A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  He thought the deathly silence must be playing him tricks when he seemed to hear someone calling his name. Nevertheless, it stirred him to renewed activity, and he again struggled to free himself from the clinging ashes. But this time he pushed himself forward, following the gentle slope of the bed of rock beneath his feet in the hope that it might lead him to the edge of the lake.

  Desperately he struggled, until the light shone brightly above him and at last he realised that his head was above the surface of the ash. Rubbing the dust from the window of his helmet, he looked up and saw the black sky with its glittering stars. A few more steps and he stood at the foot of a towering cliff, while far behind him the great stretch of ash shone in the sun like dusty snow.

  Skirting the edge of the lake, he scrambled up the face of a jagged rock and thence to the top of the cliff, which gave him a view of the shadowy regions beyond.

  Anxiously, he searched for signs of the helpless girl, praying that she had not only escaped the hurtling monsters, but had managed to withstand the frightful cold. Then he caught sight of her glinting metal helmet, only fifty yards away. The next moment he was taking swift, ten-feet strides towards her.

  Her space-suited figure lay with a huge rock across one of its legs. He caught a glimpse of her pale face inside the helmet as he flung himself against the farthest end of the rock.

  Then he saw her mouth open in a soundless scream as she raised her arm and pointed in the direction in which his back was turned.

  The Serpent

  HE swung round, and gasped in astonishment at what he saw. Making its way over the rocks towards them was a tremendous snakelike creature, a brilliant red in colour, sixty feet long and two feet thick!

  Instantly he recognised it as one of the fierce Moon snakes which he had seen before, though not at such unpleasantly close quarters. These monstrous serpents preyed upon the flying bulls; no doubt this had been one of a number which had been pursuing the huge beasts, and having got left behind, had turned its attention to easier prey.

  Amazingly agile, they could leap over the rocks like coiled springs, writhe along like the serpents of Earth, or crawl like a centipede on the dozens of legs which lined their long bodies. Usually, their attack was unexpected because of the tumbled landscape, which provided them with numberless hiding places, and the eternal silence that gave no warnings.

  But, fortunately, the girl had seen the loathsome creature as it crawled over a rocky crag. Johnson gave it one horrified look, then again put his shoulder to the rock and heaved, motioning to Mary to pull her leg clear. But the girl lay quite still, staring at the approaching monster. Extreme cold had numbed her limbs; she was helpless.

  Frantically, Johnson pushed and shoved, until at last the huge boulder overbalanced and rolled out of the way. The snake was not far from them now. Mary tried to stand up, but could not. Feebly she tried to push Johnson away, pointing towards the settlement as though telling him to leave her there and save himself.

  For a moment he thought of picking her up and carrying her to safety; but the snake was now only a few yards away. It was travelling slowly as though certain of its prey, but in a second, Johnson knew, it would launch itself at them with lightning speed.

  Mary was wearing a belt with space-pistol and ammunition, to guard herself against such terrors as these. In his haste to leave the observatory, Johnson had forgotten to arm himself. Touching her helmet with his own, he shouted as he hurriedly tore off the belt:

  “Get down that hole—quick!”

  He pointed to a crack in the rocks, leading down into blackness, just wide enough to admit her body. Painfully Mary crawled towards it while he turned to face the monster, determined to hold it off until the girl had lowered herself into the crevasse.

  Raising the pistol in his gloved hand, he pressed the button even as the reptile hurled itself at him. He felt the recoil, saw the flash, but heard no sound except for a slight puff which reached his ears via the bones of his arm.

  The monster shivered throughout its length as it sank to the ground, a ragged hole in its side showing where the explosive bullet had struck. As it fell Johnson leaped aside and fired a second shot at the ghastly head, between the beady eyes.

  Simultaneously, the three lobster-like pincers on one side of its body moved swiftly towards him; but another leap carried him beyond their reach. Mortally wounded, the monster threshed and writhed, lashing its long tail in all directions, snapping at him with its huge jaws while he leaped from rock to rock to avoid them.

  But his main object was to escape those menacing claws which sprouted out behind the head, three on either side. For he knew that a bite from these dreadful pincers was just as poisonous as the serpent’s sting. At the same time, he had to avoid being crushed to pulp by its lashing tail;

  It was only his puny size compared with the monster’s huge bulk that enabled him to evade his formidable enemy as he darted about between the putting rocks, constantly jumping out of its reach like an elusive grasshopper on Earth. But he’ had no time to take aim and fire more shots at the reptile. Until, after several minutes, which seemed an eternity to Johnson, it began to show signs of succumbing to the injuries he had inflicted.

  The creature’s struggles became weaker, its pincer-claws snapped feebly. Finding temporary refuge behind a massive rock, Johnson levelled his pistol again at the Moon snake’s monstrous head.

  In the Cavern

  TWICE he fired, just as the serpent coiled itself up and sprang at him in a last desperate plunge. The shots went home, blasting the head to nothingness; but as he turned and leaped away he felt something sharp strike his hand, knocking the pistol from his grasp.

  One of the flailing pincers had cut through his thick glove into his flesh; and he felt the bite of the deadly poison as he fled from the monster, now writhing wildly in its death throes, and bounded towards the hole in the rocks down which Mary had disappeared.

