by L. P. Davies
Tallness made him stoop a little, as it does many large men. His face was brick-red, and ugly—but pleasantly ugly—with over-large eyes and nose, with deep corrugations to the flesh of forehead and cheeks. He was possessed of a quiet humour, but that was something that wasn’t in evidence at the first moment of the encounter. The shock of surprise had driven everything else away.
He shook hands with Lee, his other huge paw clamped on Lee’s shoulder. Speechless, he pumped and beamed and nodded his head. It had been a very long six weeks for him.
“Well—” he exploded, and was lost for further words. “Well,” he said again. Letting Lee’s hand drop at last, he undamped his grip and nodded afresh. And then seemed to see me for the first time, nodded yet again, smiled, and then furrowed a massive forehead in perplexity. The initial impact of the meeting was over. Lee introduced me, explaining briefly who I was.
And then the Professor launched a spate of questions.
Who had operated the field? he wanted to know. Was it still in operation? How long had we been here? Had anyone else come with us?
Lee did his best to cope.
“We. came through this morning,” he started “Just the two of us—just before daybreak. At least, daybreak here.”
This was going to go on for a long time. I broke in: “Are we likely to be interrupted, sir?”
He stared at me impatiently. “Interrupted?”
“By the fur-clad boys,” Lee enlarged. “We’ve had a spot of trouble with them once already. We don’t want any more.”
Maver was puzzled. “Trouble with the Toparians?”
“Never heard of them,” Lee rejoined inelegantly.
“The people who live here. Toparians. But they’re friendly. What has been happening?”
Lee treated him to a very shortened version of our encounter with the heat-ray.
“And they fired on you?” Maver was perplexed. “I can well understand them trying to round you up. That would be for your own good. But to use the ray on you … You must have angered them in some way.” He broke off. “All that can wait. Tell me how you managed to operate the field.”
“We got someone to do the trick for us,” Lee told him. “Or rather, to start us on the way. I dragged in Gerald’s boss—Mr. Leming.”
“Martin Leming!” Maver was delighted. “You couldn’t have chosen a better man. But you say only the two of you came through?”
“And by accident,” Lee said wryly. “We fell rather than came. You see, after you and Adam disappeared—” He paused. “Where is Adam? Is he all right?”
The other nodded testily. “I should imagine so.” And then: “But of course you don’t know. These are Adam’s own kind.”
We both gaped at him.
Lee recovered first. “His own kind?”
“He’s a Toparian,” the Professor said. “I knew that much about him before we started our experiments. He came through to our world, purely as the result of natural circumstances, about four and a half years ago.”
“I can’t believe it,” Lee said. “And yet, his appearance … He’s not all that much unlike the people here.”
“I would have told you,” Maver said, “but he asked me not to tell anyone. If the news had got out, and been believed—” He shrugged expressively. “It was mainly as a result of what he was able to tell me about the trio of happenings that was responsible for his coming to our world that I was able to duplicate the sequence in the laboratory. A sequence that obviously Leming was able to make sense of. You still haven’t answered my first question, Lee. Is the field still in operation?”
“No. At least it wasn’t two or three hours back. Gerald and I are guessing that it closed almost immediately after we had fallen through. And we’re guessing that right now Mr. Leming will be doing his damnedest to get it open again. We’ve marked the place with a pile of stones.”
Maver shook his head sadly. ‘It may take him a long time. It took me two years. But part of that time was spent in working out the two fixed frequencies.”
“That’s what Mr. Leming thought. It only took him a few hours to get the hang of it. But of course he had everything ready there in front of him. It took us—” He looked at me.
“We started working on the sequences on Wednesday,” I said. “We hit the right combination on Saturday morning. This morning.”
“Three days?” Maver’s perplexity slid from my face to Lee’s. “You only started three days ago? Why did you wait so long?”
Lee explained about the Special Branch intervention.
“I went along with his instructions for five weeks,” he finished. “Then I felt it was time something was done. That’s when I contacted Mr. Leming through Gerald.”
There was something much more than perplexity on the Professor’s face now. Something that verged on shock. But it was there for only a moment. Watching his face, noting the change of expression, I fancied I could almost see his mind at work behind his eyes.
“Have I been away for only five weeks?” he asked steadily. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“It must have seemed much longer than that to you,” Lee said sympathetically.
