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COVER DBSIGN H. W. WBSSO
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THE DOOM PROM PLANET 4 JACK WILLIAMSON S
A Roy of fire. Green , Mysterious, Stubs Tkrvmgh the Bight to Don on Bis Ship, ft Lends Bfm to on Island of Unearthly Peril.
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The Doom from Planet 4
By Jack Williamson
short, three long, three short, the flashes winked from the dark headland. Dan McNal- ly, master and owner of the small and ancient trading schooner, Vir- ginia, caught the feeble flickering
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6
ASTOUNDING STORIES
light from the island as be strode across the foredeck. He stopped, stared at the looming black line of land beneath the tropical stars. Again light flashed from a point of rock far above the dim white line of phosphorescent surf, spelling out the signal of distress.
“Somebody bane callin' with a flashlight, I t’ank,” the big Swede, Larsen, rumbled from pie wheel.
Dan thought suddenly of reply. He rushed into the charthouse, to re- turn in a moment with a lighted lan- tern and a copy of the Nautical Almanac which would serve to hide the flame between flashes. lie flashed an answer.
Again the pale light flickered from the dark mass of land, spelling Words out rather slowly, as if the sender were uncertain in bis knowl- edge of Morse. Surprised as Dan had been by the signal from an island marked on the charts as uninhabited, be was astonished at the message that now came to him.
“You are in terrible danger,” he read in the flashes. “Dreadful thing here. Hurry away. Radio for war- ships. I am — "
The winking light suddenly went out. Dan strained his eyes to watch the point where it had been, and a few seconds later he saw a curious thing. A darting, stabbing lance of green fire flashed out- across the bar- ren, rocky cliff, lighting it fleeting- ly with pale green radiance. It leapt out and was gone in an instant, leav- ing the shoulder of the island dark as before.
Dan watched for long minutes, but he saw nothing more brilliant than the pale gleam of phosphorescence where the waves dashed against the sheer granite wall of the island.
“What you t’ank?” Larsen broke in upon him.
| -nAN started, then answered U slowly. “I don’t know. First I thought there most be a lunatic at
large. But that green light 1 1 didn’t like it.”
He stared again at the looming mass of the island. Davis Ialand is one of.the innumerable tiny islets that dot the South Pacific; merely the summit of a dead volcano, pro- jecting above the sea. Nominidly claimed by Great Britain, it is marked on the charts as uninhabited.
“Radio for warships, eh?” he mut- tered. A wireless transmitter was one of many modern innovations that the Virginia did not boast. 8be had been gathering copra and shdD among the islands long before such things came into common uae, though Dan had invested his modest savings in her only a year before.
“What would anyone want with warships on Davis Island?’’ The name roused a vague memory. “Da- vis Island?” he repeated, staring in concentration at the black sea. “Of course 1” It came to him suddenly. A newspaper article that he bad read five years before, at about the time he had abandoned college in the middle of his junior year, to follow the call of adventure.
The account had dealt with an eclipse of the sun, visible only from certain points on the Pacific. One Dr. Hunter, under the auspices of a Western university, had sailed with his instruments and assistants to Davis Island, to study the solar co- rona during the few precious mo- ments when the shadow covered the sun, and to observe the displace- ment of certain stars as a test of Einstein's theory of relativity.
The reporter had interviewed the party at San Francisco, on the eve of sailing. There had been photo-' graphs of the chartered vessel, of Dr. Hunter and his instruments, and of his daughter, Helen, who acted as his secretary. She looked not at all like a scientist, Dan recalled. In fact, her face had seemed rather pretty, even in the blurred news- paper half-tone.
THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4
7
But the memory cast no light upon the present puzzle. In the rambling years that had led him to this spot upon the old Virginia, he had lost touch with the science that had in- terested him during his college days. He had heard nothing of the results of the Hunter expedition. But this island had been its destination.
HE turned decisively to the man at the wheel. “Larsen, we’ll stand well offshore till daylight,” he said. “Then, unless we see some- thing unusual, we can sail in and land a boat to—"
The sentence was never finished. Through the corner of his eye, Dan saw a ray of green light darting to- ward them from the island. A line of green fire seemed to reach out and strike him a physical blow. Green flame flared around him, and somehow he was hurled from the bridge, clear of the rail and into the sea.
His impression of the incident was very confused. He seemed to have struck the water with such force that his breath was knocked out. He struggled back to the surface, strangling, and coughing the bitter brine from his lungs. It was sev- eral minutes before he was comfort- ably treading water, and able to see what had happened.
The old schooner was then a hun- dred yards away, careening crazily, and drifting aimlessly before the light breeze. The strange gTeen fire had vanished. Parts of the ship apparently had been carried away or disintegrated by the ray or the force of wjiich it was a visible effect. The mainmast was down, and was hang- ing over the Bide in a tangle of rig- ging.
Bright yellow flames were dancing at a dozen points about the wreckage on ' the listing deck. A grotesque broken thing, queerly illuminated by the growing fires, was hanging over the wheel — the body of Larsen. No
living thing was visible; and Dan, after a second look at the wreck of the bow, knew that he must be the sole survivor of the catastrophe.
“Too bad about the boys,” he mut- tered through teeth that chattered, for the cold water had already chilled him. “And poor old Larsen.” He thought again of the warning flashed from the shore. “Guess there must be something hellish afoot after all,” he muttered again. “The flicker of green that stopped the sig- nals, and the green fire that got us — what can they mean?” He looked toward the looming black shadow of the island, and began divesting him- self of his clinging, sodden gar- ments. “I don’t wonder somebody wanted battleships. But even a bat- tleship, if that green ray hit it — ” He drew a deep breath and ducked his head while he unlaced his shoes and kicked out of them. Then, with a final look at the burning wreck of the Virginia, he tore off the last bit of his underclothing and swam for the shore in an easy crawl.
THE rocky ramparts of^^avis Island were three or four miles away. But there was no wind; the black sea was calm save for a long, hardly perceptible swell. A strong swimmer and in superb condition, Dan felt no anxiety about being able to make the distance. There was danger, however, that a shark would run across him, or that he could not find a landing place upon the rocky shore.
Four bells had rung when he had seen the first flash; it had been just ten o’clock. And it was some four hours later that Dan touched bot- tom and waded wearily up a bit of smooth hard beach, through palely glittering phosphorescent foam.
He rubbed the brine from his tired limbs, and sat down for a time, in a spot where a fallen boulder shel- tered his naked body from the cool morning wind. In a few momenta
8
ASTOUNDING STORIES
be row, flexed his muscles and peered through the starlit darkness for a way up the cliff behind the beach. He found it impossible to distinguish anything.
“Got to keep moving, or find some clothes,” he muttered. “And I may stumble onto what made the green light. Darn lucky I’ve been so far, anyhow. Larsen and the others— but I shan’t think of them. Wonder who was flashing the signals from the island. And did the green fire get him?"
He turned to look out over the black plain of the sea. Par out, the Virginia lay low in the water, a pil- lar of yellow flame risiflg from her hull. As he watched, the flame flickered and vanished: the old schooner, he supposed, had sunk. Then he noticed a pale glow come into being among the stars on the eastern horizon.
^ “Hello,” he muttered again. “So we’re going to have a moon? In the last quarter, but still it ought to light me up from this beach."
A moment later the horns of the crescent had come above the black rim of the sea. Dan waited, 'Swing, ing his arms and tramping up and down on the sand, until the silvery moon had cleared the horizon and illuminated the rugged face of the cliff with pale white radiance.
He chose a path to the top of the cliff and clambered up, emerging in a jungle-like thicket of brush. Pick- ing his way with the greatest cau- tion, yet scratching his naked skin most painfully, he made his way for a few yards through the brush to a point of vantage from which he could look about.
He was, he perceived, in a narrow valley or ravine, with rugged black walls rising sheer on either side. The silvery light of the crescent moon fell upon the rank jungle that covered the narrow floor of the can- yon, which rose and dwindled as it penetrated inland.
GAZING up the canyon, Dan gasped in amazement at what he
saw.
Mars, the red planet, hung bright and motionless, low in the western sky, gleaming with deep bloody radiance. Directly beneath it, bathed in the white light of the moon, wns a bare, rocky peak that seemed the highest point of. the island. And upon that highest pinnacle, that chanced to be just below the ruddy star, was an astounding machine.
Three slender towers, of a white metal that gleamed in the moonlight with the silvery luster of aluminum, rose from the rocky peak. They sup- ported, in a horizontal position, an enormous metal ring. It must be, Dan reckoned swiftly, at least a hun- dred feet in diameter, and held a hundred feet above the summit of the mountain.
The huge ring gleamed with a strange purple radiance. A shim- mering mist of red-violet light sur- rounded it. An unknown force seemed to throb within the mighty ring, drawing the mantle of purple haze about- it.
And suspended inside the ring and below it was a long, slender needle of dazzling white light. To Dan, from where he stood in the can- yon, it seemed a fine, sharp line, though he knew it must be some kind of pointer, luminous with the strange force pulsing through it.
The strange needle wavered a lit- tle, with quick, uncertain motions. The brilliance of its light varied oddly; it seemed to throb with a queer, irregular rhythm.
And the gleaming needle pointed straight at the planet Mars ! ,
Dan stood a long time, watching the purple ring upon the silver tow- ers, with the shining white needle hanging below it. He stared at Mars, glowing like a red and sinister eye above the incredible mechanism.
His mind was in a wild storm of wonder shot with fear. What was
THB DOOM PROM PLANET 4
the meaning of the gleaming ring and- needle? What connection did thia great device have with the sig- nal of distress from the cliff, and the green fire that had destroyed the Virginia? And why did the glowing needle point at Mars?
HE did not know when he first began to hear the sound. For a time it was merely part of the strange mystery of the island, only another element in the atmosphere of fear and wonder that surrounded him. Then it rose a little, and be became suddenly sharply conscious of it as an additional menace. The sound waa not loud, but deep and vibrant. A whir or hum, like that of a powerful, muffled motor, but deeper than the sound of any motor man has ever made. It came down the gorge, from the direction of the machine on the mountain.
That deep, throbbing noise fright- ened Dan as none of his previous experiences had done. Shivering from fear as much as from cold, he crouched down beside a huge boulder in the edge of the tangle of brush that covered the bottom of the ra- vine. His heart pounded wildly. He was in the clutches of an unreason- ing fear that some terrible Thing had seen him, and was about to seek him out. For a moment be had to use all his will to keep himself from panic flight through the brush. The unknown is always terrible, and he had invaded the domain of a force he could not understand.
In a moment, however, he recov- ered himself. He would be as safe there in the jungle, he thought, as anywhere on the island. He thought of starting a fire, then realized that he had no matches, and that he would not dare to make a light if he were able. He pulled a few handfuls of dry grass to make a sort of bed, upon which he huddled up, thanking bis lucky stars that the island was in semi-tropical latitudes.
9
His mind returned again to the riddles that confronted him: the green flash and the strange mechan- ism on the peak. He recalled fan- tastic stories he had read, of hermit scientists conducting amazing ex- periments in isolated parts of the world. Presently he decided that something of the kind must be on foot here.
“The green flash is a sort of a death ray,” he summed up, aloud. “And they shoot it from that bright needle. No wonder they don’t want to be bothered) Somebody may be fixing to upset civilization I
“But it’s queer that the needle points at Mars. . . ."
Of this last fact, which might have been a clue to the moat reasonable solution of the mystery, if a rather astounding one, he was able to make nothing. In fact, huddled up on his pile of grass in aonte degree of com- fort, he presently went to sleep, still pondering in vain upon this last clue.
HE was awakened by a soft, in- sistent purring sound, rather like that of a small electric motor run without load at very high speed. Recollection of the night's events came abruptly to him, and he sprang to his feet in alarm, finding his muscles sore and stiff from bis cramped position.
From one side Dan heard the rumble of thunder, and, glancing up. saw that the sky above the sea was overcast with a rolling mass of dark, menacing clouds. There was a strange portentous blackness about these storm clouds that filled him with a nameless fear.
Suddenly he was struck with the thought that it was not thunder that had wakened him. The noise he had heard had not the rumbling or boom- ing quality of thunder. As he stood there he again became conscious of the low, whirring sound, behind him. He whirled around to face it. The
10
ASTOUNDING STORIES
shock of what he saw left him mo- mentarily dizzy and trembling— though undoubtedly his surround- ings had much to do with its effect upon him.
The sound came from a glistening metal machine which stood half-hid- den in the brush a dozen yards away looking at him I '\
The thing was madei of a lustrous, silvery metal, which Dan afterwards supposed to be aluminum, or some alloy of that metal. Its gleaming case was shaped more like a coffin, or an Egyptian mummy-case, tfian any other object with which he was familiar, though rather larger than either.
That is, it was an oblong metal box, tapering toward the ends, with the greatest width forward of the middle. Twin tubes projected from the end of it, lenses in them glisten- ing like eyes. Just below them sprang out steely, glistening tentacles sev- eral feet long, writhing and twitch- ing as if they were alive. The tangle of green brush hid the thing’s legs, so that Dan could not see them.
SUDDENLY it sprang toward him, rising ten feet high and covering half the distance between them. It alighted easily upon the two long, jointed metal limbs upon which it had leapt,- and continued to keep the lens-tubes turned toward Dan, so he knew that the grotesque metal thing was watching him.
The limbs, he observed, were simi- lar to the hind legs of a grasshopper, both in shape and position. And evi- dently the thing leapt upon them in about the same way. Then he no- ticed another curious thing about it.
Three little bars of metal projected above the thickest part of its case, on the upper side. Their ends were joined by a little ring, three inches across. The tiny metal ring glowed with purple luminosity. A purple haze seemed to cling about it, as to the huge ring Dan had seen on the
towers above the peak. And sus- pended inside this ring was a tiny metal needle, shimmering with pul- sating white fire.
On the back of this metal monster was a miniature replica of the strange mechanism upon the pin- nacle. The little needle pointed up the canyon. A glance that way showed Dan that it pointed at the great device upon the mountain, which looked even more brilliant on this gloomy morning than in the un- certain radiance of the moon. The colossal ring was shrouded in a splendid mantle of purple flame ; and the long, slender needle, which seemed to have swung on down to follow Mars below the horizon, still throbbed with scintillating white fire.
For several minutes the two stood there, studying each other. A naked man, tense and bewildered in tha presence of mysterious forces — and a grotesque machine, cased in gleam- ing white metal, whose parts seemed to duplicate most of the functions of a living creature.
Then one of the writhing tentacles that shot from the “head” of the machine reached back under the metal case, and reappeared grasping what appeared to be a flat disk of emerald, two inches across and half an inch thick.
This green disk it held up, with a flat side toward Dan. There was no sound, but a flash of green light came from it, cutting a wide swath into the jungle, and littering its path with smoking and flaming debris.
BUT Dan, expecting something of the kind, had flung himself sidewise into the shelter of the boulder beside which he had slept. Behind it, he gathered his feet un- der him, picked up a rock of con- venient size for throwing, and waited, ready and alert.
He heard the soft humming sound on the other side of the boulder. A
THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4
11
glittering object flashed abort him. Crashing through the brush the metal monster came to earth on the same side of the boulder with him.
But the metal thing had not turned in its flight: consequently its rear end was toward Dan. As it began cumberously to turn about, he hurled his rock with an accuracy that came of a boyhood on the farm. Instinct had made him try for the little ring and needle on the back of the mon- ster, apparently its most vulnerable part
Whether by luck or skill, the rock struck the gleaming ring, crushing it against the needle — and instant paralysis overtook the metal thing. Its tentacles and limbs became fixed and rigid, and it toppled over in the brush.
Dan walked over to it, and exam- ined it briefly. The green disk had fallen on the ground, and be picked it up. It, was made of emerald crys- tal, it had a little knob of glistening metal set in one side. Rather afraid of it, Dan forebore to twist the knob. But he still clutched it in his hand a few moments later, when, partly for fear that others of its kind would come to succor the fallen monster, and partly to secure shelter from the threatening rain, he retired into the shadows of the tangled jungle.
He spent perhaps half an hour in creeping back to what he supposed a place of comparative safety. For some time he lay there in the cool gloom, brushing occasional insects off his bare skin, wishing by turns that he had a cup of coffee and a good beefsteak, and that he could puzxle out a logical solution of all the astounding things he had met in the island. After the encounter with the metal monster, he felt his theory of the hermit scientists a bit inade- quate.
PRESENTLY his attention was attracted by the unmistakable mew of a kitten. Then he heard the
padding sound of cautious human footsteps, and a clear feminine voice calling "Kitty, kitty,” in low tones. The steps and the voice seemed coat- ing toward him; since there was am sound of crackling brush, be sup- posed there was a trail which he had not found. ‘
"Hello,” be ventured, when the voice seemed only a few yards away through the green tangle.
At the same instant a gray kitten appeared out of the underbrush, and frisked trustfully across to him. He put out a band, caressed it, picked it up. In a moment the feminine voice replied, “Hello yourself. Who are you?”
A crackling sound came from the brush, as if the speaker were start- ing toward him. Dan, abruptly con- scious of bis lack of attire, said quickly, “Wait a minute! I haven't anything on, you see. I’m Dan Mc- Nally. I owned the schooner that something happened to off the island last night.”
A delicious, trilling laugh greeted the panic of his first words. Then the clear, sweet voice, serious again, replied, “So you swam ashore from the boat I signaled?"
“Yes.”
“Gee, but I’m glad to find you! And you say you haven’t any clothes? 1 wonder what. . . .” The voice paused reflectively, then re- sumed, “Here's a sheet that I got to signal with in the daytime, if I had a chance. Y ou might wrap it around you until we find something better.”
The low, liquid laugh rang out again; again there was a rustling in the brush, and presently an arm ap- peared, holding a rolled-up sheet.
“All right,” he called “Throw it this way.”
IN ■ moment, with the sheet draped amend him like a Roman toga, and the kitten on bta ana, he advanced tn meet the owner of the beautiful voice.
n
ASTOUNDING STORIES
At the trail he met a trim, active- looking young woman, clad in out- of-door attire and with a canvas knapsack on her back. Bareheaded, ahe wore her brown hair closely shingled. Her face, Dan recognized from the photograph he had seen five years before, though it was more lovely than the splotched newspaper picture had hinted. liter brown eyes were filled with laughter at his pre- dicament and his present unusual garb.
He bowed with mock gravity and said, “How do you do. Miss Helen Hunter?” "■
Brown eyes widened in surprise. “You know me?” she asked.
