity-power.”
“Move a planet?” That suddenly soaked in, to Swinerton and myself. “What planet, for God’s sake?”
“Asteroidia,” Halloway said, as casually as though telling us it was snowing outside. “The planet that once existed between Mars and Jupiter.”
WE HAD to pry the rest out of him. We were cruel about it, as poor Halloway was completely spent. He could hardly talk. But he gamely gave us the whole story. His eyes shone dimly, as though he had looked through some window into the hoary past. And we could see his brain was a little giddy, with things that stunned and were almost incredible.
“The Martians achieved civilization and conquered space about seventy-five thousand years ago, in Earth’s time-scale. For twenty-five thousand years they colonized, sometimes ruthlessly.
“For instance, they enslaved most of the Venusian race, which was why the modern natives wanted to kill off the first Earth Expedition, thinking them the returning Martian overlords of legend.
“Also, on Earth, they killed off Neanderthal man, for some unknown reason, which neatly solves that anthropological mystery of our past. Father isn’t sure, but they may also have warred on Atlantis, later, and may actually have caused that gigantic continent to sink, by super-forces.
“And don’t think the Martians didn’t have super-forces. For they moved, or tried to move, a planet!
“Fifty thousand years ago, it happened. The fifth planet, Asteroidia, had a very eccentric orbit. In fact, at one point, it met and crossed Mars’ orbit. Some of the asteroids today still do that very same thing, and also cross Earth’s and Venus’ orbits.
“Eventually, through the ages, the two planets were coming closer and closer to meeting at that danger point. Several previous near-skimmings had raised enormous tides in the then-existing Martian oceans, destroying lives and cities. But worse, it was estimated that after several hundred years the two planets would collide head-on. Their orbits would intersect. Mars would be utterly destroyed!
“Scientists put their heads together. They must destroy the fifth planet, or move it. Martians did not want to migrate from their home planet forever. So the scientists devised a daring scheme.
“They built pyramids on Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars and Jupiter. They were simply foundations to hold their apparatus, and the pyramid-form is the most sturdy of any geometrical shape.
“The machines were—well, gravity concentrators, we might say. It’s head and shoulders above anything we know.
“It’s gravity control—the one thing, like radioactivity, that Earth science can’t seem to do a thing with. I don’t want even to guess at it, but somehow these Martian scientists took some of the gravity of a planet, and projected it as a beam, to do with as they wished.
“The machines were needed on the four inner planets, in that they were small bodies with comparatively small gravities. Only one set was needed on the outer planets—on Jupiter, with its tremendous storehouse of gravity. But the idea was to get at Asteroidia from both sides. Perhaps on each planet they built hundreds of pyramids and machines. Those we’ve found are the few that survived. Most of them crumbled away, in fifty thousand years.
“Anyway, the machines were completed and installed. And then the great tug-of-war began. They were trying to tug the errant fifth planet out of its predestined orbit, into a new one that would no longer endanger Mars.”
Halloway’s eyes closed. But with great effort he shook himself awake and continued.
“This is a wild guess, but it probably took two hundred years! For two hundred years the giant gravity-beams dragged at the fifth planet, like the tides drag at Earth. First a drag from Venus, when Asteroidia was ahead in its orbit. Then a drag from Earth, as Earth was in position. Then Mercury and Mars, at the proper moment.
Every time mighty Jupiter was at hand, there was a furious tug from the Jovian machines. Slowly but surely, as the years sped by, the fifth planet was forced out of its age-long orbit.
“But something unexpected happened. Asteroidia finally fell apart under the terrific strain. Or rather, it exploded, becoming the pieces we know today as the Asteroids! And so—”
But at this point, Halloway slumped back, sound asleep. Swinerton and I are joining him. Resume tomorrow.
(Parletti’s signal is silent—Gillway.)
Gillway speaking.
Well, Earth, there you have the “Secret of the Pyramids!” A saga of a mighty, dead race that stretches back fifty thousand years, when man was still huddling around fires before caves.
This expedition probably won’t return to Earth. But who cares? That’s the w
ay we feel right now. We’ve done our bit in exploring, both in the present and past. We’re going out, as Halloway said, in a flash of glory.
Two-hundred-ninety-third day.
(Parletti reporting—Gillway.)
