“Out of curiosity, that wasn’t Number Thirty -Two I saw coming out from the Enmore Study?” they had taken to calling the replica study after the street he used to live on, rather than letting me know that I was allowed to think of it as my own sanctuary amidst all the strangeness.
“ I have no idea what number belongs to which one of you, you are all the great G. E. C. to me,” I replied, not wanting to give some sort of weird insult.
“Quite so,” he purred at the compliment.
“Why do you ask?” “ Oh, Number Thirty-Two was the last one so far and, well, I did perceive he was carrying around our collected crib notes,” he stroked his beard and gauged my reaction from the corner of his eyes. “We hope he will be ready, as the youngest and therefore fittest, we have elected him to pilot Jess.”
“I’ve had a lot of my attention taken up on seeing what you are doing here,” I said as we walked back to the industrial sized disintegrator, “It was two years since I came here, so I must ask whether the outside world has calmed down? Is the secrecy of all this,” and here I waved my hand in an admittedly theatrical gesture, “still necessary?”
“ My dear boy,” began Challenger, his brows knitting in deep consternation, “it’s only become worse. We are not entirely cut off, as self-sufficient as we are now we still get the occasional update from the good Captain Storlock. Hitler has advanced in his dreams and last year made a deal with Mussolini. He may even be more of a war monger than the last Kaiser was. This mission and its secrecy have become even more vital.”
“I should be there, doing my duty as a reporter,” I replied. “Malone, by all that’s wholesome,” and here he stopped to put a fatherly hand on my arm, “you are there and you are here. Now let’s have no more of this nonsense,” he continued on, “I have brought you along to witness some of the cleaning up of our efforts.”
We came to the entrance of the great space and in the foreground there was another Challenger wearing a backpack and holding some sort of contraption that resembled a rifle which ended in a cone, like some twisted blunderbuss. He seemed to be constantly fidgeting with a dial and waving the blunderbuss about and what he pointed it at disappeared. There were other Challengers in the room and they were in a rough line, traveling from one side of the room. They left naught but the floor and the walls behind.
“ It is when the contraption is not attached to a crystal that Nemor’s Disintegrator really becomes just that. I hope you can see why we cannot allow any power to gain access to such a device?”
I nodded mutely, struck by the wholesale evaporation of all that I had previously seen. “ To hide this development we will disintegrate all of these and then, on the last one we will place it in the disintegrator we used on you and after that we will smash the crystal with the imprint of it, thus destroying any record of this modification,” he explained carefully as one of the other slowly approached us, the blunderbuss was very carefully kept pointing to the floor to one side of that Challenger.
“It’s remarkable really,” he said on joining us, “With the proper adjustment you can destroy exactly what you want to. Take the rail on the floor just here,” he said point the blunderbuss towards it, he fiddled for a couple of seconds and then wafted it gently over the iron beam. Set in the floor it just gently washed away into nothingness. When he had cleared a foot or so, he turned it off, “Anyway, I had better get back to work,” and with that he walked deliberately away.
“I have seen enough,” I stated bluntly, sick at the bewildering power of those strange devices. “ Alright,” answered my guide, and we walked away from that sight, “So, you see how we are almost ready to leave here, the one effort after this is to leave. I should think we will be ready in a week or so, depending.”
“Depending?”
“The weather, Malone, we want to have a nice clear sky so that you can record our progress to the stars,” he answered.
“You aren’t leaving me behind are you?” I spluttered as I followed his lead.
“Well, yes and no, but only if you are agreeable,” replied Challenger. Looking up I saw we were now at the room where I was reintegrated, or whatever, it was hard to grasp the sterile terminology for something that was so personal.
“Alright, as long as I don’t need to stay on this isle forever and a day with only one or two of you to keep me company,” I replied, there was no way I could refuse. Apart from returning to London and the inevitable conflict that would impose on myself and my loved ones; how would Enid cope with two of me or would we be driven like the doppelgangers of yore to tear into each other?
