He glanced up at the angry red sky that seemed to be seething with wild violence as the meteor storm drew closer and closer to the doomed city of Lunas.
“There’s your end, Simar,” he snapped. “The force field is shattered beyond repair and in a few minutes there’ll be nothing left of this area but a mass of molten ruins.”
Simar stared at the crimson sky and his features worked fearfully. The heat from the approaching meteor storm was intense now and the very air seemed charged with the ominous feel of impending destruction.
The creatures of Lunas had scrambled from the base of the machine and were scurrying down the slope to their great city, driven by some desperate necessity to find safety in familiar surroundings.
The two men—Phillip and Simar—were left alone on the observation platform of the ruined machine.
Phillip was smiling grimly as he walked toward the fear-crazed Simar.
“We’ll be dead in a few minutes,” he said, “but I want the pleasure of wringing your neck before I go out.”
Simar backed away from him, his lips foam-flecked with terror. Suddenly he wheeled and dashed for the steps that led to the ground. Phillip leaped after him, but he was too late. Simar reached the steps first, plunged down them three at a time and started the slope toward the city at a wild, terror-driven run.
He was a hundred yards away before Phillip realized the reason behind his mad flight.
The time machine!
Simar would know where the machine was and he was heading for it, striving desperately to save himself from the death that was hurtling at the city from the skies.
Phillip dropped to the ground and started after him. Simar had a long lead but Phillip forced himself until his lungs were at the bursting point, and gradually he cut the distance between them, until, when they reached the city, he was but fifty yards behind him.
The frantic creatures of Lunas paid not the slightest attention to the running men. They had collected in the streets of the city and were staring at the sullen red sky with a hopeless apathy. They awaited their death with a queer blend of terror and fatalism.
When Simar reached the great palace building he rushed through the gate and by the time Phillip reached the mammoth throne room he had disappeared.
But there was only one other exit from the room and Phillip headed for it without breaking his stride.
He charged through the door, and something crashed into the side of his head with stunning force. He fell to his knees, blinded by the blow.
“You fool!” Simar’s harsh voice grated in his ears.
PHILLIP tried to rise, but Simar’s foot crashed into his face, sprawling him to the floor. He heard dimly the sound of Simar’s retreating foot steps, but before he could crawl to his feet the sound had died away and he was alone in a wide corridor that stretched endlessly ahead.
He started down the corridor at a half-trot, disregarding the hammering pain in his skull. His heart was pounding frantically. He had to find Nada and he had to stop Simar from leaving with the time machine—and in a matter of seconds a million tons of molten death would strike the city of Lunas, burying it forever.
He staggered on desperately, halfsobbing and half-blinded with pain, until he could go no further; his knees buckled and he fell forward on his face.
He lay there for a moment and the rest was like paradise. A delicious weariness flooded him and the darkness in front of his eyes grew deeper and blacker.
He made no move to rise. His muscles were like tangled, twisted rope. He had tried. He had done everything possible. There was no longer any use fighting. He couldn’t even move.
A high-pitched scream of terror sounded faintly in his ears, and it cut through the fog of weariness like a clean, sharp knife.
With a strength he didn’t know be possessed he climbed to his feet and staggered in the direction of that sound. It had been close and as he stumbled forward he listened for a repetition of the sound. But no other sound broke the stillness.
He charged on like a drunken man and if he hadn’t lost his balance and reeled against the wall, he would have passed by a door that fitted perfectly into the wall and that swung open as his weight pressed against it.
He twisted to keep from falling and plunged into a small room, outfitted as a laboratory.
“Phillip!”
The voice was to his side. He swung about and saw Nada struggling in Simar’s arms. One of Simar’s hands grasped the handhold of the gleaming time machine and with the other he was attempting to force Nada’s fingers about one of the three remaining handholds.
“Damn you!” Simar shouted harshly, as he saw Phillip’s staggering figure. He grabbed a heavy metal bar from the table and sprang toward him, but Nada twisted and stuck her foot in his path. He stumbled and fell, his face disfigured with insane rage.
And before his wildly twisting body could strike the floor Phillip stepped in and slugged him with every ounce of his weight and strength behind the blow.
Simar fell, and when he struck the floor he didn’t move.
Phillip stepped over his body and grabbed the handhold of the time machine.
“Hang on, honey,” he said.
HE threw the switch and instantly the orange cone of light appeared, bathing the gleaming machine with its brilliance.
There was a loud, roaring noise above them that grew steadily in volume. The heat was intolerable in the small room.
“How much time do we have?” Nada asked.
Phillip started to speak but a screaming, whistling roar drowned his words.
“The comets have struck the moon’s atmosphere,” he said. “We have about five seconds.”
Darkness, unreal and ghostly suddenly dropped over the room. A vast suction plucked at them and a new noise smashed against their eardrums.
“Hurry, hurry,” Nada cried, and her voice held a prayer.
A roaring, crashing crescendo of noise broke about them and they felt the floor beneath their feet tremble suddenly as if a giant’s fist had smashed against it. A great fissure broke in the wall and a section of the heavy ceiling fell dangerously close to them, crumbling the floor beneath its weight.
