I saw him shrug his shoulders slightly, and I realized he considered me a nincompoop. He answered, “You are aboard an interplanetary vehicle. We call it the Yodverl, which in your language means ‘The Ship of the Void.’ ”
“How is it then you speak my language?” I demanded.
“That, my friend, is because I am not the first to have traveled through space. He who went before was from this, your native planet.”
I tried to comprehend what he had said, but it was difficult. Having been penned in by a routine of business all my life, it was difficult for me to conceive such possibilities or to follow such a train of thought as this man’s words had opened up for me! I saw he was waiting for me to continue questioning him. “And now that you are here, what are your intentions?” I thought of what a reception New York City would give this man. Lindbergh and Dr. Eckener (who had but recently crossed the Atlantic from Germany in a dirigible) would find their noses out of joint.
The Secret Mission
HE was smiling at my question, and I had a feeling that he had read my thoughts. “My mission here is a secret one. I am concerned with nothing of this world except one man, to whom I bear a message. We arrived on this planet two nights since, and I hope that by to-morrow night we may be in position to make our departure, that is, after we have returned you safely to this spot.” He sighed, but not I. I wanted to know what he meant by his last words. “You, sir,” he explained, “are luckily the only trespasser who has had the misfortune to discover our retreat here. We landed at night and slipped into this quiet glade without discovery. On reaching your planet we picked out a spot near one of your large cities. We needed some equipment as well as a map, by which we might find our destination. Fortune led us to New York which we found by means of its great lights. Thence we traveled this far. I went foraging and discovered the old suit in the cabin, which I take to be yours, and I hoped that its owner would not return before we were on our way.
“When you came to find us it meant but one thing. We had to capture you before you carried your story to the village and brought intruders here. Hence you find yourself within our vehicle. And though we regret it, we must act so as to insure the keeping of our secret during our stay on Earth. You may rest assured, however, that you will be returned to this spot safe and well.”
I glanced ruefully at my shoulder. “It will be six weeks before that can heal.”
“On the contrary. We have with us a salve which has a healing power that your medical men would, no doubt, consider miraculous. Your collar bone will be completely well within a week’s time. Allow me to bandage it again and rub it with this salve.”
As he worked on my shoulder with his cooling unguent, another man entered the chamber. He was like the first, silvery and handsome, but somewhat younger. His knowledge of English was not equal to that of the older man, nor did I take to him as readily as I had to his companion. He addressed my host as Sa Dak, while the younger fellow answered to the name of Tor.
Later, as I began to notice Sa Dak more particularly, I saw that his face was one of power, while in the eyes was an expression that bespoke some great sorrow. There was no way to determine his age from his features, and one could not see gray hairs among the silver. I judged him as a man in his prime, probably in the late thirties or early forties. The other had no fine marks of character in his youthful face, and his lavender eyes expressed no emotions. He seemed to me to be no more than twenty-five years old.
After rubbing my shoulder well, Sa Dak asked if it still pained. There was only the discomfort of the tight bandage and an ache that was no more than a slight toothache. I admitted as much, and felt better about the prospect of my imprisonment. Suddenly I remembered that I had told my wife I would stay away several days, and she should not expect me until I showed up. Somehow it never entered my mind to doubt Sa Dak’s word, and I was looking forward with childish curiosity to this strange adventure.
Just then another creature entered the room. He was bearing a tray on which there were three glasses filled with liquid, and several dishes filled with food. The servant was somewhat smaller than his master, just as finely built, and had an extremely intelligent face; but his skin was different. Whereas his masters looked silvery, he looked golden! Hair, skin, and lips were like virgin gold polished, and glistening with the blood flowing under the skin. And his eyes were red! As red as vermilion, and they looked quite natural in that golden face!
My host, on perceiving his entrance, said, “Ah, here is the culprit!” and rapidly he spoke to the fellow in a strange tongue. The servant cringed, his tray trembled as he looked in my direction. He managed to distribute his burden among us and waited nearby while we ate and drank. What the liquid was I did not know; the food was also strange but was vegetable-like and very delectable.
After taking the dishes, the servant waited patiently, just beyond my couch, with fear in his strange eyes. His master paid him no attention, but continued speaking to me.
“When you appeared in our vicinity, we knew immediately that it would be necessary to make you our captive. My companion and I enjoyed watching your attempt to discover what we were, and when you started away with the thought in your mind of making inquiries, and possibly to arouse the authorities, we sent this poor fellow out to capture you. It was his overzealousness in the duty of capturing you that caused him to wound you. Hence he is now at your mercy. Punish him as you will.” And with a movement of his arm he brought the trembling slave into our circle.
I was greatly embarrassed. Had my captors suggested earlier, that I punish my tormentor, I would gladly have taken an eye for an eye, giving him the same that he had given me, but the situation had taken a different turn. I, who had thought these interplanetary visitors the intruders, was convinced that I was the intruder. I managed somehow to smile, though I was feeling like a bully who was beaten by a smaller fellow. I waved the slave away.