“Don’t worry about that, after you leave a rather careful but no doubt melodramatic account, the last of us will transfer you into another crystal and when we come back we can get you back into the land of the extant,” he answered with a smile, “After all, it doesn’t hurt does it, and it’s almost exactly the opposite of dying, really.”
Not feeling as reassured as my guide had hoped, I could see the sense in what he said, so I meekly took my place on the chair. 2b
“Well, now, that was alright wasn’t it?” he asked me as if I were a child to be pampered. “No, you don’t notice a thing,” I said, “and at least this time I haven’t a cold for you all to forget the next time you assemble me.”
“No, indeed, and now I’ll just make a note and we can transfer this crystal aboard the ship,” he said as he made a note on the side of it.
The next few days saw me packing china sets into crates as the number of Challengers reduced and they were carefully packed away and then stored aboard the ship. I was allowed into the ship to see the cockpit. It seemed to me to resemble, in all likelihood, anaeroplane’s cockpit except for one very unusual detail. Next to the dashboard of instrumentation there was a large red button.
“It is linked up to the Nemorian device,” said my guide when I pointed towards it.
“Can I just ask what your number is?”
“Number Twenty-Seven, all the luck, ha!” he barked.
“Yes,” I replied at a complete loss for anything else to say.
“Why?” he asked, bluntly thrusting his Assyrian beard towards me. “Well, I never heard…” I trailed off and started to quail under his stare, and he started to stroke the beard. All I needed was his eyes to close slightly and then I could see we would be scrapping it out in that room, I gathered myself and continued, “It’s just that I’ve never heard the device called that before.”
“Yes, well, one name is as good as another, between ourselves, isn’t it?” “ Absolutely,” I said, concluding that I had just seen the first identifiable sign that the Challengers did get stranger the higher their number. I do not believe it augured well for the future of their space exploration but then, Challenger was such a great template, so to speak, that perhaps it would work out fine.
“Do you want to know about the arrangement or not?”
“Yes.” “ Well, if something is going to go wrong and the pilot is in dire peril, he can push that button and he not only will be stored nice and fresh but also re-integrated in a safe room towards the middle of Jess, where he should be safe,” here he puffed out his chest as if displaying his own, individual, magnificence, “This means that if there is a passing problem he can then try to deal with whatever resultant crisis or ride it out if on the final approach to landing.”
“And just how is this supposed to land?” “ Crash into Mars, bang!” he exclaimed with a clap of his hands,“It’s not so bad as that, Mars is a third of the mass of Earth so will be much easier to escape its gravity and it also means that making the laboratory on Mars will be much easier as well.”
“Impressive, it seems you’ve thought of everything,” I said clambering for the exit, “Well, I think I’ve seen enough here.” And, I thought to myself, I have been too long alone with you, Number Twenty-Seven.
Eventually there were only two Challengers besides myself. So I visited the cockpit for a second time to see Number ThirtyTwo strapped in,
he briefly held my arm and said “Thank you, Edward,” possibly referring to the time he queried the wad of notes he had to wade through, but with all else going weird, how could I really know. Then I and the last Challenger made our way down. There was a small hut on the arm of one of the piers, from where we were safe from the blast off and in view of the majestic sight.
There it stood, against a clear blue sky, a towering white pillar which dwarfed the slim tower next to it. Challenger shut the door and I watched from the interior as he manned his control board, “Now let me see,” he said cracking his knuckles, “I think we should start with this one,” and then he started to flick switches.
Slowly the small tower leaned away from the rocket.
“All fine?” he asked.
“I think so,” I replied, oblivious to the fact he was talking down a telephone.
“Everything is as expected,” he continued and then after a pause he pressed a button and said, “You have control.” Great plumes of smoke bellowed out from below Jess. It seemed in one unutterable moment to teeter and then it was off, climbing into the sky with its capacity to reproduce a vertically infinite number of either myself or Challenger.