“Not half so well as I hope to,” he grinned.
Then, handing her the kitten, he spoke seriously. “What about this island? The green flashes? The big machine on the mountain? The metal thing that jumps about like a grasshopper? What’s it all about? You know anything about it?"
“Yes, I know a good deal about it,” she told him soberly. “It’s rather a terrible story. And one you may not believe — no, you’ve seen them! But the kitten is hungry, and you must be, too, if you swam ashore."
“Well, yes, I am,” Dan admitted.
The storm clouds were drifting out to sea; the sun was beginning to assert itself, and it now lighted up the scene with a cheerful brightness. She slung off her pack and sat down cross-legged at the side of the trail. Dan sat down opposite her as she opened the knapsack and produced a can of condensed milk, one of sar- dines, a can-opener, and half a loaf of bread.
“I had to select my supplies rather at random," she said, “and you’ll have to make the best of them.”
She started to open the sardines. “You’d better give it to me," Dan advised. “You might cut your hand.”
“You think so?” she asked, deftly lifting the lid, fishing out a fish for
the kitten, and presenting the can to Dan. Then with capable hands she broke off a large chunk of bread, which she handed him.
“Go ahead and finish this up,” she said. “I’ve already had breakfast.” She punched two holes in the end of the milk can, and poured some of the thick yellow fluid into the palm of her left hand, from which she let the kitten lap it.
“And now for the mystery of the island,” Dan demanded, forgetting bread and sardines in his eagerness.
THE girl turned her face to him.
“I’m Helen Hunter, as you seem to know," she began. “I came here with my father five years ago to observe an eclipse of the sun. When it was all over, and the ship called to take us off, he decided to send the results of our observations by one of the other men. He'wanted to stay here to carry on another experiment —the one that led to that machine on the hill. Part pi the other men were willing to stay. The yacht left us here, and has been back from San Francisco every six months since, with mail and supplies.”
“And what was the experiment?” Dan demanded eagerly.
“Have you ever looked at Mars through a good telescope?" she countered. “Then you must have seen the canals — straight dark lines running from the white polar caps to the equatorial zone. All scientists did not agree as to what they were, but nobody could suggest a natural origin for them.
“My father was one of those who thought that the canals were fertile,' cultivated strips, irrigated with water brought down from the melt- ing ice-caps. Irrigation systems meant intelligent life upon the planet, and his experiment was an attempt to communicate with that intelligence.”
“And he succeeded?” Dan was astounded.
THB DOOM FROM PLANET 4
13
“Yes. The means was simple enough: other men had suggested it years before, in fact. Any fairly bright light on Mars — such as the beam of a searchlight directed to- ward earth — would be visible in a good telescope, when the planet is favorably situated : it follows that such a light on earth should be vis- ible to an observer with a similar instrument on Mars.
“It was possible, of course, but un- likely, that Mars would have intelli- gent inhabitants still ignorant of the telescope. It was also possible that their senses would be different from ours — that, if they saw at all, it would be with a different part of the spectrum. Father took the chance. And he succeeded.
“The call was simple : merely three flashes of light, repeated again and again. We used a portable search- light, mounted on a motor-truck, such as is used in the army. The three flashes meant that we were on the third planet of the solar system. The answering call, from the fourth planet, should be four flashes, of course.
“For three nights we kept signal- ing. One of the men watched the motor-generator, and I operated the searchlight, swinging it on Mars and off again, to make the flashes. Dad kept his eye screwed to the tele- scope. Nothing happened and he got discouraged. I persuaded him to keep on for another night, in case they hadn't seen us at flrst ; or needed more time to get their searchlight ready.
“And on the fourth night poor Dad came out of the observatory, shouting that he had seen flour flashes.”
DAN gasped, speechless with astonishment. “Then that ma- chine, with the needle pointing at Mars, and the green flashes, and the thing that jumped at me — ”
Helen waved a white hand for si-
lence. “Just keep cool a minute! I'm coming to them.'
“The four flashes just began it. In a few days Dad and the Martians were communicating by a sort of television process. He would mark off a sheet of paper into squares, blacken some of the squares to make a picture or design, then have me send a flash for each black square, and miss an interval for each white one, taking them in regular order. The Martians seemed to catch on pretty soon; in a few days Dad was receiving pictures of the same sort.
“Rather a slow way of communi- cation, perhaps. But it worked bet- ter than one might think at first. In a month Dad had received instruc- tions for building a small machine like that big one on the hill. It is something like radio— at least it operates with vibrations in the ether —but it’s as much ahead of our radio as an airplane is in advance of a fire- balloon. I understand a good bit about it, but I won't try to explain it now.
“And in the next three years Dad learned no end of things from the people on Mars. One queer thing about it was, that they never let us see them on the television apparatus, no matter how many of their scien- tific secrets 4hey gave us. Dad and I exhibited ourselves, but I don’t know yet what the Martians look like — though I have made a guess.
“By tlie end of the third year they had showed Dad how to make one of those metal things — ”
"Like that one that jumped at me?” Dan broke in with a shudder.
“Yes. They seem almost alive; but they are machines, -like our robots, and controlled by the radio appa- ratus. The eyes use photo-electric cells, and relay what is before them to the Master Intelligence.” The girl spoke these last words in a low tone, shrinking involuntarily. She paused a moment, then shrugged and continued.
14
ASTOUNDING STORIES
"The first machine did not obey my father. It was controlled by signals that came from Mars, over the big station on the hill. And it went to work, making more apparatus, build- ing more machines, enlarging the re- ceiving station. It worked in obedi- ence to the Master Intelligence on Mars!
“rjtHAT was a year ago. The
X last time the yacht called, my father and the other men still hoped to control the machines. They let her go back without us. The machines tolerated us a while; paid no attention to us; they were busy working mines and building huge, strange things that'lnuBt be flying machines; the plateau on the other side of the peak is crowded with them.
"For the machines are preparing to leave the island! They are going to conquer the world for-the Master Intelligence on Mars!
“Months ago my father discovered this, and realized that he had loosed doom upon the earth. He and the three other men planned to destroy that big station on the peak. All the signals to the machines are relayed through that, from Mars. The ma- chines seemed to pay no heed as they made their preparations.
“Then one night, about three weeks ago, they tried to dynamite the station.” The girl’s shoulder trembled ; she paused to brush a tear from her eye, then went on hastily, in a voice grown husky with emo- tion. Dan felt an odd desire to take her slight form in his arms and com- fort her in her grief.
“The machines had seemed heed- less, but they were ready. They had those disks that throw the green fire: we had not seen them before. And — well, all four of them were killed.”
Dan handed her the disk of green crystal he had taken from the thing that had attacked him. She exam- ined it silently, then went on.
“Dad had left me in bed, but I heard an explosion. I think the bombs went off when the green fire struck them. I knew what had hap- pened, and got out of the house just before the machines arrived. They wrecked the place with their green flashes.
“And for the last three weeks I’ve been hiding in the jungle, or watch- ing for ships. Three times I’ve raided the ruins of the house for something to eat : fortunately it didn’t burn, like your ship. And that’s all, I suppose— except I’m aw- fully glad that you got ashore.”
“Thanks," Dan said, earnestly. “And what are we going to do now?"
“T DON’T know,” Helen answered
X in a troubled tone. “I’m afraid. Afraid for all humanity. On the television, I’ve seen enough of Mars to be sure that it is a world of machines, controlled by one Mas- ter Intelligence. And even that may be a machine. We make machines that compute the tides and carry out other computations that are al- most beyond the power of the human mind; why couldn’t a ma- chine think?
“The Master Intelligence of Mars plans to add the Earth to his domain. Unless we can do something to stop it, in a few years the world will be overrun with gigantic robot-ma- chines, controlled by force from across the gulf of space. Humanity cannot resist them. Imagine a bat- tleship pitted against that green an- nihilating ray, and all the other science of an elder planet !
“Life is to be blotted out! The Master Intelligence of Mars will rule two worlds of mechanical mon- sters !”
Dan sat in a dazed vision of hor- ror to come, until Helen straight- ened up as if shaking off a mantle of fear, and smiled heroically, if a bit wanly.
“Now you must eat your bread an<f
THE DOOM PROM PLANET 4
IS
sardines, to give you strength to fight (or humanity!" she cried, with a laugh that she strived, not too suc- cessfully, to make cheerful and gay.
Obediently, he began to eat, find- ing an excellent appetite. . . .
It was several minutes later that he fancied he beard a whirring and crackling in the brush behind them. He sprang to his feet in alarm.
“It can’t be far back to where I left the machine,” he cried. “Do you suppose there's danger that — ” The mechanical ears of the metal things may have picked up the sound of his voice : but in any event, green flame flashed about them on the in- stant. Feeling a sudden protective impulse, Dan started toward Helen. That was his last recollection, before what seemed a terrific concussion swept him into the abyss of uncon- sciousness. . . .
HIS first thought, when he awakened, was of the girl. But he was alone in the silence of the canyon. He sat up, realizing that many hours had passed, for the air was growing cool again, and the sun was low behind the peak at the head of the ravine. The huge, mysterious machine of the purple ring and the vibrating white needle were blazing splendidly.
He took more detailed stock of his immediate surroundings. The tangle of brush that had sheltered them had been cut away by the green annihi- lating ray. Charred stumps remained to show where it had fired bushes beyond the trail. His own shoulder was blistered, a hole was burned in the sheet wound about him, and the hair was singed from the back of his head.
Suddenly trembling with horror, he looked about for anything to show that Helen had perished by the ray. Discovering nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“She must be still alive, anyhow," he muttered. “And I’ve bad another
lucky break! The ray was too high to get me. They must have left me for dead."
Presently he became conscious of torturing thirst. He retired through the brush, along the rocky wall of the canyon. By sunset he came upon a little natural basin in a rock, half full of rain water. It was none too dean, but he drank his fill of it, and felt relief.
Looking up the canyon, he could see the great mechanism on the peak, gleaming in the dusk. Intensely- glowing purple mist clung about the great metal ring, and the slender, delicate needle swung below it, still vibrating, still throbbing with bril- liant, white radiance. It pointed at the red eye of Mars, which had just winked into view.
Dan stared at it a long time.
“It all sodhtls crazy,” he muttered, “but it isn’t iV The Master Intelli- gence of Mars.'she said, is controll- ing the mechanical things through that ! The doom of the Earth is com- ing through that white needle! If only I could smash it, somehow!"
He looked down at the white folds of the sheet that draped him, and clenched his hands impotently. “No gun! Not even a pocket-knife. Nothing but my bare hands!" He bit his lip.
STILL he stared challengingly at the gleaming mechanism on the peak. An idea slowly took form in his mind ; an exclamation abruptly escaped him. Narrowly he eyed the trussed girders of the silver towers which supported the great ring, mut- tering to himself.
“Yes, I can do it! If I don’t get caught ! I can climb it, well enough. The needle looks a bit frail. I should be able to smash it! I’d like to see Helen again, though.”
He gathered the sheet around him, and began picking a cautious way up the canyon, staying always in the cover of boulders or brush. A few
16
A8TOUNDING STORIES
times he disturbed a rock, or snapped a twig beneath hiB foot. Then he waited out of sight for long minutes, though he had no reason to believe that the metal monsters were on the alert for him.
"I’ve got to do it! The world de- pends on it!” he kept saying again and again in his mind.
The quick darkness of the tropics had fallen almost before he started. But he welcomed, the night, for, if it made his own silent progress more difficult, it reduced the hazard that he would be discovered.
Gauging the time by the slow wheeling of the diamond-like stars across the velvet sk£, he thought that two hours had passed when he reached the head of the canyon. He stood up cautiously to survey the little plateau at the summit of the hill.
It was several acres in extent, quite level, and almost clear of vege- tation. At the farther side was a pile of wreckage, which, he sup- posed, had been the quarters of Dr. Hunter’s party, before they had been destroyed.
Many huge machines stood about the plateau, vast, dark masses loom- ing in the starlight. Mostly they were either not running or very si- lent in operation; but a very deep, vibrant humming sound came from one near him. Smaller shapes were moving about them, with long easy leaps. These, he knew, were the mechanical monsters, though it was too dark to distinguish them.
BUT by far the most prominent object upon the plateau was the enormous, gleaming thing that Helen had said was the station, over which came the signals from the Master In- telligence on Mars. One of its three towers sprang up not far from where he stood. The huge, refulgent ring, swathed in its mist of purple fire, was a lull hundred feet above him; and the slender needle, pulsing with
white flame, swinging within and below the colossal ring, was itself a hundred feet in length.
The white needle, for all its length, seemed hardly thicker than a man's finger. It was mounted at the top of a curiously complex and delicate-looking device that spread broadly out between the three tow- ers, below the center of the huge purple ring.
Dan looked at it and decided that his plan had at least a chance of suc- cess— though he had no hope that it would not be fatal to him.
Quickly and silently he ran to the base of the mighty silver towers nearest him and began to climb the side toward the- ravine, where the maze of girders would hide him, at least partially, from any watchers back on the plateau. The starlight and the faint weird radiance of the purple ring above sufficed to guide him.
The cross-braces on the girder he had chosen were spaced closely enough to serve as the rungs of a ladder. Dan climbed easily, pausing twice for breath, and to look down at the dark plateau. The vast, hum- ming machines loomed up strangely in the pale purple light that fell from the gleaming ring.
Once he looked across toward the other side of the island. The surface there was more level. He glimpsed tiny moving lights, and huge sta- tionary masses, apparently as large as ocean liners. He had an impres- sion of a vast amount of mechanical activity, proceeding in the darkness very rapidly, and in a silent and or- derly fashion.
"The expeditionary force of the Master Intelligence of Mars,” he thought, “preparing to set out against humanity I And what I can do is the only chance to stop it!”
HE climbed again with renewed energy. A. few yards more brought him to the colossal meta1
THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4
17
ring. Resting upon the three tow- ers, it was a circular band of shin- ing metal a foot thick and as wide as a road. The intense purple glow extended several feet from its sur- face.
Dan touched it tentatively. He felt a tingling electric shock. And he thought he could feel a radiation coming from it, giving him a curi- ous sensation of cold. As he reached his hands up and grasped the upper edge of the great ring, he felt what seemed a physical current of cold.
Controlling his tendency to shiver, he climbed upon the last brace, and, lifting his weight with his hands, threw himself face down upon the flat upper surface of the vast ring. He lay bathed in cold purple fire. He tingled with the ch:ll of it. A frozen current seemed to penetrate his body. Involuntarily he trembled, lost his grip and dangled precari- ously from the rim.
Only a frantic scrambling re- stored his hold. Then, fighting the sensation of freezing cold that came from the mist of purple flame,- he drew himself forward and got to his feet upon the broad surface of the metal ring. On both sides it curved away like a circular track. Red-violet fire shimmered about it, bathing him to the waist in a chilling torrent.
Through coruscating frozen flame he waded to the inner rim of the colossal ring. Below him hung the needle, a mere straight line of white fire, a hundred feet in length. Eye- dazzling radiance scintillated along it, waxing and waning with a curious throbbing rhythm. The needle vi- brated a little, but it pointed directly at the red point of Mars, now almost directly overhead.
' Repressing a shudder, Dan looked down at the complex and delicate ap- paratus upon which the slender needle was mounted. It was a light frame of white metal bars, with spidery coils and huge glowing tubes -and flimsy spinning disks mounted
in it. The gleaming needle was mounted much like a telescope at the top of the device, fully fifty feet be- low him.
"Looks flimsy enough,” Dan mut- tered. “I’ll go through it like a six- teen-inch shell! Who would have thought I'd end this way!”
HE stepped back for a moment, and stood on the polished metal, hidden to the waist in cold purple flame. Lest it impede his movements, he tore the sheet from him and threw it aside. He let his eyes sweep for a last time over the familiar constellations blazing so splendidly in the black sky above. He had a pang of heartache, as if the stars were old friends. His glance roved fondly over the dark, indis- tinct masses of the island, and across the black plain of the sea.
“Well, no good in waiting,” he muttered again. “Sorry I can’t see Helen. Hope she gets off all right.” He backed to the outer rim and drew a deep breath, like one about to dive. ThenV with set face, he sprinted forward. As he did so a blinding flash of green light flick- ered up before him. He ducked his head and leapt from the inner edge of the vast glowing ring.
For long seconds, it seemed, he was plunging down through space, feet first. Air rushed screaming about his ears. But his mind was quite calm, and registered an aston- ishingly large series of impressions.
He saw the delicate, gleaming machine rushing up to meet him, the shimmering white needle swung on its top.
He took in the silent, dark plateau, with the masses of the great machines rising like ominous shad- ows here and there, and the mechair- ical monsters leaping busily about it, almost invisible in the dim, ghostly radiance that fell from the purple ring.
He saw a vivid flame of green
18
ASTOUNDING STORIES
reach up past him from somewhere below. He knew, without emotion or alarm, that he had been discov- ered, and that it was too late for his discoverers to stop him.
He found time, even, for a fleet- ing thought of death. His mind framed the question, “What will I be in a moment from now?”
Then he had struck the great white needle, and was crashing into the delicate apparatus'below it. Waves of pain beat upop his mind like flashes of blinding light. But his last mental image, as he passed into oblivion, was a picture of Helen’s face. Oddly, it was not her face as he had last seen it, bu{ a reproduc- tion of the old newspaper half-tone, curiously retouched with life and color.
THERE is little more to tell. It was some weeks later when Dan came back out of a world of delirium and dreams, to find himself lying on bis back in a tent, very much ban- daged. He was alone at the moment, and at first could not recall that tremendous last day of his conscious life.
Then he heard a thrillingly famil- iar feminine voice calling “Kitty, kitty, kitty.’’ He tried to move, a dull pain throbbed in his breast, and a groan escaped him. In a moment Helen appeared ; the gray kitten was forgotten. She looked very anxious and solicitous-^— and also, Dan
thought, very beautiful.
“No, no!” she cried. “You are going to be all right ! Dad made me learn a little elementary medicine be- fore we came here, and I know. But you mustn’t speak! Not for days yet! I’ll have to guess what you want. And you can wink when I guess the right thing.
“Gee, but I'm glad you’ve come to! You'll be as well as ever, pretty soon. The kitten was lots of com- fort. Still — ’’
Dan attempted to move. She
leaned over him, shifted his weight and smoothed the sheet with strong, capable hands. “You want to know about what happened to the machine mobsters?”
He winked.
