by Eando Binder
Looking below, as they orbited around the globe, they saw the large tube that stuck up at a slant. Dust showed that a blast of air was coming out.
“But the ward is too small,” said Aronson, puzzled, “to exhibit any noticeable gravity and hold that ‘atmosphere.’ Ah, I see. As we noticed before, the globe has a definite rotation, in order to let the hollow’s miniature sun light all sides. So as the current of air sweeps out at an angle, the globe rotates underneath it, just as if a wind had been formed. There must be other tubes that blast out air, to make it roughly a ‘whirlwind’ completely surrounding the globe.”
Looking down, they saw more of the tubes at regular intervals, and set in radial lines all around the globe. The combined gushes of air, at an acute angle to the surface of the ward, blended to form the unnatural whirlwind.
It was a perfect man-trap for any inmate who tried to play scientifically smart and jump off in the hope of escaping. The air-current was slowly spiraling them back to the hull, willy-nilly.
“Wait,” snarled Paige. “We might still turn their clever trick against them. We can still play around with air-resistance. Turn your back to the current and angle your body away from the perpendicular.”
They had to twist and squirm awkwardly but finally managed to align their bodies flatwise to the air-current. Now, like human airplanes using the mechanics of air-flow around wings, their downward drift slowly halted. The “air-lift” effect could conceivably blow them away from the globe.
“We’re moving away from the ward now,” yelled Paige triumphantly. “It may take a while to work through the whole whirlwind but we’ll make it and say ‘farewell’ yet.”
Then it happened—for the second time.
Below, on the hull, the open hatchway swung into view. A guard was crawling out and looking up at them, gesturing excitedly.
“They discovered we’re missing,” grinned Paige. “But how can they pull us down?”
Sparky contributed a Bronx cheer. “Nyaaaaa!”
The answer came as a flare of twin lights appeared at the guard’s back and he shot up toward them like a rocket.
“A rocket belt,” groaned Aronson. “With those jets the guard has motive power and can easily grab us and haul us down.”
In one instant, their whole chance of escape had vanished. The guard loomed rapidly larger, shooting up toward them in a sweeping arc. He was able to ignore the whirlwind with plenty of power to drive through it, straight toward his quarry. Already his hands reached out clutchingly.
“Nobody has ever escaped Malmind Ward before,” came the guard’s gloating shout. “Anybody who thinks they can is a nut.” A mocking grin was smeared across his face.
But nobody had tried to escape before who was not a nut, thought Paige, and this time it’s non-nuts trying. A lightning plan had come into his mind which he executed as the guard shot close to them as if to circle and kill his speed, then seize them.
Paige used the steady whirlwind current at his back to shove him upward, straight in the guard’s path. He stuck out his fist. Unable to turn quickly, the horrified guard ran straight into hard knuckles that cracked loudly.
“Never lead with your chin, buddy,” chortled Sparky, who had turned and watched.
“Easiest knockout I ever did,” laughed Paige. “I just held up my fist and he ran into it at rocket-speed.”
Halted by the blow, the guard’s limp body sprawled in mid-air next to Paige, who swiftly unhooked the straps that held on his rocket-belt. In another moment Paige had the unit on.
“Hang onto my hands,” he commanded. “Now we’ll plow through the whirlwind and really leave for parts unknown.”
With Aronson and Sparky each holding a hand, Paige used the chin-piece control, which he had instantly spotted, to set off the jets. With a whoosh that took their breaths away, they became human skyrockets, arching away from the globe in a sweeping trajectory.
“Sarge, we’re being pursued by other guards with jet-power,” screeched Sparky into the wind tearing past them.
Paige glanced back over his shoulder and saw the twin flames of three more guards arrowing up after him. They were slowly catching up, having no extra loads to pull along. With his double burden, Paige had no chance to out-fly them.
Another big problem.
“Halt,” came the distant shout from one guard. “You can’t outrace us. Stop or we’ll use the stun-ray as soon as we’re within range.”
