Lunar Vengeance: A Collection of Science Fiction Stories

by Fearn, John Russell

  “This is going to be lovely,” came Saunders’ voice, pitched low. “All our air and warmth relies on our suits from here on—and the same goes for food and drink. Wonder what sort of devilish acceleration these things can stand? If we flatten out under it and they don’t it won’t be too good…”

  Saunders had hardly finished speaking before the robot at the control board snapped over the main switch, which possibly closed the remote control circuit and made the vessel navigable by the master-mind at the centre of operations.

  The jets outside screamed with sudden power. Pressure came crushing down on Colin and Saunders with the force of endless tons, and had it not been for the tough artificial robot-coverings they were wearing they would undoubtedly have been flattened to the floor. Even as it was they staggered dizzily but still managed to maintain their equilibrium. This they had to do otherwise the watching lenses of the robots would transmit the scene camera-wise back home and the truth would dawn upon those in control.

  The pressure increased as the maximum escape velocity was reached. Sweating and giving at the knees Colin and Saunders held their positions. Their heads felt as though they would burst, brilliant lights fireballed before their eyes. Then just as they felt they must drown in this awful tide of fifty, sixty, seventy atmospheres pressure it abruptly ceased as constant velocity beyond the Earth’s orbit was gained.

  Slowly Colin turned and looked at the main observation window. Since it directly overhung the prow of the machine it seemed logical that the view through it would indicate the destination. At the moment the machine was curving through an enormous arc, but at last it steadied and dead ahead there gleamed a familiar red disk, clear cut amidst the infinity of stars thrown against the titanic backdrop of space.

  “Mars!” came Saunders’ voice, in some surprise, and he was still breathing heavily from the ardours of the take-off. “I don’t get it! To the best of our knowledge Mars is as dead as dodo. My early guess had been Venus…”

  But Mars it evidently was for the spaceship did not change direction for a moment. The power-plant remained on a steady charge, ready for immediate action if more power were needed in the jets. As it was the vessel was slowly increasing its original velocity. In consequence everything was apparently normal, the velocity being just sufficient to produce a simulation of gravity equal to Earth-norm.

  “At this rate,” Colin communicated, “we’re going to take some time to make the trip. These blasted robots need no sleep or rest, but we do. How do we get around it? “

  “Use energy pills to keep us going. No other answer.”

  Nor was there. Both the “stowaways” had to rely solely on the drugs within their suits to overcome the normal promptings of Nature. It played hell with their systems, and in time the constant artificial air and imprisoning folds of their suits gave them a violent itching on the surface of their skin. But since they could not get at the itch to assuage it they had to tolerate the misery.

  Hours—endless hours it seemed—and not once did they dare give themselves away by sitting down. Blearily they watched the slowly growing disk of Mars and lost count of the hours. They were satiated with drugs, propped up artificially by their stiff suits—indeed almost dead on their feet, until Colin found his suit was taut enough to permit of him sleeping standing up, so he succumbed, after first telling Saunders to keep watch. By this means they were just about able to stay alive, otherwise they were both convinced they would have dropped from sheer exhaustion and nerve strain…

  How long the 40-million mile journey actually took they did not know, but finally the spaceship was sweeping down to the surface of the red planet, hurtling across endless miles of deserted, ochre-coloured wilderness—until presently there came in view a gigantic metal cover, probably a good two miles across. Strangely enough, it looked quite new.

  “New metal on Mars?” Saunders questioned. “That can only mean that whoever is back of this lot has only just taken over. To quote a long dead writer—‘Curioser and curioser’!”

  At that moment the metal lid slid back into a pre-devised slot leaving a vast, abysmal shaft. Straight as an arrow the spaceship dived into it and downwards through a brief darkness.

  Then light appeared, gushing upwards from a wilderness of machinery. Not a city, not a town. There were no buildings. Only machines, machines, and more machines, bewildering in their intricacy, magnificent in their design.