“Well, you remember when they found us, and shot the green ray at us. They left you there — I thought you were dead — and carried me up here on the hill. Perhaps they wanted me for a laboratory subject to test the green ray on, or some- thing of the kind. Anyhow, they carried me into a big shed filled with strange machines.
“They kept me there until that night. Then, all of a sudden, they all — stopped! They froze! They were dead !
“The tentacles of the one that was ; holding me were set about me. But I worked free, and got out of the shed. It took all night. And when I came out, just at sunrise, I saw that the purple fire was gone from the great ring. The needle was knocked down, and the apparatus smashed.
"I found you there in the wreck- age. You made a human bullet of yourself to smash it! The greatest thing a man ever did I”
THOUGH normally rather mod- est, Dan felt a glow of pride at the honest admiration ringing in her clear voice, and shining from her warm brown eyes.
“So I gathered up what was left of you,” she went on, “and tried to put you back together again. A good many bones were broken, and you had more cuts and bruises than I could mention; but the apparatus had broken the force of the f all v and you were still alive. You are remark- ably well put together, I should say; and unusually lucky, as well!
“And, well, the machines and ap- paratus are scattered about all over the island. Every one of them stopped the instant you smashed thej
THE DOOM FROM PLANET 4
19
connection with the directing intel- comforting pressure of her hand on ligence on Mars. There’ll be quite a his forehead, Dan reflected. Then stir in the scientific world, I imagine, he winked.
in about three weeks, when the yacht “Something you want me to do?”
comes and carries us back with a lot He winked.
of plans and specimens. We must “When? Right now?”
send about a thousand engineers back No response.
here to study what we leave behind “After the yacht comes,”
us. He winked.
“And do you want anything else?” “What is it?” She looked him in She bent over and watched his ban- the eye, blushed a little, and laughed, daged face. Looking up into her “You mean — ” bright eyes, thrilling to the cool, Dan winked.
IN THE NEXT ISSUE BROOD OF THE DARK MOON
Beginning an Outstanding New Novel — a Sequel to “ Dark Moon ” —
By Charles Willard Diffin
THE MIDGET FROM THE ISLAND
The Story of a Machine-Made Midget and His Fight Upward to Normal Size
By H. G. Winter
THE MOON WEED
A Story of a Strange New Earth Menace , Terrifying in the Speed with which It Gathers Momentum
By Harl Vincent — And Others l
The Hands of Aten
A COMPLETE NOVELETTE
By H. C. Winter
Oat of the solid ice Craig hews three long-frozen Egyptians — and is at once caught up into amazing adventure.
THE sleek black monoplane came scudding out of the south, flying low over fields of ice and snow that were thawing slowly under the heat of the arctic sun. After a long time it wheeled, circled gradually, and then, as if it had found what it had been looking for, came lightly down and skidded to a graceful halt in a low flat area between some round-topped hillocks. A fur-clad figure emerged from the enclosed cockpit arlr1
climbed a low ridge into the wan sunlight above.
For a while the man looked around, getting his bearings. Miles on every side stretched the great rough plains of ice — ice that became a broad path of glittering diamonds where it led toward the low-hung sun, far in the south. Perhaps a quarter mile in that direction lay the white rise of a hill much larger than its fellows, probably, the man thought, a volcano. Towards it he laboriously made his way. His tiny figure was only a speck on the far- flung, deserted landscape — a human mite, puny and futile against the giant, hostile white waste.
The sky was clear and cloudless, the sun unusually, warm. So warm, indeed, that long clefts, caused by the unequal expansion of the ice, appeared here and there. The man from the plane had not gone more than fifty yards when he halted
The sharp roar of an explosion thundered Ikron/h the Temple.
21
22
ASTOUNDING STORIES
ihii'ilji With * crack tike thnier, a deft had opened at hie very feet — a rift tea feet deep ta places, ap- parently bettomlesa in .ethers, and very long. Not wanting te go around it, he slid down one side and, with an ice pick, started to back a foot- hold in the opposite bank.
It was then that the man saw the thing — something 'Wicking from the ice fust above his hrnd. As he stared at it, amazement appeared on his hraneed face. He looked around be- wiideredly, then peered still more closely into the bluish depths of the crystal wail.
The head of a spear was jotting from the ice. And the spear was held by a man entrapped within the wall.
THE details of the ice-held figure were but slightly blurred, for it was only a few feet from the sur- face. It was that of a man, and it was plain that he was not an Eskimo. He was locked in a distorted posi- tion. as if caaght unawares by a ter- rific weight of eliding snow. And he had been caught, seemingly, when in the act of hurling his weapon.
For a long *0* the man from the plane peered at his discovery. Then his bine eyes followed slowly the direction in which the epear was pointing, and he gasped, and took a few quick steps further down the cleft. .There, in the opposite wall, were two more bodies.
These, though, were of man and woman. They were even closer to the surface of the ice. Crouched over, the man’s left band was craned ae if to protect his companion from some peril — from the 1 Mm Ijam that had trapped them, it have
been. Or perhaps from the spear of the other.
The fur -muffled figure stood mo- tionless, gazing at thru His ice pick was held limply, his eyes were wide. Then, suddenly, the pick was grasped firmly, and flakes of ice flew under its level blows as he started to
carve his find from their froeen tomb.
The man was trembling with wild excitement when at last the stiff form of the woman was extricated. She was not so much a woman as a girl, really — and she was beautiful. But the man from the plnoe evi- dently didn’t care so mnch about that ; nor even her llmnst maramtons state of preservation. He nfflbed away some of the "g of ice from her face, and stared most intently at her forehead. Then he stood up- right, and said, simply:
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
IF Wesley Craig had been merely what he was listed as an the roster of the Somers Arctic Expedition of 1933— that is, a geologist — he would not have been so astounded. But his < life work, really, «a archaeology. He had spent yean delving in the rains of ancient temples, especially those of old Egypt. He knew the ancient language as well as anyor. ; knew it, and was familiar with every known detail of the civilization ai the Pharaohs. And, being so, he was now properly confused. For every hit of hie knowledge tald him that this gill,, wham he had found in the wastes of the arctic, was of Egyptian stock.
A certain tiny hiwpnglfph traced
very cat of the frozen robe she won — Egyptian, every one of them!
Yet, stAbornly, Wesley Ctaig wouldn't admit it. Not until he had cat the two men from the ice and hauled all three laboriously ap {he side of the cleft aad stretded them
out on the level ice, did he have ta. He couldn’t deny it, then. In eome mymeriaas way. Egypt was con- nected with the three rigid bodies.
ness and sword-sheaths were indis-
putably of Egyptian design.
THE HANDS OF ATEN
23
There, however, the similarity be- tween the two ended. The one with the spear was big-muscled and burly ; the other much Blighter of build. This latter, Craig guessed, had been fleeing with the girl when icy death had overwhelmed them.
BUT he did not then try to go into that, the story that some sudden cataclysm had cut short. His fervor, as an Egyptologist, was afire. He was burning with eagerness to get these bodies back to the main base of the Somers Expedition, some three hundred miles south. Into the learned circles of Egyptology, of archaeology, they’d throw a bomb- shell that would make nitroglycerine seem like weak tea.
Craig couldn’t taxi his plane closer; he would have to carry them to it; and to do this he began to carefully massage all the larger pieces of ice from the girl’s limbs and clothing, to make her lighter. At the Somers base they could all be re-frozen, to maintain their per- fect preservation.
It was while he .was diligently rubbing that he fully realized the girl’s beauty. Delicate, cleanly cut features; fine, large eyelids; tiny, slender hands. Save for her icy pal- lor, she might almost have been merely asleep as she lay on the snow.
Wes Craig finished massaging the girl and then went on and did the' same for the two warriors. For an hour he carefully and reverently re- leased them from the reluctant fin- gers of their icy death, and he was a little tired from his exertions and his great excitement when at laBt he finished and stood erect, resting. But he did not stand quiet for long. A sudden gleam lit his eyes: a mad idea had come to him.
“Won’t hurt to try!” he muttered excitedly, and the next moment his lithe figure was running over the slippery ice bank to his airplane, out of sight behind the nearby hillocks.
WES CRAIG worked from a sub-base on his sole expedi- tions to chart the various mountains and ranges in the islands off north- east King Charles Land, within the Arctic Circle. He had only one partner, a mechanic, who stayed be- hind on his shorter trips. And there- fore all manner of emergency devices were stowed in the cockpit of his plane: a tiny folding tent, an amaz- ingly light sled, a large store of compressed food — and a large vial of Kundrenaline and a hypodermic needle.
Kundrenaline was still somewhat of an unknown quantity in 1933. Kund, the German, had developed it but a year before. The fluid was already standard beside the operating tables of the world's most modern hospitals, so valuable had its quali- ties proven to be. It had actually restored life after hours of death. A complex mixture of concentrated adrenaline and highly compressed liquid food, it gave a tremendous stimulation to the heart, at the same time providing the body with energy food to withstand the shock.
It was meant for emergency use on the Somers Expedition. But Wes Craig wasn’t going to use it for that. He was going to use it for an ex- periment— a crazy experiment, he told himself. Fish — many forms of life — withstand freezing in solid ice without hurt. Human beings — ? It wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway, his mind kept repeating.
Fifteen minutes saw him back be- side the rigid bodies, and kneeling over the girl. The sun had warmed her body somewhat, and the glisten- ing rheum of frost had melted from all three. Hardly breathing from his suspense, Wes filled the needle’s chamber full and plunged it into the firm white flesh just above the girl’s silent heart.
A short laugh came from him — an ironic laugh. It seerrfed idiotic to even think of restoring her to life,
24
ASTOUNDING STORIES
even if she bad been dead only a week or so. It; was quite —
And then his thoughts stopped. “My God !” he said suddenly.
For a tide of faintest color had surged through the girl's wan cheeks. And her slim figure had stirred per- ceptibly on the Bheet of ice I “By heaven, she’s coming to!" Craig muttered unbelievingly.
PRESSING hissear to her chest, he detected a faint and labored beating of her heart, stirring from its cold sleep as the terrific stimula- tion jolted it back to life. The girl’s eyelids flickered; a tiny sigh escaped her full lips. Craig took-off his heavy parka and laid it over her. Trembling with tremendous excitement, he tore himself away from the miracle of re- created life, and strode to the body of the young man who was appar- ently her partner.
Again he administered the Kun- drenaline. Then he went to his first discovery — the heavily built, power- ful warrior whose spear had stuck out of the ice. The hypodermic was once more filled, and the fluid plunged into his body. Even as a faint moan came from the younger man, the warrior’s heart started to beat.
Perspiring, breathing quickly, vial and needle still in his hands, Wes stood off and surveyed the three.
The girl’s hands were moving fit- fully; strange, racking gasps came from her throat. The other two were similarly affected. Almost frigh- tened, held motionless by the weird- ness of it, the American watched.
The heavily built warrior was toss- ing in a series of convulsions. His legs kicked out spasmodically, arms jerked and clenched, and the hel- meted head rolled from side to side. Then the man lay still for as long as a minute; but, just as Craig was about to go to him, Mb legs tensed once again, and, staggering drunk- enly, he got to hiB feet.
He looked around wildly, but did not see the dumbfounded Craig, for his eyes fell on the figure of the younger man. He too had risen, swaying on weak legs. And the girl was sitting up and staring at the two of them.
AND then, grotesquely, preluded by a cry from the woman, the tragedy which death had once cut short was enacted out, there on the rough sheet of ice and snow.
The man with the spear fixed his eyes on the girl's young partner .raised his weapon, leveled it un- steadily, and tossed it weakly for- ward. The pointed end clipped its target and sent him reeling, with a thin trickle of slow blood running from his right shoulder. The gift staggered to her feet and ran be- tween the two. But the big mr- rior’s hand swept her aside, and a short sword leaped from its sheath at his waist.
Wes was stupidly staring, unable to move. The combatants were ut- terly unconscious of him. The younger one, painfully wounded, drew his own sword and swayed for- ward to meet his enemy.
The fight was grotesque. Both were weak, unsteady. The short swords, stabbed slowly, missing by yards in their drunken course. Hatred was on the big man’s dark face, and a fierce lust for blood. It was only when the weapons rla«K«H loudly together that Craig came out of his daze.
“Stop!” he yelled, jumping for- ward. "Wait! Stop!”
All three turned and looked full at him. And then death, which had been banished for but a few minutes, swooped swiftly once more on the young man. While he stood peering, bewildered, at Craig, the huge war- rior steadied his blade and drove it home through his unguarded chest. The man slid over the edge of the ice into the cleft below.
THE HANDS OF ATEN
SS
The girl shrieked again and went down to lus fallen figure, while the victor waved hia bloody award aloft with a shoot of triumph. Then, with- out hesitation, he leaped at the American.
Wes was taken wholly by surprise. He dropped the vial of Kundreaaline and the hypodermic, and he heard them crash and break at his feet as he fumbled for his automatic, in a holster at his belt. Bat the warrior was upon him. His crimsoned blade swung high, gleamed downward, and smote Wesley Craig square on the side of the head.
Lucky for him, the flat of the sword had been used — but it was enough. The American reeled under the terrific swipe. He had a last glimpse of two inflamed eyes, of a savage, contorted face; then the universal whiteness went black, and be fell, and the whole incredible scene passed from hia cutiacioae- neas. . . .
JUST how long he had remained unconscious, Wesley Craig had no means of determining. His head was hurting devilishly ; for a moment he thought that his plane had crashed, and that be was lying in the wreckage. Then he tried to move his hands, and found that be couldn’t. They were bound. HU eyes opened.
He discovered that he was lying flat on the ice, hands tied behind hu buck. Somebody eras moaning softly. It was the girl. She too was tied. Wea tried to sit up; and a hand graaped his shoulder tightly and yanked him to his feet.
The big warrior who had felled him, his bloody sword still in hand, stared closely at the American, and fingered his fur jacket curiously. Presently he muttered a few words in some strange tongue. When Craig did not reply, he again spat out the words, his dark brows bunching malevolently. And <this time Wes understood part of what he said.
He was speaking ancient Egyp- tian!
That proved it. These three, who but half an hour before were dead and entombed in the ice, were Egyptians. Trying to cope with hia returning bewilderment, Craig racked hu brains for remnants of the difficult language, and finally said laboriously :
“Who— who art thou?”
A torrent of words broke from the warrior. Only a few were under- standable.
“ Shahs Ir n Pharaoh Shabakol” And he repeated Craig's question: "Who art thou?"
The girl was sitting up now, and peering at the American. Her eyes were still tear-filled, for the dead body of the young man was at her side. She cried out a warning, and Craig caught most of it.
“Be careful. Stranger! He will alay thee as he slew Inaroal”
"Answer met Who art thoit?” re- peated the warrior angrily. HU pa- tieace was short ; he played with the hilt of his sword.
“I come,” said Wesley Craig slowly, groping for words, “from a far country. I found the three at you in thU ice— dead. I brought thee back to life." _____ /
THERE was an astounded silence.
Then the man who called himself Shabako deliberately cuffed hU pris- oner on the cheek. “Blasphemer I” he roared. “To claim the powers of the gods! Thou abalt die for that! Yea, the ice entrapped me when I was about to alay the guilty Ins roe but our mighty god Aten restored me to life! Enough! The priests shall deal with thee!”
He jerked the trembling girl to Craig’s side, and with a prick of bus sword in their backs made them go forward. The American was too be- wildered to think evenly.' Why, the god Aten was the Sun God I — the di- vinity Egypt worshipped five hun-
26
ASTOUNDING STORIES
dred B.C.t How bad these warm- blooded people come to the far north? Where did they live? And what fate lay in store for him?
He felt none too optimistic about his position. He knew that it would be two weeks before Somers, at the main base, would become alarmed at his absence. Unless, of course, the mechanic at the subcase tried to beat his way back on foot, which was only barely possible. . . . Then he discovered that his automatic was still in its holster; it was slapping against his thighs; and he felt more hopeful. — .
The girl trudged tiredly at his side. Shabako was a few feet be- hind, grumbling and urging his cap- tives along.
“Where does he drive us?” Craig asked softly. “What is thy name — and why did he slay thy companion?”
Her frightened eyes slanted to- wards his face. "To the Temple pf the Sun God, Stranger,” she whis- pered. “And there — ” She broke off, to get control of the emotion she was feeling.
“There — what?”
“The God’s awful hands! . . . Taia is my name. I do not know how I am once again alive, when a short while ago I was dead — but it matters not. I am a priestess of Aten, a vir- gin of the Temple. Inaros, he — he who lies behind— dared to love me. But a few hours gone he committed sacrilege, hiding in the Temple, so he could watch me. Pharaoh Shabako chanced on him, threatened death to us and pursued us out here. And then of a sudden, when Shabako was hurling his spear, wfe were entrapped . . . and died. . . .”
It was a strange story of forbidden love, one that might have been en- acted in age-old times beneath the shadows of the pyramids. Craig be- gan, “How did — ” but a harsh voice cut his question short.
“Silence, infidel! Stir thy feet! This ice cools my blood!”
THE American’s plane, hidden from view behind the hillock, was left farther and farther in the rear, and Wes was surprised to find that he was being driven up the very slopes of the ice-covered hill he had come to investigate.
At the top, he saw that the hill was a volcano, as he had guessed: There, in the center, was a wide gaping hole from which, in past ages, fiery streams of lava and ashes had belched forth. He was amazed to see that rude steps had been hacked in one side of the great cleft, and that they led sharply downwards. A faint warmth reached him, and he observed that there was but little ice in the crater cup, and none on the rocky walls where the hewn steps led down. It was here that these warm-blooded people lived!
As soon as Taia reached the steps she began to descend them, but Craig wasn’t so docile. He told himself that this was his last chance; once below, surrounded by numbers, there might be no opportunity to strike for freedom. His eyes narrowed as he groped for a plan. If he could butt his brawny captor, strike him fairly in the solar plexus, and, while he lay helpless, cut his bonds with the sword. . . .
He whirled around. Reverting to football tactics, he tensed his lean, hard body and plunged squarely at Shabako.
The Pharaoh was taken completely by surprise, and went sprawling; but the sword did not pitch from his hand. He had received a stiff, shrewd blow, but only a glancing one, for he had twisted his body at the last second. Now, sputtering with wrath, he scrambled to his feet and whipped back his blade for a kill- ing slice at the American.
It was Taia who saved him, then. In a flash she threw herself against the sword arm and deflected the sweep.
