by Philip Wylie
Tony tightened his clasp upon her arm. Through all the terrors and triumphs, through all their consternations and amazements, instincts, he found, survived. “We will not speak of such things now,” he said. “We will satisfy the more immediate needs, such as food—deviled eggs and sandwiches; and coffee! As if we were on earth, Eve. For once more we are on earth—this strange, strange earth. But we have brought our identical bodies with us.”
* * *
“Sardines!” Duquesne said. He patted his vast expanse of abdomen—an abdomen which in his native land he had often maintained, and was frequently to assert with pride on Bronson Beta, consisted not of fat but of superior muscle. Indeed, although Duquesne was short of stature and some fifty years of age, he often demonstrated that he was possessed not only of unquenchable nervous energy, but of great physical strength and endurance. “Sardines!” He rolled his eyes at half a dozen women and several of the men who were standing near him. He took another bite of the sandwich in his hand.
Eve giggled and said privately to Tony: “All this expedition needed to make it complete was a comedian.”
Tony grinned as he too bit a crescent in a sandwich. “A comedian is a great asset, and a comedian who was able even years ago to help Einstein solve equations, is quite a considerable asset.”
“So many things like Duquesne’s arrival have happened to us,” Eve said. “Purely fortuitous accidents.”
“Not all of them good.”
“Who’s in charge of lunch?” Eve asked a moment later.
Tony chuckled. “Who but Kyto? He, and an astronomer, and a mechanical engineer, and a woman who is a plant biologist like Higgins, are all working in happy harmony. Kyto seems to understand exactly what has taken place. In fact, there are moments when I think he is a high-born person. I had a friend once who had a Japanese servant like Kyto, who after seven years of service resigned. When my friend asked him what he was going to do, the Japanese informed him that he had been offered the chair of Behavioristic Psychology at a Middle Western university. He had been going to Columbia at night for years. Sometimes I think Kyto may be like that.”
Eve did not make any response at the moment, because Duquesne was again talking in his loud bombastic voice. He had attracted the attention of Cole Hendron and of several others, including Dr. Dodson.
Dodson’s presence on the Ark was due to the courage of a girl named Shirley Cotton. On the night of the gory raid on Hendron’s encampment, Dodson had been given up for dead by Tony. The great surgeon’s last gesture, in fact, had been to wave to Tony to carry his still living human burden to safety. However, before the Ark rose to sear and slay the savage hordes of marauders, Shirley Cotton had found the dying man.
In the space of a few moments she had put a turniquet around his arm, partly stanched a deep abdominal wound, and dragged him to a cellar in the machine-shop, intending to hide him there. It saved both their lives, for soon afterward the whole region was deluged by the atomic blast of the Ark as it rose and methodically obliterated the attackers of the camp.
Dodson had recovered, but he had lost one arm. As Tony was Hendron’s chief in the direction of physical activities, Dodson became his creator of policies. He listened now to Duquesne.
“A picnic in the summer-time on Bronson Beta, children,” Duquesne boomed. “And it is summer-time, you know. Fortunately, but inevitably from the nature of events, still summer. My observations of the collision check quite accurately with my calculations of what would happen; and if the deductions I made from those calculations are correct, quite extraordinary things will happen.” He glanced at Hendron.
The leader of the expedition frowned faintly, as if Duquesne were going to say something he did not wish to have expressed. Then he shrugged.
“You might as well say it. You might as well tell them, I suppose. I wasn’t going to describe our calculations until they had been thoroughly checked.”
Duquesne shook his head backward and forward pontifically. “I might as well tell them, because already they are asking.” He addressed those within earshot. “We will have a little class in astronomy.” He put to use two resources—the smooth vertical surface of a large stone, and a smaller stone which he had picked up to scratch upon the bowlder.
As Duquesne began to talk, all the members of the group gathered around the flat bowlder to watch and listen.