  The space machine came to rest in a clear space of what was apparently a vast natural cavern. Evidently the “eye” on the surface had been specially designed as a method of ingress and egress. But the machines! They reached to nearly twenty feet in height—a veritable city of them, all linked by cables and, to judge from their countless glowing tubes, evidently very much in action…

  The airlock opened and the robots trooped outside. Colin gave Saunders a quick glance through his peepholes.

  “What do we do, Saunders? Follow ’em?”

  “Naturally. We’re one of them—but don’t blame me if we never come out of this alive. Far as I can see this lot is as mechanical as the invasion itself— Quick, we’re going to be left behind.”

  He dived for the open airlock and Colin quickly followed him. In a moment or two they had caught up with the marching robots and fell into step—with some difficulty for the Martian gravity was difficult to judge.

  “Unless I’m mistaken,” Saunders said, “our stumbling may have given us away. We couldn’t help it, of course, but it certainly must have shown that we’re not such robots as we look!”

  How right he was seemed more than evident in a moment or two for the robots abruptly stopped marching, possibly because the motive power at the back of them had been cut. Their stoppage was so abrupt that Colin and Saunders had bumped into the rearmost ones before they realized a halt had been called. “Damn!” Saunders muttered, glancing about him. “That about gums it up—if we’re being watched, and I’ve no doubt we are.”

  Colin was about to make reply when he caught sight of somebody approaching—the first living being he had ever seen in connection with this fantastic invasion. Words died within him. He could not take his eyes from the advancing woman. It was remarkable enough for her to be exactly like an Earth woman in physique, but what made it so incredible was that she was undoubtedly Helda, his own wife!

  Helda absolutely—but hard-faced, tight-mouthed, with a frigid stare in her eyes. Motionless, Colin watched her as she came nearer, queenly in her walk, loose satin-like clothes flowing about her. Evidently there was air in this immense underworld for she was breathing normally and the draught was disturbing her draperies. At last she paused, perhaps six feet away.

  “The brains behind the invasion,” Saunders commented. “I wish she weren’t so infernally pretty—”

  “This woman’s my wife!” Colin choked. “But how in the name of all that’s Satanic did she get here? Now I understand many things—her wish that I would not accept the assignment Harrison gave me; her certainty that it could only lead to disaster.”

  He stopped talking and switched through his ether-wave instrument so that he could communicate externally.

  “What the devil’s the idea, Helda?” he demanded, striding forward. “How did you get here ahead of us?”

  The woman surveyed him coldly, then she looked half puzzled. Finally she made a gesture.

  “You can remove your robot suits, gentlemen. There is balanced atmosphere in here…”

  “Gentlemen?” Colin repeated, baffled. “Doesn’t she remember my voice, or what?”

  Impatiently he tugged at the clamps which released his suit, and Saunders did likewise. In a few moments they were free of them, drawing in fresh, sweet air which tasted like nectar after their self-inflicted imprisonment. Both of them had become somewhat bearded, but Colin knew that even this was not enough reason for Helda not even yet recognizing him.

  “Helda, for the love of heaven—” He strode forward and gripped her shoulders. Instantly she shook him awa
y angrily.

  “How dare you touch me?” she demanded. “You are a human: I am a robot. We have nothing in common.”

  “Eh?” Colin stared blankly and Saunders scratched his head. To the rear, the motionless robots waited for the word of command—or whatever method was utilised to set them going.

  “Or are you a human?” Helda asked slowly, frowning. “I sense about you something similar to myself—who were your parents?” she demanded abruptly.

  “I haven’t the least idea. You know that: I told you when we were married.”

  “Married? I never saw you before in my life!”

  Colin gave Saunders a hopeless look. All Saunders could do was raise and lower his thick shoulders negatively.

  “I detected you were not part of my robot army when you left the space machine,” Helda resumed, her voice acidly sharp. “You did not behave like robots: you did not walk like robots. I can only assume that by an ingenious trick you have reached my headquarters.”

