The Creature from Beyond Infinity

CHAPTER XII The Man from Earth

Stephen Court raced his roadster along a Wisconsin road as he peered through sun-glasses at the lonely countryside. Beside him, Marion Barton huddled like a kitten in the seat, the collar of her white blouse open for coolness.

"How long?" she asked.

"Couple of hours," Court grunted. "We pass through Madison first. The 'drome's fifty miles south of there."

Marion drew a notebook from her purse and thumbed through it rapidly.

"Everything's checked, I think," she reported absently. "Except the test flight. I don't believe the Temra was thoroughly inspected."

"Damn silly name the papers gave the ship," Court said wryly. "It didn't need a name. It'll make the flight, all right."

"And if it doesn't?"

He shrugged indifferently without glancing at her.

"Nothing much lost. For more than a month now, I've been working on the Plague—since Sammy got away—and I'm still at sea. Earth's science just isn't advanced enough. But perhaps I can find some more advanced alien science in that golden ship. Anyhow, we'll see."

"Why must you go alone?" she insisted, her voice not quite steady.

"Because there's only room for one. We can't take chances. There will be little enough air and supplies as it is. I'm the best man for the job, so I'm the one to go.'

"But suppose something happens!"

"I can't stop the Plague by myself. X is still unknown, as far as I'm concerned. The only real clue so far is entropy. I know that X is catalyzed by some element in Earth's atmosphere. It speeds up the entropy of a living organism, changes it into some form of life that might exist, normally, a billion years from now. But it's so alien!"

He switched on the radio. A news commentator was talking excitedly.

"Around Pittsburgh, martial law has been declared. W. P. A. workers are blasting out a deep trench around the city, and pouring deadly acids into it. Whether this will form an effective barrier, no one knows. The rivers are filled with floating corpses. The contagion is spreading with great speed. Nearly a hundred of the Carriers have been seen in Pittsburgh, and the bridges are choked with refugees…"

So there were still more of the shining monsters. Sammy had been one of the first, and he was still wandering at large, since nothing could capture or destroy him.

"The Carriers kill instantly by touching their victims. Lead-plated suits are being issued to the guardsmen, but these do not always work. It depends on the quantity of energy emitted by a Carrier. Dynamite has been placed at the New York bridges and tubes. The mayor is ready to isolate Manhattan, if necessary, for protection.

"The war is at a standstill. Troops are mutinying by the thousands. Every metropolis is being vacated. We estimate about three thousand Carriers now exist, widely scattered over the Earth. From Buenos Aires—"

With an impatient gesture, Court shut off the radio.

"No hope," he said. "The Plague is steadily on the increase. I must get to the golden ship and back as soon as possible."

They sat in silent despair as the car swept along the deserted highways. The landscape was incongruously peaceful. The green, rolling hills of Wisconsin stretched around them. A broad, lazy river flowed quietly beside the road. The only sound in the stillness was the humming of the motor.

Marion leaned her head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky. All she could do now was let her thoughts drift. Suppose the Plague had never come to Earth. She and Stephen might be driving along together, under this same sky, and perhaps—

She blinked out of her reverie and lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers.

"Thanks," Court said, and took it gently from her.

She lit another for herself.

"Funny," she said.

Court nodded grimly, staring ahead.

"Yes, I know. All this changing—'Giving place to the new.' But God knows what the new order will be. A world peopled by beings of pure energy, eventually consuming all then-natural food, and dying off. Then there will be only a dead planet."

"Will it still be as lovely?" she asked softly.

"Lovely?" Court frowned, seemed to notice the landscape for the first time. His gaze swept out over the rolling hills and the placid river. "Yes," he said finally, in a curious voice, "it is rather lovely. I wasn't aware of it before."

"I didn't think you ever would be," she said.

He flushed. "I have had so little time—"

"It wasn't that. You never looked at the world or at human beings. You looked through microscopes and telescopes."

He glanced at the girl and his hand went out in a gesture that was somehow pathetic. Then his lips tightened. He drew back, again clutching the wheel firmly. He looked ahead grimly without speaking, not seeing the tears that hung on Marion's lashes.

They reached the air field soon after. The Terra had been wheeled out. A shining, golden cylinder, eight feet in diameter and twenty feet long, its ends were slightly tapered and bluntly rounded. It gleamed in contrast to the rich black loam on which it lay.

"Small," Court criticized, 'Taut we had no time to make a larger one. It'll have to do."

