Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks)

by Leslie F Stone

  Finding that the buildings stretched for miles on all sides we decided to retrace our steps to the space-flyer. The thought that Moura-weit might have returned, quickened our steps, but we found everything as we had left it. Uncle Ezra still slept his uncomfortable sleep. There was little more for Ubca, Urto and myself to do but swim, eat, read, talk and look in on Uncle occasionally. I had brought a fairly good size library with me of books I had always wanted to read, but never gotten around to. Ubca was reading one after the other so as to better his knowledge of Earthling habits. And I, in turn, was learning more of the Abruian tongue. So simple were the rules, so little of the complexities that make up most of the languages of Earth did it contain, that I was learning to understand a few sentences and something of what the men said when talking among themselves. Then came the relief, when suddenly that night, Moura appeared at the entrance of the building he had lived in for three days. He came hurrying to the Yodverl.

  Apparently, there was much to tell us.

  CHAPTER IX

  Life Upon Venus

  HE came alone and entered the space-flyer with no more ado than if he had been gone only an hour. When he learned that he had been gone three days he was surprised. There was a faraway look in his eyes as though he had not yet returned from those vast realms he had been exploring with his Venerian host. He was all regret on learning of Uncle Ezra’s condition and hurried to his bedside and tried to do what the three of us had not been able to do. He met with little success, but strangely enough I did feel better that he was in charge, as if he could perform miracles where we had failed.

  When Ubca told him of what Uncle had surmised in chipping stone from the sides of the buildings he was astonished at how closely Uncle had arrived to the truth. And he told us something of the geology of the planet and the genealogy of its beings.

  For billions and billions of years the world had been completely submerged under the waters upon which the planets of both Earth and Mercury, as well as Sol, caused great tides and gradually, throughout the ages, the water’s action had worn down the surface rocks to sand, throwing the sand into piles and eating deeply into the solid stone. Volcanoes erupted beneath the subsurface, and their excretions were in time ground into small particles, too. Eventually the water built up the two islands entirely of sand, upon which life from the waters crept to form the grasses and planets. The Venerians, then creatures of the water, came out of the ocean to browse on the grasses. They had been larger then, but gradually lost some of their size. Their long proboscis, or trunk, had been evolved when they were water animals coming to the banks to feed on the grass by thrusting the trunk containing the mouth into it. With it they learned to grasp, and so fingers evolved at its end. Their breathing was accomplished through slits just behind the broad ears, which, once having been gill slits, had changed their construction when the beasts took to land.

  In the same manner the small arms dropping from the shoulder, which had once been used for grasping prey in the water, developed into arms and hands for use on land. As their brains grew, their first land settlements were established, but it was not until they had progressed many thousands of years that they learned to make bricks of the sandy bottom of the sea, and later to separate the ores from the sand. Several millions of years went by in which they attained a higher degree of civilization, went to sea in ships and built their great cities, and as they grew in intellect their present manner of living was evolved.

  Learning to compress the sand and smelt the ores, they also discovered the means of making glass for the lenses of their telescopes, by which they could see beyond the blanket of clouds that enclose their planet. They discovered the ore veins below the ocean beds and with great machines were able to dive below and bring up the precious metals and bedrock, but they continued to use compressed sand for building purposes because of the hardship of bringing the solid rock to the surface. The colors in their edifices were due to the natural hues of the sand, which their ancient forebears had blended so beautifully and artistically.

  During the month that we stayed on Venus, waiting for Uncle Ezra to fully recover from his illness, Moura and Ubca went a number of times into the buildings, but I went only twice, not wishing to leave Uncle for long. Besides, the two visits to the giant rooms of the azure building, with its great array of giant instruments and mechanisms, were enough for me. I looked into their telescopes, which are vastly different from our own, and saw many of the weird forms of life inhabiting worlds billions of miles away. The sights were overpowering, and I preferred to look no more.

  Moura, however, had learned several valuable lessons in the laboratories. In his own laboratory he had often been at work on several machines with which he hoped to improve the Yodverl, but now he discovered where his own mistakes had lain, and he was working feverishly to produce the instruments he needed. From the Venerians he obtained whatever materials were necessary to make him free to work in the way of metals. And seven days after his return from the azure building he declared his first machine was finished. It seemed a strange contraption to me, but with it he expected to create an electro-magnetic field whereby we would no longer suffer from the lack of weight out in space.

  To set the machine in place necessitated the pulling up of the tiled floor of the anteroom, under which there was a space of about six feet deep and extending all the way under the living quarters. In designing the ship, Moura had purposely left this space vacant for just this moment. The machine they were going to install greatly resembled a large radio layout, with a formidable array of tubes and coils on its head. The three men worked furiously to install it, keeping as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Uncle Ezra, who still had a temperature of more than 101 degrees. When the instrument was set, the tiled floor was put back on its supports, but a small manhole to one side of the room was left as a trapdoor to provide ingress to the cavity below.

