Tommy Evans" mighty ship was at the far end of the field, a gleaming thing of silver, with the tubes a dull red, preheated to stand the sudden flare of rocket blasts in the deadly cold of Pluto's surface.
Yes, thought Gary, another crusade. But a crusade without weapons. Without even knowing who the enemy might be. Without a definite plan of campaign. With no campaign at all. With just an ideal and the sound of bugles out in space. But that was all man had needed ever. Just an ideal and the blaring of bugles.
Caroline cried out in wonder, almost in fear, and Gary glanced toward the center of the field.
The machine was gone! Where it had stood there was nothing, no faintest hint it had ever stood there. Just empty field and nothing else.
"Jensen turned on the power!" Kingsley shouted. "The machine is warped into another dimension. The road is open to the Engineers."
Gary pointed out into space. "Look," he yelled.
A faint, shimmering circle of light lay far out into the black depths. A slow wheel of misty white. A nebulous thing that hadn't been there before.
"That's where we go," said Kingsley, and Gary heard the man's breath whistling through his teeth. "That's where we go to reach the Engineers."
CHAPTER Seven
Tommy's nimble fingers flew over the rocket bank, set up a take-off pattern. His thumb tripped the firing lever and the ship surged up from the field with the thunder of the rocket blasts shuddering through its frame-work.
"Hit dead center," warned Kingsley and Tommy nodded.
"Don't you worry," he snorted. "I will hit it."
"I'd like to see the look on the face of them dumb cops when they reach Pluto and find us gone," said Herb.
"Thought they were putting over a fast one on us."
"It'll be all right if they don't set down right into that machine down there," Gary declared. "If they did that something would happen to them… and happen awful fast."
"I told Ted to warn them away from it," Kingsley said. "I don't think they'd hurt the machine, but they would sure get messed up themselves. They may try to destroy it, and if they do, they're in for a real surprise. Nothing could do that." He chuckled. "Stilled atomic-whirl and rigid space-curvature," he said. "There's material for you!"
The ship lanced swiftly through space, heading for that wheeling circle of misty light.
"How far away would it be?" Gary asked and Kingsley shook his head.
"Not too far," he said. "No reason for it being too far away."
They watched it through the vision plate, saw the wheel of light expand, become a great spinning, frosty rim that filled the plate and in its center a black hole like a hub.
Tommy set up a corrective pattern and tripped the firing lever. The cross-hairs on the destination panel bore dead center on the night-black hub.
The wheel of light flared out, the hub became bigger and blacker, a hole in space… as if one were looking through it into space, but into a space where there were no stars.
The light disappeared. Just the black hub remained, filling the vision plate with inky blackness. Then the ship was flooded with that same blackness, a cloying, heavy blackness that seemed pressing in upon them.
Caroline cried out softly and then choked back the cry, for the blackness was followed almost instantly by a flood of light.
The ship was diving down toward a city, a monstrous city that jerked Gary's breath away. A city that piled height on height, like gigantic steps, with soaring towers that pointed at them like Titan fingers. A solid, massive city of gleaming white stone and square, utilitarian lines, a city that covered mile on mile of land, so that one could see no part of the planet that bore it, the city stretching from horizon to horizon.
Three suns blazed in the sky; one white, two a misty blue, all three pouring out a flood of light and energy that, Gary realized, would have made Sol seem like a tiny candle.
Tommy's fingers flew over the rocket banks, setting up a braking pattern. But even as he did, the speed of the ship seemed to slow, as if they were driving into a soft, but resistant cushion.
And in their brains rang a voice of command, a voice telling them to do nothing, that they and their ship would be brought down to the city in safety. Not so much like words as if each one of them had thought the very thought, as if each one of them knew exactly what to do.
Gary glanced at Caroline and saw her lips shape a single word. "Engineers."
So it hadn't been a nightmare after all. There really were a people who called themselves the Cosmic Engineers. There really was a city.
The ship still plunged downward, but its speed was slowing and now Gary realized that when first they had seen this pile of stone beneath them they had been many miles away. In comparison to the city, they and their ship were tiny things… little things, like ants crawling in the shadow of a mountain.
Then they were within the city, or at least its upper portion. The ship flashed past a mighty spire of stone and swung into its shadow. Below them they saw new details of the city, winding streets and broad parkways and boulevards, like tiny ribbons fluttering in the distance. A city that could thrill one with its mere bigness. A city which would have put a thousand New Yorks to shame. A city that dwarfed even the most ambitious dreams of mankind.
A million of Man's puny cities piled into one. Gary tried to imagine how big the planet must be to bear such a city, but there was no use of thinking, for there was no answer.
They were dropping down toward one of the fifth tiers of buildings, down and down, closer and closer to the massive blocks of Stone. So close now that their vision was cut off, and the terrace of the tier seemed like a broad, flat plain.
A section of the roof was opening, like a door opening outward into space. The ship, floating on an even keel, drifted gently downward, toward that yawning trap door. Then they were through the door, with plenty of room to spare, were floating quietly down between walls of delicate pastel hues.
