Last Conflict

by John Russell Fearn

  Smiling to himself, he fished inside the hollow setting of the jewel with his slender tweezers, extracting a microscopic strip of film. To develop and enlarge the image was the work of a few minutes. Switching on the normal lighting, he examined the perfect copy of Levison’s designs that it presented.

  “Yes, my misguided brother,” he mused, aloud. “You can trust me—to see that your patient efforts are not wasted as you would waste them. If you don’t want the world, I can use it!”

  * * * *

  It was another three days before Melvin found himself free to undertake the first test of the Elements Controller. At seven o’clock, answering his call over the visiphone, Lalia presented herself in his office. She found him in the act of donning a heavily-proofed suit equipped with a dark-goggled helmet and lead-soled boots. She regarded him quizzically.

  “Heavens, Mel! What’s all this for?”

  “Simply taking precautions,” he told her. “It’s likely there may be some pretty powerful radiations from that machine, and I want to be sure I don’t get hurt until I know for certain what they are. They may be quite harmless, but—”

  “Radiation? But why should there be? I don’t understand. You’ve never mentioned anything of the sort before.”

  “We’re playing with elemental forces, Lalia, and no precaution can be too great. But there’s no need to fuss; everything will be all right. I just don’t want to leave anything to chance, that’s all. Since I haven’t got another suit like this, you won’t be able to come in the lab with me, but you can watch through the reinforced glass panel in the door.”

  She shrugged her slim shoulders, followed him along the corridor to the laboratory. He unlocked the door and went inside. She heard the click of the lock and stood watching him through the thick glass. She saw him fasten the helmet over his head, draw on the huge gloves. Then he crossed to the switchboard, threw in the master switch.

  The dynamos began to hum, stepping up swiftly to a steady, high-pitched whine. From her position outside the door Lalia could not see the meter readings, but the delicate needles were visible, jumping along their graduated scales. There was power there—vast power such as she had never expected; and soon she saw the manifestation of it as the normal lighting of the laboratory began to dim before the flashing lightning of the machine’s own creation. From the two anode and cathode globes at either end darted livid membranes of high-voltage electricity. Then, as the power mounted still further, they became violet-tinted chains leaping from globe to globe with crackling impact.

  Lalia stood awed by the sight while Melvin, looking like some grotesque demon, worked over the switchboard, adjusting potentiometers and studying dials. Gradually, out of this wild chaos of unleashed forces was born a pale, lavender beam which rose from the centre of the machine, growing in strength and colour until it appeared like a massive amethyst column supporting the roof. Amid the flashes of his surging power. Melvin stood watching it, supreme exultancy in his attitude; while the girl could only stare, shielding her eyes against the incessant bursts of glaring light which gushed from the potential globes.

  Minutes passed with that strange, transparent beam stabbing upwards to the roof of the laboratory, which, she assured herself, formed not the slightest barrier to its matter-penetrating substance. Though how high it reached she could only wonder, until a sudden draught from the ventilator shafts came sweeping along the polished corridor, bringing her to the realization that other things were happening outside. The big windows close to where she stood had lost their summer evening brightness and become dark rectangles of gloomy grey. With every second the external scene was changing.

  Then, turning back to the glass panel, she caught her breath as she saw Melvin straighten up from the switchboard, pass a gloved hand slowly across his dark goggles, stagger slightly, and fall headlong to the floor.

  “Melvin!” she screamed, beating frantically on the door with her fists, though she knew there was little chance of his hearing her even if he were conscious. He lay there unmoving while she watched in growing panic. He had locked the door behind him. Had he thought this might happen? But to deny himself her aid— She could only stand there, bewildered, trying desperately to think.

  Startlingly, from outside came a vivid flash of lightning that lit up the corridor, followed almost immediately by the violent crash of thunder. The draught was sweeping along the passage now in chilly gusts. There were splashes of rain on the windows—

  In sudden decision she swung round raced down the corridor to Melvin’s office. She paused in the doorway for a moment as a terrific flash of lightning dazzled her. Then she dived for the desk, whipped up a heavy paperweight and dashed back to the laboratory.

  One—twice—three times she struck at the glass panel before it went sharding inwards. Hot, foul air wafted full in her face and set her coughing for a moment; then she thrust her arm through the opening, reached down until she could just touch, and turn, the key. As the door opened she hesitated, appalled at the crackling electrical hell before her. But the greater fear of what would happen if the machine was not stopped and Melvin rescued drove her forward, straight towards the master switch.

  She seized the massive handle, tore the great blades out of contact. Instantly the lavender column vanished, the livid lightning from the great globes ceased, meter needles flicked back to zero. Sickened with the smell of ozone, her head swimming in the stifling heat, she grasped the belt round Melvin’s waist with both her hands and dragged him across the floor towards the door. The cool air sweeping along the corridor soon revived her, gave her added strength. Struggling with the dead weight of Melvin’s limp form, she managed to reach the nearest window. Flinging it open, she saw with relief that the rain and the wind had almost stopped, the clouds already dispersing.