“You are to be complimented upon possessing a servant who performs his duties so fully,” I said, and I smiled smugly to myself as I thought what a good example of my countrymen I was setting myself up as, in so magnanimously forgiving the man who had injured me.
The silver man turned to the golden one and spoke in their soft language. The slave looked at me with his odd eyes, and in the manner in which all mankind expresses gratitude, he threw himself at my feet and taking my hand in his, he kissed it. More embarrassed than ever, I looked to Sa Dak for relief. He spoke and the slave slowly backed out of the room. It is needless to say that during the rest of the time I spent on the Yodverl he followed me about like a faithful dog, fulfilling my desires before I had time to express them.
It was now quite dark outside and Sa Dak observed that within a short time we should be moving. I was rather inquisitive as to where our destination lay, but at a motion from Sa Dak the other followed him and they both hurried away through the doorway.
Curiosity Uppermost Again
CAUTIOUSLY I rose to my feet. This time I knew no dizziness, and I found that my shoulder pained not at all. Walking to the door I peered through and saw that a small chamber lay beyond. At its far side was a second doorway, and I surmised that the two silver men had proceeded through it to their pilot room.
I glanced about the room. It was furnished very simply, with furniture made from a strange light metal. There was a broad desk in the center, sitting on a square rug of gray, woven from some rough material like camel’s hair. Several chairs were set about, three-legged chairs with seat and back built to conform to the lines of the body. All about the room were set square cases three feet in height. I surmised that they contained books, although the shelves were concealed behind metal. I noted that the walls of the room were like the ceiling and the light came from all sides. There was nothing to relieve the whiteness of the glass.
The desk held my attention. On it was a tall slender metal vase with one of those strange exotic flowers that I had seen growing in the other room. Beside the vase were several stran
ge oblong boxes of metal about ten inches in length and only one inch in width. Curious, I picked one up. On one side was a small metal tab which I immediately pulled. One side of the box drew out and to it were attached about two dozen thin sheets of metal, each one as thin as a sheet of writing paper, and on them was a strange form of writing. The letters were oddly shaped, and on examining them closely, I found that instead of having been printed or written, they had been photographed on the sheet. I took this to be a book.
Besides the several “books” which were on the desk, was a square box of metal. Of course, I had no right to be prying, but I was curious. I wanted to know all there was to know about these people. It would be something to remember all my days. So without any scruples I opened the box and let a cry of wonder escape me; for there on the same sort of metal sheets was a manuscript, written not in Abruian, but in English!
TO PROFESSOR EZRA ROLLINS
DATA CONCERNING THE RESULTS GATHERED ON THE ARRIVAL OF THE ROLLINS ROCKET UPON AN UNKNOWN PLANET CALLED BY ITS PEOPLES “ABRUI.”
WITH GREETINGS AND BEST WISHES TO THE PROFESSOR.
DANA GLEASON
I looked no further, I closed the box, my mind now in a whirl. Dana Gleason, Dana Gleason. Where had I heard that name? Then it came to me. Years ago, when I was no more than a boy, I had heard the story of Dana Gleason, one of the wealthiest men in the world, of fine aristocratic stock, dating back to the early settlement of the country.
Dana Gleason had been one of the young society men whose very name brought envy to youthful hearts. Tales of his exploits, his polo ponies, his yachts, his globe-trotting, were read avidly by the curious public. His marriage into another house of equal rank and fortune appeared on the front pages of the newspapers. Then for two years, at which time his baby was born, Dana Gleason was completely forgotten. Almost immediately upon the arrival of the baby, both father and child disappeared completely. Later it was discovered that the father had spirited the baby away on his yacht. Several weeks later there came a sensational story when young Mrs. Gleason was killed at a railroad crossing in an automobile.
For months no more news was to be had, but an inquisitive reporter learned that the father had planned, with the aid of nurses and tutors, to bring up his boy with a hatred of women. Five years later the last woman left the yacht, but she had been paid not to give interviews. Next we heard of the yacht (which was almost as large as a small steamship) from various corners of the world—from the north, east, west, and south. Dana Gleason, Jr., was having the finest education that man could acquire. The greatest teachers from every nation were taken aboard the yacht, and one heard of the famous men of the day being invited for cruises. The yacht was said to have a swimming pool, a gymnasium, a chemical laboratory, and an astronomical observatory. It carried its own wireless, and motion pictures of historical events were screened especially for the benefit of the heir. The accounts of his life aboard the yacht read like fairy stories.
The child grew up, and his father and he were heard of in every conceivable place on the globe. They were exploring the arctic regions, they had their fingers in some political pie in Latin America. They were skiing at Biarritz; they were shooting tigers in India, lions in Africa. They were at the Kentucky Derby; they were taking in the night-life of New York. They were with an archaeologist on the Nile; they were studying conditions in Manchuria. They were presented at the Russian Court; they were abducted by Arabs. They had attempted to climb Mount Everest. But why should I write all this? You, too, have read these accounts and reveled in them and envied.