"Wait, O Pharaoh!” she cried
THE HANDS OF A*
breathlessly. “The priests will dam this stranger ; ’tis they whs awt de- cide bis fatal Do not kill him here f" Shabaks’s face eras li rid with wrath; rage choked him; bat he paused. The girl’s aptly timed weeds lad told. He was obviously not de- cided as to what to do. There was a pause, while the sword pointed straight at Craig’s chest ; then, grum- bling, the Egyptian let down his wea- pon.
“But try no more of thy tricks, dog I” he said harshly. “Else thy death come before its time !**
Taia glanced appealingly at Wes. Her eyes were half -frightened. Craig smiled wryly. “Lead on!” he said.
YEARS of time fell away with each of their descending steps. Egypt stirred under the dust of the centuries ; Egypt lived again, though in a sad mockery of her former glory. It was like a descent into a new world, yet a world that was, at the same tune, as old as maa’s civiliza- tion. . . .
Fifty or more steps they trudged down, then came suddenly to two dirk corridors, both of which slanted steeply into the bowels of the earth. The one they took was mystic with deep shadows thrown by flaring oil lamps, cunningly imbedded in the walk of rock; and immediately into Wes’s mind came the memory of a corridor he had once walked through in old Egypt, a corridor that pierced to the heart of a pyramid and the somber vault of a mummy who had once been revered as the Pharaoh Aknahton. In his nostrils now there seemed to be that same, mwsty, age- old smell; the same hushed gloom was about him; his eyes saw dimly on the walls the same rows of hiero- glyphs telling of long-past deeds of warriors and priests.
But there the similarity ended. In Egypt it had been a dead Pharaoh; here, though even yet he could hardly believe it, a living sue living
by grace of ineihi n science— walked warily behind him, and a living vir- gin of the temple at his side. The sword of the Pharaoh was pricking
his back.
The passageway they trudged down became one of many. Others angled from it frequently, all Amrk, all hushed, all seemingly devoid of people. The volcano— extinct, almost surely, far the warmth was only that of the earth — was honey- combed with corridors. The mar- velous ingenuity of the Egyptian race had come into play in fashion- ing this warm home in the barren arctic wastes. But Craig’s ever-alert eyes warned him of what wm to come. The characters, the hiero- glyphs, the rude forms of Egyptian gods on the jagged walla were of degenerate character — and always, when degeneration sets in. the cruellest form of worship has been chosen. The worship of Aten, the Sun God, Wm recalled, was one that demanded human sacrifice. . . .
STILL they went down. Savage crevices, split in the days when the volcano roared with fire and gushing lava, mere skirted; crude ladders reached down ever-recurring pits, beneath which there was always another corridor, and always leading down. Craig conld not reckon the depth they must be at ; he knew that the heat uras growing, though, and that his skin was wet with perspira- tion beneath his furs. He started to ask Taia the question that cease- lessly tormented him — how her race had come to the arctic; but a prick from Shah&ko's sword silenced him.
Then the passageway they were ioj widened. There was a bend jsat ahead. Through the gloom came the sonorous chant of many voices.
“The Templet" whispered Taia. They turned the bend, and saw, ahead, lit by a thick duster of oil lamps which threw a broad swathe of yellowish light, two tall columns
28
ASTOUNDING STORIES
of corrupt Egyptian design. They framed the entrance to the Sun God’s Temple. The full volume of a chant of worship from inside poured through then
Shabako's sword brooked no pause. Jfe drove his prisoners straight through. 'x
A host of impressions thronged Wes’s bewildered eyes: a huge, misty-dark room, columns lining i( — the vague form of a great idol squatting at the far end, massed people bowed before it^— a weird chant rising into murmuring echoes along the high, dim ceiling. There {were priests standing rigidly in front of the idol, their hands stretched high ; and every eye was upon them. None saw the three in the doorway until a roar split the drone of wor- ship.
“Way! Way for thy Pharaoh, Sha- bako the Fourth!”
SHABAKO had stepped for the moment in front of his pris- oners. His sword blade was waved aloft; his bawl rudely interrupted the ceremony. The chant stopped, and silence fell as the priests whirled around. The worshippers, too, turned and stared at the man who had broken the service with his imperious command.
“Way!” the vibrant voice cried again. “Aside for thy Pharoah, who returns to the shrine of Aten, Father of Life!”
Some sixty bewildered faces peered at the man. The silence of the buried Temple was solid, awe- some. Through the mist of wreath- ing incense-smoke and heavy shad- ows the giant head of the idol stared down, cruel in the coldness of the rock it had been chiselled from.
But a pathway cleared in the thick of the crowd, and, without a glance to either side, Shabako’s proud figure strode down it, driving his prisoners before him.
Craig heard low gasps of astonish-
nient, glimpsed the people fall back as he walked forward, saw the amaze- ment in their eyes. The statue of the god seemed to grow as he neared he altar; it was in squatting pos- ture, with hands outstretched, one above the other. The American was to learn the reason for that position later. Now he had only a fleeting im- pression of it, for a man stepped from his ceremonial position beside the god’s feet and met Shabako half- way.
His face was thin and cunning, with slanted rat’s eyes. Ornate head- dress and stiffly inlaid robes denoted him to be the High Priest. He held a claw-like hand high.
“Hold !” he bade shrilly. “Who art thou to come thus into the Temple, calling thyself Shabako — Shabako, who has been dead these twenty years?”
THE words weri a thunderbolt of surprise, both to the Pharoah and Taia, and to Wes Craig. Hq could not see Shabako’s face, but he saw his tall form pause, and his tensed muscles relax. -
"Dead . . . these twenty years?” the Egyptian at last repeated slowly, struggling to overcome the shock. “Why, ’twas but a few hours ago that I left this Temple, in pursuit of — ” He peered at the priest’s Sly face. "Who art thou?” he demanded sud- denly.
"Hrihor, High Priest of Aten.” Craig heard the girl whisper some- thing, inaudible because of her sur- prise, but Shabako’s bewildered voice cut in:
"Hrihor! It cannot be! Thou art not Hrihor! When last I saw Hrihor, he was an under-priest of twenty. Ay was High Priest of the Temple! Call him! Where is Ay?” “Dust,” said the priest. “Dust these ten years and more.”
Wes’s senses were reeling. The bodies in the ice — he had taken it for granted they had only lain there
THE HANDS OP ATEN
29
for days ; a week at most. That they had been entrapped (or twenty years was incredible. Had he known that, he would not even have thought of using the Kundrenaline. Twenty . years ago he had been a boy of eight : it meant — Lord ! — it meant the youthful girl beside him was twice her age; and Shabako an old man! Old — yet young! Fantastic, unimag- inable— yet true!
He saw Shabako pass a hand over his face, as if his body were suddenly tired; but the next moment it tautened again and he swung around. His face was unreadable. A multi- tude of conflicting emotions strug- gled there. He strode to a group of several of the older men.
“Look at me!" he cried, facing them squarely. “Look well at my features! Am I not he who twenty years ago — as the High Priest says — pursued the priestess and her lover into the land of ice? Am I not the man who ruled thee ? Am I not Sha- bako ? Is this not the priestess, Taia?”
They stared at him. Remembrance suddenly gleamed on their faces. A thin, cracked voice shrilled:
“Yea! Thou art Shabako! Thou art Shabako as he was twenty years ago— old, yet without the lines of age on thy brow! And the priestess — well do I remember her. That is she I”
A hand pointed at the trembling girl; all eyes centered on her. The High Priest’s mouth dropped open, and he believed.
THEN Shabako breathed deeply, drew himself up and with kingly dignity faced the ranks of his people, sword Bgain held imperiously aloft.
“Thou hast seen!” he cried. “Thou hast heard! Here is the guilty Taia — and here am I, returned to thee, still with the strength of my prime! As I was about to slay the rash Inaros, the ice entrapped us, and for twenty years we lay thus, while my
spirit pursued those two guilty ones across the River of Death. Then Aten aided me, filled my veins with His holy fire and melted the ice from our bodies. We lived and breathed again. With His divine help I slew Inaros and brought the transgressing virgin back to the Temple. Twenty years have passed — but of years Aten thinks nothing. Give praise to our God!”
A breathless silence swallowed his shout. Then a mighty roar burst out, an exultant roa& that soared up past the impassive image of the god and rolled in thunderous echoes along the roof. “Praise to Aten! Praise to Aten!”
Wesley Craig smiled wryly. He could hardly credit the Kundrena- line’s power in wiping twenty years away; but it was evidently true. Sha- bako, he saw, really believed the su- perstition-conceived story he had just spun, so— now what?
The High Priest was staring at him malevolently, hiB slanted eyes fas- tened on his garb of furs. His weedy voice pierced through the echoes.
“O divine Shabako,” he questioned shrilly, “who is this stranger?” The Pharaoh’s glance was con- temptuous. “A blasphemer," he said harshly. “One who dares claim — ” But Wes had understood the ques- tion. He stepped forward. Frankly and simply, he told his story.
“I found thy ruler and the maid and her lover in the ice, entrapped," he concluded. “I cut them out and, with a fluid which is of common knowledge in my country, restored them to life. I told this to Shabako, but he overpowered me and — ”
“Hear thou!” bawled the Pharaoh, furiously breaking in. “Blasphemy! He claims the might of the God! Back, dog, lest I kill thee here my- self!”
WES saw how hopeless it was;
he shrugged and stepped back. He read all too plainly the
30
ASTOUNDING STORIES
hatred in Shabaho’s eyes; his frank story had also apparently inflamed the High Priest against him. There was not a friend in the whole Temple, save the girl — and the next moment Hrihor walked to her.
His slanted eyes ran over her fig- ure. A sneering smile appeared. “So!” he observed mockingly. “Taia is returned to the Temple ! Yes, well do I remember theemow — the scorn- ful cast of thy mohth, the proud bearing of thy head. Even Aten thou were scornful of, I remember. Aten remembers too!” He turned slightly. “Listen, O Shabako. Three days ago thy elected successor, Siptah, died. We had met to choose a new ruler. But, by the will of the God, thou art returned and art again Pharaoh. Thy people are grateful to Aten. In twelve hours a sacrifice shall proclaim our gratitude.” His crafty eyes again swung to the girl. "There !” he shrilled, “ — she pays for her sin. She is the sacrifice!”
There was a great shout from the crowd, but the words that Shabako then cried savagely were plainly audible to Wes Craig.
“Aye, Taia, O High Priest — and the blasphemous stranger, too! Both shall die in the hands of Aten!”
The priest nodded, smiling cruelly. “ ’Tis well, Shabako. Both shall die!”
Taia's frightened eyes met Craig’s, then lifted to the form of the idol. He too peered up at it, and for the first time its hideousness and the cold-blooded cruelty of its design struck him.
The rudely carved figure was a full forty feet high. The impassive face, horrible in the lifelessness of rock, stared unseeingly down on its wor- shippers. One gross black hand was held some ten feet above the palm of the other, and, inserted in its palm, was a long, keen-pointed blade. The living sacrifice would be tied to the lower palm; the upper, by some trickery, would be made to slowly descend. . . .
A SURGE of panic swept over Craig. In bis mind he saw the slight, helpless form of the girl strapped to that grim paw, saw the knife inch down, saw it touch and prick and finally drive through her heart. And it would be the same for him ! A flame of blind fury burst in him, making him reckless ; mad.
“The hell we die!” he yelled, in English, and with a great bound he was at Taia’s side. A priest leaped for him, but Craig shot a foot out and sent him sprawling. Then, with eyes flaming and legs outthrust, he stood in front of the girl, facing the worshippers.
“Fools I” he roared. “Listen to me ! My words are truthful ! I do not lie, as does thy Pharaoh! I can prove that which I say! I can — "
“Take him!” the High Priest shrieked. “Forward! Take him!” Craig could handle one or two, but not a dozen. A mass of men. women, soldiers, priests, swept at him. There was a brief moment of struggle, of oaths and shouts and excited yells from the crowd in the Temple, till something thudded into the Amer- ican’s head and he went down. Feet trampled him; men surged over him; then blessed unconsciousness en- wrapped him, and he know no more.
He did not hear, as did Taia, Sha- bako’s command :
“To a chamber with them! Guard them well, till the time of sacrifice!”
A SMALL party, led by the stocky figure of the captain of the Pharaoh’s (guard, wound its way through a network of corridors, past jagged walls T down which water slowly drippep, across a swaying, bridge of hides that spanned an aw- ful chasm in the volcano’s very heart, and came at last to a large dark hole in the rock.
The captain turned. “In there I” he commanded harshly. The two fig- ures, man and girl, were dumped like sacks of flour into the gloomy
THE HANDS OF ATEN
31
chamber. The men who had carried them turned and tramped away; the captain laced one who had stayed.
"Guard them with thy life, Sitah. Thou knowest the payment for care- lessness.”
Sitah nodded grimly. He was fully armed, with spear and sword. He sat down outside the dark hole, and the captain retraced his steps. The pad of his feet on the floor died away, and then, for a long time, there was silence.
Perhaps every five minutes Sitah turned and stared down into the hole behind, ears craned for the slightest sound. But none came. The two inside, no doubt, were asleep.
It was very hot, down in the deep- buried corridor, and though Sitah was accustomed to the heat, he soon found his eyelids drooping and his whole body crying out for sleep. But he did' not go to sleep. He knew too well what would befall him in Aten’s hands if he did. He had seen many old men and women die in those hands, on ceremony days — old people who croaked in helpless agony as the keen knife blade dropped slowly down toward them, paiised a second, inches from their hearts, and then plunged in with a rush. Old men and women, useless, their years of service gone. Yes, and many unwanted girl children. . . .
That was what the Sun God de- manded. His hands reached ever for human bodies. It was cruel, but he was a god ; and who was to question the will of a god?
SITAH was very glad when, after six hours of lonely vigil, another guard relieved him and took his plape outside the dark hole. Sitah •poke humorously to him, a grim Usd of humor, as befitting one who has seen much death.
“They sleep, Hapu," he said, nod- ding into the prison. “Bat soon a longer sleep will come for them — the sleep of the knife I” He chuckled
as he made his way far below, to his bed. A few hours of rest and he would be in fine fettle for the cere- mony.
The relieving guard grunted and peered into the cell. He saw two dark figures outstretched, mere blobs of black, a little blacker than the shadows. Yes, they slept. . . .
He sat down on the bench Sitah had just vacated. He had four hours to wait. Then the priests, led by Hrihor, would come, and the cere- mony would begin, and the god’s hands would move together. It would be a fine show! He looked forward to it keenly. It would be delicious to see that girl Taia bared to the knife. It would please the god: sel- dom did his hands hold such a beau- tiful sacrifice. And the queer stranger, too— he would probably die very noisily. When he saw the knife sliding down, he would regret his blasphemy and shriek for for- giveness I
For a long time Hapu sat quite mo- tionless. He was a good watchdog. Hours passed; his vigil was nearing its end ; the priests would soon come. Soon —
A slight noise came from the cell behind him.
He whirled around. The noise came again, louder. A voice cried out.
“Water! Water! I am dying!”
Hapu grunted. It was the stranger’s voice. The stranger must not die; it would spoil the cere- mony; Aten would be wroth. He stared into the hole.
One of the figures was tossing, writhing painfully. The agonized cry echoed again. “Water! Please! I am dying!"
Hapu strode into the cell.
For a moment he stood still, peer- ing down at the tossing figure. His brain suddenly shouted alarm. This was no human body I “What — ” he began.
But the question was never fin-
32
ASTOUNDING STORIES
ished. Something hard crashed into the back of his skull; his spear dropped with a clank, and he slumped to the floor.
OUT of the shadows, behind, a man emerged and bent down over the outstretched, figure of the guard. A smile appeared on the man's lean face: the guard was out —cold. It took Wes Craig just a moment to ascertain this; then he tiptoed over to a dark form that lay on the floor — the girl, whose pale, anxious face peered, up out of the shadows. Craig cut/ her bonds with the guard’s sword and raised her to her feet. She stood close to him, clinging to him, trembling, almost not believing she was free.
Her eyes were filled -with awe as she looked up into the American’s eyes. “First thou didst restore me to life,” she whispered, “and now thou hast broken thy bonds. Surely, thou must be a god!"
Wes smiled. “It was simple, Taia. Look! This buckle on my^belt — ’tis sharp. I edged it round and cut the rope. It was slow work, else we would have been free long before.” “But I saw thee toss and writhe on the floor, and cry out for water!"
Craig kicked a pile of furs that had been heaped one on top of the other, and tied together with thread from an unraveled woolen mitten. “This was my body,” he said coolly. “Furs. The cell must be a storeroom for them — lucky for us. I was stand- ing with a rock in my hand near the door, when I cried out for water. . . . We shall not die in Aten’s hands, Taia! See — I have a sword. With luck—”
There was a warmer quality than reverence in Taia’s eyes when she spoke — though she did not realize it. “Then come quickly, O Stranger!” she said. “The guard has been changed once; the time for sacrifice nears!”
Craig nodded. Only a sword was
in his hand ; his automatic, he found, had been taken from him while he lay unconscious in the Temple — probably desired as a curious hea- then object. The discovery, made when he had cut his bonds, had been a serious blow to his hopes: with a sword, he was only a human being, but with a gun he might have passed as supernatural to this primitive race.
But it could not be helped. He peered to each side, gestured to the girl, and together they started up the sloping incline of the corridor.
THE heat of the earth was great, down where they were, and it made the passageway muggy and odorous. Fitful shadows were flung by widely separated oil lamps as they pressed forward — grotesque splotches of black that half a dozen times tightened the American's grasp on his sword, sure that a guard had come upon them. He knew that their margin of time in which to effect escape was small, and he gradually quickened their pace, sacrificing cau- tion for speed. Taia’s hand was in his left; and he had just turned to her to ask if they were taking the best course up to the surface, when suddenly she stopped short.
“Hearken!” she whispered, frigh- tened.
Wes craned his ears. For a mo- ment there was nothing but silence. Then a faint sound trembleithrough the shadows. It could only have been that of many approaching footsteps.
“The priests !’’ Taia murmured, tightening her grip on his hand. “They come!”
There was a sharp bend in the cor- ridor fifty feet ahead; from behind it a growing clatter of sandals echoed through the rock-walled pas- sageway. Craig paused, irresolute. “Are we blocked, ahead?" he asked.
“Yes,” her low voice hurriedly told him. “But we can go back, cross the bridge of the chasm and go up the
THE HANDS OF ATEN
33
other side. But others may be there, and—”
A shout cut her words short. Dim figures appeared around the bend in the passage. They were discovered !