  Even as he slithered into the crack, he pulled the glove from his injured hand and deliberately pressed the wound against the unthinkably cold rock which lay in the shadow. Oddly, he felt nothing, since the nerves were destroyed so rapidly they had not time to transmit pain. Then he was falling freely through the black depths.

  Owing to the slowness of his fall, he seemed to drop for hundreds of feet into what was a vast subterranean cavern, of which there were many on the Moon. Just before he landed he saw the gleam of an electric torch beneath him aiid realised that Mary was safe. As he touched the rocky floor with his feet she came limping up to him.

  Touching his helmet with her own, so as to carry the sound, she inquired anxiously: “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he lied, trying to hide his injured hand behind him. “How do you feel now, Mary?”

  “Much better, thanks to you. I’d have frozen to death if you hadn’t come to my rescue when you did—or been swallowed alive by that frightful snake. But there is something the matter with you. You look as though you were going to faint—and what’s wrong with your arm?”

  “I got bitten,” he admitted. “I had to cauterise it. It didn’t hurt at first, but it’s beginning to now—a little.”

  He swayed and slumped to the floor. Mary bent over him, a horrified expression on her face as she saw the injured band. Johnson smiled weakly.

  “Do you think you could find your way out of here and bring help? I’m afraid I can’t make it myself.”

  “I think so,” said the girl. “But I don’t like leaving you here. You’re badly hurt——”

  “Oh, I’ll be all right till you get back. It won’t take you long once you’ve found a way out of here.”

  Though inwardly he was wondering if they would meet again as Mary, with a doubtful look, turned her back on him and limped off into the darkness. He watched her wavering, flickering light as she picked her way along the floor of the cavern, searching for an exit within her reach. He had no doubt that she would find one, for the Moon was full of enormous caves such as this,
from which many holes and cracks led to the surface.

  Then the glimmer of the torch was swallowed up in the blackness. All was dark and silent as the grave once more . . .

  Patiently, Johnson waited; how long he could not tell, nor did he care. For although he did not realise it, some of the poison from the snake’s bite had found its way into his system in spite of his prompt, courageous treatment, and was affecting his brain, breaking down his resistance.

  He wondered how long it would be before he froze to death, lying there on the hard stone floor of the cave. Though as he felt about him with his gloved hand he encountered small patches of soft moss, something like the plant which grew in the craters, supporting the monsters which took refuge in them. That meant that it could not be very cold in here and that there must be a little air.

  He was more comfortable now. A numbness crept over him, making him insensible to the pain of his injured hand. Perhaps that meant he had not long to live. What did it matter? Better to die now than be rescued, half revived, and then die slowly and painfully. Or recover, only to become a one-armed wreck.

  Better to die now . . .

  Putting his left hand round the back of his neck—for his right was useless—he took hold of the tap which would let his air supply out into the near-void. It was only when he tried to turn it that he realised how weak he must be. He had to exert every ounce of his remaining strength to move it.

  Exhausted, he let his arm fall back, then prepared to await the end. Through the crack in the roof of the cave whence he had come, he could see a star—one blue, glittering star. That was all he could see, all he would ever see again.

  One bright blue star . . .

  The Discovery

  JOHNSON awoke to find a nurse bending over him. Hazily, he realised that he was lying in bed in the little hospital near the observatory. All pain—all numbness—had left his body; he felt fresh and alert, as though new life had been instilled in it by some powerful stimulant.

  “You reacted wonderfully to the new energising treatment,” said the nurse. “We’re quite up-to-date here, you know. You’ll be up and about again in a couple of days.”

  “But—but I turned my air-tap off. How——?”

  The nurse smiled.

  “You thought you did; but because you used your left hand you turned it on farther instead of cutting off the supply.”

  Puzzled still, Johnson scratched his chin, on which was several days’ growth of beard. The look and feel of his arm seemed somehow unfamiliar to him.

  “That’s a very nice artificial limb,” said the nurse. “You’ll be able to do anything with that arm when you get used to it.”

  She left the room, and Johnson sat up in bed to gaze out of the window in the direction of the observatory. He could distinctly see the great telescope glinting in the sunlight, but of the shiny glass dome there was no sign.

  He stared for a moment, bewildered, then suddenly the explanation dawned on him. The flying bulls! They must have charged up the mountainside past the settlement and smashed their way through the expensive dome while he, who was entrusted with the task of guarding it, was struggling in the lake of ash over a mile away!

  Ruefully he gazed towards the observatory, visualising the shattered fragments which must lie around it; unless by now they had been cleared away by his fellow assistants. Apparently none of them, working in the surrounding buildings, had been aware of the on-rushing monsters, or an attempt would have been made to divert their path of destruction.

  He should have been there to warn them. Not that they themselves would have been in danger, for their quarters were strongly built against such emergencies. He had warned the settlement and the mine as a matter of routine; but he never imagined the hurtling beasts would ever pass that way.

  Despondently Johnson faced the thought that this meant the end of his career on the Moon. He would have to return to Earth now and start afresh, for the astronomical body which employed him would not accept any excuse for his deserting his post and causing a loss of thousands of pounds.