  “You knew perfectly well I was going to,” Colin retorted. “I had to argue with you to make you see the sense of the assignment.”

  “You never argued with me, Earthman. I repeat, I have never seen you before. There is only one answer to this. You think I am your wife by the name of Helda. She must be the other identity whom Dr. Atkinson created—the human entity, or almost. I am her robot counterpart.”

  Something began to stir in the back of Colin’s mind. Hazy remembrances of his birth which Dr. Atkinson had not entirely obliterated. It had demanded an occasion like this to restore those half foundered recollections.

  “I believe,” he said slowly, “that I am as much of a robot as you are! I remember test tubes. I even remember Dr. Atkinson and some machinery…”

  “You and your robot counterpart were created before me and my counterpart,” the woman said. “Dr. Atkinson always feared cellular duality—an exact double of everything synthetic—and his fear was justified. To synthetic life there is one drawback: because of the duality of the cellular material used everything is created in duplicate. When you were finally brought to life from a mass of synthetic material your double also came to life and you were linked by a cellular tissue. Presumably Atkinson cut that tissue and gave you and your twin separate entities. He discovered that where you had the human virtues and few of the vices, your twin was pure robot—soulless, sexless, a machine in fleshly covering. He destroyed your twin completely before he could do any damage. He turned you loose to make your way in the world with the knowledge he had electrically bequeathed to your brain.”

  “How do you know all this?” Colin demanded.

  “I made him tell me.” The woman smiled tautly. “I was created after you. I am the pure robot twin of the woman you call Helda. She and I were joined cellularly to commence with and then were separated. From what Atkinson told both of us I knew he would kill me as he’d killed you, so much did he fear the robot side of his synthesis…I was too clever for him. He released my human twin, even as he had released you, to make her own way. But before he could then destroy me I used the knowledge he had given me to turn his scientific instruments against him. I learned all that I have just told you, and a good deal more. Far more than my humble, human twin. When I had gathered all I needed I killed Atkinson, wrecked his laboratory, and using atomic power in the way he had shown me I escaped, converted a war-time submarine into a spaceship and headed for Mars. With me I took all the valuable formulae which Atkinson’s laboratory had contained before I wrecked it. I knew from Atkinson’s revelations what Mars would contain, and I found him correct. Minerals, ores, an atmosphere of sorts, high electric content in the atmosphere, ideal for remote control…”

  “Then my wife knew you were not dead when she was set free? “Colin asked quietly.

  “Yes, she knew. And between us there is still a mental link, common enough in identical twins, which could explain her trying to restrain you from action against me.” The robot woman’s eyes gleamed. “I seek only one thing! The domination of the human by the robot, because I am a robot, but in fleshly covering. From this planet I launched an attack, controlling everything by radio waves and television. The machinery and equipment is partly that of the now extinct Martian race, and partly made by me with the machine tools left by that race. My knowledge? All of it Dr. Atkinson’s, driven into my brain via his electrical instruments. Atkinson was a genius, therefore so am I. I am determined that robots shall master all flesh-and-blood creations and naturally I began with Earth. I shall continue until all flesh and blood is under machine control— Then, out to the other worlds!”

  Colin and Saunders were silent, viewing in silent horror this amazing travesty of synthesis—a duplicated woman with the inhuman heart of a precision machine.

  “Atkinson planned to increase the race with a perfect man and perfect woman, devoid of inheritance and vices. In you and Helda he might have succeeded. Unfortunately for him I had a say in the matter, and I have already told you what I intend to do. You have had the impudence—yes, and the courage—to come this far, you and your normal human colleague, but you will never leave. My plans are made, and by degrees more and more robots will go to Earth, returning only at intervals for new equipment, spare parts and so forth, until from this distant world I shall finally have the whole System at my mercy…”

  The intensity of the robot woman’s belief in herself and her objective was obvious. Also obvious was the vast amount of scientific skill she had acquired from the genius of Atkinson.