“Great piece of work,” I congratulated Halloway, this morning. “The inadvertent explosion of the fifth planet also explains why the Martians vanished so mysteriously. The explosion, not foreseen by them, must have given their planet a big jolt and destroyed them. Undoubtedly a rain of meteors fell on Mars, leveling all.
“In fact, the meteors must have afflicted Earth, too. One piece probably dug out the Mediterranean Basin, in prehistoric times, and caused the Noachian flood.”
I had thought that all out, waiting for Halloway to waken, but he shook his head with a dreamy look.
“No, because the records show this was done fifty thousand years ago. And the Martians were on Earth as late as ten thousand years ago. They had traffic with the Egyptians, who deified them as Osiris, one of their principal gods, and copied their pyramids after the Martian style.
“The Martians did save their world. They lived in safety for forty thousand years afterward!”
Swinerton and I digested that.
“Then what did blot out this magnificent scientific race that could move and destroy a whole planet?”
Halloway shrugged. Now a new mystery has come up, more puzzling than the pyramids themselves. But Halloway had suspicions. He went on slowly.
“I just wonder what wiped out the Martians. A natural agency or—something else? I’ll tell you what I saw, at one side of the pyramid, here on Jupiter. A great heaped pile of metal rust, for acres and acres. The Martians wouldn’t just dump metal there. But suppose—just suppose a fleet of ships fought there, and crashed, and rusted?”
“Civil war among the Martians?” Swinerton asked.
“Or the Mercurians challenging their rule?” I put in.
“Maybe,” said Halloway. “Although the Martian records show little civil war. As for the Mercurian brain-plants, they gave up their activity long before the Martians even appeared on the scene.”
THUS the great and stupendous saga of the solar system has opened a door to even greater mysteries. The pyramids after all were only one phase of it. Who or what had killed off the powerful Martians? There is no answer for the present, Halloway says, till the Martian records are examined more thoroughly.
Signing off now. We’ve put in a hard day’s work. Will leave Jupiter after our usual fifteen hours of sleep.
Two-hundred-ninety-fourth day.
Gillway reporting, from Ganymede.
The men are safely back on Ganymede. That is, Swinerton and Parletti. Halloway is still down on Jupiter, with all the remaining oxygen and food. They tried getting away, the three of them. But the ship wouldn’t lift. Too much load. Eliminating one man’s weight would give them the margin of escape.
Halloway insisted on being that man. Threatened to fight it out, if they argued. Swinerton and Parletti were too weak to resist.
“Quick!” Parletti gasped, as soon as the ship landed at our camp, and he staggered out. “Empty the hold. Then go back—get Halloway! Pyramid is at east crater edge, center of Red Spot. Halloway’s there.”
Not very specific directions, but Atwell went instantly, with Von Zell. They left an hour ago. Fresh men, and with the hold empty, they should get through okay. We’re all praying Halloway is found alive. He’s made our expedition a thundering success, adding the pyramid secret as a bright feather in our hats.
Two-hundred-ninety-fifth day.
The lifeboat is back, with Halloway. Thus all three of the real Jupiter Expedition Number One are back and alive. Alive, but not so well. In fact, they’ve all collapsed, with their muscle tissues and internal organs practically pulled out of place after two weeks under the hammer of Jupiter gravity.
We hope they pull through.
Two-hundred-ninety-sixth day.
Halloway woke up today, weak but grinning.
“Captain Atwell,” he called. “Thanks!”
“In behalf of the expedition,” Atwell returned, “thanks to you. Are you all right, lad?”
“Huh!” Halloway retorted. “Grind me up a pyramid, and I’ll show you. I’ll eat it, with pepper and salt. I’m hungry!”
We all felt better then. Halloway would recover, and the other two as well.
“Now tell me,” Atwell said. “What were you dreaming about, when we found you sitting before the pyramid, staring at it as though you were under a shady tree on Earth, loafing?”
“I was just wondering,” Halloway said, “about the Martians. Suppose some invading race from outer space killed them off!”
That’s all we’ve been discussing all day. Had some titanic battle occurred there, around a pyramid on Jupiter? Had some Invaders from Beyond met the Martians in this backyard of the solar system, and fought it out? Would there be other battlefields on Saturn, Uranus and beyond?
We don’t know, Earth. We only know we’ve been saved by this event of the past—But I forgot to tell you.
Funny thing, but Parletti completely forgot to mention it, while on Jupiter, in the excitement of Halloway’s revelation of the pyramid’s secret. And it slipped my mind, in turn, since they came back. It seemed so relatively unimportant.