They weren’t in range yet. Paige’s mind whirled desperately for a way out of this grim dilemma. He squinted his eyes as their path took them near the small artificial sunlet that cruised through the hollow and lighted up both Centropolis and Malmind Ward. Ah, that was it…
Pushing his chin-control to the left, Paige increased the rocket power from one tube and put them into a curving turn.
“They turned too,” yelled Sparky, appointing himself the rearward watcher. “How can you lose them?”
“Watch and see,” shouted Paige, making his curving turn even sharper.
“Look out,” came Aronson’s gasp as he peered ahead. “The miniature sun…you’ll run into it.”
“Not into it,” cried Paige. “But in front of it”
Paige now adjusted his rockets to go into a particular curve that put the sun, himself, and the chasing guards in the same straight line. Glancing back, he grinned as he saw the guards flinging up their arms in front of their eyes.
“Terrific, Sarge,” Sparky half-screamed, catching on. “That made them look directly into the sun to see us. They’ll lose us in the sun’s glare.”
Which was precisely what Paige maneuvered to do. As the guards desperately rocketed themselves to the side to relieve their tortured eyes, Paige swung the same way. Even when the guards separated to get different angular views, Paige drove closer to the sun and spoiled their attempt to get a good sighting of him. They could see him only in a blinding glare that distorted all perspective and made them use rocket bursts to swing this way and that in confusion.
“That artificial sun is mostly heatless,” yelled Paige now. “Not dangerous to pass closely.” His course now took him so close that the small sun loomed up in huge size, its mottled surface glowing with controlled nuclear reactions shedding great light and little heat.
But back of him, due to air diffusion, the three guards roiled around helplessly, with Paige completely lost in the sun’s glare.
“By the time they work their way around the sun, they won’t know which of twenty-five angular directions we took, in the hollow.” Paige had already circled the sun and now shot his three-man party away at a 25 degree angle. In less than an hour they reached the rock wall of the hollow and landed. Paige had turned off the rockets in time to let air-pressure slow them down. Then, drawn by the slight but steady gravity-pull of the hollow’s surface, they landed gently on their feet. Zero-g and near-zero-g only existed in and around the central point of the hollow, which was the exact center of earth. Already, at the curving inner surface of the hollow, enough gravity-pull from the massed rock above was in operation to anchor a man down with a weight of a few ounces.
Paige had chosen a place in night darkness, with the sun behind Centropolis. Peering up into the darkness, they could see three “stars” milling around aimlessly.
Sparky was sitting down, holding his stomach and laughing half-hysterically at the release of tension. “Those three guards could easily find us—in a week. The first escape from Malmind Ward in history, and you engineered it, Sarge.”
“Let’s not be so light-hearted about it,” growled Paige. “From now on, we’ll be hunted men here in the underworld. Every guard, policeman, detective, or whatever they have, will be on the lookout for us.”
Sparky choked on a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of that. So what do we do now?”
“Do you think I have everything planned in advance?” snapped Paige, in sudden anger. “I got us this far. What we do next is anybody’s guess. What we need now is some sleep.”
They huddled in a rock overhang and slept fitfully. When they awoke it was daylight. They were able to look past Centropolis and clear across the hollow, some 100 miles in diameter, to see “upside-down” habitations on the opposite curve.
It was a queer Pellucidar world that curved in on itself.
“As I’ve learned from being here over a year,” said Aronson, “the bulk of the population lives in Centropolis. Houses and various installations are scattered over the hollow’s surface, including guard-stations at certain tunnels or caves that project from above.”
“Where is that free-fall train we rode in, from Reena’s outlying cave community down to here?” Paige wanted to know. “Our best bet might be to ride the tube-cars up again, if we can, just to get away from this hot spot where the man-hunt for us goes on.”
Aronson pointed almost straight upward. “Unfortunately, the station is directly across the hollow, hidden from our view by Centropolis—the greatest possible distance there can be here. About 150 miles on foot, around the hollow’s curvature.”