Wes Craig’s face set grimly; he worked his hand into a good grip on the sword handle, looked levelly at the gathering crowd ahead and said :
“I think it best to face them now, Taia. I can hold them for minutes at least; thou canst perhaps escape. Rest assured I shall take that High Priest with me, when I cross thy River of Death!"
“Butf where can I go?” cried the girl. “Nay, Divine One — I shall stay at thy side!”
THE excited yells of Hrihor, urging the others forward, came plainly to their ears. Swords glit- tered in the gloom of the corridor, and like a foam-tipped wave that slowly gathers speed the group of priests and soldiers charged down on the man and girl. Craig saw that 6hc would not run.
“Then come!” he shouted, and swung. her around. With desperate speed they retraced their steps. They soon passed their cell, and recklessly leaped through the deceptive shad- ows on the far side, on down the cor- ridor.
The High Priest and the others followed close behind. His crafty face was distorted with rage, and he kept screaming to his men: “The wrath of the Cod on thee if they es- cape!" Craig’s ears caught that, and he found time for a bitter smile. HI If only they had left him his auto- matic ! A few bullets flung into them would even matters a trifle.
The corridor twisted and slanted ever downward. They panted around a corner and came to the brink of a dark pit. “Down!" cried the girl. She led the way, nimbly dropping down the fifteen-foot rawhide ladder that was there. Halfway down the ladder Wes reached up with his
sword and cut it from where it was fastened. He fell to the bottom of the hole with a grunt. As he ex- tricated himself from the ladder’s en- tangling meshes he yelled up, “Come and get us, you cutthroats — if you can!” and was off after the lithe form of the girl. f
BUT the action helped them but little, and added only a few feet to the distance between them and their pursuers, for they boldly made the deep drop without sending for another ladder. Taia was Bob- bing for air, and Wes himself be- ginning to feel the bitter pang of hopelessness when they rounded a corner and came to a great chasm — a wide cleft in the very heart of the volcano. A terrific heat came from its maw of unbroken black, and a pe- culiar, choking odor, sulphurous. Across it was a slender framework ol hides and thongs — a mere catwalk over the terrible depths below.
“You first!" Craig snapped, and as Taia started across a spear came hurtling from the mob behind, anf clanked against the rocky wall on the far side. Nimbly Taia sped over the bridge, and Wes, the yells of Hrihor and his men loud in his ears, followed.
Midway a long spear snaked after him. It missed by inches, and went pitching into the gulf. In his haste he caught his foot on the interlaced thongs, stumbled and almost fell — which saved his life, for another spear streaked through the very spot he had been a second before. Then he was across, and his sword was flashing in vicious hacks at one of the two main supporting thongs of the bridge.
The hide was tough, but Craig’s strength was that of a desperate man, and in several mighty strokes he sev- ered it. The framework slumped to one side, held only by one thongt Hrihor, half across, croaked in sud- den horror and sprang back as he
34
ASTOUNDING STORIES
saw the stranger raise his blade to carve through the other support. But, even as the sword swept down, a spear streaked from a warrior’s hand and thudded against Wes’s right shoulder.
His sword jarred loose. It fell into the chasm.
"Thou art hurt!” cried the girl. Wes grinned wryly.
“Nay,” he said, “out weaponless. Lead on!” ■'
THEY were now on the other side of the chasm in the tun- neled volcano. The priests had hes- itated a moment when the-bridge had slackened; but now, seeing the wea- ponless man and girl disappear in a tortuous corridor ahead, they sidled across the damaged catwalk after their fierce leader.
“They will go past the Temple!” Hrihor shrilled. “It is Taia who leads him: again she tries to escape to the land of ice! Follow — up here!” His words were true. The cor- ridor that led by the Temple was the one which led to the only other pas- sage up to the crater of the volcano.
But Taia had guided Craig only a few steps past the place of wor- ship, now a silent vault of impene- trable blackness, when, turning a corner, the American felt her shrink back.
“Shabako comes!” she told him faintly.
, Quickly he verified it. Led by the Pharaoh himself, a party of soldiers was coming down the corridor some thirty yards away. Even as Wes saw them, they saw him — and Sha- bako’s roar of sudden alarm tingled his ears.
Priests behind, soldiers and the blood-lustful Pharaoh ahead. They e cut off, blocked, trapped. There no nearby branch passage to run down; there was no way to turn. It was the end of the game. . . But
no, not quite, Craig told himself grimly. His sword was gone, but his
fists would tell on them before he went down, before the paws of the idol finally claimed him. . . .
He stepped before Taia, clenched his fists, and waited the shock of the charge.
HE could see the fury in Sha- bako’s narrowed eyes, so close were they, when a soft hand pulled him back. It was Taia’s.
“Come !” she whispered, and darted swiftly back to the gloomy, shadow-filled entrance of the Temple. And wondering, Wes Craig followed.
She glided through the pillared portal and was immediately swal- lowed up by a shroud of silent, vel- vety darkness. Wes could not see her, but her soft hand touched his arm lightly to guide him forward, and he sensed the girl’s warm body close to his. Where was she going? Inevitably they would be trapped in the far end of the Temple, beneath the very hands of the idol— or so he thought. But he trusted her, and went on.
A shout came from the entrance. “They went in here!” someone cried, and the two heard Shabako detailing swift instructions to his men — in- structions which were cut short by another clatter of feet and the ap- proaching voice of Hrihor. Priests and soldiers had joined, a confusion of men, most of them hanging back, half afraid to venture into the well of blackness that was Aten’s abode on earth.
But the Pharaoh whipped them into discipline with the harsh tones of his voice, and strung them into a close line, to advance slowly through the Temple. “Have thy blades ready!” he added. “They cannot escape us now : they are trapped. Forward!”
Nothing could get through that line. It was like a fine- toothed comb, with every tooth a
THE HANDS OF ATEN
35
man. Craig saw it coming, and knew that he and the girl could not go much farther back, for already he sensed himself directly beneath the looming figure of Aten. Yet the gentle touch led him on — around and past the idol into the furthermost comer of the Temple. It was then that Taia paused, felt around, and placed Craig’s right hand upon some unseen knob in the wall. Her faint whisper hurriedly explained the pur- pose of the knob as Wes drank in her words eagerly.
"There is a secret room behind the idol, from whence the priests ape the God's voice and move his hands at sacrifice. A priest should be there e’en now, ready for the cere- mony. Thou must overcome him, Divine One, and we too can hide therein. Hrihor dare not search for us there while others are present, for e’en Shabako knows not of the room. Quick, then — they come ! Thy hand is on the latch of the secret panel. I follow thee I”
Wes pressed the girl’s hand tightly and his body tensed. Then, without hesitation, he jerked the secret panel back. A faint glow of light lay ahead, and he plunged into the tiny room that lay revealed.
An alarmed face stared up — the priest ! Wes leaped at him, his steely fingers thumbing into the man’s throat and throttling its scream to a gasping choke. All the American’s pent-up fury went into a lunge that the priest could not begin to stand against. He was bowled sharply over and went down, Craig on top, and there the fight ended as suddenly as it had begun. The priest’s head thudded into the smooth rock floor; a convulsion quivered his body; he moaned and lay still.
A grim flicker in his eyes, Craig got up and looked around for Taia. Then astonishment and cold fear swept through him.
The secret door was closed — but she was not inside!
“VTOW what — ” Wesley Craig
AN gasped.
He did not dare finish the thought. He glared around, much as a trapped tiger does, his brain a turmoil. His eyes fell on a ladder that led up from the floor to a niche in the left wall — a slit about forty feet high, a pool of darkness, shadowed from the thin tongue of flame that lit the room. Only half realizing what the slit was, Wes sprang forward and leaped up the ladder. A platform was built high up inside the niche, a place for a man to stand on. The American reached it, pressed him- self forward, and peered through a tiny hole that was in the rock ahead. He knew it ought to command a view of the Temple.
But if it did, Craig could see noth- ing, for there was no light in the huge vault outside. For minutes the brooding silence was not broken, save by an occasional scraping sound made by one of the searching line of men. There was no hint of the girl who waited beside the hideous figure of the god, nor of the network that gradually closed in on her.
But suddenly the silence was shat- tered by a shout.
“I have her!” someone yelled. Then came a multitude of sounds. The piercing voice of Hrihor was audible above them all.
“Light the lamps! Hast thou the other, too?”
“Nay — he is not here.”
“Not here? What — ”
A SPARK of light made an er- ratic course from the Temple door: someone was bringing a flame to light the lamps. A moment later there was a flare of yellow light as the oil in a large wall lamp caught fire, and then the darkness melted further before a wave of light from the opposite wall. Nota^could be seen the warriors who, with gleaming out- drawn swords, were clustered around the girl. Shabako was gripping her
ASTOUNDING STORIES
36
arm and (baking her roughly; the High Priest was drawing to a stop before her, to stand glaring at her with hate-inflamed eyes.
“Tell us!” roared the Pharaoh. “Where is the man?"
She looked at him levelly. Her eyes were quiteN calm, and she breathed evenly. Tfaere was a glori- ous light in her eyes as she re- plied.
“I will tell thee,” she said ; “though thou wilt hot comprehend. He vanished. Vanished, even as a god. He was here beside me, in the darkness — and then suddenly he was gone. But why not? For he was a god. . . .”
The soldiers gaped at her. Silence came down in the Temple. The High Priest did not break it, but only stared cloeely at the girl with eyes that suddenly had something more than hate in them — comprehension, and a trace of fear. . . .
But the Pharaoh Shabako’s eyes were only wrathful, and he shouted :
“A god? Vanished, sayest thou? Lies! Lies! But thou canst not lie to Aten! The God knows of a way to loosen thy tongue!"
Despite herself, Taia shuddered. She knew that way.
Gradually the Temple was
filling with other worshippers come to see the sacrifice, and soon there were sixty or seventy of them. The men outnumbered the women two to one, and none of them^was very old. Fifty was about their age limit — and those who were near this age were reluctant to let their eyes rest on the hands of the idol. When they did glance at them, and at the cruel knife blade in the upper one, fear showed on their faces. There were also very few children. . . .
Hrihor's thin features grew un- readable in the coldness that settled upon them. He was now in the role of High Priest: apart, separate from the rrmniifwi mob before him; inter-
preter of Aten’s divine mysteries; playing his part of one who listened to a god’s awful whisperings. Im- passively he superintended the bind- ing of Taia by a priestess, whs tightened the cords around the girl's slim body with daw-like hands, s gleam of unholy anticipation on bet fleshless, soured face. Then the High Priest turned from the altar and faced the crowd of people.
“Silence!” he commanded. “Si- lence, before thy God Aten!”
A hush fell instantly. Their eyes centered on the bound figure of tht girl, standing just beside the lower- most hand of the idol that would presently claim her. Her face was very pale, but none could detect fear in it. There was an uneasy stir, ^ shifting of feet, a mumbling, as her fresh young beauty struck the watchers. Somewhere a man mut- tered that she was very young to die Aten had returned her once : perhaps the God did not wish her to per- ish. His neighbor demurred
And the ceremony went on.
Ornate but crude censers were is the hands of two priests ; the incenss was lit by long tapers, and its acrid odor wound up in wavering purpls spirals of smoke. On each side of Hrihor were five under-priests, eyes stiffly on their superior’s impassive face. The soldiers had retreated from the altar and now were massed in the rear of the Temple, their spear blades glittering dully above their heads.
The High Priest raised bis hands slowly, and stared with glazed eyes into the gloom of the ceiling, 'higk above. “Praise !” he shrilled. “Praiss to Aten!”
c
THE assembled worshippers joined him in the chant of sacri- fice. It was low and soft, and, si first, almost drowsy, like the alow stir of a tropical wind through palm leaves. But soon it quickened with rising tones from perfectly cow
THE HANDS OP ATEN
37
certed voices ; it soared up ; its tenor changed; it became fierce, lustful, eager for blood, eager for the sac- rifice, a heathen chant shrilling for sight of a girl’s body in the god’s awful hands.
And it died in a sad, discordant moan on an expectant note. . . .
Hrihor’s body, stiff and rigid in its ceremonial robes, did not seem hu- man as he stretched his arms straight forward and wheeled silently to the huge idol of stone. A full two min- utes he stood without so much as flicking an eyelash; then, not shift- ing bis glazed stare, he harshly in- toned :
“Ages ago our ancestors set out from the homeland of Egypt in a great galley, bound for the barbarian countries of the north in quest of metal. But storms seized upon them, drove them far from their course, till at last, weak from hunger, they came to this land of ice, where their gal- ley was wrecked and they were cast ashore. At first all was dark; then came the Sun God Aten’s life giving rays, leading them to this mountain, which they inhabited and in which they carved this Temple wherein to worship the God who had saved them. The lord of the galley was the first Pharaoh; the priest of the gal- ley was called High Priest; the Pharaoh took a concubine to wife — and thus was our civilization begun.
‘There were virgins of the Temple, holy, set apart from man, sacred to Aten. Never did one be- tray her sacred trust — never, until Taia fled to the lan^ of ice with the sacrilegious Inaros. Our mighty Pharaoh pursued them, and after twenty years, by Aten’s special grace, slew the man and brought the maid back to pay for her transgres- sion. Never before has this hap- pened.”
He paused, waiting. An under- priest spoke, evidently following some ritual.
"Here is the priestess, O High
Priest of Aten I What penalty must she pay?”
“Death in Aten’s hands I" the cold voice shrilled instantly. “The God wills it I"
BUT now came an interruption, unexpected and disconcerting to the well-laid plans of Hrihor. The voice of Pharaoh Shabako cried out : “Another came with this priestess — a blasphemous stranger! He lies concealed; the maid will not tell where! High Priest, let her be tor- tured in Aten’s hands until she re- veals where he is!”
For a moment Hrihor lost his mask- like, rigidity of expression. His eyes shifted nervously. But Shabako was not to be denied. Again he repeated his demand.
“We must pray to Aten to make his hand descend on her, prick and gash her, till she divulges!”
A murmur arose from the people in the Temple: they approved the torture. Hrihor, obviously reluctant,' was forced to comply.
“O mighty Aten,” he cried, turn- ing to the idol, “thou hast heard our Pharaoh. We pray to thee to lay thy hand on the priestess Taia, till she tells where the stranger lies con- cealed!"
Shabako nodded in approval. While a mumbled prayer rose, four priests strode to the girl, lifted her slight form and flung it on the up- turned lower hand of the idol. They strapped her there securely, her breast but ten feet below the waiting knife. Even then she did not strug- gle or cry out.
She did not know who had won' the fight inside the secret room, but her heart told her it was the mys- terious stranger, for was he not a god? She would not be afraid, for he would surely reveal his divinity, and save her, even as he had from hu twenty-year death, and from her bonds in the cell where they had beeli imprisoned. . . .
38
ASTOUNDING STORIES
The softly chanted prayer surged through the Temple. Hrihor’s slit- ted eyes were on the knife in the upper palm of the idol. Suddenly he flung up his arms, and cried: “Now, O Aten!"
The prayer stopped. With fear- ful interest the people stared at the dagger, at the inert figure of the girl — the more elderly seeing in her a hint of what wda to come to them when their days jot service were ended.
The knife started downward.
TAIA’S eyes were closed. Her breathing was evqn and regular. She did not seem at all aware of the shaft of steel that slowly, in the hushed gasp from the audience, stirred with the stone hand that held it and moved deliberately downward.
To the silent crowd of wor- shippers it was a religious phenom- enon, and well calculated to strike fear and awe into their hearts. The moving idol seemed to be a living thing, motivated by the unseen spirit of the god it represented, who caused the massive upper hand to execute his will. Its movement was slow and clumsy, and close listeners would have heard a slight creaking noise from somewhere behind it — but the ears of the worshippers were deaf from the fear and the horror in which they were vicariously partici- pating.
Slowly the hands came together, until the long, wicked shear was but a foot above the bound girl. ... It dropped to withii^. inches of her flesh. . . .
And there it stopped.
Then, before the amazed crowd could realize what was happening, before even Hrihor could control the surprise that raised his brows in- credulously, the palm in which the blade was implanted slowly retraced its course and returned to its orig- inal position.
A breathless silence reigned in the
Temple. The hand was motionless. It did not stir again.
“The God will not touch his priestess!"
It was a faint, awed whisper that came from someone amongst the wor- shippers. But Hrihor heard it, and so did the other priests. While they stared at each other, utterly at a loss, the whisper was taken up and re- peated on all sides.
“The God will not touch his priestesB !“
THE High Priest sensed the crowds conviction, and sensed them turning against him. His beady eyes glanced around nervously. Hit lips a thin line, he called to his sec- ond ranking priest in a tense whis- per, and, when the other came to him, muttered in his ear:
“ ’Tis the stranger, hiding in thf secret chamber, who does this! He has overcome our brother there, and now controls the levers! And Taia knows it ; and if she reveals it to the people our hold will be broken! She must be killed !”
“Yea! But how? We must be quick!”
Hrihor’s crafty face Bet cruelly. “I know a way. Watch thou. . . .” He strode to the fore of the altar and flung his hands high. A shrill shout from his thin lipB cut the un- easy murmuring short.
“Hearken! Aten will not torture His own priestess ! He will not m»i™ those who have sworn their lives to Him!”
The silent crowd waited for hie next words. He screamed savagely.
“His High Priest must perform the rite! Aten has appointed me to be His instrument of vengeance!" '
A gleam of unholy exultation was in his narrowed eyes. His face worked; he thrust a hand inside his ornate ceremonial vestment.
“By Divine Will,” he cried, “this knife in my hand is the knife in the God’s hand!"
THE HANDS OF ATEN
39
And he whipped a long blade from the robe.
Never before had such a ceremony been held in the Temple of Aten, the Sun God. Never before had the band of the god paused above the living sacrifice and deliberately risen again without tasting blood. It was miracle upon miracle; half-bewil- dered, Pharaoh Shabako and the herd of common people alike waited for what would come next, their High Priest’s savage words somewhat re- assuring them that all was correct.
They saw him clench his dagger tightly and with slow steps advance to the side of the helpless girl. Glar- ing dawn at her, he swung the blade high. It poised directly over her heart. It would not torture her, Taia knew: it was death that she read in the High Priest’s eyes. She closed her own, and thought of the stranger ; she breathed a silent 1 prayer to him. She waited.
“In Aten’s name!’’ screamed Hrihor, and brought the dagger down.
AT that second the sharp roar of a sudden explosion thundered through the Temple, and the startled worshippers saw, slowly trickling from the right eye of Aten, a curling streamer of gray smoke.