“First,” he began, “I will draw the solar system as it was.” He made a small circle and shaded it in. “Here, my friends, is the sun.” He circumscribed it with another circle and said: “Mercury.” Outside the orbit of Mercury he drew the orbits respectively of Venus, Earth and Mars. He looked at the drawing with beaming satisfaction, and then at his listeners. “So this is what we had had. This is where we have been. Now. I draw the same thing without the Earth.”
He repeated the diagram—this time with three concentric circles instead of four. A broad gap was left where the earth’s orbit had been. Again he stepped away from the diagram and looked at it proudly. “So—Mercury we have; Venus we have; and Mars we have. The Earth we do not have. Bear in mind, my children, that these circles I have drawn are not exactly circles. They are ellipses. But they vary only slightly from circles. Mr. Cole Hendron’s associates will give you, I do not doubt, very fine maps. This rock-scratching of mine is but a child’s crude diagram. I proceed. I set down next the present position of this world on which we stand—Bronson Beta.”
Every one watched intently while he drew an ellipse which, on one side, came close to the orbit of Venus, and on the other approached the circle made by the planet Mars on its journey around the sun.
“Here is our path, closer to the sun than the Earth has been; and also farther away. The hottest portion of this new path of this new planet about the sun already had been passed when we fled here. This world had made its closest approach in rounding the sun, and it had reached the point in its orbit which our earth had reached in April. Now we are going away from the sun, but on such a path that—and under such conditions that—only slowly will the days grow colder.”
“They will become, when we get out on that portion of our path near Mars,” a man among his hearers questioned, “how cold?”
Duquesne called upon his comic knack to turn this question. He shivered so grotesquely that the audience laughed. “The most immediately interesting feature of our strange situation will be, my friends, the amazing character of our days. Many of you have been told of that; so I ask you. Who will answer? Hands, please!” He pretended to be teaching a class of children. “How long will be our days?”
They nearly all laughed; and several raised their hands. “You, Mr. Tony Drake. You, I know, have become like so many others a splendid student of astronomy. How long will be our days?”
“Fifty hours, approximately,” replied Tony.
“Excellent! For what determines the length of the day? Of course it is the time which the planet takes to turn upon its own axis. It has nothing whatever to do with the sun, or the path about the sun; it is a peculiarity of the planet itself, and inherent in it from the forces which created it at its birth. Bronson Beta happens to be rotating on its axis in approximately fifty hours, so our days—and our nights—will be a trifle more than twice as long as those to which we have become accustomed. Now—hands again—how long will our year be? Let one of the ladies speak this time!”
“Four hundred and twenty-eight days!” a girl’s voice said. Her name was Mildred Pope.
“Correct,” applauded Duquesne, “if you speak in terms of the days of our perished planet. It will take four hundred and twenty-eight of our old days for Bronson Beta”—Duquesne, not without some satisfaction, stamped upon it—“to circle the sun; but of the longer days with which we are now endowed, the circuit will consume only two hundred and five and a fraction. It tears up our old calendars, doesn’t it? We start out, among many other adventures, with new calculations of time. So we will rotate in some fifty hours, and swing in toward Venus and out toward
Mars, in our great elliptical orbit, making a circuit of the sun in four hundred and twenty-eight of our old days—which will live now only in our memories—or two hundred and five of our new days. Around and about, in and out, we will go—let us hope, forever.”
His audience was silent. Duquesne let them study his sketches on his natural blackboard before he observed: “A few obvious consequences will at once occur to you.”
Higgins, who had dropped his plants while he listened, gave his impromptu answer like a grade boy in a classroom: “Of course; our summers will be very hot, and our winters will be very cold and very long.”