He helped Marion from the car and together they went toward the Terra. A group of mechanics and workers approached.

"All set," the foreman stated. "She's warmed up and ready, Mr. Court."

"Thanks." He halted at the open port. "Well…"

"Good luck," Marion breathed.

Court stared at her. Curious lines that had never been there before now bracketed his mouth. He looked away at the green hillside, and then back at the girl. His lips parted involuntarily, but with an effort he controlled himself.

"Thanks," he said. "Good-by, Marion. I—I'll see you soon." He entered the ship and closed the port behind him.

Marion stood quite silent, her fingers blindly shredding her handkerchief to rags.

The Terra rose smoothly, swiftly mounted straight up. Smaller and smaller it grew, a glittering nugget of gold against the blue sky. Then it was merely a speck—and it was gone.

Marion turned and walked slowly back to the car. Her lips were bravely scarlet, yet they quivered against the pallor of her face.

Court sat before the control panel, peering ahead through a porthole.

"Wonder what effect radiation in space will have?" he murmured. "It's leaded polaroid glass, of course, but the other ship had no portholes at all. They probably used some sort of televisor equipment that's beyond our contemporary science."

He could see nothing but the blue of the sky. It grew darker, shading to a deep purple. Faint stars began to twinkle, until countless points of light were glittering frostily.

"Sinus, Jupiter, Mars." Court sighed.

With the secret of space travel mastered, man could reach all the planets. With sufficient power, the interstellar gulfs might even be bridged. But how long would man continue to exist on Earth?

Hours merged into an unending monotony of watchful, weary vigilance. The Terra plunged on, gathering speed.

"Meteors might be a menace," Court mused, "unless the magnetic field deflects them. But that would work only on ferrous bodies. Still, nothing's happened so far." He changed his course slightly. "I'm doubtful about that space-armor. Spatial conditions can't be duplicated on Earth. Well, I've taken other precautions."

He had had the door made to fit exactly the port that had been telescopically visible on the golden ship.

A queer excitement grew stronger within Court as he neared his destination. He could not keep away from the transparent ports, for he was desperately anxious to see the golden ship. Some subtle instinct told him that the rendezvous might even be more important than he had realized.

How long had the space ship maintained its orbit beyond the atmosphere? Whence had it come? What strange secrets might it hold?

When Court found that his fingers were trembling slightly on the controls, he grimly repressed his nervousness. But he could not help wondering. Centuries—eons, perhaps—might have passed while the golden vessel circled the planet And now Stephen Court, man of Earth, was questing out to what destiny? He did not know, but some premonition of the incredible future must have come to him, for he shuddered.

"Somebody's walked over my grave," he muttered, with a sardonic smile at the whimsy. "Well, it won't be long now."

Again he turned to the port, and his breath caught in his throat.

The golden ship hung there, a mysterious, gleaming cylinder against the star-bright background of black space. Swiftly it grew larger.

As Court decelerated, his face was curiously pale. The Terra was easy to handle. He deftly pulled it alongside the other craft.

Hull scraped against alloyed hull, till finally the two ports were flush together. Court threw a lever and hastily spun a wheel. He was breathing unevenly, and his eyes were glowing with excitement.

The ships were held firmly together by an airtight rubberoid ring.

He rose, donned a gas-mask, and picked up a revolver. Then he went to the port and gingerly swung it open. The air remained in the ship.

Facing him was a surface of yellow metal, a scarcely visible crack showing that it was an oval door. Court pushed, but it did not yield. A blow torch might cut it, and certainly acids would bite through. But Court did not resort to these immediately. He fumbled with a powerful electromagnet and worked unavailingly for a time.

At last, in desperation, he used acids to eat a small hole through the outer hull. The air that rushed out was thin and dead, but far from poisonous. Grunting, Court reached through the gap and managed to open the port.

What he expected, he did not know. His nerves were strung to wire-edge, unbearably tense, now that he was face to face with the solution of the mystery. The port opened, and for a moment Court was weak with reaction.

He saw nothing but a short corridor, about six feet long, featureless and vacant. Naturally there would be an airlock, for safety's sake. He should have expected one. At the farther end was another door, but this one had a lever set in it.

Court walked forward and moved the lever slightly. The port swung open. Air gusted from the Terra to the golden ship. He stepped across the threshold and halted, staring around.

He was in a good-sized room, apparently only one of several in this huge vessel. Open doorways gaped in the walls. The chamber was bare, with nothing but a few couches.

