Doomsday Planet

by Harl Vincent

  “Your theories?” Donley was interested to hear more.

  “Of the fact of a Plan. Of a universe like a living organism, with a directing intelligence. How else could this have been done? Would any of you say it just happened?”

  “No,” Donley and the others were forced to agree.

  “The damage here is far less than the good accomplished. Because the other body was gaseous the force of the collision was minimized. It struck at precisely the correct angle to start anew the rotation of Ormin. The heat generated was sufficient only to resolve the gases comprising the other body into an atmosphere, what is apparently much water, and undoubtedly other elements necessary to human fife. If our calculations were correct, and I assume they were from the appearance of the sun, the new orbit into which Ormin was flung by the collision is between that of Terra and Mars.”

  “Can’t this unbalance the solar system?” asked Donley.

  “Not the way the computer analyzed our figures. The new orbit is at just the right angle to the ecliptic and spaced with Ormin in such a position that there’ll be no disturbance at all. There may have been a little temporary jolting of the planets, like small quakes, at the time Ormin was driven into its new orbit. That’s all, excepting for maybe some unusual tides.

  “Now, with the new day and night cycle and a normal yearly orbit around Sol, with the resulting seasons, Ormin should experience such a swift rejuvenation that all life can be on the surface and all the needs of the populace barring the underground minerals and ores be available up here. There’ll be vegetation and—”

  “Donley put in, “Interplanetary traffic will soon be set up, that’s for sure. And if any seeds or animal life other than human are required, these can be brought in.”

  “You can bet they will be, too,” agreed Randall, relaxing now.

  Quite a crowd had closed in to hear some of what Randall had been saying and they now began asking questions. This was a signal for Apdar to interfere.

  “People,” he said in English. “Doctor Randall has just come through a rather serious operation. Is tired. Please no more now.”

  A sudden thought struck Donley like a blow. Not one of the western territorials had he seen. He felt for Daila’s communicator in his pockets. Finding it, he returned to the rotunda and managed to get Mera to one side, away from her bevy of admirers. She saw the communicator in his hand.

  “What’s that?” she inquired.

  “Oh, this,” he said. “This goes with a long story and I think you can get the idea better if you listen.”

  He pressed the buttons of the communicator in their proper sequence and was rewarded by Daila’s immediate response. Her voice expressed relief.

  “You are all right?” she inquired. “And what of your Mera? My men were waiting when the time of impact came. But you had not arrived with her and I have been unable to make contact mentally with you.”

  “But how about you and your people? Haven’t seen any up here.”

  “We were cut off from the surface at both ends, by quakes closing the passages. Also, though the shocks at this depth were not as severe, they were of enough violence as to damage their cell doors sufficiently to set free our three prisoners. In fact, they have already slain a guard and made off with the metal box and its mysterious contents. At this moment my workmen are clearing out a new shaft to the lateral tunnel and this will require another two rotations of Ormin to complete.”

  “Good!” Donley exclaimed. “Then we can count on seeing you soon?”

  “Yes. I’m so anxious to meet your Mera. And am delighted with what has happened to the surface of our planet due to its being relocated in the galaxy. Remember my faith, my theories?”

  “Indeed I do, Daila.”

  Looking at Mera, he saw that her heavenly eyes were wide with wonder. He extended the communicator toward her. Here, honey,” he said. “Say something to Daila.”

  “D-Daila?” she said hesitatingly into the device. “I don’t even know what half of this is about. Or who you are. Or where. But I’m anxious to meet you.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Had I but known you were right there, I should have asked to greet you sooner. I shall look forward to our meeting.”

  “And I too, your ma j—. Now why did I say that?” Daila’s tinkling laugh rang out. Jack Donley made the same mistake in the beginning, my dear. But I shall leave it to him to explain to you.”

  She sounds like a queen, Mera thought, handing the communicator back to Donley. And so she remarked to him before he started speaking.