Duquesne nodded. “Quite so. But there is one fortunately favorable feature. What chiefly determined the seasons on the old earth,” he reminded, “was the inclination of the earth upon its axis. If Bronson Beta had a similar or a greater inclination in reference to the plane of its orbit around the sun, all effects would be exaggerated. But we find actually less inclination here. Whether that may be a favorable feature ‘provided’ for us by some Power watching over this singularly fortunate party, or whether it is one of innumerable accidents of creation which have no real causative connection with our destinies, the fact remains: The equinoxes on Bronson Beta will not march back and forth on the northern and southern hemispheres with such great changes in temperatures. Instead, as we round the sun at its focus,”—he pointed with his chubby finger,—“there will be many, many long hot days. Perhaps our equator at that time will not be habitable. And later, as we round the imaginary focus out here in space so near to the orbit of Mars, it may be very cold indeed, and perhaps then only the equator will be comfortable. So we may migrate four times a year. From the Paris of our new world to its Nice—I mean to say, from the New York City to its Miami. Does one think of anything else?”
Hendron was looking tentatively from one face to the next of his Argonauts. He had been reasonably sure that Bronson Beta would travel in the ellipse Duquesne had described; and from the behavior of the celestial bodies at the time of the collision, he had formed his calculations; but he had not wanted to worry them with thoughts of excessive heat and extreme cold in their new home, and he had enjoined the other mathematicians, astronomers and astrophysicists to say nothing. He was pleased with the reaction of the people. There was no fear in their faces, no dismay. Only a great interest.
The silence was broken by a question from Dodson: “How close will we come to Venus and Mars?”
Duquesne shrugged. Eve turned to Dodson and said: “If my figures are right, it will be three million miles at periods many, many years apart. Three million miles from Mars, and at the most favorable occasion about four from Venus.”
Dodson’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that dangerous?”
Eve shook her head. “The perturbations of all three planets will, of course, be great. But as far as danger of collision is concerned, there is none.”
The group was thoughtful.
“There will be a great opportunity,” Dodson said slowly, “to study those two planets at close range. We must build a good telescope.”
“Telescope!” The word burst from Duquesne. His eyes traveled over the members of the group standing in front of him to the tall, shining cylinder of the Space Ship. There they remained; and slowly, one by one, the people turned to look at the Ark which had carried them from Earth to Bronson Beta. They realized the meaning of Duquesne’s steady gaze. There would be an opportunity in the future not only to study Venus and Mars at close range—but to voyage to them.
Duquesne dropped the stone with which he had been drawing, and stepped away from his diagram.
Eliot James walked over to Tony and Eve. “That is something I didn’t think of,” he murmured. “Something I didn’t think of Stupendous! Colossal!”
Eve smiled. “Father and I thought of it independently a long time ago. It will make your journey around the United States after the first passing seem pretty trifling.”
James shook his head in agreement. “I’d want Vanderbilt with me again if I went on such a trip. And Ransdell.” Abruptly he stopped. Vanderbilt and Ransdell had been lost on the other Space Ship. James flushed, as he looked at Eve. “I’m sorry, Eve. For an instant I forgot.”
“It’s all right.” She took Tony’s arm. “I want to go over and look at the ocean. It’s a funny thing—looking at the ocean. Every time I stared out to sea on earth, I always expected to see a shark’s fin, or a big turtle, or a jellyfish, or a sail, or the smoke of a steamship; and I keep looking for such things on this one. And yet there can be nothing. Nothing at all.” Her eyes traveled the expanse of ocean, and then she sighed. “Let’s take a walk.”
“Let’s go back and look at that road in daylight.”
Eve started. “We’ve left it all this time! Did you tell Father about it?”
“Not yet.”
They went over to Cole Hendron. “Last night,” Tony said, “Eve and I were out walking, and we found a road.”
Ten minutes later every one was gathered around the highway. It was made of a metal-like substance. It ran to the bluff along the sea and then turned south. Except for that single curve—a graded curve, which suggested that the vehicles that once traveled the road moved very swiftly, there was no other turn. In the opposite direction it drove straight toward the dim and distant hills. Its surface was very smooth. As the Argonauts had gathered around Duquesne’s natural lecture-platform, so they now gathered around the metal monument Tony and Eve had seen in match-light on the previous evening. Way was made for Bagsley, the paleontologist. He bent over and looked up with a curious smile.