  Finally Colin asked a question, almost casually, in the hope it would conceal his eagerness. Far back of his mind there was an idea forming.

  “These robots entirely obey will-power, I take it? Or only remote control by radio?”

  “They obey both, but principally will-power. If they are at a considerable distance, such as on another world, it demands radio control. When close at hand they obey mental waves, their mechanism being designed for that purpose. But only a robot such as I can give them orders.”

  Colin nodded and was silent, his brows knitted in thought. Then abruptly Saunders twirled around and jumped to one side, and at the same time the robot woman screamed a command hoarsely. Only she was not quick enough. The robots which had been standing close by had suddenly swung and advanced relentlessly on the woman as she shouted desperately for them to stop…They ignored her and came on. Before she could move fast enough to save herself the heavy metallic bodies had crushed against her and leaden feet stamped down upon her face and vitals, crushing the life out of her. The cavern echoed to her screams until at last they died into silence.

  “Hell,” Saunders whispered, his face wet and turned away from the hideous sight in the midst of the now motionless automatons. “What went wrong? Did she misfire, or what?”

  “Nothing misfired.” Colin’s voice was harsh with strain. “At heart, remember, I too am a robot. I gave the metal men orders to kill the woman, and they obeyed. You couldn’t have done it being born of a human: I could. And did. We came on a mission, Saunders, and we have fulfilled it, rather more quickly than we expected…” Colin drew a deep breath and looked about him. “For the first and last time in my life I’m glad I’m not a natural human being…Now, let’s find how we get out of here.”

  SOLAR ASSIGNMENT

  Len Dayton peered through the main observation window of the spaceship, made a wry face, then fixed his blue eyes on the cold, merciless darkness of Pluto. To he and Rex Lanson was reflected the starlit wastes of this outcast of the Sun’s family, desolate beyond belief, frigid outpost of the Solar System.

  “Maybe we’re crazy,” was Rex’s comment at last as he rubbed his red hair, “but don’t forget that the Ed. will be even crazier if we don’t bring back a story worth printing this time. We’ve fallen down on most of our assignments so far. This is our last chance.”

  Len grunted, wondered whether he had been a fool to suggest coming out this far in the hope of finding something. For the normal space routes
limited themselves at Neptune; and even within the orbit of that planet it was no picnic. Telescopes had already shown that Pluto wasn’t worth the extra hazard. It was only dead rock anyway.

  “Funny how a journalist’s instincts drive him on,” Rex sighed. “But we’ve gone up a gumtree all right. I think we’d better be getting home and prepare for the wrath to come. Six fuel containers used up and no results! Wow! Will the chief burn when he sees the mess we’ve made of our roving commissions!”

  Len turned back to the controls disappointedly, forced the vessel into a jolt of speed to break it away from the heavy little world’s field, then he hesitated with his hands resting on the switches, his eyes gazing fixedly through the port.

  “Say,” he breathed, “what in cosmos is that?” Rex joined him again. Down there, now they had come to a different part of the frozen world, there was something glinting, throwing back the light of the diamond-bright stars. It was fairly large—had to be indeed—to catch so much reflection. Water was not possible on a world like this. Ice? Well, perhaps, if it were highly glazed.

  “Looks like—glass,” Rex said, and he spoke in a hushed tone as though afraid he was sounding ridiculous.

  “Glass! Here?” But Len Dayton’s voice wasn’t exactly scornful: it was bewildered. He stared for another long moment, then, gripping the controls, he swept the ship down amidst feathers of rocket exhaust.

  They came low over the gleaming portion, and transiently they saw quite clearly that an immense dome of glasslike substance was indeed bulging out of the summit of a rocky eminence.

  “It’s some sort of observation tower!” Rex cried excitedly. “Think of that—way out here on Pluto, of all places. A story, man—a story! Take the ship down: we want a close look at this!”