  MOURA was more than anxious for the trial flight of the instrument, but we feared the least movement might affect the sick man, so he had to forego that until the professor was almost well. Thereupon Moura went back into the laboratory immediately to work over a second machine, the meteorite deflector, but that was a delicate piece of work and was not completed until we were out in space again.

  Urto was also having his problems. The food supply was running low. There was still a large amount of fruits and vegetables in a good state of preservation, but the grains, meal and flour were running short, and the feed for the small herd of mitu we carried was almost depleted. Daily the cattle had been led outdoors to graze on the grassy floor of the square, and they were fat and well conditioned, but there would be no fodder for them when we left Venus, so Urto fared forth to find what he could find.

  He was gone for two days with supplies to tide him over, and a rubber cover to protect him from the night. He came back to report that he had found a fine variety of grass that was alfalfa-like that would make a good hay. He had also discovered acre after acre of a plant closely resembling early wheat, and also an oat-like grain. All these were growing wild, since the Venerians do not cultivate them, using only their chemical concoctions for food, and these in liquid form.

  How the Venerians knew of our plight we could not say, since no one had spoken to them of it, but the day after Urto returned from his quest we were surprised to see two of the mammoths coming toward the ship, bearing two large sacks on their narrow shoulders. These, we found, each held fifty gallons or so of their liquid food, which they presented to us, and then made their departure as rapidly as they had come without waiting for our expression of appreciation. Urto and Ubca set about to freeze the liquid, which was contained in rubber-like bladders, solid, so it could be stored easily in our refrigerators against the time when we should have need of it. One taste of the odorless, colorless fluid made us ardently hope that we would not need to resort to it. Moura explained that it contained all the necessary chemicals for the use of the body, but he believed it would be best to dilute it bef
ore partaking of it, since it was somewhat richer in content than our own bodies required. A Venerian lives on a gallon a day, but Moura, who had drunk it during his three-day stay with them, found that a pint had sufficed him.

  After they delivered the stuff, the Venerians paid no more attention to us, and did not stop the men when they went out to the savannahs to reap the bountiful crops they found. Ubca accompanied Urto on the second trip, taking reapers that they had hastily prepared from some of the Venerian metal, honing them until they were knife sharp. Four days they spent in cutting down the grains and alfalfa, which they left to dry as best it could in the fields. Later, when Uncle Ezra was well again and we had gone out into space to test our new gravity machine, we returned to the grasslands to reap the harvest which had first to be more thoroughly-dried under our radium light before it could be threshed and ground to meal.

  And happy we were when we saw the crisis of Uncle’s fever pass and he had begun to convalesce.

  So at last we were ready to leave the square. We had to climb until the instruments were no longer affected by Venus and the new machine was turned on. At first nothing happened! Out of Venus’s gravity control we were without weight again! Moura descended below to make adjustments, and as he worked we became unbelievably heavy, so much so it was with hardship we raised even a hand. Moura quickly readjusted that and we were our normal weight again. Urto’s delight was unbounded when he knew that even in Space dishes and liquids would stay where they belonged.

  When it was decided that the new invention was perfected we headed for Venus, and this time landed in the meadows where the cut grain awaited us. We all joined in the gathering, except Uncle Ezra, of course. I found I could help in tying up the bundles. We were a tired gathering that first night, and not long after we had eaten we all retired. We were there over a week, for none of us were adept in this new type of labor, but at last we had the grains and fodder ready to be stored away, and the ship was well provisioned again. In the interim I had found a berry patch and brought some in for a test. They were examined and declared edible, as were some beans and a spinach-like vegetable that Moura discovered, and so we filled every available receptacle with them.

  Next we turned to the river that meandered through the land, and dropping beside it we pumped enough to refill our tanks. It was found to be slightly saline, but purifiers in the tanks were provided for such a contingency, and we were ready at last to take our departure. As we rose for the last time toward the ceiling of clouds, a sigh escaped Moura. “I shall return here some time again. I have only scratched the surface of their knowledge. I have much to learn from them.”

  CHAPTER X

  Moura and the Tula Blossom

  STRANGELY enough, I was glad to be out in space again. One can grow accustomed to the great red disk of the sun always in full view without a setting, and the brilliant stars to relieve the blackness of the long night. Earth seemed far away and my life upon it was like a dream now. Only the stars were familiar. Yet Space never grows monotonous, for there is always something new to be seen. A few hours after leaving Venus, Moura set up a small telescope he had brought away from Venus, an object no more than a foot long, which opened out like a camera. It had intricate lenses of thousands of different shaped fused quartz, making it possible to look at it through our walls without obstructing the view. It did not show us the worlds as we had seen them on Venus, but it was better than anything on Earth, bringing the distant stars so close we could sometimes glimpse the dark planets that swung about them. Thereafter, during the hours we traveled onward to Mars, Uncle Ezra could usually be found with his eyes glued to the telescope sights.

  It did not appear as if the old man was yet over the ill-effects of his sickness. He was not half so spry and was given more to sitting quietly in his chair in the pilot room, with hands folded on his lap, content just to gaze at the universe round about. Several hours after leaving Venus I overheard him speaking to Moura when he thought I was in another part of the ship. I did not intend to eavesdrop, but when I heard his opening words I could not pull myself away, standing there with my heart in my mouth, frightened beyond words.