“But we can go the way the crow flies,” chirped Sparky brightly. “Only 100 miles across the hollow, with that rocket-belt.”
“Forget it,” said Paige, holding up the unit. “The fuel gauge shows near zero. There’ll be just enough power left for a few spurts but not to haul us across the hollow by air.”
“So, we put one foot in front of another and tramp there,” grumbled Sparky. “Seems all a soldier ever does is walk, walk, walk.”
“Don’t be silly,” scoffed Paige. “We leap, leap, leap.”
He demonstrated by jumping and soaring 25 feet, then landing on one foot and propelling himself in another frog-like leap.
“Hey, this is great,” sang Sparky as he followed suit, only to start tumbling out of control in mid-air and landing on his head.
“Luckily, that bump can’t brain you in this low gravity,” said Aronson, landing beside him on his feet and only swaying a bit before he caught his balance. “But you have to calculate your leaps to land feet-first.”
“Now they tell me,” growled Sparky, rubbing his head and following up the two leaping figures ahead. They crossed a jumbled terrain of stones and rubble-fields in which cactus-like plants grew.
By “noon” of the underworld day, their jumps were growing weaker. Paige halted. “We’re not supermen. We need food and water, but where to get it?”
Chapter 11
Aronson was on a knoll, pointing down the other side. “A hut down there. Probably a prospector who hunts for valuable minerals. He isn’t likely to have heard of three escaped inmates from Malmind Ward. It should be safe to get food and water from him. Let me do the talking. I’m more fluent in their language.”
Approaching the hut, they saw an elderly, raw-boned albino bending over a tray and sorting minerals. He looked up suspiciously, reaching for a tubular weapon against the wall.
“Greetings, sir,” said Aronson with his friendliest smile. “Our jet-craft became disabled and we had to land, back over the ridge. We have to walk to the nearest jet docks. But we have no food or water.”
The prospector’s weapon was at the ready as he said, “All right. Go in my cabin and pick what you need. Food supplies to the right. Water cans left. Got money to pay?” Aronson nodded and pulled out a change purse, taking out several silvery coins and tossing them in the prospector’s tray. He nodded and motioned them in the hut with his gun.
They left soon, each with a pack on his back containing packaged edibles and cans of water. Over the ridge, they stopped to wolf down food and drink water.
“He sure took no chances,” said Sparky, “but no different from an isolated prospector or trapper up above. What were those coins—silver?”
“Hardly,” smiled Aronson, picking up a sparkling rock. “Silver is all around here for the taking, as are all heavy metals.”
“Holy smoke!” yelled Sparky, snatching up a chunk of quartz with big gleaming yellow specks in it. “Gold! Gold nuggets. And there’s a ton of it within reach of our hands. We’re rich…”
“It’s worthless down here,” went on Aronson calmly, as Sparky’s enthusiasm deflated like a broken balloon. “They use it for garbage containers.”
“Golden garbage cans,” moaned Sparky, looking ill.
“The rare and expensive metals,” resumed Aronson, are the light ones—magnesium, aluminum, titanium and such. The coins are made of beryllium, the lightest metal known that isn’t too soft to be handled.”
As they relaxed for a moment after their meal, Paige had a puzzled look on his face. “You know, Dr. Aronson, this whole underworld baffles me. It means a world riddled all through with caverns and having a hollow center. It’s entirely different from the earth with a molten core that science teaches us above. The molten core was supposed to be largely nickel-iron, giving earth its tremendous weight, or mass. How can a honey-combed earth and an empty hollow account for that mass?”
“This may shock you,” said Aronson slowly, “but it calls for a revision of our theory of gravitation. I had time, before you came, to study this anomaly and make calculations. My conclusion is that gravity does not vary directly as to the mass of an object per unit volume. The great amount of radioactivity within earth, in every rock layer for 4000 miles down, produces a pseudo-gravitic effect that adds to the whole.”