“It not only seemed much longer …”—there was a hint of dryness in Maver’s voice—”… it was. Much, much longer. They have no means of recording the passage of time in this place, no watches or clocks. And, because of the strong magnetic fields here, my watch is useless. You’ve probably found yours are useless too. But I have evolved a means of keeping note of the passing days, purely for my own convenience. The days here are almost the same length as those back on earth. An estimate only, of course, but a reasonably accurate one. Each day when the midday meal is brought, I use a spoon to scratch a mark on the sandstone wall.” He nodded to the far wall. “You can see for yourself. And without having to go over to consult it I can tell you exactly how long I have been here. One year, one month and fourteen days.”
This time it was Lee’s and my turn to be stunned into silence.
“But that’s impossible!” Lee burst out finally.
“I was expecting your disbelief,” his uncle said placidly. “I can vouch for the accuracy of my calculation. Some months ago I was ill for a few days. Sunstroke, I fancy. But I was able to carry on with my calendar. Let me see—” He closed his eyes for a moment of concentration. “Yes. A time ratio of roughly one to twenty. Which explains something that Adam found very puzzling. Why upon his return to his native village he was unable to find any familiar faces, why no one was able to recognise him. His four years plus in our world represented the passage of almost a century here. Two generations.”
“A different time altogether.” Lee nodded. “I can believe it now. After the things that have been happening to Gerald and me I can believe almost anything. What sort of place is this, Uncle John? We haven’t been able to make much sense of it. There are the people here, the back-to-nature types, those you call Toparians. And then there are the weird things that go on inside the mist. What’s it all about, for Pete’s sake?”
“Inside the mist?” The Professor obviously knew what Lee was talking about, and yet was startled again. “What do you know about it?”
“Not much. For a start, we figured it must be some kind of artificial force field.”
“You’re not saying you’ve been behind it?”
“For our sins, twice.” Lee grimaced. “Visitations we’re not all that anxious to repeat. Not that whoever lives there did us any harm.”
Maver said, “You’re the first ones to go through the mist and come out alive. Unless my informant was lying, and I don’t think she was.”
He became aware that we were standing. “What am I thinking of?” The bench was long enough to accommodate Lee and me in comfort. Maver swung the chair round to face us and seated himself.
“I feel we can spare the time to bring each other up to date. So far as you and your friend are concerned, Lee, I feel it is essential. Now that we are aware of the differenc
e in the passage of time it looks as if you may be here for a while. Martin—Mr. Leming—will undoubtedly be doing his best to activate the field again. But one hour of his time is almost a day of ours.
“We won’t be disturbed”—that was for my benefit; he nodded and smiled at me—“until they bring fresh water and the evening meal. That will be in about two hours’ time. I am very anxious to hear what you found in the …”—he paused—“behind the mist. But it is far more important that you learn something about this place and the dangers it holds. And there are dangers, but not from the Toparians. They are a placid, friendly people.
“Adam and I came here by intent.” Maver paused. “Perhaps that is incorrect. Let us say we intended to pass through the field, but our method of passage was accidental. It was certainly not a properly planned scientific expedition. You are obviously aware of the technique employed in activating the complex field. A system of trial and error, a duplicating of natural events. If ‘natural’ is the correct word. I had three things to duplicate. Two were straightforward enough. The third presented some difficulty. Adam, incidentally, was forced into our world by the accidental and natural combination of the three fields, but that is something I will enlarge upon later.
“It would be about nine in the morning when we found the final current sequence that completed the trio and activated the field. I won’t dwell upon my feelings … Adam, naturally enough, was eager to go through immediately, without prior investigation. I managed to curb his enthusiasm, pointing out that we didn’t know for certain that it was indeed his world that lay beyond the field. I persuaded him it was most essential we conduct some form of investigation. As it turned out, our efforts in this direction were of a most cursory nature.
“It soon became obvious that the field was far from stable. To maintain it at all meant continual adjustment of the apparatus. There was no way of telling how long we would be able to hold the field in position. This was something I had not envisaged, otherwise I could have made adequate preparations. As it was, we had to work quickly, improvising makeshift tools, adapted from anything that came to hand.
“I can recall being troubled when the wooden stave we used as the first probe failed to strike anything solid. It occurred to me then that there might be a variance between the ground level of the laboratory and that which lay beyond the field.
“As the day wore on with our investigations producing no result, Adam became increasingly impatient. It was his idea that he go through with the precaution of a safety rope tied about his waist. For a while I was reluctant to allow him to do that. But it was becoming progressively more difficult to keep the power steady. It seemed to me that some unknown factor must be involved. As it turned out, I was correct. A magnetic storm (fortunately only a small one, not unlike the one we experienced earlier today) was raging here.