  The following day, Mary came to visit him, looking none the worse for her adventure. Excitedly she explained how she had found a way out of the cavern and run right into a search party which, led by her father, had gone out to look for them once their absence was discovered.

  Johnson winced at this, then blurted out:

  “I—I wish you hadn’t rescued me. Why didn’t you leave me in the cavern to die? It would have been far better——”

  Mary stood aghast, amazed at his outburst. “What are you saying?” she demanded.

  “I love you, Mary,” he went on, miserably. “I was going to ask you to marry me, but I can’t expect you to marry a poor man.”

  “What do you mean—a poor man?”

  “Why, they are sure to discharge me for leaving the observatory to get smashed. You couldn’t have a husband without a job, could you?”

  “But, Harry,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Haven’t they told you? It may cost two thousand pounds to replace the dome, but the lake of ice you discovered is worth twice that much!”

  “Lake of ice——?” he stammered, mystified.

  “Yes! You see, when Dad picked up the glove you tore off your injured hand there was ice on it. You must have come in contact with moisture under that ash where your bouncer landed; or, rather, the warmth of your body melted some of the ice.

  “Anyway, Dad fetched the shovelling machines, and there under the ash, only a few feet down, was a huge lake of ice stretching for at least a mile below the surface. It’s what all the Moon companies have been searching for since they first came here and there’s a big reward for anyone who makes such an important discovery.

  “Why, Harry,” she cried, as the cloud lifted from Johnson’s face, “you’re rich!”

  THE SEEING EAR

  John Scott Campbell

  Mark Trelling Finds That Short-Waves Can Talk Plenty When a Band of Scientific Criminals Cross Their Television Signals!

  MARK TRELLING, president of American Television, took it quite calmly when the four men stepped into his autogyro at the 40th level stop and ordered him, at the points of their cyanite pistols, to lie upon the floor. One of the intruders slid into the vacated driver’s seat while the others crowded over him in the tiny cabin and proceeded to bind him in sheets of gummed acetite. When he was thoroughly tied he was placed upon one of the rear seats. Only then did his captors speak.

  “Trelling,” said one, a youngish bald fellow in a blue rayon business suit, “this is a kidnaping.”

  “I know it,” snapped the bound man. “What I want to know is, what is the idea? I hope you’re not such a fool as to expect ransom.”

  “No,” replied the other. “No one’s collected ransom since the Hammerly case in 2080. That’s not what we want.”

  “Well, since you’re so well posted, I don’t need to tell you that kidnapers are executed.”

  “If they are caught,” added the other, composedly. “But they’re not caught where we’re taking you.”

  “And that is—”

  “Ever hear of Kerguelen Island? It’s a little rock in the South Indian Ocean. Deserted since 1990, a thousand miles from an air line. We have a cave there that can be entered only by going through forty feet of water at low tide. Your autogyro will be abandoned in a few minutes when we change to our own stratoship. In ten hours we shall cover the ten thousand miles to Kerguelen, the stratoship will be hidden under water, and there won’t be so much as a pebble stirred to tell where you are.”

  The president of American Television moved slightly to rest himself.

  “Very ingenious,” he commented at length, “but rather expensive. What do you get out of it?”

  “I was coming to that. Your company has in its possession certain information that we want.”

  Pausing, the speaker noted his prisoner’s mouth set in a thin determined line.

  “To be precise, we want to know the composition a
nd method of manufacture of the color sensitive material used in your new transmitting tube. As soon as you tell us that and give a demonstration of manufacture you are free.”

  Trelling shrugged his shoulders. “Then you can take care of me for the rest of my life,” he said. “I have only the vaguest idea of its composition and I don’t know how it is made. I am president of the Company—not chief technician.”

  The other smiled slightly.

  “No use, Trelling. We know all about you. We know that you used to be an expert operator and worked on the new dyes with Barger, the inventor.”

  “But, I still don’t know the exact proportions,” Trelling protested. “We’ve got that all fixed. We have a teleradio, its relay connected so the location can’t be traced, for you to get any dope you need direct from Barger.”

  Trelling was silent for a moment.

  “All right. I’ll tell you how they’re made, but I can’t make any outside of the Company laboratory. The process requires special apparatus and very exact control at every step.”

  “You can stow the sales line,” suggested the bald man briefly. “We have a lab on the Island that your chief technician wouldn’t mind working in.”

  AT this moment the pilot pointed upward and cried out, “We’re under the Cirrus—” The autogyro whipped abruptly upward, the air screaming about its rotors. Trelling had a brief glimpse of a dark hovering shape overhead and then, with a jolt, the smaller craft hooked itself onto the stratoship and dangled, swinging slightly.

  “All out,” said the bald man shortly. “Reid and Lindroth, carry him.”

  Mark Trelling was deposited in a tiny windowless cabin in the stratoship, untied and left alone, all without a word being said. During the brief trip through the main cabin, he had observed that he was on a medium-sized craft of an older type—model 2110, probably—with a hundred meter wing spread. Hardly any crew seemed in evidence; the four who had brought him and the half dozen in the control cabin seemed to make up the entire company.