“That isn’t a job for me.” His eyes were fastened on the inscription the metal slab bore. “You see, this is such a thing as might be found in the future of our earth, but not in the past. No ancient civilization in our world could make a road such as this, or use metal so skillfully.”
“How about the writing?” some one asked.
Bagsley replied: “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I wonder if we won’t find that the curves in all those letters are mathematically perfect? That is, if they are letters. But I couldn’t give you the faintest notion of what it says. It is not remotely related to Sanskrit, or Chinese, or Mayan, or cuneiform, or hieroglyphics, or runes; and it is equally remote from any modern writing.”
Duquesne was taking again. “Anyway,” he said, “whoever lived here had a language to write, and eyes to read it. They had roads to travel and vehicles to go upon them. So they had places to go and to come from. The cities we saw, or thought we saw, must have been real. My friends, great as our adventures have been, there lie ahead adventures infinitely more astounding.”
In the face of so many necessities and so many unknown possibilities, any normal person would have lacked adequate judgment to do the right things in the right order. The colonists of Bronson Beta succeeded in a logical procedure because they had been chosen from a multitude of human beings better than normal.
On the first day of their sojourn they had rested.
On the evening of that day Bronson Beta had exhibited another phenomenon. Soon after dark, when more than half the members of the colony had gone to sleep from fatitgue, a colossal meteor blazed across the sky and disappeared over the edge of the sea. It passed so close to the place where the Ark rested, that they had been able to hear a soft roar from it. It left a blaze upon the sky—a livid pathway of greenish-white fire which faded slowly. It was followed by another smaller meteor, and then half a dozen.
During the ensuing two hours countless thousands of meteors hurtled across the atmosphere of Bronson Beta in the vicinity of the Ark, and many of them fell to earth within the visual range of that spot.
Tony and Eve were outside when the aërolites commenced to fall. At first they were spellbound by the majesty of the spectacle, but when a great hurtling mass of molten material splashed into the sea less than a mile offshore and set the ocean boiling all around, so that clouds of hot steam drifted over it, they became alarmed. Hendron
and Duquesne were alseep, but there were twenty-five or thirty people outdoors.
In the afternoon of that day Tony had made his way some distance down the coast, and he had found a precipice carved by an ancient ocean from living rock. At its base were shallow cave-like openings, and above it three or four hundred feet of solid stone.
When several of the great masses of material had hit the earth so hard that it trembled beneath their feet, Tony quickly commanded the little knot of people who were standing together, watching the spurts of fire across the sky, to go to these holes in the rock wall. They started, with Eve leading the way. Tony then entered the Ark and woke Hendron, whom he found lying on the padded floor in sound, exhausted slumber.
Hendron sat up. “What is it?”
So effective was the insulation of the ship that the fall of meteors was not perceptible on its interior.
“Meteors,” Tony answered. “Three of them have landed within a mile of here in the last few minutes. Big ones. Any one of them would annihilate this ship if it hit it. There were about thirty people outdoors. I sent them up the coast to some shallow caves at the foot of a basalt cliff. I thought it was safer there.”
As he said the last words, he was following Hendron down the spiral staircase. They debouched on the gangplank; and as they did so, a dazzling, dancing illumination and a crescendo roar announced the fall of another meteor. It hit on the brink of the cliff overlooking the sea some distance down the coast. A million bright, hot particles splashed over the barren landscape, and an avalanche of melted metal crashed into the ocean. Hendron looked up at the sky, and saw a dozen more of these spectacular missiles pursuing each other. He turned instantly to Tony. “If one of those things hit the cliff where you sent the people, would it knock the cliff down?”
“I don’t know. It’s safer than the Ark, anyway.”