  “Just a second, Daila,” he said into the communicator. Then, to Mera, “Sounds like a queen, you say? Could you understand her words?”

  “Why, why, no, come to think of it, I didn’t. How come?” Mera’s normally smooth alabaster brow was wrinkled in puzzlement. “But I knew all the time what those foreign words meant.”

  “Daila,” Donley then told the communicator, “my Mera says you sounded like a queen.”

  Again the sparkly laughter. “She is a darling, Jack. I still wish to ask you if you believe, that Apdar’s people and mine can live in peace?”

  “I believe so. But, tell you what I’ll do. I’ll talk with Apdar and get his idea. Let you know about it later.”

  “Excellent. Meanwhile, I would like to make an experiment. My mind tells me you are also a telepathist. By this I mean a sender. All humans of intelligence are receptors to some degree. But to be a sender is another thing. Try this for Daila, please; concentrate upon getting a thought to me and do not speak at all. Will you try?”

  Donley concentrated. Mightily. But he could think of nothing except Mera. She was here, looking at him with a merry twinkle in her wide eyes. Concentrate as he might, his only thought was of admiration for her and amusement over her openly mischievous look. “She’s a rascal, an exquisite little rascal. And she’s mine,” was all that he could think.

  Daila’s rippling trill came to them from the communicator which he had set down to be sure it was in no way connected with the test. Now he picked it up again.

  “Excellent,” came Daila’s approval. “I was not wrong, Jack. You sent an extremely clear picture of your Mera and I want more than ever to know her. She is, according to your transmitted thoughts, a lovable girl with a flair for teasing. And you are intrigued by this phase of her nature, proud that she is yours. With training, you can be a master telepathist, but we shall take that up at a later date. Meanwhile, please see what you can do and advise me. Until then, may Providence smile upon you both.”

  “So that’s who you think about .me,” giggled Mera, who had come very near once more, fingering her silky hair out of the way.

  “Yes, you little rascal,” he grinned. “Come on now though. Have to see Apdar.”

  They found Randall and Donley told him the story, that is enough of it to obtain his backing. He also enlisted the help of Jal Tarjen and Standish. Why he should have been so hesitant to approach Apdar in this matter, he was not at all sure.

  Especially when he saw the twinkle in Apdar’s eyes as he told him about Daila, about the refuge of the western territorials, and of their desire to live in peace—on the surface—with the easterners.

  “You believe that I did not know?” Apdar grinned. “Daila thinks I did not know? I laugh. We knew but have been cautious as have they. Now, of course, we will join forces. You tell her?”

  “Yes, I’ll get the word to her.” Donley was delighted.

  Donley started for the communicator where it reposed in his pocket. But Mera grasped his wrist to stay the movement of his hand.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she objected. “You have another way, remember?”

  Donley gasped. “You mean you went for this telepa-thisy thing?”

  “Yes, even before I heard Daila. I knew, you see, because definite messages came to me from you. Here. When you were still at home on Terra.”

  “If this is so, try it,” Apdar broke in.

  Donley tried, perspiration break
ing out on his forehead. Then he felt a hand in his pocket. Mera’s! She drew out and handed the communicator to him. He pressed the buttons in proper sequence and Daila’s voice came in at once.

  “Your message came through—strongly. And I am so happy at Apdar’s assurance. May I have a word with him?”

  Relieved, Donley handed the instrument to Apdar. Apdar was still conversing animatedly with Daila when the three men, Lantag, Tarjen and Standish, pounced upon Donley and Mera for explanations.

  It wasn’t easy to convince them.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  During the succeeding two days, Apdar found many occasions to talk with Daila concerning arrangements to be made for the uniting of East and West. There was first to be a ceremony involving Daila, Apdar, and on each side nine of the most important subjects. Why such conferences were necessary ten or more times a day was not apparent but Donley readily agreed when asked by Apdar for extended use of the communicator.