They did not know what had hap- pened. And not until, after a mo- ment of fearful qjlence, they saw the expression on Hrihor’s face change to great surprise, and saw his right hand relax and drop the dagger to the floor, did they compreliend that he had been struck down.
He clutched at his side, staggered, twisted round, and fell full length before the feet of the god whose representative he was.
A frightened woman close to the altar saw a dark red stain on his robe, and a scream from her lips pierced out:
“He is dead! Killed by Aten — whose eyes have looked death! Oh I”
She flung herself flat on the floor, and the others, back to the soldiers in the rear, did likewise. The priests clustered together in a scared group, staring fearfully at the right eye of the idol, from which a wisp of smoke was still trailing. None dared ap- proach the outstretched figure of the High Priest. Only Shabako dared look at him.
The Pharaoh clutched his sword tightly, muttering uneasily to him- self. Not a sound came from the prostrate multitude. The slow echoes of the explosion died away; again the heavy silence fell. Then Shabako suddenly stared around, and peered up at the stone image of the god.
HIS ears had caught a sound. It was a panting and scuffling noise, as if men were fighting. It grew, even though muffled by ap- ' parently intervening rock. The be- ginning of a scream, cut short into a choke, added to its volume. The wor- shippers far back in the Temple heard it, and looked up. There was a muffled crash — then another crash of thundering noise, similar to the one that had come from the god's eye.
But this time no smoke eddied from the eye. The explosion echoed through the Temple and died away, while all the time Pharaoh Shabako stared at the idol. Slow comprehen- sion broke through the bewilderment on his face. Suddenly he swung around and gripped the cowering form of the second ranking priest, who stood near him.
"From whence came those sounds, Priest?” he hissed. “Tell me!”
The frightened priest gibbered un- intelligibly, but there was a guilty* look on his face which spurred Sha- bako on. He shook the man and roared the question again. Then the priest spoke.
“They came — from — the secret chamber,” he stammered.
40
ASTOUNDING STORIES
A gup rose from the crowd be- hind. But before they could master their astonishment, Shahaho had whipped his sword from its sheath amt sprung up the altar.
“Show me this chamber!” he cried.
UP on the platform in the secret room, bis eye glued to the hole that was the eye of Aten, Wes Craig had seen and heard everything that had transpired. He had been shocked to see the brave thing Taia had sub- mitted to, rather than divulge where he was hidden. Sacrificing herself, so that he, a stranker, might have a few more minutes of life! It hurt.
He had climbed down from the platform and glared around the lower floor of the secret room again, scanning shelves that were crowded with scores of curious objects, sacred relics, properties to aid in the manip- ulation of the idol and other uniden- tifiable things — looking for a poten- tial weapon. If the girl had to die — and he — it would be better to go out and meet his enemies, taking some of them with him in full fight.
And then his heart leaped madly at the sight of something lying on one of the shelves.
A stumpy black shape, it was, with a short barrel of cold blue steel, and it looked as much out of place in that chamber as did the fur-clad man who stared half-unbelievingly at it. It was a foreigner, as be was, in the gloomy corridors and chambers of the race that worshipped Aten. It too was American. It was a friend — his automatic !
To Wes Craig, bewildered and tired and sadly without hope, it almost seemed to be alive, smiling at him with its wicked round mouth. He picked it up, and it bolstered his courage, his hope and his energy enormously. At once be leaped to the closed entrance-door and felt for the lever that opened it. But there he paused a moment to think.
There was only the faintest chance
of fighting free with Taia now. There were at least thirty men out- side, and he had only seven bullets. And then be remembered where be was, and what the purpose of the secret room was. He remembered, also, a certain nervous expression on the High Priest’s face that he had just seen. . . .
He swung around and inspected the levers and crude wheels of wood that led to a handle up in the niche, shoulder-high to whoever might stand on the platform there. He had had experience with certain idols in Egypt. He remembered particularly one that had been worshipped in a degenerate age — its hands, its eyes. And then he stepped over the sprawling body of the still uncon- scious priest and climbed to the plat- form and his peep-hole again.
As he pressed himself forward in the niche, and applied his eye to the slit, he gently fingered the han- dle of the large lever right beside him. And he also measured the size of the slit in the right eye of the god. . . .
CRAIG had not minded shooting the murderous High Priest Hri- hor, but he did not want to kill the under-priest in the secret room. He had had no choice in the matter. Ai the tensest moment in the dramatic scene in the Temple, just when he had been hoping that the mysterious death he had sent to Hrihor would frighten the worshippers away, be had heard a slight rustling sound be- hind him, and had turned just in time to see a bate-distorted face within feet of him, and a short curved knife upraised to strike him in the back. It was the priest, whom he had left unconscious below, now revived and coming to kill him.
Wes could have shot the man thru and there, but be knew the thunder of his gun would betray his pres- ence; so, using the weapon as a dob he had struck out at bis attacker and
THE HANDS OP ATEN
41
tried to block the thruet of the knife. For a moment he was successful ; but the knife prosed the better weapon in the close rough and tumble scuffle that ensued and, with its point at his very throat, Wes had been forced to shoot.
He had killed the man instantly, but he felt no slightest relief. Like a tiger — even before the crashing echoes had died away in the little room — he sprang back to his peep- hole to see what the effect was out- side. And just what he feared most was happening. The frightened priest in the Temple was telling the suspicious Shabako about the hidden chamber — and even then was leading him to the secret entrance !
THE two passed the American's line of vision, and after a mo- ment he heard them fumbling at the catch of the panel. He could shoot them both down, easily, but there would still be a whole Temple fnll of warriors and priests to be faced with only three bplletsl Then, in a flash, came an inspira- tion.
Wes swung around, leveled the automatic’s muzzle at the hole in the idol’s eye, sighted carefully, and squeezed the trigger. And as the ex- plosion boomed through the vast chamber outside, he veered the gun in a different aim and fired again; and again.
The two huge oil lamps, imbedded one in each side wall, splintered and crashed.
“Now for it!” Wes Craig mut- tered. He sprang for the ladder, snatching the dagger of the dead priest as he passed, and half-slid, half-tumbled to the floor below. At once he was at the secret door and gTasping the lever that worked it; and, pausing only to take a deep breath, he plunged out.
He came into a scene of wildest confusion. Panic-stricken screams rang in his ears; the oil from the
cracked lamps, transformed into splatters of flame, had splashed down from the walls and scattered fire over much of the floor. A tumult of shad- ows moiled through the flames as the crowd fought to get free. Shrieks and gasps and curses cut through the air: the worshippers were caught up in a mob panic caused more by their superstitious frenzy than by the understandable fire. The flames pierced fantastically into the black- ness, throwing a vivid glow on the frantic faces of the people who struggled to get out of their reach. The altar was deserted, save for the girl who still lay on the hand of the idol. . . .
WES CRAIG, a blur in the wavering shadows, darted to her side. His dagger sped through the cords that bound her, and be lifted her slight form down. For a moment she clung to him.
“I knew thou.wouldst come. Di- vine One!" she whispered. “I knew!” He smiled for answer, gripped her hand, and then swiftly led her along the least-crowded wall of the Temple towards the dobr, packed with a frantic, struggling crowd of soldiers, people and priests.
The deceptive shadows thrown by the flames were kind to them; for some time no one in the whole crowd recognized the two. Everyone was reacting in a bljnd panic of fear from the mysterious thunders that had killed their High Priest, splintered the lamps, and caused the resultant inferno of leaping fire. But discov- ery was inevitable, and at last one did see the fleeing pair— one who had kept his head and was looking for them. It was Shabako. He roared: “The stranger escapes— and the girl! There, there! Hold them!” His imperative shout brought a measure of control to the soldiers who were fighting to get through the doorway. They grouped uncer- tainly together, gripping their
42
ASTOUNDING STORIES
swords and staring wildly around. They saw, in the ruddy light of the flames, a grim-faced man pressing into them, holding in one band a stubby black object, and in the other the arm of the sacrifice, Taia.
WES cursed, and, forgetting that the warriors understood no English, ordered them in that tongue to make way for him. For answer, one of them leaped out at him, his sword swinging up. Craig’s face set ; he levelled) the automatic and fired. The bullet caught the man in the midst of his leap; he spun round, his sword clanked to the floor, and he fell.
Wes fired again at the staring mob; then again; but the last time only a sharp click answered his trigger finger. He flung the gun into the thick of the hesitating war- riors, swept the dead soldier’s sword oif the floor and pressed forward, in- tending to hack his way through.
But he did not have to. The other warriors were only human. They had just seen uncanny, instant death. They shrank back from the door; some even ran back from the stranger, preferring the flames to the thunder-death that he meted out. The doorway was cleared, and Craig pulled the girl through.
“Back to the left!” she gasped. “Across the bridge ! Quick — Shabako comes !”
Even as they ran, they heard the Pharaoh’s furious bawling as he struggled up to the door of the Tem- ple, which he had not been able to reach for the rolling tide of fear- stricken people around him. He was shouting :
"After them — after them! They cross the bridge! Follow them, everyone ! I will take the other way up, and trap them ! Hurry!”
He turned to the right, panting up the corridor in the direction from which he had first approached the Temple. And slowly, as they col-
t
lected their dazed wits, the swarm of warriors and priests and common people followed the fleeing pair to- ward the bridge.
WES CRAIG was tired, but the shouting pursuit lent strength to his near-exhausted limbs. Spears snaked after Taia and him from the warriors close behind; but, once across the dangerous bridge, he dis- regarded them long enough to hack its supports through and see it fade into the blackness beneath. “Get across now, damn you!” he yelled, and ran again after the girl’s leading figure.
All now depended on their speed in reaching the top of the extinct volcano, and of that speed he was none too confident. He had gone through two strength-sapping fights in the last hour; his nerves were ragged from the constant strain, and his breath came in racking sobs. He wished passionately he had a loaded gun — even his smashed vial of Kun- drenaline. The fluid would have put marvelous new life in his weary limbs.
“Hurry, Taia!” he gasped: “wo must beat them! Shabako goes some other way to head us off! If only we can get to my bird-that-flies-in- the-air!”
Once again they stumbled up the difficult passage, fighting for speed with tired bodies, bodies which every twist and obstacle tried sorely. Without the girl, Wes could never have made it; she led him unerring- ly through the branching, gloomily- lit corridors, up flights of rickety steps, her knowledge of several short-cuts aiding measurably the speed of their progress. Tired as he was, admiration for the mighty fire of courage that burned in Taia’s frail figure, and drove it forward when all physical strength was gone, never left him. For she had been through as much as he — and even morel . . .
THE HANDS OP ATEN
43
THEY did not know it then, but' the Pharaoh had made good time on the other side. As they at last neared the cup of the crater, and passed the place where the two di- verging main corridors, each slant- ing downwards, met, they heard Shabako’s shouts and the rapid clat- ter of his feet on the rock floor.
In a desperate sprint, they gained the flight of steps, stumbled up them, and came again into the glorious fresh cold air, and the slanting rays of the setting sun. . . .
New life surged through Craig’s body; but, whereas he ran across the uneven cup of the crater with fresh speed, the girl seemed suddenly to tire. He had taken the lead; now he went back, took her hand and pulled her forward, puzzled by her sudden exhaustion. He did not have time to question her, however, for the rapid beat of footsteps grew quickly very loud, and with a shout Shabako burst up into the open and caught sight of them.
The two went across the Up and slid down the slope of the volcano with all the haste they could, Sha- bako only twenty yards behind, his sword waving aloft and his dark face lit with a savage Jiate. And he was gaining — gaining steadily; and Taia was tiring more and more, and was becoming almost a dead weight on Wes Craig's supporting arm. . . .
This was the last stretch, over al- most the same ground the girl and her dead lover, Inaros, had covered twenty years before — and with the same pursuer behind. Again, by grace of the potent Kundrenaline, Shabako and the girl were enacting the desperate chase of years before, the chase that had ended in death for Inaros. . . .
But there was a stricken look in Taia’s eyes now.
"I am suddenly so tired, Divine One!” she gasped. She seemed hard- ly able to walk. Craig could not understand. Snatching a glance back-
wards, he saw that the Pharaoh, too, seemed to be strangely tiring — but gaining nevertheless. . . .
HE was practically carrying the suddenly exhausted girl when they came to the cleft in the ice from which he had dug her the day before. There was no time to get across, for before they could climb the other side Shabako would be on them. Wes gripped the handle of his blade. Here the last fight would have* (p be made.
“Go down the deft, out of the way!” he told the girl rapidly. He did not have time to help her; he swung round just in time to parry a slash of Shabako’s sword with his own.
Then Wes Craig stepped back and stared at his opponent, a peculiar, look in his eyes.
It might have been merely from the force of his first swipe, or be might have slipped — but Shabako staggered drunkenly and barely avoided falling. With an oath, he came erect and once more charged at the American. It was easy for Wes to avoid his thrust; it would have been childishly easy to drive ’his blade through the Pharaoh’s un- guarded chest. But somehow Craig withheld his attack, and only peered more closely at the other. He rubbed his hand across his eyes. What he was seeing was incredible.
For Shabako's face was going a ghastly white; and, as Wes watched, he groaned, tried to raise his sword arm for another blow — and could not. He staggered, legs askew, lurched crazily forward, stumbled, and at last pitched down on the ice near the cleft.
Then his great body rolled over, arms flung wide, and lay still. And the face of Pharaoh Shabako stared unseeingly up at the darkening sky. . . .
Then, in a flash, understanding came to Wes Craig.
ASTOUNDING STORIES
“Oh, God!” he cried. “The Kun- drenalinel”
He had forgotten completely about the liquid he had infused into Sha- babo’a veins. Its potency, adequate to the tremendous task of revitaliz- ing a long-dead heart, had given out — hastened, no doubt, by the great physical exertions of the man, and made sudden by the return to the biting air of the ice fields. The liquid was only for emergency use, anyway, and supposed to serve for a period of but hours* after which the heart was intended to carry on alone.
Shabako’s heart had not been able to carry on any longer. . . .
WES CRAIG was afraid to think, afraid almost to look, to see how Taia had stood the shock. Her sudden weariness became at once all too clear to him. . . .
Slowly he turned and looked down into the cleft. He saw her — a slen- der, quiet little figure, flat on the ice by the body of her slain lover.
He leaped down the slippery bank and ran to her side; knelt there, and grasped her cold white hand.
The girl’s eyelids were closed, but when he touched her, they flickered, and a little sigh came from her pallid lips. Then her large black eyes opened and looked up straight into his — and when she saw him there, she smiled.
It wrenched the man’s heart. ‘‘Taia!’’ he cried. “Taia!”
She nodded feebly, still smiling, and her lips moved. He bent close. She was whispering something. The words came to him through a great fear.
“Take me — take me, O Divine One. Take me with thee to — to thy — heaven. . . . Canst thou not — take— Taia?”
With her last bit of quickly ebbing strength, she pressed his hand. Then the fingers went limp in his, and her arm dropped. And her eyelids gent- ly closed. . . .
Wes’s jaws were clenched tightly as he folded her hands across her slim body. “If thy Pharaoh had not made me drop the vial," he mur- mured softly, “I would again bring thee to life, Taia, and take thee to my heaven. . . Though" — with a sad smile, and relapsing into English — “Times Square would not be quite the heaven you had pictured. . . .”
HE stood up. The irony of the thing gripped him, and brought a wry smile to his tight lips. The body of Inaros, her dead lover, lay at her side; and Shabako’s still figure was but feet away. Once again they were all together in death. The Kundrenaline had pierced the black veil of their silent tryst and brought them back for a few fleeting hours ; but even modern science could not stand long against the weight of twenty years.
And science would not have an- other chance with their still bodies. They would quickly be found there by the pursuing Egyptians, and would be gone, already decaying, when he could get back with another vial. . . .
A growing murmur of nearby voices brought the silent man back to the present. Over the cleft in the ice he saw a string of priests and warriors speeding towards him. He sighed. It was time to go. There was much he wanted to learn about these people and their Btrange civil- ization, but there was no chance for it now. Perhaps on another trip, later.
He looked a last time on Taia, ly- ing by her lover.
Then he scrambled up the other bank and ran towards the hillock be- hind which a sleek black monoplane with an eight hundred horse-power motor awaited him
THE thing that followed next was never forgotten by the peo- ple who worshipped Aten, the Sun
THE HANDS OF ATEN
45
God. It went down in legends; it wn repeated and rr prated, and it grew in the telling. It was awful ; it was magical; it waa godlike.
A great thunder sounded from be- hind the hillock of ice, a thunder that pulsed louder and loader, until the people fell down in awe, hardly daring to look. When they did, they saw a gleaming black form that stood on queer shafts of wood come glid- ing with the speed of the wind from behind the hillock. It straightened out on a stretch of snow, bellowing with a loudness that hammered their eardrums into numbness,7 and sped lightly along till the queer shafts of wood left the surface and the sleek black object soared up into the air.
Into the air! With frightened eyes they watched it wheel around, and then come roaring towards them. They fell flat again, and did not dare to look. The thunderous blast passed close over them, then dwindled and dwindled, until they ventured tim- idly to look up again.
They saw the shape ringed with sunset fire hurtling through the air, soaring up and up and up . . . till it died to a speck . . . till it disap- peared into the face of the sun *ey worshipped as Aten. . . .
A warrior spoke. His tones were low and awed, but they all heard
him
“Truly.’' he whispered, “he was a god! . . ."
A ONE-BILLIONTH-OF-A-SEGOND CAMERA
/T'HROUGH use of a spectroscopic camera with a shutter which operates in about one-billionth of a second, physi- cists at the University of California have been able to take pictures of the action of light at various periods daring the coarse of an electrical spark which Lasta only one one-hundred- thousandth of a second.
They have been able to show by photo- graphic evidence that the magnetic field developed by the passage of an electric current across the spark gap gives the first light emitted a different appearance from that emitted a few millionths of a second later.
At the moment that the spark jumps, electricity is released in enormous quan- tities much as water is released by the breaking of a dam. It is this sudden re- lease of the dammed-up current across the spark gap that causes the temporary magnetic field and the difference in the appearance of the light from the spark.
In answer to those wbo scoff at the pos- sibility of a camera shutter operating in a billionth of a second, it was explained that the abutter is not a mechanical device, but operates automatically through the application of a physical law of light In a general way, it might be said that the •park takes its own picture.
The spectroscope camera is set up at one end of a long corridor. When the electrical current jumps across the spark gap it sets up a momentary current in a set of wires running the length of the cor- ridor and connected with the camera. Tbs current travels toward the camera
at the rate of about 186,000 miles a second.