YOU see, back on Jupiter, Halloway dropped another Bombshell, after telling the pyramid story. He mentioned casually that the pile of metal near the pyramid had lead in it!
He knew lead rust when he saw it, he maintained. Besides, he had tasted some, and it was sweet, like all lead salts.
The three men went there immediately. Sure enough, certain portions of the huge metal rust pile were almost pure lead, in age-corroded form!
“Probably used fantastic ray-weapons that we don’t know about,” Halloway had conjectured, in line with his battle theory. “Used the lead for screens or mountings or something else.”
At any rate, they coasted the ship up and shoveled in about five hundred pounds of lead rust. Or thirteen hundred pounds, Jupiter-weight; at least half of which should be lead metal. They nearly broke their backs, but sang while doing it. Solving the “Secret of the Pyramids,” and finding lead at one and the same time was certainly something to sing about.
And Parletti had simply forgot to mention the lead!
It wasn’t till he and Swinerton landed, and he gasped for us to get Halloway after unloading the hold, that we knew. For the hold was full of lead cargo. That was why one man had to be left behind, not to mention all empty oxygen tanks, food and water canisters, and half the inner cabin’s walls. They had just about stripped the ship down to its bones. The weight of the lead itself was counterbalanced by the amount of rocket fuel previously used up. But they had still been forced to leave Halloway behind, so great was Jupiter’s gravitational drag.
And in all that excitement, I forgot to mention the lead to you, Earth! Since then, Tarnay, Ling and Von Zell have been busy long hours, reducing the lead rust to metal by means of charcoal. The rest of us are relining the batteries that will once again bring our engine to life.
One more thing.
Atwell suddenly frowned at Halloway, a while ago. He had forgot something, too.
“You’re under arrest, Halloway, for disobeying orders,” he said sternly. “You must be punished. When we get back to Earth, they’ll throw a parade of honor for us, down Fifth Avenue in New York. And you won’t be with us!”
He glowered at poor Halloway.
“No—you’ll be out in front!”
Halloway squirmed, and seemed about to have a relapse. I’ve never known a man yet—not our kind of men—who liked to play the hero.
Not that Halloway’s instincts aren’t human. Far from it. In fact, insofar as he and Lonna Karsen are concerned, well—to make a long story short, the way those two have been looking at each other, I’m sure they’re going to have something else besides science to discuss, on the way back.
No matter
where you find it—it’s still love!
That’s about all, Earth. Batteries done. We’re taking off in an hour. We’ll be on Earth in three months and two weeks. The delay in finding lead added those two weeks. But our food, rationed, will last us.
I think we’ll be singing “The Pyramid Blues” on the way home—and grinning all the time.
Gillway, radio operator, Jupiter Expedition Number One. Signing off!
ADAM LINK SAVES THE WORLD
America is invaded by a great power. Can it be Nazi Germany? And if so, can Adam Link solve the menace of its incredible science?
I, Adam Link the robot, saved the earth!
You will find no slightest clue to this event, in any public source of information. Nor have I any proof. There are things buried in the most secret and guarded archives of nations and regimes that never see the light of history. This is one of them.
But yet, I saved the Earth and mankind. Saved them from a menace more deadly than any on record.
Fantastic statement! The mouthings of a brain twisted by delusions of grandeur, you say. A psychopathic case history. Opium works on robots as well as humans!
Let me tell the story. Judge for yourselves.
It began one warm July evening, three months ago. Eve and I were alone in our isolated Ozark “home” talking over the crushing failure of our Utopia experiment. I felt dreary, soul-sick.
“Eve,” I was saying, “we’re done. We’re finished. Everything we’ve tried in the world of humans has failed. I give up.”
“Adam! Don’t say that. We’ll prove our worth yet—”
“No,” I grated. “We have no worth—except as a few dollars worth of mechanical parts. We’re intelligent robots, but we’re of no Earthly use whatsoever!” I repeated the bitter self-denouncement. “We’re of no Earthly use whatso—”
Interruption came, in the form of a knock at the door.
We started, looking at each other. Who was visiting us? Who had taken the winding, little-known road leading to our door? A pack of humans, perhaps, to once and for all rid Earth of robots?
“Don’t resist,” I told Eve. “I suppose it had to come to this—our extinction.”