  Quickly she unscrewed the heavy helmet and pushed it back over Melvin’s head, revealing his deathly pale face, drenched with perspiration. His eyes were closed; he was still breathing, but shallowly, like one in a coma. A sudden fear clutched at her heart. Leaving him, she hurried back to his office and called the Medical Department, where there was always someone on duty. In a few minutes a doctor came, followed by two attendants with a stretcher.

  The doctor made a brief examination, then Melvin was lifted on to the stretcher and carried away down the corridor.

  “Is—is it serious?” Lalia asked anxiously.

  “No—but it might have been. Exposure to some kind of radiation, I fancy. At the same time, something went wrong with the air supply in his suit. What was it—some sort of experiment?”

  She nodded. “I was watching outside—he said it might be dangerous. I saw him fall, so I went in and dragged him out into the corridor. I had to smash the door panel to do it.”

  The doctor glanced towards the open door of the laboratory. “I see. You scientists take too many risks. Better come along yourself—you’ve had a nasty shock. Lucky you didn’t get burned....”

  Too weak to argue, she went with him to the hospital bay where a nurse ministered to her. She had just drained a glass of sparkling restorative when the doctor returned from examining Melvin.

  “He had better stay with us for a day or two,” he told her. “He has recovered consciousness—”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Not for the moment, Miss Melbridge. He needs perfect quiet for the next few hours. He tells me you are his assistant in his research work. You’d better take these things of his—keys, identitygraph, and so on. You may need the keys, since he will be absent for a while.”

  Lalia nodded, signed for the belongings and put them in the pocket of her smock.

  Slowly she made her way back towards the laboratory, her thoughts curiously muddled. Things had not gone at all as she had expected. There was something about Melvin’s machine that mystified her more than ever—and about its creator. Did he intend that it should produce the effects it seemed to have done? Was he even more aware than he pretended of the devastating forces
he sought to control, and which had only recoiled upon him in spite of his precautions? Why had he concealed so much from her? Was it to allay her fears for his safety, or—?

  Suddenly she remembered that the laboratory door had been left unlocked.

  Whatever his motives, she had vowed to keep his secret. It was unlikely that anybody remained in that part of the building at this hour, but if some unsuspected prowler had been waiting the opportunity— She quickened her pace until she reached the corridor where the door stood open, to find that her fears were groundless. All was deserted as before.

  She stood for a time in the doorway, gazing meditatively at the great machine. But at last, thrusting her doubts aside, she turned to lower the steel shutter over the broken glass panel of the door, which Melvin had always kept in position to prevent even a glimpse of the machine from outside. She was just about to leave when she caught sight of a switch and wiring diagram, which Melvin had brought with him from his office, lying on a bench near the control board. She folded it and took it with her, locking the door as she left.

  Returning to the office, she went to the safe and, after trying several keys, opened it and put the diagram inside. She had almost closed the heavy door when an inscription on the back of a rolled sheet of cartridge paper caught her eye. It was in Melvin’s bold handwriting:

  Thought Amplifier.

  She stared, unbelieving. Surely Levison had not given him any of his designs? Then how had Melvin come by this one, if such it was? Unable to resist the temptation, she took out the roll of paper, slipped off the rubber band. The merest glance at the sheet, as she opened it out, was enough to assure her. It was undoubtedly a photostatic copy of the diagrams Levison had spread out on the bench in his workshop for his brother to inspect. They were all there. One or two of them were not very clear towards the bottom of the sheet, but on the whole the details were perfect, though the photographs seemed to have been taken at an angle that prevented a proper focus.

  The conclusion was obvious—and unpleasant. As she rolled up the paper and replaced it in the safe, Lalia’s face reflected the uneasy thoughts, which, this time, she could not banish. She stood there staring with unseeing eyes in which were only regret and misgiving. Then, with a sudden effort, she turned and ran from the office.

  * * * *

  Two days later, Melvin was back at his desk. His curt summons for her to come to his office was the first intimation Lalia had of the fact. He looked up as she entered, his face expressionless.

  “I believe Dr. Martin handed over to you several of my belongings, including my keys,” he said shortly. “I would like them. It is a little—er—embarrassing having to rely on the commissionaire to let me into my own office.”

  She put the things on the desk. “I would have given them to you if I had known you were back,” she remarked. “I called to see you, but they said—”

  “I told them to tell you I was all right. I thought it better that we should not appear on too intimate terms. After all, you are one of my staff. Still, I’m nonetheless grateful for the way you rescued me. Undoubtedly, you saved my life.”

  She smiled faintly. “Something went wrong—”

  “It was only my suit. You saw yourself how successful the test was. That’s why I wanted you outside. I heard about it later, of course.”

  “You mean—the storm?”