At about the same instant that the as- rent jiaups, or an mfmitesanal fraction of a second later, the light of the result- ing spark starts toward the camera at a trifle more than 186,000 miles a second. It as a race between the spark current and the spark light as to which arrives first. The current jumps just before the spark appears; so it is possible for the current to reach the camera and close the shutter even before the light which is to be pic- tured arrives.
By lengthening the wires between the spark gap and the camera the light is al- lowed to arrive first. By suitable adjust- ment of the wiring, the shutter can be made to close during any one-billionth of a second interval during the first four ten -millionths of a second of the spark's short life.
The camera shutter consists of two Nicol prisms of Iceland spar and balBsm, arranged in such a way that under ordi- nary conditions the light coming from the spark is stopped by polariration and pre- vented from reaching the camera. Be- tween these two prisma, however, is a solution of chemicals which will depolar- ize the light and allow it to continue.
The wires leading from the 9 park gap connect with this solution. When the current jumps across the gap it ra£es down the corridor and electrizes the so- lution for about one-billionth of a second This electrification removes the depolar- ising effects of the solatia* and light pas- sage dopi; m other words, the shatter is closed.
"Good Lord I What s that f"
The Diamond Thunderbolt
By H. Thompson Rich
PROF. NORMAN PRES-
COTT, leader of the Ameri- can Kinchinjunga expedi- tion, crept from his dog-tent perched eerily at the 26,000-foot level of this un- ,
scaled Himalayan
_ __t, • i Locked in a ro<
peak, the third ,p.c.._.uch „
highest in the awaited young S
world. With anx- of dil
ious eyes he
searched the appalling slopes that lifted another 2,000 feet to its ma- jestic summit, now glistening in the radiance of sunset.
Locked in a rocket and fired into space ! — such was the fate which awaited young Stoddard at the end of the diamond trail!
Where was young Jack Stoddard, official geologist and crack moun- taineer of the party?
That morning Professor Prescott and Stoddard had set off together,
I from Camp No.
4, at the 22,000- ,h. fate which • foot level. Mount-
ddard at the end j ing laboriously
ond trail! I ijUt swiftly, they
‘ had reached the
present eyrie by noon. There Stod- dard had left the leader of the ex- pedition and pushed on alone, to reconnoiter a razor-back ridge that
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
47
looked as though it might prove the key to the summit.
But the afternoon had passed; the daring young geologist had prom- ised to return in an hour; and now it was sunset, with still no sign of
him.
Professor Prescott sighed, and a bitter expression crossed his bronzed, lined face. Just one more evidence of the cursed luck that had marked the expedition from the start!
Well he knew that he mutt head down at once for Camp No. 4 or risk death on this barren, wind-swept slope, and equally well he knew that to go would be to leave his brave companion to his fate, providing he had not already met it on those deso- late ridges above.
Yes, and another thing he knew. The report of this latest disaster would mean the doom of the expe- dition. The terrified, superstitious natives would bolt, claiming the “snow people” had struck again.
"Cods of the Mountain” they called them, those mysterious beings they alone seemed to see— evil spirits who kept guard over this towering realm, determined none should gain its ultimate heights.
f .
TENSELY Professor Prescott stood there on that narrow shelf of glacial ice, peering off into the •unset.
A hundred miles to the west, bathed in the refulgence of a thou- sand rainbows, rose the incredible peak of Everest, mightiest of all mountains, yet less than 1,000 feet higher than Kinchinjunga. And down, straight down those almost vertical slopes up which the expedi- tion had toiled all summer, lay gorges choked with tropical growth. Off to the south, a scant fifty miles •way, the British health station of Darjeeling flashed its white villss in the coppery glow.
An awesome spectacle!— one that human eyes had seldom if ever seen.
Yet from the summit, so invitingly near!
Perhaps, even now, Stoddard was witnessing this incomparable sight. To push on, to join him, meant tri- umph. To head down, defeat. While to stay, to wait.
Grimly, Professor Prescott left his insecure perch and headed up over that razor-back ridge whence the young geologist had vanished.
As he proceeded cautiously along, drawing sharp, quick breaths in the rarefied upper atmosphere, he told himself it was ambition that was leading him on; but in his heart he knew it was not so. In his heart, he knew he was going to the rescue of his gallant companion, though the way meant death.
A HUNDRED yards had been gained, perhaps two — each des- perate foothold fraught with peril of a plunge into the yawning abysms to left and right — when suddenly he spied a figure on a twilit spur ahead.
Panting, he paused. It must be Stoddard! Yet it seemed too small, too ghostly.
Professor Prescott waved, but even as he looked for an answering sig- nal, the figure vanished.
“My eyes!” he muttered to him- self. “I'm getting snow-blind.” Then he called aloud :
“Jack I Oh, Jack! Hello!"
Only an echo greeted the call, and he did not repeat it but pushed on silently, conserving his energy.
Was there truth after all in those persistent rumors of the natives about the snow people who inhabited the upper slopes of the Himalayas? His tired brain toyed with the idea, to be cut off sharply by the cheery call :
"Hi there. Professor I Hi-ho!"
And gazing upwards toward a jut- ting crag not ten rods beyond, he saw young Stoddard etched against the darkening sky.
48
ASTOUNDING STORIES
IN a few joyous steps, Professor Prescott had reached his auda- cious companion.
"Thank God I" he gasped. "I’d given you up for lost.”
“Why give me up for anything so unpleasant?” was the genial reply. "I’ve just been enjoying the view.” "Then — then you reached the top?” with a quick intake of breath.
"Well, not exactly, but I feel on top of the world, just the same.”
The professor’s spirits fell.
“Then I can’t see — ■'
“Of course you can’t see!” inter- rupted Stoddard. “But look at this I” As he spoke, he drew from a pocket of his leather jacket something that caught the last light of the dying day and refracted it with weird bril- liance.
Professor Prescott blinked. “Well?”
“A diamond. As big as your fist I And here’s another!”
His left hand reached into his jacket and produced a second sparkling gem.
“But — but I don’t understand — ” "Granted. But you will, when I tell you I’ve found the Diamond Thunderbolt!”
The professor gave a shrug of scorn.
“And no doubt you’ve seen the snow people and have had a perfect afternoon, while — ”
“No, I haven’t seen any snow peo- ple, but I’ve had a perfect afternoon, all right! As I said, I’ve found the Diamond Thunderbolt; and here are a couple of chips, picked up from around the edge.”
SO saying, Stoddard extended his two specimens toward Professor Prescott, who disdained at first to touch them.
“Nothing but quartz!” was the deprecating comment. "The snow has affected your eyesight, as it has my own.”
“I’H say it’s affected yours, if you
don’t recognize diamonds when you see them. But wait till I show you the old Thunderbolt itself I It’s — ” “More quartz I” brusquely. “Be sensible, Jack. This Diamond Thun- derbolt thing is a pure myth, like the snow people business. Just be- cause this section of India is known as The Land of the Diamond Thun- derbolt you think you’re going to find some precious meteor or other, whereas the term applies merely to the Lama’s scepter.”
"Granted it does,” — a little impa- tiently— “but did it ever occur to you that where there’s smoke, there’s fire? Meteor is the word! One struck here once — a diamond meteor !-7-and I’ve found it. Take a look at these two specimens and see what you think.”
Whereupon Professor Prescott ac- cepted the glinting gems from his young friend — to gasp a moment la- ter, as he held them tremblingly;
“Good Lord — they’re diamonds, to be sure ! Where did you find them?”
STODDARD hesitated before re- plying.
“Not far from here,” he said at length, moving off. “Come, I'll show you."
But the professor stood firm on their narrow ledge.
“You must be crazy!” he exclaimed. “We’ll have trouble enough now, get- ting back. It’s practically dark al- ready.”
“Then what’s the odds?” retorted the young geologist. “We've got all night.”
“But our friends at Camp No. 4. Even now, they must think we are lost.”
“Then further thought won't kill them. Besides, we’ll be back before morning — and they can’t send out a relief party sooner.”
“But any moment a storm may come up. You know what’ that would mean.”
“Does it look likely?" scoffed
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
49
Stoddard, waving his hand, aloft. “See — there’s the moon I She’ll be our guide.”
Professor Prescott looked, saw a slender shallop charting her course among the stars, and for a moment was tempted. But speedily his re- sponsibilities reasserted themselves.
"No, I can’t do it,” he said with finality. “I owe it to the expedition to return as soon as possible. Fur- thermore, there’s the matter of the authorities. We assured the British we would adhere strictly to our one purpose — to scale Kinchinjunga.”
"A mere formality.”
“No— a definite order from the Lamas. They closed Mt. Everest, after the last expedition, you will recall. The Lama’s scepter is veri- tably a diamond thunderbolt of power in this region."
Whereupon Stoddard’s patience snapped.
“Listen!” he said. “I hurried away because I knew you’d be anx- ious, but I’m going back, if I have to—”
“And I say you’re not !” The pro- fessor’s patience, too, had snapped. “I’m not going with you, and you’re not going back alone I As the leader of this expedition, I forbid it!"
The younger man laughed rasping- ly, as he shook off the hand that clasped his arm, and for a moment it looked as though the two would fight, there on that dizzy ledge above the world.
Then Stoddard got control of him- self.
“Sorry!” he said. “I see I’ve got to tell you something. Professor. You think I’m merely the geologist of this expedition, but in fact I’m a secret service man from Washing- ton, on the trail of the biggest dia- mond-smuggling plot in history — and here is where the trail ends!"
PROFESSOR PRESCOTT’S
astonishment at these words was profound. He stood there
blinking up at Stoddard, scarcely believing he had heard aright.
“You — you say you are — ?”
“A detective, if you want. Any- way, if you’ve read the papers, you must know that for the past year or more the diamond markets of the world have been flooded with singu- larly perfect stones.”
“Yes, I recall reading about that. They were thought to be synthetic, were they not?”
“By certain imaginative newspa- per reporters, not by the experts, for under the microscope they re- vealed the invariable characteristics of diamonds formed by nature — the tiny flaws and imperfections no ar- tificial means could duplicate.”
“But didn’t I read something, too, about some anonymous Indian rajah who was thought to be raising money by disposing of his jewels?”
“More newspaper rubbish! For one thing, British secret service men traced the rumor down and satisfied themselves there wasn’t a rajah in India unloading any diamonds. For another, no rajah could possibly have the wealth involved. Why, do you know that since this plot unfolded, over five million carats’ worth have made their appearance — and that means something like a billion dol- lars.”
“Whew!” whistled the professor. “Whew is right!” his companion agreed. “And not only have the dia- mond markets of the world been dis- organized by this mysterious influx, but the countries involved have lost millions of dollars in revenue, due to the fact that the gems have been smuggled in without payment of duty.”
“But surely, my dear fellow, you don’t connect this gigantic plot with your discovery of — whatever it is you have discovered?”
“A diamond as big as a house! That’s what I’ve discovered! And I most surely do connect the pfot with it. Did you ever have a hunch,
so
ASTOUNDING STORIES
Professor? Well, I had one — and it’s worked out!”
“You leave me more 'in the dark momentarily!” declared the older man, glancing around as though to giveil his words a double meaning. “What was your hunch, and how did it come to lead you here?” Whereupon Stoddard told him, swiftly, for there was no time to lose.
WHEN first )assigned to the case, he said, he had been as baffled as anyone. But as he had studied the problem, one outstand- ing fact had given him the clue. All the gem experts agreedjhat the mys- terious flood of smuggled stones was of Indian origin, being of the first water and of remarkable fire — in other words, of the finest transparen- cy and brilliance.'
Therefore, since they were genu- ine and were seemingly coming from India, Stoddard had concentrated his attention on this country, seeking their exact source. Investigation showed that there were no mines within its borders capable of pro- ducing anything like the quantity that was inundating the market.
But — and here was where the hunch came in — there was a district in the Sikkim Himalayas of Bengal whose capital was Darjeeling — Land of the Diamond Thunderbolt. Why had it been called that? Was there some legend back of it?
There was, he had learned. For though in modern times the phrase had come to apply merely to the Lama’s scepter, as Professor Pres- cott had pointed out, originally it had carried another meaning— for legend said that once a diamond me- teor had fallen on the mighty slopes of Kinchinjunga.
That had been enough for Stod- dard. He had followed his hunch, had got himself attached to the American Kinchinjunga expedi- tion—
"And that’s why I'm here, and all about it," he finished. “Now, then, are you coming back with me and have a look at my Diamond Thun- derbolt, or am I going back alone?” A long moment the professor de- bated, before replying.
“Yes, I'll come with you,” he said at length, extending his hand. “For- give me, Jack. I didn’t know, or — “ “Forget it,” said Stoddard shak- ing. “How the devil could you, till I told you? But just one thing. Hum’s the word — right?”
“Right!”
“And one thing more. It may be — well, a one-way trip."
“Forget it.’’
“O. K„ Professor.”
With a last warm handclasp, leav- ing them joined in a new bond of friendship, the two men moved on over that narrow moonlit ridge across the top of the world. >
IT was a desperate trail. Professor Prescott realized after scarcely a dozen steps. The ridge grew nar- rower, sheerer, and in places they had to straddle it, legs dangling pre- cariously to left and right.
Admiration for his gallant com- - panion mounted in the professor’s pounding heart, as they struggled on. Only to picture anyone eager to return such a perilous way, after once getting safely back!
Other thoughts occupied his mind, too, during the next half-hour. More than once he could have sworn he saw small, ghostly figures on the ridge ahead. But he made no men- tion of it, for Stoddard didn’t seem to see them.
Now they gained the far end of that hazardous ridge, where a slop- ing shelf of jagged rock offered a somewhat more secure footing. Along this they proceeded laterally for some distance.
Suddenly Stoddard paused and called out:
“Ah — there we are I” He indi-
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
51
cated a steep pocket to the lift. “Have a look down there. Profes- sor, and tell me what you see.”
PRESCOTT lowered his eyes to the depths below, to draw back with a gasp— for what he saw was a vast phosphorescent glow, like a fallen star.
“What — what is it?” he cried, in an awed voice.
And back came the ringing reply: "The Diamond Thunderbolt I” “But the radiance of the thing I It couldn’t reflect that much light from the moon I”
“No, and it doesn’t. But there’s nothing uncanny about it. Just what I expected the thing would look like at night. But come on, Professor. You haven't seen the half of it I”
The way led down the jagged, shelving slope, now, and the descent was too precarious for further com- ment.
Ten minutes passed — fifteen, pos- ibly — when they reached a sheltered, snowlesB arena where titanic forces had clashed at some remote age. Fragments of splintered rock lay strewn in wild ' confusion — and among them, glinting in the moon- light, were bright crystals.
Picking up one, Stoddard said laughingly :
"One of Mother Nature’s trinkets worth half a million or so !’’ Professor Prescott blinked at it a moment, almost in disbelief, then stooped and picked up one for him- self— a diamond that would have made the Kohinoor look like a peb- ble.
There was no doubting its genu- ineness. Even in the moonlight, it flashed and burned like a thing afire.
But as the professor turned his eyes at last from its dazzling facets, they failed him again— or so he thought — for half hidden behind a jutting crag loomed a huge cylin- drical object, seemingly of metal.
FOR the space of two breaths, he stared speechless, then gasped: “Good Lord! What’s that?” Following his gaze, Stoddard saw it too.
“God knows!” he muttered, in a tense voice. “It wasn’t there this afternoon. Let’s have a look at it.” Cautiously, not knowing what to expect, they advanced toward the singular phenomenon.
Nearing, they saw that it was a mechanism some twenty feet at the base and sixty or more feet high, pointed at the top.
“A rocket!” declared Professor Prescott. “Though I’ve never seen anything larger than a laboratory model, I’ll gamble that’s what it is.” “And I’ll gamble you’re right !” exclaimed Stoddard. "And one ca- pable of carrying passengers, would you say?”
“Fully.”
"Then I think we have solved the mystery of how these diamonds reach the market. The question now is, who’s back of this thing? And since our position here probably isn’t any too healthy — ”
He broke off and drew his auto- matic, as a small, ghostly figure ap- peared— seemingly from nowhere.
The professor saw it, too — saw it followed by another, and another — and now he knew his eyesight had not failed him back on that wind- swept slope above, either, for these were actual creatures, incredible as they seemed.
The snow people?
He did not know — had no time to find out — for with a rush, the strange beings were all around them.
STODDARD levelled his pistol and called on them to halt, but they came on— scores, hundreds now, seeming to pour out of some unseen aperture of the earth.
Once or twice he fired, over their heads, but it failed to halt them. .They closed in, jabbering shrilly.
52
ASTOUNDING STORIES
But though their words were a babel, their actions were plain enough. Swarming up, they over- powered the explorers by sheer num- bers, and herded them with jabs of sharp, tiny knives toward a cavern mouth that opened presently amid those eery crags.
Led underground, they found themselves proceeding along a froBty passage lit ever yj few yards by a great chunk of diamond. Their dim glow seemed to be refracted from some central point beyond.
This point they soon reached — a great, vaulted chamber whose bril- liance was at first dazzling.
Its source, after the first moment or so, was obvious. It was coming from the roof, which was one vast diamond.
“You see where we are?” whis- pered Stoddard. “Under the Dia- mond Thunderbolt! These people have tunneled beneath the meteor. Or else—”
“Their tunnel was already there, when the meteor fell,” finished Pro- fessor Prescott. “But can it be pos- sible such creatures could have pro- duced that rocket?"
“I'm inclined to think anything is possible, now I But I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Professor. I — ”
“Forget it I We’re here and we’ll face it together, whatever it is.”
“You’re a game sport!” Stoddard gripped the older man’s hand. “We’ll face it — and lick it!"
Further talk was interrupted by a stir among their captors. The ranks parted — and into that dazzling cham- ber stepped a tall, bearded personage prhose aristocratic features and haughty bearing suggested a Russian of the old regime.
HE strode toward them, smiling sardonically.
“Greetings, my friends! Nice of you to drop in on me, while in the neighborhood.” English was
suave, precise. “Professor Normas Prescott, leader of the Americas Kinchinjunga expedition, I believe.* He paused and lifted inquiring ey*. brows to his other guest. “And — ?*
“Dr. John Stoddard, our geolo- gist," came the answer stiffly. “And you, sir?”
“A fellow professor, you might say. Prince Ivan Krassnov. You have heard of me, perhaps?”