The ship settled with a gentle bump and was still. They had arrived at their destination.
"Well, we're here," said Herb. "I wonder what we're supposed to do."
As if in answer to his question, the voice came again, the voice that was not a voice, but as if each person were thinking for himself.
It said: "This is a place we have prepared for you. You will find the gravity and the atmosphere and the surroundings natural to yourselves. You will need no space armor, no artificial trappings of any sort. Food is waiting you."
They stared at one another in amazement.
"I think," said Herb, "that I will like this place. Did you hear that? Food? I trust there's also drink."
"Yes," said the voice, "there is drink."
Herb's jaw dropped.
Tommy stepped out of the pilot's chair. "I'm hungry," he said. He strode to the inner valve of the air lock and spun the wheel. The others crowded behind him.
They stepped out of the ship onto a great slab of stone placed in the center of a gigantic room. The stone, apparently, was merely there for the ship to rest upon, for the rest of the floor was paved in scintillating blocks of mineral that flashed and glinted in the light from the three suns pouring in through a huge, translucent skylight. The walls of the room were done in soft, pastel shades, and on the walls were hung huge paintings, while ringed about the ship was furniture, perfect rooms of furniture, but with no dividing walls. An entire household, of palatial dimension, set up in a single room.
A living room, a library, bedrooms and a dining room. A dining room with massive oaken table and five chairs, and upon the table a banquet to do justice to a king.
"Chicken!" cried Herb and the word carried a weight of awe.
"And wine," said Tommy.
They stared in amazement at the table. Gary sniffed. He could smell the chicken.
"Antique furniture," said Kingsley. "That stuff would bring a fortune back in the solar system. Mostly Chatterton and it looks authentic. And beautiful pieces, museum pieces, every one. Thousa
nd years old at least." He stared from piece to piece. "But how did they got it here?" he burst out.
Caroline's laughter rang through the room, a chiming, silver laughter that had a note of wild happiness in it.
"What's the matter?" demanded Tommy.
"I don't see anything funny," declared Herb. "Unless there is a joke. Unless that chicken really isn't chicken."
"It's chicken," Caroline assured him. "And the rest of the food is real, too. And so is that furniture. Only I didn't think of it as antique. You see, a thousand years ago that sort of furniture was the accepted style. That was the smartest sort of pieces to have in your home."
"But you?" asked Gary. "What did you have to do with it?"
"I told the Engineers," she said. "They asked me what we ate and I told them. They must have understood me far better than I thought. I told them the kind of clothes we wore and the kind of furniture we used. But, you see, the only things I knew about were out of date, things the people used a thousand years ago. All except the chicken. You still eat chicken, don't you?"
"And how," grinned Herb.
"Why," said Gary, "this means the Engineers can make anything they want to. They can arrange atoms to make any sort of material. They can transmute matter!"
Kingsley nodded. "That's exactly what it means," he said.
Herb was hurrying for the table.
"If we don't get there, there won't be anything left," Tommy suggested.
The chicken, the mashed potatoes and gravy, the wine, the stuffed olives… all the food was good. It might have come out of the kitchen of the solar system's smartest hotel only a few minutes before. After days of living on coffee and hastily slapped-together sandwiches, they did full justice to it.
Herb regarded with regret the last piece of chicken and shook his head dolefully.
"I just can't do it," he moaned. "I just can't manage any more."
"I never tasted such food in all my life," Kingsley declared.
"They asked me what we ate," Caroline said, "so I thought of all the things I like the best. They didn't leave out a single one."
"But where are the Engineers?" asked Gary. "We haven't seen a thing of them. We have seen plenty of what they have done and can do, but not one has showed himself."
Footsteps rasped across the floor and Gary swung around in his chair. Advancing toward them was something that looked like a man, but not exactly a man. It was the same height, had the same general appearance — two arms, two legs, a man-shaped torso and a head. But there was something definitely wrong with the face; something wrong with the body, too.
"There's the answer to your question," said Tommy.
"There's an Engineer."
Gary scarcely heard him. He was watching the Engineer intently as the creature approached. And he knew why the Engineer was different. Cast in human shape, he was still a far cry from the humans of the solar system, for the Engineer was a metal man! A man fashioned of metallic matter instead of protoplasm.
"A metal man," he said.
"That's right," replied Kingsley, and keen interest rather than wonderment was in his words. "This must be a large planet. The force of gravity must be tremendous. Protoplasm probably would be unable to stand up under its pull. We'd probably just melt down if the Engineers hadn't fixed up this place for us."
"You are right," said the metal man, but his mouth didn't open, his facial expression didn't change. He was speaking to them as the voice had spoken to them back on Pluto and again as they had entered the city. The Engineer stopped beside the table and stood stiffly, his arms folded across his chest.
"Is everything satisfactory?" asked the Engineer.
It was funny, this way he had of talking. No sound, no change of expression, no gesture… just words burning themselves into one's brain, the imprint of thought thrust upon one's consciousness.