“Hmm,” pondered Paige. “You mean the total material mass—atoms and molecules—must be added to the total radioactive energy within earth, to give the true gravity factor at the surface?”
“Well, aren’t matter and energy two different forms of each other? Even the upperworld scientists know that.” Paige had another question. “But earth’s magnetic field was supposed to come as a result of the molten iron-rich core being magnetic and rotating independently, cutting lines of force with the magnetic iron in the harder material above. With no rotating iron core, where does the world’s magnetism come from?”
“Again from radioactivity, or its byproduct,” explained Aronson. “I certainly haven’t worked out the complete concept. It’ll take an army of scientists above to do that. But I can tentatively say that mesons, hyperons, muons, and other subatomic particles thrown off during decay of radioactive rock—with which earth is crammed—all have magnetic spins of one kind or another. These somehow interact or combine to create a vast magnetic field that flows out beyond the surface and surrounds earth. Nuclear science as it is known today will have to advance into further research into the atom’s core, to understand this process.”
“Will you guys speak English?” Sparky growled. “Of all the gobbledygook I ever heard… He threw up his hands.
Paige ignored him and went on. “Okay. Now another brain-beater. How is it possible for fresh air from earth’s surface to wind down through comparatively tiny caverns, caves and fissures, and aerate the entire underworld, even down to the hollow core? Wouldn’t you need some kind of super-powerful pumping or circulating system to do that?”
“There is such a giant pumping and circulating system.” At Paige’s stunned look, Aronson chuckled and went on. “No, not built and installed by humans. The earth itself is the giant pump. You see, half of it is always in darkness at night, during which time the crust contracts somewhat. A tiny amount in earthly terms but an enormous amount in human engineering terms. The night-time ‘squeeze’ forces air downward under fantastic pressure so that it circulates into deep caverns. But at the same time, the daylight half of earth’s crust is expanding. This forces expanded air outward from caves. The two forces work in unison and…”
“I see,” said Paige in those flashes of insight he often had. “It’s like a gigantic bellows. Contracting
air sucked in on the night-side and forcibly pulled along by escaping and expanding air on the day-side. In other words, earth breathes, taking one big breath each day, inhaling and exhaling both.”
“And that clears out all the caverns right to earth’s core,” summarized the scientist. “It makes the air down here almost as fresh as up above. Any more questions?”
“No,” said Paige with a straight face. “And you have at last convinced me the underworld of caves and people does exist!”
Aronson gave a wry smile. “Exquisite sarcasm, my boy. That was the reverse answer we wrung from Sur Vellko only after practically taking him on a Cook’s Tour of upper earth, via radar-TV, but it didn’t work with the Kal of Dorthia, unfortunately.”
Reminded of this, Paige frowned and felt as if a heavy weight had again been dumped on his shoulders. So many impossible barriers loomed ahead—to escape capture as lunatics, to win freedom and return to Reena’s cave-community, then, if at all possible, to convince the underworld that the upperworld existed, and finally to rally underground military might to join ravaged upper earth and drive away the alien invaders. It all seemed hopeless at the start.
Though caught in this gloomy mood, Paige moved along with the others and they covered ground steadily. They met only scattered huts and homes which they now avoided, having enough food and water. When they came upon larger communities or huge installations, they carefully skirted the area.
“Only about 10 miles to go,” informed Aronson, squinting and pointing over a ridge ahead. Along the further queer upward curvature of the hollow, they could clearly see now the ramparts of the rocket-elevator station that was the link connecting Centropolis and the remote cave sections of Dorthia.
As they moved on eagerly, Paige kept a sharp eye at all ridges and hills they could not see over. He wanted no roving jet-craft to pop over the edge and surprise them, on its man-hunt. But that was where he—and all of them—were too earth-minded, too conditioned to an outer world where horizons curved downward. They did not realize that their three figures could be spotted from above, from a jet-craft station that hung over them in this upward-curving reversed world, and looked down at them.