“Late in the afternoon the field started to waver alarmingly. I am assuming this was caused by the after-effect of the storm. I was unable to restrain Adam any longer. With the rope tied about his waist he went through the field. Braced as I was for any sudden pressure, I was still caught off balance. I fell through, as you must have done, and rolled down the hill. It was a little while before I had recovered sufficiently to take an interest in my surroundings. I was vastly relieved when Adam confirmed that this was indeed his world. I was perturbed when, looking back, I saw that there was no sign of the field. And that happened over a year ago.”
“Or six weeks,” Lee supplied. “Depending where you happen to be. The adjustable section of your equipment was burnt out.”
“I assumed something of that nature must have happened. The passage of our bodies through the field created the means for the aftermath magnetic surge of the storm to also pass through, so overloading my system. The same thing probably happened, but on a reduced scale, when you came through. That is something I must rectify in the future. It will simply mean an adjustment to the safety device.”
I hoped, but didn’t pass the comment, that he would find himself in a position of being able to make that adjustment.
Lee looked round the room. “And they’ve kept you here ever since?”
“Not ‘kept,’ Lee. I’m more or less free to come and go as I please.”
“Only more or less?”
“This is far from being a hospitable world,” Maver explained. “It is subject to violent magnetic storms which arise with very little warning. To be caught out in the open when a bad one breaks would be fatal. Sometimes we have two or three storm-free days on the run. Another day might mean as many as a score of storms during the daylight hours alone. One does not move far from the houses unless one is very familiar with the country and knows where shelter may be obtained. Another hazard is an unpleasant shrub that flourishes among the rocks—”
“Thorny-looking affairs,” Lee said. “We’ve been giving them a wide berth.”
“It is as well you have,” the Professor said. “The plant is obviously a modified form of something that grew here before the Magnetic War. The spines are extremely dangerous. A scratch from one will induce paralysis and unconsciousness. The Toparians use a substance extracted from the roots to tip their darts.”
“Which we have also met,” Lee said dryly. “So the weather has kept you confined to barracks. And where has Adam been all this while?”
Maver leaned forward, frowning.
“I have no idea. I have viewed his prolonged absence with mixed feelings. After our long association in our world I would have expected ta see quite a lot of him here. On the other hand, I told myself that he was perhaps wrapped up in his own affairs.
“During the time we were working together in my laboratory he was inclined to be reticent about his home, talking very little about it, and then only with reluctance. I remember his once saying that the civilization he came from was vastly inferior to ours. I felt that he was ashamed to talk about the conditions under which he had once had to exist. It was only natural that I was curious about his world. But I didn’t press questions on him. I felt that he would tell me all about it in his own good time.
“What I had managed to learn about this place and its history I have picked up from the woman who brings the midday meal. A pleasant-enough female, if lacking in intelligence. From her I have managed to learn enough of the language to be able to understand most of what she tells me.
“At Haweford, when I first came to know Adam for what he really was, he told me that he was a person of some importance in his own country. Some kind of chieftain, I gathered. The word suggested a tribe, confirmed that his civilization was far behind ours.
“When we first arrived here, he led me to this village. He was astonished and dismayed to find all the faces strange. We know now why they were strange. He spoke to the people, telling them who he was and where he had been. A little later I was escorted to this house where I have been ever since. Adam told me that arrangements had been made for a watch to be kept on the hill. I would be informed if and when the field reappeared. The arrangement struck me as being sensible. Doubts started to come when the days passed with no further sign of Adam. I put them aside, telling myself that if he was indeed an important person here, then he would have much to occupy his time. But now those doubts are flooding back …”
“Surely it couldn’t have taken him long to find out why all the faces were strange,” Lee said. “He would talk to people, find familiar names. He’d soon find out about the difference in times.”
The other nodded worriedly. “I realise that now. It is also significant that today no word has been sent me about the reappearance of the field or of your arrival. The former could have escaped notice. But certainly not the latter.”
He lapsed into a brooding silence. Lee rose from the bench, hoisted himself to the table, and crossed his legs.
“All,” he observed, “is not right in the state of Denmark. Something stinks. Or would seem to. Time is slipping by, Uncle John. Your lady-friend or whoever brings supper will soon be h
ere. And we’re anxious to find out about the mist.”
“Yes.” Professor Maver roused himself. “The Korved Circles. And to know about those means going back to the start, to the Magnetic War.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“They call this world ‘Korva,’” said Professor Maver. “The equivalent of our word “Earth.” It exists in a completely different universe from ours. The night sky is unrecognisable: there are two moons; the constellations are all strange. But there are certain similarities between this dimension and ours. Korva must be of exactly the same size as Earth, otherwise surface passage between the two would be impossible. The sun is much like ours, and so is Korva’s rotation about it.”