Prescott had indeed. One of Rus- sia’s most brilliant and erratic scien- tists under the czar, the man had been permitted to continue his work for the Soviets, developing among other inventions, a rocket reported to be capable of carrying passengers. But some two years ago he and his rocket had vanished in the course of a test flight from Moscow, and the natural conclusion was that he had either perished in the sea or shot off the earth altogether, since no trace of the unique mechanism was ever found.
“Yes, I have heard of you,” said the professor, recalling this sensa- tional story that had occupied the front pages of the world's presB for days. “And so it turns out that your rocket didn’t come to grief.”
“Not exactly — though as you can see, it landed me in rather an inac- cessible spot,” was the reply. “But quite an interesting one ! I was well satisfied to let the papers report me missing. You can understand, yes?”
“I think I can, that part of it." While as for Stoddard, he was be- ginning to understand a great deal. “But these curious creatures?" be said, indicating the whispering, pig- my host that filled the cavern. *‘‘Yoo found them here?"
“fT^HEY found me, rather!” cor-
X rected the prince. “But we get on quite well together. They consider me a god, you see, since t too, came out of the sky in a thun- derbolt, as their great diamond once did, according to their legends.”
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
53
“But who are they? What is their origin? Why are they so small, so pale?"
' "Natural questions, Professor, but not so easy to answer. Who they are I cannot say, save that they are the snow people of native supersti- tion. Their origin? It is lost in antiquity. Perhaps they are the remnants of some Tibetan tribe driven into the mountains by ene- mies, thousands of years ago. While as for their stature, their pallor — these no doubt are the result of the furtive underground life they lead.” He paused, waited politely, as though for further questions, but neither spoke. Now that the main mystery was solved, the one question uppermost in both their minds was what this suave, inscrutable noble- man was going to do with them — and that question neither cared to ask, fearful of what the answer might be.
FINALLY Prince Krassnov spoke again.
“What, gentleman — you have no further curiosity about me? How unflattering ! I thought perhaps you might want to know why I have chosen to maintain my headquarters here on Kinchinjunga, the past two years, and how I have been occupy- ing my time. But I hold no resent- ment. I shall tell you, so that you will be prepared for what I am going to propose.”
He turned and addressed the pig- my host in what must have been their own tongue. Then, facing his guests again, he said :
' “Now, come. Let us retire to my private study, where we shall have more leisure.”
They followed him from that daz- zling chamber and proceeded on down the cavern to a fork that ended about twenty paces further in a mas- sive steel-bound door.
There he paused and twirled a
knob like the dial of a safe. After a moment there came a click, as of tumblers meshing, and a tug on the knob swung the door open.
The prince bowed.
“Step into my little apartment," he said.
They entered, to find themselves in a large oblong room furnished in Slavic luxury.
AS they crossed a rich Oriental rug spread over the threshold, a musical gong sounded somewhere, and almost instantly two enormous Cossacks sprang into view, to bar their way with rifles.
“My bodyguard,” apologized Krassnov, shutting the door. “They are quite harmless, except to in- truders. Just one of the little pre- cautions that make life safer.”
He spoke to the men in Russian and they withdrew.
Then he advanced to a divan beside a teakwood table on which stood a large copper samovar. Dropping down, he motioned for them to take seats beside him.
“You will have tea, my friends? Or perhaps you would prefer whiskey and soda?”
They chose the latter, since their recent exertions seemed to have war- ranted it, and their host tinkled a silver bell, bringing a Chinese boy beaming and salaaming.
A few words to him and the samo- var was lit; then he hurried off on padding feet, to return with miracu- lous speed, bearing not only the whiskey and soda but a platter heaped with exotic cakes, cubed sandwiches of caviar and spiced fish, together with a profusion of other delicacies— doubly welcome to men who had toiled all day on a moun- tain peak, with nothing but choco- late to sustain them.
And while they drank and ate, Prince Krassnov told his story — a story whose very first words were
54
ASTOUNDING STORIES
al admission that he was the head of the great ittg plot
Stoddard had act out to trace down.
r' was a story as dramatic and romantic as it was unscrupulous. Finding himself and the crew of the rocket marooned on the upper slopes of this mighty mountain, in the midst of an incalculable wealth, he had set about at once to capitalize their astounding discovery.
First he had made certain adjust- ments in the mechanism of his appa- ratus— which fortunately had not been injured by its forced landing — and then he had taken off with speci- mens of the treasure, bringing the craft down this time utfth precision in the midst of his ancestral estates near Baku, in the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains.
This vast property the Bolsheviks had not confiscated, partly because of its remoteness, no doubt, and part- ly because of the prince's services to the Soviet Republic. At any rate, it was here he had developed in se- cret the details of his amazing plot — a plot that had as its aim not only his own enrichment but the rehabili- tation of all the Russian nobles.
Once they had heard his story of the Diamond Thunderbolt and seen the specimens he showed them, many had eagerly joined the plot, with the result that an international ring had been formed for disposal of the gems.
His plans perfected. Prince Krass- nov had then returned to Kinchin- junga with his rocket, since when the mysterious flood of those perfect diamonds into the jewel markets of the world had begun.
“So you see, my friends,” he smiled, “that is what you Americans would call my ‘little game’— a game your chance discovery has rather jeopardized, you must admit."
Professor Prescott could well rea- lize this, but at a glance from Stod- dard he declined to adrrit it.
“A very ingenious gamer he said. “But where do the Lamas figure in this? Surely they must know of the presence of this meteor within their' kingdom."
“No doubt they do," the prince conceded. “That is why they are so reluctant to have foreigners enter their domain. At one time, I am satisfied, they knew its exact loca- tion and drew many of their own gems from that source. But in re- cent times the snow people have guarded their secret well. The Lamas are as terrified of them as the na- tives— and with better reason I"
He did not mention what the reason was, but there was something ominous in his tone.
“ |i UT to get on with my story,
1 1 friends. I am not telling you all this merely to satisfy your curiosity. I have what you call ^ motive in my madness!"
Madness was right, thought Stod- dard. The man was dangerously, criminally mad.
“My motive is simply this,” he went on. “You have chanced upon my little nest-egg, and consequently I have either to let you in on the deal or — ”
Krassnov paused ; shrugged.
“But why talk of anything un- pleasant, when there is wealth enough here for all? What I pro- pose, briefly, is that you join tne.“
They knew it was coming, but they winced, nevertheless.
“Oh, don't be premature 1” he ex- claimed, a little nettled. “Hear me out. What is good enough for me and my fellow nobles of Impend Russia is surely good enough for poor, under-paid professors of dem- ocratic America. Listen, fiirnris I am generous. Join me and ae will make millionaires out of all of yon. Every pmfrwoi in your . country shall be a little car. It will be, to use the old phrase, a triumph of the intellect.**
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
55
Beyond a doubt, the man was mad; yet his madness was vast, dizzying. Though neither was tempted, they were both rendered speechless for a moment. It was like standing on a mountain top and being shown the countries and the glories of the world — like standing on the top of Kinchinjunga, thought Prescott.
“But you assume we are all Bol- sheviks, like yourself, we profes- sors," he said, struggling for calm words.
“Bolsheviks I” snorted the prince. “I spit on them I You think I, a nobleman, am interested in the masses? Cattle — swine 1 I plan only for the day when we who are worthy rule again, and this that I have told you is my plan. You can, as you Americans so coarsely say, either take it or leave it.”
A TENSION hung in the air, as his words echoed into silence. The man had revealed himself.
“And suppose we leave it?" asked the professor, restraining his irrita- tion as best he could. “What then?” “Then I am afraid — ah — unpleas- ant consequences would result,” was the bland answer. '‘Surely you rea- lize that I could not let you and young Dr. Stoddard rejoin your ex- pedition with this story to report." They realized it quite well.
“But suppose we agree not to re- port it?” said Professor Prescott.
“Not to doubt your honesty of intention,” replied Krassnov sharp- ly, “I would refuse to accept such an agreement.”
“Then I see nothing else but to decline your kind proposal,” said Stoddard, before the professor could formulate further words. “What do you propose to do — murder us?” “Nothing so personal,” said the prince, with his sardonic smile. “I shall merely turn you over to my little subjects. They no doubt will deal with you as your merits war- rant.”
Whereupon he pressed a button under that elaborate teakwood table. The musical gong they had heard before sounded again, and the prince’s two Cossack retainers re- appeared.
He addressed them briefly in Rus- sian, adding to his guests:
“Adieu, friends 1 If you change your minds, you have only to speak. You will be undenstood, and I shall be gratified."
And without further words, they were led from that ornate apart- ment.
TAKEN back to the dazzling chamber under the meteor, they were turned over to the pigmies.
A powwow resulted, but it was brief. The two captives were bound fast in a curious ceremonial pit near the center of the room. Then the midget horde withdrew, leaving them alone there under that eery glow.
“Now what the devil will be the next step?" queried Stoddard, when the last of the pigmies had gone.
Professor Prescott considered for a moment, before replying.
“I don’t think there will be any next step, except our cremation," he said at length.
“Cremation?” gasped his young friend. “What do you mean, crema- tion?”
Another pause, then:
“Just this. Don’t you see where we are? Right under the Thunder- bolt! Well?”
“Well what?”
“Simple enough, Jack.” The pro- fessor’s tone was grave. “When dawn comes, and the rising sun strikes that — ”
“Good God!” Stoddard suddenly understood. “Why, we’ll be cooked alive — frizzled!"
It was only too true. Even now, the pale rays of the moon, concen- trated by the myriad facets of that monumental diamond, were begin- ning to focus on them a warmth that
56
ASTOUNDING STORIES
was uncomfortable. And kf morn- ing— I
The two men crouched there si- lent, realizing their desperate plight. They must escape, before the sun rose. But how?
STUDYING their bonds, they dis- covered that they were of raw- hide of some sort, obviously from the hides of animals these strange people caught on the lower slopes somewhere. But though they Etrained and twisted, they could not stretch them, the leather evidently having been cured to a marvelous toughness in these high altimdes.
Precious minutes ticked by as they struggled there, but they were un- able to extricate themselves.
But before the end of a half-hour, Stoddard managed to free one arm, and reaching into his jacket he drew forth a small, compact metal object — his cigarette lighter.
Twirling the wheel, while Profes- sor Prescott held his breath, he suc- ceeded in kindling a flame on its tiny wick.
If only he could reach the thongs with it! If only he could bum them through and free himself and the professor before any of the pigmies re-entered that lethal chamber!
Wrenching around now, he applied the flame to his left wrist, which was still bound. As the living fire touched his flesh, he winced with pain, but almost anything was better than the grisly fate that theatened.
Slowly, a little at a time, he en- dured the torture, straining at each application to see if the thongs would yield.
“Here, let me try it once!" called out Professor Prescott, as he cried aloud with the agony of the ordeal.
“No, I’ll get it I" Stoddard gritted his, teeth, continued. “There! I think my hand is free!” He strug- gled. “Yes. Now wait I"
Replacing his cigarette lighter in his pocket, he drew his blistered
wrist from its smouldering bonds and struggled feverishly now to undo the lashes about his feet.
Five minutes of that and suddenly he flung them ofF and stood up.
“Now! Now then. Professor. I'll have you loose in a jiffy I”
Bending over his fettered com- panion, he worked with frantic haste to untie the rawhide bonds.
Another five minutes and they were both free.
-PROFESSOR PRESCOTT stood AT up and stretched.
“Thank God for small favors!** he exclaimed. “But you, Jack? You must be burned cruelly.”
“Forget it !” Stoddard was already wrapping a handkerchief around his wrist. “Now let’s see about getting out of here. These little rats all seem to be asleep, and Lord knows where that maniac Krassnov is. Per- haps we can make it. At any rate, we'll give them a run for their money!”
As he spoke, he drew bfs auto- matic.
Silently, stealthily, they left that glittering chamber and proceeded down the cavern toward what seemed to be the entrance, guided by their remembrance of the way they had come.
A hundred yards or more they made, seeing no sign of their cap- tors, when suddenly a musical gong rang out.
“We've stepped on one of Krass- nov’s infernal signals!” cried Stod- dard, above the din. “Now there'll be hell to pay I”
And “hell to pay” there was, al- most instantly — for before they had taken ten more steps, the cavera ahead was full of small, ghostly fig- ures, jabbering in their shrill voices.
Indifferent now of what he did, their lives at stake, Stoddard biased away with his automatic, sweeping it from side to side of the stony walls as he fired.
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
57
As the shots crashed out, the jab- bers turned to shrieks o f terror. Sev- eral of the pigmies fell. The. rest broke their ranks and shrank into the shadows.
“Run!” yelled Stoddard, slipping a new clip into his pistol.
The professor needed no second invitation. Gathering his long legs, he sped after the younger man, and together they burst from the mouth of the cavern.
OUTSIDE, in the dazzle of moon- light, they paused for an in- stant.
“This way!” called Stoddard, rac- ing toward that splintered arena.
They gained it and lunged across it to the shelving slope that reached upward to the narrow, perilous ridge whence they had come.
As they proceeded, the pigmy horde following with incredible swiftness, Stoddard wheeled and fired time and again — and now hiB shots were answered by the reports of rifles.
“Krassnov and his Cossacks!” he muttered. “Well, we'll give them our heels, unless they hit us.”
“And Russians are notoriously bad shots, I understand," panted the pro- fessor. •,
At any rate, they reached the slope and struggled upward toward the ridge, putting themkelves presently out of range behind the jagged rocks that loomed -on every side.
But just as they were congratulat- ing themselves on their escape, came a dull, reverberating explosion — and as they clung to their insecure foot- holds, a volcano of snow and ice rose ahead. Thousands of tons of debris avalanched into the chasm below.
STUNNED, deafened, they looked around.
Down in that pocket where the Thunderbolt had so recently gleamed was one vast chaos, and above, where that razor-back ridge had led .
the intervening *•*— y-n to safety, was a dazzling void.
To both came the same thought, but Stoddard expressed it first.
“Krassnov — he's dynamited the ridge!” he gasped.
“Then we — we’ll never get back now!” echoed Professor Prescott. “No, but they’ll never get us here I” “Scant comfort, though, when we're pinioned here like a couple of birds with their wings dipped.” “Right; but let’s see. Let's figure. We’re better off than we were. And what was it Napoleon once said : 'When you can’t retreat, advance.’ So suppose we — ”
“But listen!”
STODDARD heard. It was the sound of rifle shots. And look- ing down, he saw a feverish activity surrounding the rocket. Myriads of the pigmies were swarming upon it, while a handful of Cossacks were holding them off.
“Something doing down there, all right!” he muttered. “Looks to me like — why, sure I’ve got it! That madman has overshot himself, for once! He's buried their precious meteor, in blowing up our ridge, and they’ve turned on him!”
“I think you’re right,” agreed Pro- fessor Prescott. “Suppose we ad- vance as you say. It looks like a chance.”
“Right,” said Stoddard.
Slowly, cautiously, they returned down the slope.
When within a hundred yards, they knew they had sized up the situation correctly. With frantic speed, Krassnov was supervising the shoveling out of his rocket from amid the debris; was directing its loading, while the free members of his crew held off the enraged natives who were obstructing them.
Descending even more cautiously now, they neared the scene of ac- tivity.
“My plan is this — to get aboard
'58
ASTOUNDING STORIES
and find out where they’re going I” said Stoddard, through shut teeth. "What do you say?”
“Lead on!” said the professor.
So they continued down, neared the' resting-place of that strange craft, and, under shelter of the moon- light shadows, stole through the con- fused ranks surrounding it and crept aboard.
STOWING themselves into the i first likely niche that offered— a narrow cubicle behind a flight of metal stairs — they Nwaited, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of being discovered.
Fifteen minutes passed, a half- hour, when suddenly sounded a rasp-: ing of doors that told them the rocket was being sealed.
Then came a roar, ~'hs of some mighty blast beating down upon the frozen earth, followed by a lifting, rushing sensation — and they were flung violently to the flooring.
The pressure ceased in a moment, however, to be supplanted by a buoy- ant, exhilarating sense of flight. It increased, and they judged they must be traveling at great speed.
Glancing at the luminous dial of his watch, Professor Prescott saw that it was a quarter to ten.
“Well, we’re off!” he whispered. “And where, would you guess, are we headed?”
“I wouldn’t guess,” Stoddard whis- pered back. “From the way we’re riding, it might be Mars I We must be making hundreds of miles ant hour.” I
“Or thousands! Who knows?” They crouched there in their cramped niche, scarcely even whis- pering now, as the tense minutes passed.
SUDDENLY the motion changed. They seemed to be dropping. Another moment or two, and with a slight jar the rocket came to rest.
“Well, we’re here, wherever it is,” said Stoddard, stirring.
“Yes, undoubtedly,” the professor agreed. “And the next move?”
“I think we’ll let them make that.” They were not long in doing so. There came the sound of doors rasp- ing open, of footsteps echoing on metal stairs and corridors. Once a giant Cossack passed within four feet of them. But at length, all was silent within the rocket.
“Now, then, suppose we have a look around,” said Stoddard, stepping out.
“Right,” agreed his companion, following. “I’ll admit I am mildly curious to know what corner of the earth we’ve been transported to.”
They proceeded down the dim-lit corridor the way they had come, de- scended a flight of stairs and headed along another corridor — to pause suddenly and gasp with astonish- ment. For through the door whence they had entered the rocket poured a flood of sunshine.
STODDARD stared at it a mo- * ment incredulously, and then glanced at his watch.
“Ten o’clock, I make it!” he mut- tered. “Am I crazy, or what?”
“No, I hardly think so,” smiled Professor Prescott, recovering from his own surprise. “It is merely that we are in some part of the world quite a few thousand miles removed from India. Back on Kinchinjunga, it is still ten o’clock at night, but here, it is quite obviously daytime.” “That must be the explanation,” Stoddard agreed. “But it certainly gave me a start at first !”
Approaching the door, followed by the professor, he peered cautiously out, to confront a- desolate stretch of scrubby growth, hemmed in by a background of rugged mountains.
“Now where the devil would you say we are?” he demanded, gazfng around perplexedly.
“Either in the United States or in Mexico,” was the astonishing reply.
THE DIAMOND THUNDERBOLT
St
“But ham can you aa j that ?” “BecaiMe it must be hoc place approximately twelve hours distant from India in time, to judge from the sib. which is not far past the meridian.”
“But why not Australia, for in- stance?"
“Because Australia is too far. It would be three o’clock tomorrow morning there, since it is ten o’clock last night now in India.”
STODDARD pondered this a min- ute, then admitted its correct- ness.
“All right, then.. Assuming that <