And at that instant, as the heavy walls began to crumble, they felt the sudden powerful suction lifting them upward, and then the darkness closed about them, as the mighty palace of the Lunasians dissolved in a fiery hail of thousand ton meteors.
CHAPTER IX
PHILLIP regained consciousness slowly. He glanced to one side and saw Nada lying beside him and when he climbed to one knee he recognized the surroundings as the laboratory of the Astra.
A deep feeling of relief swept over him. Simar was dead, the Lunasian city had been destroyed and he and Nada were safe.
But there still remained a big job to be done.
He revived Nada and when she looked around her eyes were suddenly wet. “I can’t believe we’re safe,” she whispered.
He helped her to her feet and held her close to him.
“We’re safe, but there’s still work to be done,” he said. “Before we leave Luna I intend to blast the valley of the Lunasian city to dust. That should release the disembodied life forces that are clinging to the area like some hateful miasma. I won’t feel really safe until that’s done. As long as there remains the possibility of the life forces taking possession of human bodies I would never rest easy. I’m going to give the orders immediately.”
He pressed a button on the lab bench that sent a signal through the ship for Eric Marmon, the third in charge, to report to the laboratory.
Marmon arrived a few minutes later and he looked surprised to see them. He was a small wiry man, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “We thought you and the captain were out on a private scouting party.”
“Nothing like that,” Phillip said. He didn’t intend to tell anyone his story until the valley had been blasted and they were safely away from Luna. “I want you to order ever
y available man to assist you in preparing the valley for immediate blasting. Spray liquid explosive over the entire area and we’ll detonate it when we take off. Understand, I don’t want any man to go into the valley for any reason. Is that clear?”
“Why, yes,” Marmon said, “but it sounds rather odd. Where is Captain Malcolm?”
Phillip thought of the captain’s last, action and he said slowly, “I don’t really know, but I am sure he’d be satisfied with what we’re doing. Will you get on it right away, Marmon?” Marmon nodded agreement and left the room.
“I’m going to change,” Phillip said to Nada, “then I’ll be outside keeping an eye on the job. Would you like to watch the work?”
“I’d love to,” Nada said. “I’ll join you outside in a few minutes.”
PHILLIP changed into clean clothes and it was fifteen minutes later when he stepped out of the ship. A dozen of the crew were setting up the explosive sprayers which were capable of drenching a twenty-five mile area in a matter of minutes.
The liquid explosive was pumped under compression and the huge nozzles of the sprayer pointed upward at about the angle of an artillery mortar.
Marmon was in charge. Phillip glanced at the gauges on the three huge tanks of explosives and then checked the angle of the nozzles and the automatic regulator devices. Everything was in perfect order, but the rest, of the crew was not in evidence.
He glanced at Marmon.
“Where are the rest of the men? I told you to put the entire crew to work on this.”
Marmon had been staring at the ground with a faint smile on his lips and when he looked up Phillip felt a chill of horror as he saw the man’s glazed, sullen eyes.
He shot a quick glance at the man standing behind Marmon and he saw the same glazed expression, the same vacant stare that Captain Malcolm had worn.
These men were possessed by the life forces that emanated from the valley of the Lunasian city!
Marmon was still smiling at him with cold, glazed eyes.
“Don’t you know me?” he said softly. “You left me lying for dead on the floor of the Aganda’s palace in Lunas just a short while ago.”
Simar!
Phillip drew a sharp breath.
Yes, there was no doubt of it. Somehow Simar had bridged the gap in time! His life force had lived in the buried ruins of Lunas and was now in possession of Marmon.
“You asked about the crew,” the man he had known as Marmon said softly. “They are aboard the Astra, chained in the brig. You are going back to the Astra and seal the hatchways, Mr. Evans. Are you curious about what is going to happen to you? I won’t keep you in suspense. We are going to turn the explosive spray on the Astra and blow it and everyone aboard clear to hell. Now, start back for the Astra!”
A ray gun appeared in Marmon’s hand and he gestured viciously toward the ship. Phillip backed slowly away from the group of men and he saw that they were swinging the nozzles of the explosive spray to bear on the Astra.
His mind was racing furiously, but he could think of nothing that might save the situation. He stepped aboard the Astra and he saw Marmon raise his hand and shout an order to the men at the explosive spray.
But before they could move one of the mighty atomic cannons in the nose of the Astra swung swiftly about in its turret; an orange blast billowed from its muzzle and the man that had been Marmon was blown into nothingness by the tremendous charge. The cannon swung again, another blast ripped from its muzzle and the group at the explosive sprayer disappeared into fragments.
PHILLIP slammed the hatch door and ran down the corridor to the firing tower of the ship. He found Nada behind one of the huge atomic cannons. Her head was buried in her arms and she was sobbing.
“I had to do it,” she moaned. “I found the crew in the brig but I couldn’t get them out.”
Phillip patted her on the shoulder.
“It was the only thing to do,” he said.
He glanced out the steel-enforced window and he saw that the second blast had swung the explosive sprayers about and that great streams of liquid were spraying over the valley. A pool of the tremendously explosive liquid had already collected in the basin of the valley and Phillip knew that soon the entire depression would be completely inundated.