"Why, yes," said Gary, "everything is fine,"
"Fine," shouted Herb, waving a drumstick. "Why, everything is perfect."
"We tried so hard to do everything just as you told us," said the Engineer. "We are pleased that everything is all right. We had a hard time understanding one thing. Those paintings on the wall. You said they were things you had and were used to and we wanted so much to make everything as you wanted it. But they were something we had never thought of, something we had never done. We are sorry that we were so stupid. They are fine things. When this trouble is over, we may make more of them. They are so very beautiful. How queer it was we hadn't thought of them."
Gary swung around and stared at the painting opposite the table. Obviously it was a work in oils and seemed a very fine one. It portrayed some fantastic scene, a scene with massive mountains in the background and strange twisted trees and waist-high grass and the glitter of a distant waterfall. A picture, Gary decided, that any art gallery would be proud to hang.
"You mean," be asked, "that these are the first pictures you ever painted?"
"We hadn't even thought of it before," said the Engineer.
They hadn't known of paintings before. No single Engineer had ever thought to capture a scene on canvas. They had never wielded an artist's brush. But here was a painting that was perfect in color and in composition, well balanced, pleasing to the eye!
"One thing about you fellows," said Tommy, "is that you will tackle anything."
"It was so simple," said the Engineer, "that we are ashamed we never thought of it."
"But this trouble," rumbled Kingsley. "This danger to the universe. You told us about it back on Pluto, but you didn't explain. We would like to know."
"That," said the Engineer, "is what I am here to tell you…"
No change in the tone of the thoughts… no slightest trend of emotion. No change of expression on his face.
"We will do whatever we can to help," Kingsley told him.
"We are sure of that," said the Engineer. "We are glad that you are here. We were so satisfied when you said that you would come. We feel you can help us very, very much."
"But the danger," prompted Caroline. "What is the danger?"
"I will begin," said the Engineer, "with information that to us is very elemental, although I do not believe you know it. You had no chance to find it out, being so far from the edge of the universe. But we who have lived here so many years, found the truth long ago.
"This universe is only one of many universes. Only one of billions and billions of universes. We believe there are as many universes as there are galaxies within our own universe."
The Earthlings looked in astonishment at him. Gary glanced at Kingsley and the scientist seemed speechless. He was sputtering, trying to talk.
"There are over fifty billion galaxies within our universe," he finally said. "Or at least that is what our astronomers believe."
"Sorry to contradict," said the Engineer. "There are many more than that. Many times more than that."
"More!" said Kingsley, faintly for him.
"The universes are four-dimensional," said the Engineer, "and they exist within a five-dimensional inter-space, perhaps another great super-universe with the universes within it taking the place of the galaxies as they are related to our universe."
"A universe within a universe," said Gary, nodding his head. "And might it not be possible that this super-universe is merely another universe within an even greater super-universe?"
"That might be so," declared the Engineer. "It is a theory we have often pondered. But we have no way of knowing. We have so little knowledge…"
A little silence fell upon the room, a silence filled with awe. This talk of universes and super-universes. This dwarling of values. This relegating of the universe to a mere speck of dust in an even greater place!
"The universes, even as the galaxies, are very far apart," the Engineer went on. "So very far apart that the odds against two of them ever meeting are almost incomprehensibly great. Farther apart than the suns in the galaxies, farther apart, relatively, than the galaxies in the universe. But entire
ly possible that once in eternity two universes will meet."
He paused, a dramatic silence in his thought. "And that chance has come," he said. "We are about to collide with another universe."
They sat in stunned silence.
"Like two stars colliding," said Kingsley. "That's what formed our solar system."
"Yes," said the Engineer, "like two stars colliding. Like a star once collided with your Sun."
Kingsley jerked his head up.
"You know about that?" he asked.
"Yes, we know about that. It was long ago. Many million years ago."
"How do you know about this other universe?" asked Tommy. "How could you know?"
"Other beings in the other universe told us," said the Engineer. "Beings that know much more in many lines of research than we shall ever know. Beings we have been talking to for these many years."
"Then you knew for many years that the collision would take place," said Kingsley.
"Yes, we knew," said the Engineer. "And we tried hard, the two peoples; We of this universe and those of the other universe. We tried hard to stop it, but there seemed no way. And so at last we agreed to summon, each from his own universe, the best minds we could find. Hoping they perhaps could find a way… find a way where we had failed."
"But we aren't the best minds of the universe," said Gary. "We must be far down the scale. Our intelligence, comparatively, must be very low. We are just beginning. You know more than we can hope to know for centuries to come."
"That may be so," agreed the Engineer, "but you have something else. Or you may have something else. You may have a courage that we do not possess. You may have an imagination that we could not summon. Each people must have something to contribute. Remember, we had no art, we could not think up a painting; our minds are different. It is so very important that the two universes do not collide."
"What would happen," asked Kingsley, "if they did collide?"
All Flesh Is Grass and Other Stories Page 39