We watched and we watched and then, with nothing in sight, we could only assume that Jess had succeeded. It was truly a momentous occasion in the annals of man but who would know?
Over the following afternoon I put my thoughts down on paper, in as circumspect a manner as I could so that, if anyone did visit this strange Isle Out of Time, they would know what a great thing had been accomplished here. It was when I put my pen down in the Enmore Study that Challenger reappeared.
“Ready?” he asked. Instead of saying anything, I merely nodded and rose to follow him back to the familiar disintegrator. As I sat down he went over to the controls. He was distracted, possibly being the last was too much for him.
“Well, I’ve got to get on,” he said.
“Yes?” I asked, interested to know what he had left to do and then he pressed the button.
2c I was blinded by the brightness of the room. I leaned over the chair, catching my breath, closed eyes. I knew what had happened. The only familiar thing was the chair. To avoid being sucked back into the disintegrator, I stumble away from it. I shook my head, I must be on Mars, I thought to myself and flexed my knees only to find myself propelled slightly upwards.
I opened my eyes again and felt the lurch of vertigo slowly recede. Gone was the sombre stone room with bulbous lights growing out of the ceiling. It was replaced by sterile white plastic surroundings, broken by objects, wires and the two Challengers.
“Cigar, Malone?” asked one, offering the box of cigars to me. “ Remember that excitable people like you are the better for narcotics,” commented the other giving me a sense of déjà vu. Had not he used that very expression when he had offered me a cigar just after our first tussle? I grasped for the cigar.
“I think we had better put him to bed,” said the first Challenger to the second as he lit my cigar. “ Nonsense,” replied the second waving his match to extinction, “A brief low down in Malone’s study, that’s all that’s needed, isn’t it?” he asked as he jabbed two fingers in my face and opened my eye to examination.
“A little time to adjust is all I need, gentlemen,” I said, waving him away.
“Very good, very good,” ruminated one of them. Already I was losing track of which one was which.
“If you could lead the way?”
“Of course, how thoughtless of you not to show him the way,” one turned on the other.
“There was nothing stopping you, was there,” shot the other.
I made for the door and found myself waving my hands in slow motion as I slipped on the floor.
“Now, you’ve got to get used to the gravity,” said one as the each grabbed an arm.
“It’s all very well of you to say that now,” I muttered through the chewed cigar. “ Unexpectedly, with a third of the gravity, we only get a third of the traction that we would on Earth so we have to learn to walk at our normal pace, Malone,” instructed Challenger on my right arm. “Right are you ready now?”
I nodded and we slowly drifted towards the door. There was a pleasant lightness of being, once you knew what you were doing, or were held onto by two guiding geniuses.
“How long have you waited to bring me back to the land of the extant?”
“Getting on for one Mars year.”
“Almost one and a half Earth years,” said the other. Instead of engaging them in a debate over which chronological term was better I decided to take in more of my surroundings. Presently we came into a laboratory, multiple Challengers were working away at their own individual experiments. Presently a younger looking one burst into the room, waving a manual of some sorts around.
“Ninety-four,” I said aloud into the room. “ Yes?” asked a Challenger, turning round to face me. I was speechless to observe he wore a monocle. I believe my two companions shrugged their shoulders and made the point that I was Malone and could not be expected to be sensible all the time.
I did not mind it one bit. The image of Challenger Number Ninety-four, The Monocled Professor was eerie and, in its way, quite reassuring and so I was guided to the couch and with an ash tray and brandy and water by my side, I was left to ponder just where I was and more to the point, with whom I was with.
I was on Mars with a potentially infinite crowd of Challengers. I breathed in through the cigar and let the most obvious thought grow in my mind – this was going to be one very special commission. All I had to do was figure out how to contact the Gazette!