He stepped to the control panel and discharged the rear rockets. As the Astra began to tremble under the swiftly building power, he moved to the breech of the atomic cannon and fired a blast directly into the collecting pool of high explosives in the basin of the valley.
The Astra blasted off with a whistling roar of power, streaking void-ward with its rockets leaving trailing pin-points of light gleaming in the thin atmosphere of Luna.
And below the valley of the Lunasian city exploded with a tremendous, cataclysmic roar that heaved the relics of the eon-old city miles into the air; and the undead life forces of the ancient, evil city died then—a hundred thousand years after their appointed time.
Phillip and Nada watched the explosion in the rear visi-screen.
When the terrific velocity of the Astra carried them beyond the range of Luna, Phillip glanced down at the girl in his arms and smiled. Nada started to speak but suddenly she found her lips occupied with other matters.
THE MAD ROBOT
First published in the January 1944 issue of Amazing Stories.
Rick Weston came to Jupiter and found himself in a maze of hate and intrigue—with insane robots used as animate tools.
CHAPTER I
RICK WESTON arrived at the Earth space-port outside Greater New York at six o’clock in the morning. He was driven directly to the mooring tower where his slim, fast pursuit single-seater was being readied for his trip to Jupiter.
The chief mechanic, a grizzled Scotchman, who loved machinery more than he did his wife, wiped his hands on an oil-stained rag and nodded to Rick.
“She’s purrin’ like a cat,” he said enthusiastically. “Shouldn’t give you no trouble at all.”
“Well, it hadn’t better,” Rick smiled. “If something goes wrong out there in space I can’t very well drop into a convenient mooring tower and have it fixed.”
He glanced at his watch and then looked down the long ramp that led to the central offices of the vast sprawling field.
“Has Captain Wilson been around?” he asked MacPurdy, the chief mechanic.
MacPurdy shook his head.
“Not yet, but he sent work over that he’d be here before you left.”
“Good,” Rick said. “I’ll go aboard and wait for him.”
He had to stoop going through the door of the ship and turn his wide shoulders slightly. He was a big man with solid, capable features, but his weight was evenly distributed over his frame. There was a solemn expression on his face as he stepped into the small control cabin and began a careful, thorough check of the various panels and equipment. He was careful and deliberate in his inspection and when he finished he knew the ship was right.
He sat down then and lit a cigarette. His big frame was relaxed and his eyes were almost sleepy as they watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling in lazy blue spirals; but there was a suggestion of dormant power in his loose position and he looked as if he could move with speed if the need arose.
The cigarette had burned half its length when there was a step on the landing plank of the ship and a second later a tall, keen-eyed man in uniform appeared in the doorway of the control cabin.
“Early bird, as usual,” he greeted Rick, smiling warmly. “Been here long?”
“Just a few minutes,” Rick said, getting to his feet. He shook hands with Captain Wilson and said, “How soon do you want me to leave?”
“Right away,” Captain Wilson said. He glanced about the small cabin with alert eyes. “Is the ship ready?” Rick nodded.
“Fine,” Captain Wilson said. He pursed his lips and frowned at the floor. “I want to talk to you a minute, Rick. You don’t know why you’re being sent to Jupiter, do you?”
Rick shook his head.
“My orders were to take this ship to Jupiter. As far as I’m concerned that’s all there is to the assignment.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Captain Wilson said. “I was asked by the divisional command to select a man for an important mission to Jupiter. I picked you, not because you’re a personal friend, but because you are trustworthy, observant, and most important of all, close-mouthed.”
“Thanks for the bouquets,” Rick said, smiling faintly.
CAPTAIN WILSON glanced at Rick and his eyes were serious.
“You probably know,” he said, “that the Earth-Mars council has for some time been conducting robot experiments on Jupiter. We have quite an extensive lay-out there, under the Joint command of our Doctor Simon Farrel and a brilliant scientist from Mars, Ho Agar. We aren’t completely satisfied with progress to date. And our Intelligence is vitally interested in a complete report of what’s going on there. You are going to compile that report, Rick. You will have no official status, other than that of pilot in the Earth Space Command. Ostensibly you are making this trip to Jupiter to deliver supplies which are needed there. The supplies are in the storage compartment of the ship now. You’ll have to depend on your own ingenuity to get the information we want.”’
“And just what is the information you want,” Rick asked.
Captain Wilson shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“I can’t tell you because we don’t know. We don’t suspect anyone, we aren’t actually dissatisfied with the production figures and experimental reports that are sent us by Doctor Farrel, but we do want to know if anything is wrong. You’ve got to find that out.”
Rick lit another cigarette slowly.
“What kind of a guy is Farrel?” he asked.
“Brilliant but eccentric,” answered Captain Wilson. “He stands for no interference, no questioning, but goes his own way in his own time. That’s why you are being sent in an unofficial capacity. If he suspected that you were spying on him I don’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be anything calm or temperate. He’d likely destroy his formulae and tell us all to go to blue blazes.”
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 199