  Grinning, he thought, “If he’s so charmed by her voice, wait till he sees her.”

  At length, Daila and her deputies came through and the ceremony was started by Apdar. Donley watched the leader of the easterners closely as Daila approached him with her train. She was a dream and no mistake, not only ravishingly beautiful but regal in her bearing. Apdar gaped and Donley chuckled as he saw the color rise from his neck to his forehead. Undoubtedly he was smitten—badly.

  And this was no side effect of the stellar beat because there was no more of that with which to contend.

  The meeting between East and West was held in the repaired rotunda. Clinging to Donley’s arm, Mera was wide-eyed watching the proceedings.

  “Daila,” she gasped, “is the most exquisitely beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I had no idea. And young, too. You know, Jack, dam it, I’m jealous.”

  “Lot of nonsense. You have no reason at all. My contacts with her were—”

  “Hah, I know. Strictly business. Well, we’d better get married today, you hear me?” Mera’s mischievous twinkle reasserted itself.

  Jack Donley knew now that this was precisely what he wanted her to say. “Right,” he agreed enthusiastically. “Apdar must have somebody or maybe he can say the words himself.”

  “Makes no difference who ties the knot. I’m dam tired of us sleeping in separate rooms.” Archly, she looked up into his glazing eyes.

  “Greedy girl!”

  So engrossed had they been in each other and their mutual feeling they had failed to notice that the preliminary meeting of the two leaders and their retinues had ended and festivities were about to begin. Daila and Apdar were coming toward them, smiling.

  It was then that Eula and Byrl, with their respective swains, Brand and Davidson, swooped down upon them. Chattering, the girls pounced on Donley, one on either side, holding to his hands and exuding adoration. Abashed, he tried without success to break loose and present Mera. The two young computer programmers were grinning. Like fools. Donley thought.

  “See?” said Mera, tongue in cheek. “If I don’t tie you down it’s going to be just too bad.”

  The two girls curled their arms around Mera’s waist.

  Things became a little confused after that. For Daila and Apdar had joined them and others from the Meteoric closed in to see what it was all about.

  Daila embraced Mera as soon as the young girls released her. “My dear,” she said softly. “I heard what you said. And besides, your innermost thoughts were revealed to me.”

  Mera blushed and Daila trilled her rippling laugh.

  “I can tie the knot, my dear,” she said, “according to the laws of my people. And this is solemnly binding.”

  Apdar raised his hand and said a few words in his own tongue. The crowd drew back and formed a circle around their little group, cheering in their own fashion. Daila stood before Jack and Mera, quite obviously to all of them saying the words of a solemn rite as she joined their hands and laid her own hand atop the juncture. They heard them each say, “I do.” And then, the two were in a fervent clinch.

  A burst of triumphant music came then from the audios. This was like no music of Terra. Neither in its theme nor in the nature of the instruments, but it was stirring and melodious, somehow voicing the joy of two peoples who had joined forces in a new world.

  The celebration moved to the outside as more of Daila’s subjects arrived from their own environment. It was patent that the westerners were anxious to sniff the outdoor air and to see the sun and the sea they had been told about. They came up ten at a time, since this was the maximum number the tunnel car could accommodate. But already there were twenty in addition to Daila and her attendants and Donley learned that two more of the tunnel cars were being readied.

  Down the slope, which had been bulldozed to something like smooth footing, literally hundreds of men, women and children were swarming in the direction of an open stretch of seashore, where a sort of grandstand had been constructed, facing upon a raised platform obviously set up to be used by the leaders of the two territories and their cohorts. A lectern, with microphones, indicated that speeches were expected. A goodly number of poles scattered throughout the area mounted audios that faced in ail directions.

  Donley caught sight of Doctor Randall making his way toward Daila and Apdar. He appeared to be fully recovered, walking along with accelerated pace. With something on his mind.