  “You told us once,” he was saying, “that on your world when a man grows old he enters a lethal chamber where he falls asleep and in his sleep the chemicals of his body are disintegrated and he goes into the long slumber. That is a pleasant way to die. No fears, no terrors . . . just sleep. I would like to go that way!” Moura answered him. “It will be a long while, Professor Rollins, before you are ready to sleep!”

  “I wonder if it will be. I’ve lived my normal span, my life has been full, and now I have had my life’s ambition realized in exploring beyond Earth. Would you do this for me, Moura-weit? Allow me to go to sleep in the air-lock and turn your disintegrating ray upon me. And when my body is no more, open the door and permit my soul to escape into the Void to roam evermore! That seems to me the ultimate answer to everything!”

  “When you are ready, Professor Rollins, your wishes shall be fulfilled!”

  I was rooted to the ground, but with relief I heard the Abruian turn the conversation to safer channels, so I crept away. But later, when Uncle was gone to his room, I went to Moura.

  “I overheard the request that my uncle made you, sir,” I told him. “I trust you did not mean what you said when you agreed to do as he wished!”

  Moura looked deeply into my eyes before he spoke. “Surely, Elsie Rollins,” he said softly, “you are aware of the fact that he has not much longer to live. I have seen other men go as he is going: happy, clear of conscience, looking forward to the last adventure. I will not have to perform the task he asks of me, for he is going to go to sleep naturally very soon. I am happy that I have been in a position to make his last hours happy for him. It is not for all of us to have our dreams fulfilled before we die!”

  I left him, feeling downcast. I sought out the worn old professor and suggested that now we return to Earth. He glanced at me in surprise, as if he had forgotten there was such a world. He was startled and he cried: “No, no; I don’t want to go back to Earth. I know my days are numbered, but how can you ask me to return home? I have passed out of Earth’s sphere, and life is ended for me there. When I die I wish to be out here, in this greatness, facing its wonder and beauty. How could I die cramped between four walls within the confines of the terrestrial world? No, I am free—free to wander where my spirit will take me!” What could I do? I was powerless, and I knew that Moura would uphold Uncle in his desire to die in Space. But I did not know how short his days were.

  WE were now headed toward the red planet, Mars, and it was the second longest journey we had taken as yet, for Venus at that time was approximately 74,700,000 miles from Mars. We were traveling at the rate of five hundred miles per second and should arrive in something like forty-eight hours. We had already traveled eight. We would cross the orbit of Earth, but she was far away from our course, her steel-blue light shining against the darkness of the night. Just ahead lay the planet Eros, whose orbit follows a strange course between Earth and Mars and out beyond the latter, but at the present time she was within thirty million miles of Earth, a bright little light that beckoned to us out of the darkness.

  It was several hours later, after we had had our swim, that I came into the anteroom where Moura was sitting in his chair, deep in thought. I had not known he was there and had come for a book I had left behind. He looked up as I entered the room and fastened his eyes upon me, and although I wanted to back out of the room again he held me there with his eyes and I could not tear my own away.

  “Tell me, Elsie Rollins,” he said, “why, whenever you are near, do I get the impression of the tula blossom? Its wondrous deep color and even its so delicate scent seem to follow you wherever you go. I know you are not wearing the flower about you, but it is close to you all the same.”

  I felt a flush creeping into my face. The tula was the blossom that Ubca had held out to me that night on Venus when he had explained h
ow I might train my mind to concentrate on a single object at a time and so master my brain completely. And since I had been carrying the thought of the flower with me through all my other thoughts, time and time again visualizing it as I remembered it, bringing up the thought of its perfume I had breathed, and Moura had found me out. Now anger swept me.

  “Why,” I demanded vehemently, “must you persist in seeking to know what passes through my mind, Moura-weit? Must I continually be subjected to surveillance?”

  A hurt look flitted across his face. “Please . . . I am sorry; I scarcely realized that I do it . . . it is so natural you see; your very thoughts register as though you had spoken. I remember now that once before you have resented my intrusion. I must teach you to close your mind to me. I should have done it before, in fact, but I forget to do it, and besides, it is pleasant to note your reactions to the things about you. A woman’s mind is like a lovely flower . . . or perhaps we can say music, the sweet, gentle tune of womanhood.”

  I thought he was laughing at me, for I knew that often my thoughts were not lovely. They were not now. He answered my thought. “It is not always the surface thoughts I speak of, but those impressions that paint our personality, the real person under the other thoughts that we lay over them . . . something like that flower you think so much of.”

  I tossed my head but did not speak. What need to talk when he knew the unuttered thought?

  “The reason I asked about the flower,” went on Moura, “is because its presence in your mind struck me forcibly. On my world we call the tula the flower of love, with its heart so white and pure, its rich violet-black color the color of passion in its intensity. Do you wonder that I questioned why you carry its image with you? But then I’ve had your answer already from your brain and know your reason. I am sorry I misunderstood.”