TWO CHALLENGERS
by J.R. Campbell
“George, dear, I think you’d better come in here for a moment.” Annoyed at the interruption, Challenger's great bearded face rose in a fierce scowl. Yet his crude features could never maintain a disapproving expression when confronted with his wife’s gentle face. Brows unclenching, he spoke in tones that, to an outsider, might have seemed thunderous but which, to those few who knew him well, was the esteemed Professor's equivalent of congenial. “Soon, soon, I cannot allow this so-called ichthyologist to wallow in his wretched ignorance for another–”
“ No, dear,” Jessie Challenger interrupted in a voice which, to an outsider, sounded demur but, to those few who knew her well, betrayed her iron resolve. “You very much need to hear this.”
For a moment the Professor’s brows furrowed again and then relaxed by degrees. Setting aside his magnifying lens he repositioned the delicate bones he'd been examining with a care belying the strength in his stout fingers. Standing, fastening the buttons of his waistcoat, he reached for his jacket hanging by the door as he searched his wife’s countenance for some clue as to the source of her uncharacteristic interruptions. Finding nothing, he followed her into the hallway.
“ A young lady arrived at our door shortly after you retired to your office,” Jessie explained as her graceful steps led him towards the kitchen. “She carried a letter addressed to you and asked, quite politely, if she might have a moment of your time. Austin explained that you were occupied by your labors and could not accept visitors without an appointment. The young lady was quite distressed and asked if she might wait on our doorstep until
–”
“ A journalist no doubt!” Challenger roared. “Those wretched villains will stoop to any low for a chance to use my good name to sell their worthless rags!”
“ Oh, George,” Jessie chided, having endured his outburst as if it were no more than the squeaking of the floorboards. “I assure you, this young woman is no journalist. Do you think Austin or I incapable of spotting reporters? This girl has travelled all the way from Port Isaac for the sole purpose of handing you the letter she carries. Her story is quite remarkable.”
“ Hmph,” the Professor snorted incredulously. Although he had the good sense to look abashed when his wife fixed him with a stern glance.
“ Now, George,” she chided. “I don't want
you frightening this young woman. She’s barely more than a child and I don't want her to go home with a mistaken impression of you. It is one thing to present yourself as a tyrant to Londoners. The city always enjoys a spectacle. It is quite another to terrorize young country girls and I will not stand for it. Do I make myself clear?”
“ Quite clear,” Challenger acknowledged. “Though I fail to understand how this creature from Cornwall has so quickly wormed her way into your trust.”
They passed a curious pedestal on their way to the kitchen. Jessie Challenger fixed her husband with a warning look. “Is it not enough that she has earned my trust?”
To which Challenger, the legendary debater, had no reply other than to silently follow his beloved into the kitchen. A girlish giggle hung in the air but ended abruptly as the young, blonde woman caught sight of the Professor. Even leashed by his wife's courtesy, Challenger's fierce gaze was an imposing sight. Her face paled, her expression collapsed into a more formal arrangement in the hope of concealing her sudden fright. Her modest bags sat piled beside her chair, a thickly stuffed envelope resting atop them. The depleted tea service and empty cups on the table revealed how long the young lady had been encamped in the Challenger household. The china rattled as the child rose from her chair and offered an unpracticed curtsey to the famous scientist.
“Professor Challenger, sir.” The young woman’s voice wavered as she spoke. “ No need for that dear,” Mrs. Challenger said, hurrying to the girl’s side and easing her back into the chair. “This is my husband, George. George, this is Catherine Lethrow. She has travelled quite a distance to deliver a letter.”
“ A rather extravagant expenditure,” the Professor rumbled. “For future reference, might I suggest the employment of a postage stamp? While I won’t go as far as to endorse the Royal Mail, it certainly has the advantage of practicality.”
“ Oh no, Professor,” the young Catherine shook her head.“I’d not trust something so important to the post. What if it was lost? Oh dear me, no. It would be like throwing pound notes in the wind and hoping they found their way to the landlord.”
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