But on the couches lay human beings!

A gigantic gargoyle-faced man was naked, save for a clout, his bronzed body glistening in the dim illumination that came from no discernible source. Another man, Oriental, fat as a Buddha, sprawled untidily on a pile of cushions. On the floor beside him lay a lute with one broken string. And there was a girl…

An elfin creature with ivory skin, her lips curved into a tender smile, she slept with her golden hair partially veiling her face.

On the floor near a doorway lay another figure, face down. Court crossed to it and turned it over. He stared at a slight form and chiseled, patrician features. That face had some vague yet unmistakable touch of the alien visitor to Earth.

Something caught Court's eye beyond the threshold of the next room. A huge body sprawled there, one hand outstretched toward an instrument panel.

Court strode toward it.

He halted, realizing that he was in a laboratory—but no Earthly one! He blinked in astonishment at sight of the apparatus surrounding him. Then, forcing down his curiosity, he knelt beside the prone figure and turned it on its back.

The man's face was handsome in an arrogantly ferocious way, though a black spade-beard jutted from his pugnacious chin. The giant lay motionless, and Court saw that no breath lifted the hairy barrel chest. Nevertheless he made careful tests, only to realize that the man was pulseless, apparently dead.

For some reason, Court was not convinced. Could corpses remain in such a perfect state of preservation? Was there not such a thing as catalepsy? He returned to the others, and found that they were equally lifeless, equally well preserved.

There was the long chance of a wild hunch. Court returned to his own ship and came back with heating pads and stimulants. He paused to consider.

Which one should he attempt to revive first? The girl? The Chinese? Why not the bearded man? His presence in the laboratory—the heart of the ship—indicated that he was probably a scientist.

With a grunt of decision, Court went to the prostrate giant and put down his burden.

Warmth must come first. The heating pads were arranged in armpits and thighs.

He followed them with adrenalin, with brandy, artificial respiration.

Court placed his hands in the proper position and forced air from the giant's lungs. Then back, and down again. Down, and up…

With a surge and a rush, the man came back to life. He flung Court off with a swift gesture and sprang up. His hand closed on the switch he had been striving for.

But he halted and whirled, his yellow cat's-eyes glowering at the smaller man.

He said something Court did not understand.

Rising to his feet, Court kept one hand on his gun as he watched the giant warily.

Abruptly the blackbeard strode past Court and into the next room. When he returned, he was grinning. He stopped at the door and stood with arms akimbo. After a moment he spoke slowly in Latin.

It was a language that Court, being a scientist, had studied with some thoroughness.

"I come from Earth," he explained. "The third planet of this Sun. I mean no harm. I awoke you—"

The other nodded. "I am Thordred. But there is no time to talk now. Tell me, swiftly as you can, how you found us."

Court obeyed. As he talked, Thordred went into the adjoining room and stood contemplating the silent figures. He stooped beside the slim body on the floor.

"Dead, I think. Yet—this is your ship?"

He pointed toward the port.

"Yes."

"Well, you will not need it. My ship is yours now."

A gleam of amusement shone in the yellow eyes as Thordred lifted Ardath's body and carried him into the Terra. He paused to study the controls. After making a careful adjustment, he returned.

The door of the Terra he closed behind him, then both ports of the larger ship. Court felt a touch of apprehension.

"Thordred," he said with quick anger in his voice. "What are you doing?"

The giant turned to a vision screen in the wall.

He flicked it on.

"Look!"

On the screen, Court saw the Terra, flashing away through space. He felt a sudden pang that chilled to cold rage.

"What right—"

Thordred grinned. "Slowly, Stephen Court. I have said that this ship is yours. As for him"—black hatred shone in the yellow eyes—"he was a renegade and a traitor. He tried to kill us all. He is dead now, but science and magic may bring even a dead man back to life. So Ardath is going where there is neither science nor magic—toward the Sun!"

"The Sun!"

"Yes. I set the controls on your ship. They were not difficult to understand. Ardath is doomed, if a dead man can die again. And now we will attend to the others."

He glanced at the silent figures on the couches.

"We'll awaken them?"

"One at a time. The girl first." Thordred hesitated. "Revive Jansaiya, Court, while I adjust the apparatus. We are going back to Earth."

"Good." Court smiled. "We need your help."

His throat felt achingly dry, for at last his search was at an end. With the science of this Thordred added to his own, the Plague could be fought, perhaps conquered.

Thordred was smiling triumphantly as he went into the laboratory.