  Actually, the speeches were not boring. Randall sat on the rostrum, between Apdar and Daila, who talked back and forth across him until he changed seats with Apdar. Mera nudged Donley and was about to make one of her pertinent comments when an easterner who gave the appearance of heading up Apdar’s delegation stood up to the microphones.

  “You all know why we’re here,” he said, “and I’ll not take any of your time but will immediately present our first speaker, whose beauty and goodwill I am sure will impress you. Daila, of our western allies.”

  “What did he say?” asked Mera. “Wish he’d talk English.”

  “Probably doesn’t know it, even though Apdar does.” It was then that Donley realized that his telepathic perception had carried the thought that accompanied the word. This was eavesdropping, he was to learn, since the speaker was not a “sender.”

  “Just introduced Daila,” he whispered to his bride, squeezing her hand. And from that point on, Mera was silent. For she was able to understand every word-thought that issued from the rosebud lips and brilliant mind of Daila. For this one was a telepathisy of superior accomplishment. A sender, receptor, eavesdropper.

  Her speech was short and pointedly asking for friendship, assuring her listeners that she and her people had desired for ages past to unite with those of the east—and cooperate. Even to the extent of intermarriage so they would eventually become strictly one people. An acclaim of roaring proportions rose up from the multitude as she ended her plea and sat down.

  Apdar’s talk was even shorter and in most respects duplicated what Daila had said. He wound up with the positive statement that the union of their peoples was an assured thing and would in fact be as welcome to his people as to hers.

  They had noticed that it was getting dark, so intent were all on the proceedings. But now it darkened more swiftly, an eerie fading of the midday light into a deep twilight in which unnatural colors were apparent. A woman looked up and screamed. There was a furor immediately around her and confusions assailed the assemblage as others followed her example and looked toward the sun. It was completely obscured by a shadow of equal size and shape, with long streamers of fire splashing into space on practically all sides of the disc.

  These people had never seen nor heard of an eclipse. Evidently Ormin when in orbit around Sirius had no moon.

  Randall had been struggling to the microphone and now his calm drawl adjured them. He banged on the lectern with what looked like a gavel and finally got some attention. Apdar was at his side to interpret.

  “This is merely an eclipse of the sun,” he told them. “A natural phenomenon.
Ormin gathered in Ceres, the largest of the planetoids, on its way into the solar system. This is now your moon. Its orbit is quite close and its speed of revolution high. But you will have such eclipses of the sun and others of the moon itself occasionally. I had determined these facts with Apdar’s instruments, the undamaged ones, and that is why I forced my way to this stage. Take it easy now; there is absolutely no danger. See, the sun is even now being uncovered.”

  It was true, a brilliant crescent was renewing the lost daylight, gradually but surely, and it widened rapidly until the entire orb of the sun was revealed.

  “Don’t we learn something every day though,” Mera said, more as a statement than a question. “Who’d have thought Ormin would capture a moon and give us a show so soon after getting put?”

  Donley laughed a little shakily. He had been afraid of a stampede of these people of Ormin who had not known what to expect. And it was a reaction for which he could hardly blame them, even had he been so inclined. This generation was faced with enough adjusting to do, merely getting used to the day and night demarcation by the rising and setting of the sun, adapting themselves to the cool invigorating breezes.

  Daila was beckoning them to the platform, where the dignitaries were now gathering in relaxed groups.

  Reminding him that the escaped prisoners were still at large, Daila suggested that he and Mera return with her to her buried city. “They’re unable to leave,” she advised, “because the new exit is heavily guarded against just that. But they haven’t been found yet and so are potentially very dangerous, besides which I think your people should have them. The first of their murders, to our knowledge, was aboard your ship.”

  “Right. Okay if Jal Tarjen comes along?”

  “Of course.”

  Jack hesitated. Then he added, “How about Lan-tag?”

  “Excellent. And Mera and I can get really acquainted while you men go chasing criminals/’