  “Precisely. I set out to produce those conditions through the machine. I succeeded—perhaps almost too well, after the suit went wrong and I lost control. A good job you had the sense to stop the machine—and to make things secure afterwards. However, we can take no more risks. I have decided to dismantle the machine and move it to my private laboratory, away from the Institute. We shall then be sure of perfect secrecy until we are ready to come out openly with a demonstration for the Master’s benefit.”

  He paused as though waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. He flashed a quick glance at her.

  “You’re sure that nobody saw into that laboratory? Dr. Martin, for instance?”

  “Nobody. I locked up myself, and put the diagram you had out back in your safe.”

  She thought she saw a startled look pass swiftly across his features before he glared at her in sudden annoyance.

  “You had no right to go to my safe, Lalia, even if Dr. Martin thought you were entitled to hold my keys! The diagram would have been quite secure where it was. Must I have you prying into all my secrets when my back is turned?”

  She regarded him intently, ignoring the insult. He seemed uncomfortable beneath her cool, searching gaze. His indignation passed as quickly as it had come.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I have too much to thank you for. But, really, I don’t like you taking such liberties, even if you are in my confidence.”

  She smiled, though her blue eyes were sad. “I understand,” she murmured softly. “Now may I go back to my work?”

  Long after she had gone, he sat staring after her, drumming nervous fingers on the desktop. Finally he got up and went to the safe.

  * * * *

  Within a fortnight the Elements Controller had been installed in Melvin’s own laboratory, having been removed in sections and reassembled with Lalia’s assistance. The underground compartment had been slightly enlarged to receive it, and the walls and ceiling so thickly reinforced by the workmen Melvin had engaged that Lalia was prompted to question the necessity for this added construction.

  “Just to protect the machine, that’s all,” he told her in that casual manner with which he dismissed all her questions. “By the way,” he went on, “I’ve seen the Master about a demonstration. He wants to see what we can do—tonight. I’ve promised to produce rain, hail, thunder, snow, and then a fine sunny evening, in that order.”

  “Indeed?” She tried to conceal her surprise. He had obviously left it to the last minute before he took her into his confidence. They were just completing the final stage of the machine’s assembly.

  He strolled to a corner cabinet, opened it to disclose two protective suits like the one he had worn the first time he tested the machine.

  “You will be able to watch from inside this time. There will be no danger. I have seen to that.”

  He moved to the opposite wall, switched on the television periscope, which gave them visual contact with the surface. As he swept the light-photon magnetiser around at the turn of a dial, the whole landscape became visible in a panorama of distant green fields dotted with little dwellings, with part of the more densely packed outer ring of London looming in the foreground. At length they saw the great towered bulk of the city’s centre rearing solid against the evening sky. The scanner turned full circle, and once more the screen showed a vista of peaceful fields and hollows huddling into the distance beyond the fringe of the city.

  “We’ll see if we can change all that,” Melvin said, with one of his rare smiles.

  Yet to Lalia, as she gazed in fascination at the screen, there was a lurking menace in his voice. She felt a little thrill of apprehension, if not actual fear, and glanced nervously about the laboratory, almost certain now that all was not as it should be. That great, shining machine which held the key to the mastery of the elements, and to much more than that for the cold, ruthless genius who had conceived its deadly power—it seemed to her a thing of latent evil, a grinning monster which had ensnared them both in its lair. And Melvin, the boy grown from ragged obscurity to the man she loved for his dogged perseverance and masterful nature, even if at times she doubted his motives; the man she had helped in his struggle, yet who regarded her as he might regard a piece of machinery— Here, deep beneath the surface, alone with him and his deadly powers, she was afraid—not of him, but of those powers he strove to control. She was afraid as much for him as for herself; perhaps a great deal more....

  He seemed almost to sense her mood and tried to console her, not with comforting words or caresses, which were of no concern to hum, but with the promise of rewards whic
h were his only criterion of value.

  “You remember, Lalia, that when a little while ago we discussed the question of marriage I told you it would be better for us to wait until we had built this machine? But I said I would make you Mistress of Britain beside me once I had the power I had set out to get—to share that power with you in return for your help. If I succeed tonight in demonstrating that power—and I shall —you can hold me to that promise just as soon as you wish.”

  She forced herself to smile, to murmur her thanks, though she felt no enthusiasm at the prospect that had attracted her a year ago. She remained silent, staring into the screen and trying to stifle the qualms that tormented her, those fears that she had to convince herself were pure imagination. Until at length Melvin went to the cabinet and lugged out the two suits, began to clamber into one of them.

  “It’s nearly time,” he told her. “Come on, get into this. These suits are equipped with audiphones, so we can talk to each other.”

  Mastering her uneasiness, Lalia obeyed. They checked their air supply carefully, then dropped the helmets in position. Melvin lumbered to the control board, threw in the main switch. The dynamos began to hum, meter needles jumped, and as he pulled another switch there was a sudden violent crackle of released energy and brilliant electric membranes leapt the gap between the globes.