You, too, can recall when the Gleasons joined the British forces to fight Germany. And you read the account of Gleason Senior’s death in the third year of the War, and of the record the son made in the Air Force. And that was the last you ever heard! The name of Gleason was forgotten with the rising of new stars of front-page brilliancy. What happened to the son after the leadership of the father was gone? Was this manuscript perhaps the answer? Had Dana Gleason, Jr., accomplished the last possible thing left for him to do?
I turned again to the sheets of metal lying before me, but as I started to read further, suddenly the light about me began to fade, and I was in darkness! In wonder I looked about. Overhead, as through a very thick glass, I could see the stars, and close at hand I could make out the shapes of trees in the darkness. Then as I gazed in wonder, I saw that we were rising above the trees. Soon they were far below, and I could see nothing but the twinkling stars in the distance.
There was no pulsation, or vibration to suggest motors; it was only a gentle rising and a feeling of being suspended in space. Then through the darkness of the room I saw something that startled me. Two glowing orbs had appeared in the doorway. It was my host. He spoke.
“In traveling through the atmosphere of a planet, we shut off our lights. Our light does not travel far; that is why we allowed it to shine in the clearing, but it is enough to be seen from below. I trust its absence does not inconvenience you.”
I made some inane remark that passed. I enjoyed watching our progress. I added that I regretted I did not have the power to see in the dark as he had.
“Dana Gleason could never become quite accustomed to the fact that we on Abrui could see in the dark as well as in daylight,” he observed, and I realized that he knew that I had found the manuscript.
“Yes,” he continued, “we are on the way to deliver that report to Professor Rollins who invented the first interplanetary vehicle. We are bound for Africa. Come, join us in the pilot room.”
Looking Over the Works
I FOLLOWED him into the nose of the machine. Here the pilot, Tor, sat at some controls. All about us was clear glass; below we could see the woods we were leaving. A small light glowed here, a small round globe that contained a light in its center, although I could see no connecting wires fastened to it. A shade trained its light down upon a map of the two hemispheres, so that the light could be perceived nowhere else. I could see faintly two vertical rods rising from floor to ceiling, upon which were various levers and meters, and with these the young man was working.
On the map was drawn a line from the point which he had left, down through the center of the Atlantic ocean, along the equator to Africa. At a point approximately three hundred miles above Johannesburg and about one hundred miles in from the coast-line, our destination was marked by a small cross.
A chair was given me and I sat down where I had a good view of everything around us. Below we saw the lights of scattered communities, but these quickly dwindled to single lights of squatters and fishermen along the Jersey salt marshes. Then the dunes slid by and the rough waters of the Atlantic billowed. “How long do you judge this trip will take?” I questioned the youth at the controls. Sa Dak had left us for several minutes.
“Not more than three ro, which equals about four and a half of your Earthly hours,” he declared.
I was incredulous, but the estimate proved almost correct, for we were there in exactly four hours! What would Lindbergh say to that?
Sa Dak returned from an examination of the motors. These engines were located in the far end of the ship. All I gathered from the details that he gave me was that the power of these motors was derived from that element very rare on Earth—radium.
Fifteen minutes or so passed. We saw a ship with its lights all aglow steaming on to New York. It was a pretty sight. I wondered what its passengers would say if they could see us. My host suggested that I lie down for a while, for my shoulder was still sore and he thought it best for me to rest as much as possible. He, himself, led me back to my couch so that I should not stumble in the darkness. I was tired and the bone was beginning to ache from weariness. The golden servant soon appeared, with a glass of liquid that was strangely refreshing. After I had sipped it, the stranger insisted that he must dress my shoulder. He rubbed a salve in with his cool deft fingers, then with a salaam he was gone, and I fell asleep.
Two hours later I awoke and returned to the pilot ro
om. The two men were still at the controls. Water lay below us. We saw another ship bound, we supposed, for Capetown. We quickly passed it by. In another half hour the servant appeared again with food, a sort of cooked fruit. I might note here that all the dishes with which we had been served, including those containing liquids, which later I have called glasses, were really of metal, like almost everything else the Abruians used.
At last we saw the shore line of Africa, and after skirting it for some distance we turned inland and the wide unvarying veld, with its low hills, and occasional groves of tropical trees, was below us. The moon had risen very late and now it was shedding its silvery glow upon everything. The skin of the two strange men caught its light and reflected it.
Lights now shone out in two or three directions; here the lone camp fire of some traveler or hunter; there the house lights of an isolated farmhouse. Then we came suddenly to a halt, hung suspended for several minutes in the air, and like a rocket we shot down toward a group of three lights that were shining from a low bungalow and its accompanying outhouses.
It was now one o’clock in the morning and the country lay still. Quietly, for all its bulk, the Yodverl made a landing, sinking down on the smooth grass several hundred yards from the darkened house. The bungalow was not completely dark, for lights shone from two of its windows. A single light burned in the Negroes’ quarters beyond.
“We have arrived,” stated my host. “It is rather late to be calling, but I believe we will be welcome.” Then, turning to his companion, he made a remark in their own tongue and disappeared through the doorway.
“That was some voyage,” I remarked to the youth.
He smiled. “It was necessary for us to travel at so low a speed,” he said, quietly putting me in my place. “Out in space we travel many times faster than this.”
Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks) Page 11
